Tag: LGBTQ+

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (7/30/24) – To a Darker Shore

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I was first exposed to Leanne Schwartz through A Prayer for Vengeance, and enjoyed her YA fantasies that centered autistic and plus-size protagonists. I’d forgotten that she’d written another book featuring an autistic protagonist, and I figured it would be perfect for Disability Pride Month. While it didn’t blow me away, To a Darker Shore had a lovely setting with immersive writing and the journey of a courageous girl who would quite literally walk through hell to save her best friend.

Enjoy this week’s review!

To a Darker Shore – Leanne Schwartz

If there’s one thing that Alesta has known her whole life, it’s that she knows that she has something to prove. Poor, autistic, and plus-size, she means nothing to the townsfolk, save for what she can provide as a sacrifice to their hungry god, Hektorus. So she throws herself into intricate inventions, hoping they can earn her favor with the king. But when a test flight of one of her flying machines goes awry at an exhibition, Alesta knows she’s bound for hell. Yet it’s Kyrian, who helped her test the machine, that takes the fall, now condemned to hell instead of her. Alesta will do anything to bring Kyrian back…even if it means venturing into the treacherous depths of Hell itself.

TW/CW: loss of loved ones, misogyny, fatphobia, ableism, violence, blood/gore, claustrophobia, panic attacks, grief, homophobia

Why does WordPress keep trying to autocorrect “Alesta” to “Alert?” I can only imagine how it was while Schwartz was writing the book in the first place…

Even though Leanne Schwartz isn’t my favorite author, I love her apparent goal of putting out YA fantasy novels with plus-size, queer, and neurodivergent characters at the forefront. A Prayer for Vengeance didn’t blow me away, but it was an enjoyable read nonetheless; to an extent, I feel a similar way about To a Darker Shore, but it’s clear that her writing has improved greatly in the span of two books!

Schwartz’s lovely prose was clearly the star of To a Darker Shore. Throughout the novel, there’s a stark contrast between the fantasy, Renaissance Italy-inspired whimsy and the monstrous realms of hell, but Schwartz handled each of them with the appropriate weight they deserved. The first part of the novel did a wonderful job of immersing me in Alesta’s kingdom, and with every description of the coastline surroundings and the bustling cities, I was instantly transported. Schwartz’s balance of humor and weighty subjects (ableism, fatphobia, and purity culture, to name a few) was handled with aplomb—the strength of all of these aspects is how balanced they were. Additionally, To a Darker Shore’s writing felt like the perfect transition between Middle Grade and YA; apart from some violence and strong language, the accessible writing style and the narrative voice of Alesta could be a great bridge for younger YA readers to start in the genre.

Alesta was also a fantastic protagonist to propel the reader through this treacherous journey into hell! Schwartz did an excellent job of relying on showing to build up to the suspense of losing her best friend; by the time Alesta’s quest through hell begins, you truly do understand her relentless devotion to rescuing her friend, even if when they reunite, hell has permanently altered him. She stopped at nothing to make sure Kyrian made it out of hell alive, and you believed every part of her friendship and steadfast adherence to her mission. Her relentless spirit not only gave the story stakes (I certainly got the sense both she and Kyrian would fall apart without the other), but a reason to follow her along—at its best, there were times when I was invested in the story just because Alesta cared so deeply for succeeding in her impossible mission. Although I liked A Prayer for Vengeance, Leanne Schwartz’s way of writing her protagonists has improved since then, and Alesta is living proof.

I came away from To a Darker Shore with mixed feelings about the worldbuilding. On the one hand, I enjoyed the Renaissance Italy-inspired setting; Alesta is compared to Leonardo Da Vinci in the synopsis, and I loved the aesthetic of her wooden flying machines and the various magical contraptions that she constructed. The worldbuilding surrounding the religion that concerns most of the novel was also well-executed. Schwartz did an excellent job of setting up exposition in a variety of ways, ranging from stories that Alesta had grown up with to descriptions of religious festivals that served to explain some of the mythology. However, even with the obviously Christian inspiration that this religion was based in…why call it Heaven and Hell if it’s an entirely different religion? I get the comparisons here, but it kind of took me out of it to have a whole fantasy religion and then have the exact same names of Christian concepts in it. Considering how detailed most other aspects of this religion were, it comes off a bit lazy—either make it a more direct analog to Christianity, or give Heaven and Hell different (and more creative) names, in my opinion.

Additionally, there were quite a few side characters that surrounded Alesta that didn’t seem like they had anything to do. Along with the dreaded time skip that came out of nowhere [hisses like a vampire with holy water chucked on it], we were just as abruptly introduced to some of Alesta’s other friends. It wouldn’t have been a problem if they had any role in the novel other than to tell the reader that Alesta has made friends after Kyrian’s sacrifice. They were pushed aside as soon as Alesta ventured into hell (a section that takes up about a third of the novel), and therefore had no room to have distinct personalities or roles other than being Alesta’s friends. Since To a Darker Shore is centered so prominently around the unbreakable friendship between Alesta and Kyrian, it would have been better to scrap them entirely—or at least not give them a role that Schwartz seemed to place disproportionate importance on.

All in all, a YA fantasy that took some shortcuts with its side characters and worldbuilding, but was nonetheless a satisfying story of friendships strong enough to survive hell itself. 3.5 stars!

To a Darker Shore is a standalone, but Leanne Schwartz is also the author of A Prayer for Vengeance.

Today’s song:

no idea how I forgot about this one, but I’m so glad I did!! a nostalgic childhood staple, for sure.

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (7/23/24) – Finna

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Finna has been on my radar since it came out back in 2020; it had a funny and clever concept, but it just kept being pushed back on my TBR for whatever reason. I ended up picking it up after hearing praise from one of my creative writing classmates, and although it wasn’t perfect, it delivered on its inventive premise.

Now, tread lightly! This week’s book review contains spoilers for the novella, so if you intend to read Finna, skim at your own risk.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Finna (LitenVerse, #1) – Nino Cipri

Ava and Jules barely make a living working minimum wage at LitenVarld, a Swedish furniture supply giant. Ever since they broke up, they’ve been trying to avoid each other, and with the labyrinthine structure of the store, it’s easy. But the two are thrown together when an old woman goes missing and the manager tells them that LitenVarld is no ordinary store—it’s prone to opening wormholes that lead to alternate dimensions. Ava and Jules must search across the universes to return the old woman to safety at any cost, but their superiors appear less and less like they have their needs in mind…

TW/CW: blood, violence, grief, mental health themes (anxiety and depression), misgendering

My main concern with Finna was that it would only have the premise to hold it up. It’s a fantastic premise! And although it wasn’t a perfect novella, it went far beyond the expectations for its ideas, delivering an anti-capitalist spin on the monstrous multiverse.

Making Finna a novella was, without a doubt, a wise move. It’s got an inviting premise—a not-IKEA store that’s home to a multitude of portals to strange and hellish dimensions—but it’s one that could have easily been stretched out. It partly works because…well, if you’ve ever been inside IKEA, that’s where your mind naturally goes, but Finna mainly succeeded because Cipri knew the limits of the idea. If it had been a full-length novel, I’m sure it would have been interesting to see the other dimensions hidden within the interdimensional labyrinth of LitenVarld, but the plot couldn’t have sustained itself beyond 100 pages. I’ve seen too many novels where the story has been stretched far too thin, so to have an author know the limits of their story—and have an inventive novella to show for it—was incredibly refreshing.

Finna is the perfect story for right now not just because it has a fun concept, but because it truly nails the kind of corporate neglect that runs rampant in workplaces in this day and age. Even against the threat of a multiverse full of monstrous obstacles (including but not limited to man-eating furniture), Ava and Jules are having to tackle threats leagues beyond their pay grade, and their only compensation is gift cards for a pasta restaurant. Their managers openly tell them that they don’t actually care about the old woman who’s gotten lost in the multiverse—they just want Ava and Jules to find an alternate universe replacement for her so that they can keep up appearances. It’s all so blatantly uncaring and corporate—and it’s all realistic. If some massive chain of stores discovered a wormhole in one of their locations, they would absolutely cover it up until it was no longer possible to do so, especially at the expense of the minimum wage employees. I will say that, although you got hit over the head with this even though the commentary was right there already, Finna’s setup made it perfect for the anticapitalist commentary that Cipri explored—corporations only make it look like they care about you when it looks good for them, and even then, the worker is always dispensable. The execution of this corporate setting was, in the end, what made Finna so successful in that regard—it seems like a real, capitalist response to a fictional problem.

That being said, even though Finna works best as a novella, it did fall victim to some of the pitfalls of novella writing. It’s difficult to develop characters in just over 100 pages, and this worked to the detriment of its protagonists, Ava and Jules. We only knew them from the lens of their situations and their breakup; after finishing the novella, all I knew about Ava was that she a) had a failed relationship with Jules, b) had anxiety and depression, and c) hated her job—nothing much about her personality. This is about as deep as we get with her, and for Jules, we get even less, other than the fact that they’re more reckless and cocky, and for that reason, Ava doesn’t like working with them. The plot was compelling and well-executed enough for me to continue reading the story, but it was so plot and theme-driven that the characters were left in the dust.

Such underdeveloped first drafts of characters meant that the emotional impact of Finna was all but deadened. I got the feeling that I was supposed to feel something when Jules sacrificed themself so that Ava could return to her home dimension, but since I knew so little about them, I never felt much. What Jules needed, perhaps more than a handful of base personality traits, was some kind of motivation; it could also be down to how quickly the second half moves, but their quest through the other dimensions gave us no indication of why they would go from reckless to selfless. It could just be the constraints of the novella format, but I’ve read plenty of novellas longer and shorter than Finna that have been able to establish well-rounded characters with believable motivations, so I’m not sure if there’s much of an excuse for this.

All in all, a novella with a funny, inventive premise and sharp anti-capitalist commentary that was dragged down by its underdeveloped characters. 3.5 stars!

Finna is the first novella in the LitenVerse series, followed by Defekt. Nino Cipri is also the author of the short story collection Homesick: Stories and the forthcoming YA novel Dead Girls Don’t Dream. They have also contributed stories to Nonbinary: Memoirs of Gender and Identity, Transcendent: The Year’s Best Transgender Speculative Fiction, and several other anthologies.

Today’s song:

forgot about this song for ages…

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (7/16/24) – The Vela

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

The Vela came on my radar again when I dredged my TBR for books to read during this year’s Disability Pride Month. Beyond the disability rep…what could possibly go wrong with Becky Chambers AND Rivers Solomon, right? I’m glad to say I was right—whether it was the work of new-to-me or longtime favorite authors, they all came together in stunning harmony in The Vela, a timely sci-fi epic that’s as observant as it is thrilling.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Vela: A Novel – Yoon Ha Lee, Becky Chambers, Rivers Solomon, and S.L. Huang

Asala Sikou can’t afford to care about anybody but herself. Not when her star system is on the verge of collapse, and not when everyone she once knew is long dead. But when she receives a job to track down the Vela, a ship hauling thousands of refugees that mysteriously disappeared, Asala knows that there’s more than meets the eye to the incident. So does Niko, the smart but sheltered child of another planet’s president. The two unlikely companions will have to team up to track down the Vela—and all of its refugees—before they’re embroiled in a galaxy-wide war.

TW/CW: xenophobia, racism, themes of genocide, descriptions of death/corpses

The promise of Becky Chambers and Rivers Solomon in one novel was the main draw of The Vela for me, but by the time I finished the novel, I was fully invested in all four contributors. Their talents came together so seamlessly, making for a novel that wasn’t just coherent, but downright thrilling—The Vela is sure to satisfy whether or not you’re familiar with the authors.

Out of all of the authors who contributed to The Vela, I was the most hesitant about Yoon Ha Lee; the one book I’ve read of his was one that didn’t mesh with my style (but that was also his first attempt at middle grade, so that could have been my issue). I read a sample of Ninefox Gambit ages ago and liked it, but not enough to buy it. Consider me proven wrong about him! As the author who started off the novel, he was the perfect choice. His fast-paced prose made for an opening chapter that integrated the reader swiftly and effortlessly into the world of The Vela. Later on, his battle scenes were some of the highlights of the novel; every chase sequence and dogfight is so meticulous that I questioned whether or not he’d actually been in the thick of an intergalactic war. I’ll be seeking out more of his work after this!

Becky Chambers was, by far, the author I was most excited about seeing in The Vela. I’ve fallen head-over-heels in love with her cozy sci-fi, as many other readers had. What she contributed to The Vela, however, was a sense of complication. Like The Galaxy, and the Ground Within, where she piled a series of unlikely characters together and had them clash in terms of culture, politics, and personality, Chambers excelled at complicating the relationships between each character. Her cozy agenda made me forget how well she writes cold, fascist characters; the way she wrote General Cynwrig sent chills up my spine, conveying the dull distance she has from every other character. Every interaction with her is nothing but war room strategy, and that’s why she and Niko clashed so fundamentally. While toeing over making Cynwrig sympathetic, Chambers gave us a glimpse into her mind without justifying her actions. It’s a difficult dilemma to skirt around, but one that served to develop Niko incredibly; they had a very un-nuanced view of the galaxy, and although their views weren’t changed fundamentally, it allowed them to see different sides without excusing their horrific actions.

Rivers Solomon, the other author I was looking forward to reading in The Vela, gave us the novel’s best glimpse into the mind of the protagonist, Asala. Their prose here, which combines rough-edged anger with exceptional metaphor, fleshed out Asala in ways that the other chapters did not; Solomon had the weight of sculpting all of the events that made Asala as cool and calculated as she was, and by the end, I had a vision of her that was as clear as a map, with every mountain range and river of her life writ out. Her cold disillusionment was palpable, but by the time Asala begins to move more towards purpose and determination, we can see, with incredible clarity, every step that led up to it.

S.L. Huang was the only author featured in The Vela who I was completely unfamiliar with. Now that I’ve finished the novel, I’m keen on checking out her other works, because I can’t think of many other authors who are able to write war so poetically, but never romanticize it at any point. Nothing is ever glorified (as it should be, both in general and considering the themes of The Vela), but there’s something so silk-smooth and beautiful in the way she described battalions of ships on the horizon and the chaos of war as all of the parties scramble for a handhold. For a novel with a prominently anti-war sentiment, Huang’s prose served a valuable purpose—humanizing the consequences of war that many of the characters were unable to grasp, and writing it with such tact and heart that it bordered on poetry.

As a whole…what a timely novel, isn’t it? Surely, we couldn’t learn a thing or two from this world, where star systems and planets are being physically torn apart and destroyed because nobody considered that their enemies are also human…surely that’s not applicable to [checks notes] practically every issue we’re dealing with at the moment, no?

All in all, a seamless and cohesive sci-fi thriller that wonderfully harmonizes the unique talents of the authors that it displays. 4 stars!

The Vela is the first in an anthology series, followed by The Vela: Salvation, which features Nicole Givens Kurtz, Sangu Mandanna, Maura Milan, and Ashley Poston.

Today’s song:

my friend and I were discussing our favorite album intros last night, and they showed me this…they’re right on the money with this one (thanks!!)

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (7/9/24) – Stars in Their Eyes

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’m always on the hunt for books with disability and bisexual rep, and I’ll always go for a graphic novel, so Stars in Their Eyes was a natural pick for me! With a charming story and graceful handling of social issues, this graphic novel was an adorable, light read that’s perfect for readers in transition between middle grade and YA.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Stars in Their Eyes – Jessica Walton and Aśka

Maisie has saved up to go to her first FanCon, and now she’s finally on her way! She’s excited to meet her idol Kara Bufano, an action star who’s an amputee just like her. On arrival, FanCon isn’t everything that Maisie thought it would be—it’s loud, confusing, and it’s making her chronic pain act up. But when she meets Ollie, one of the young FanCon volunteers, it’s love at first sight. Maisie feels comfortable talking about her disability and queerness with them, but how will they manage when FanCon is over and they have to go home?

TW/CW: panic attacks, descriptions of cancer (past)

I’m firm in the belief that there should be some kind of smaller, transitory genre between middle grade and YA; the gulf between kid’s books and books meant for teens, especially in terms of maturity, is larger than most realize. But Stars in Their Eyes hits the perfect sweet spot between the two. With younger protagonists but a more nuanced view of social issues—and love at first sight—this graphic novel is a light, comforting read!

Even though I can’t speak to the accuracy of the specific disability rep (Maisie has a lower-leg amputation as a result of childhood cancer), it was so refreshing to see a disabled character written by a disabled author! It’s kind of painful to say that, but…the bar is so low, after so many middle grade and YA books that misrepresent disability. Nevertheless, the discussions surrounding Maisie’s disability were not only important to represent, but well-executed as well! There were plenty of natural segues that were used in Walton’s writing to get into topics such as overexertion and the importance of positive representation (!!!!), and it’s wonderful to see a pointed criticism of the narrative that disabled people exist to inspire non-disabled people. Stars in Their Eyes is bound to be so meaningful to so many young disabled readers, and it warmed my heart.

Stars in Their Eyes is also bound to be crucial for young queer people as well! Maisie is bisexual. and Ollie, the love interest, is nonbinary, but beyond that, there was an emphasis on being young and discovering your identity that I’m so glad is being represented. At 14, Maisie has only come out to a handful of people, and is nervous about being in queer spaces and going to queer events; it’s an issue that I rarely see in queer media, but it’s so important for young queer people know that it’s okay to be nervous about these things! There’s a first time for everything and everyone, and it’s natural to be shy or scared about showcasing your identity or belonging in queer spaces for the first time.

The comic con setting of Stars in Their Eyes was spot-on! I went to comic cons frequently when I was Maisie and Ollie’s age, and it’s a wondrous, nerdy experience—and it’s also an overwhelming one. It’s been several years since I’ve been to one, but I’m glad that this fictional one had a quiet-down room—I hope that soon becomes part of the institution, because what a lot of people don’t talk about with comic cons is that they’re a lot. (Man, I wish my comic con had one of those back in the day…) There’s so much to take in, from all of the booths and celebrities and cosplayers (and all of them crowded in one building), but all of that amounts to a ton of crowds and sensory overload. It’s the first comic con story I’ve seen tackle this aspect, and it’s a refreshing angle to see discussed. I have sensory issues, so that’s mainly why I got overwhelmed so easily at comic con, but it’s great to show younger readers that even though comic con is a wonderful place, it’s natural to be overwhelmed, sensory issues or not.

However, even though pop culture and comic cons were the focus of Stars in Their Eyes, a key part of it was mishandled and hindered some of my enjoyment of this graphic novel. Aside from two fictional TV shows that Maisie and Ollie bond over, almost everything is a fake reference—Barb from Stranger Things is now Bard from Danger Things, Star Wars is now Sci-fi Wars (??) and the Dark Side is the Far Side (????), and any Doctor Who-related media is referred to as “Time Doctors.” I get making faux-pop culture references to dodge copyright or establish a fictional world, but the sheer amount of them and how obviously they were referencing other very popular pieces of media just got so tiring and eye roll-inducing after a while. If it’s that obvious that you’re referencing a piece of media, it defeats the purpose of having a fake piece of media. It got so concentrated that I ended up bumping my rating down from the full 4 stars.

All in all, a lighthearted graphic novel about first love, geekdom, and the being confident in your queer and disabled identities. 3.75 stars, rounded up to 4!

Stars in Their Eyes is a standalone; Jessica Walton is also the author of Introducing Teddy, and has also contributed to the anthologies Growing Up Disabled in Australia, The (Other) F Word: A Celebration of the Fat & Fierce, and Meet Me at the Intersection.

Today’s song:

decided to give cate le bon a try after hearing her work with wilco & st. vincent…pompeii did NOT disappoint!!

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (6/25/24) – Flawless Girls

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’ve been a fan of Anna-Marie McLemore since high school, but over the past two years or so, I’ve seen a decline in quality in their books; for their last two releases, I chalked it up to co-authoring (Venom & Vow) and being constrained by what they had to work with, although that could be a stretch (Self-Made Boys: A Great Gatsby Remix). With their latest release, Flawless Girls, having a concerningly low average rating (3.30 at present), I expected the worst, but still wanted to believe that they could come back with something better. And…Flawless Girls was better, but only by a slim margin.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Flawless Girls – Anna-Marie McLemore

The Soler sisters—Isla and Renata—are famously wild, raised to be rebellious and questioning of their restrictive society from a young age. But their grandmother knows that society will frown upon such disobedient girls, and there is one last resort to keep them in line: the prestigious Alarie House, a finishing school famous for the assembly line of polite, high-society women that it churns out. After Renata returns from the Alarie House plagued by madness, Isla decides to dig into the dark corners of the school to see just what made her sister crumble. But what she finds in the corrupted heart of the Alarie House may put all of the girls in jeopardy…

TW/CW: prejudice against an intersex person, fire, body horror, misogyny, dysphoria, descriptions of injury, violence

For the past two years or so, I’ve seen a decline in Anna-Marie McLemore’s novels, which is something that I’ve dreaded saying. I didn’t want to force such words upon the same lyrical talent who wrote When the Moon Was Ours and Wild Beauty, but alas…maybe it wasn’t meant to last. Although it wasn’t as disappointing as Venom & Vow or Self-Made Boys, Flawless Girls was thoroughly messy, even if there were some bright spots in it.

What I want to emphasize the most about Flawless Girls is that, for all of its flaws (no pun intended), it had promise—it was just severely underdeveloped. If McLemore didn’t want to flesh out the concept of the novel, I think it would have worked spectacularly as a novella or even a short story. McLemore’s narration, even it wasn’t as lushly descriptive as I’ve come to know them for, had the feel of a cautionary fable, which was a perfect fit for this story. Even if it did feel like we were being sledgehammered in the face with the main metaphor, it nonetheless had the feeling of a dark fairytale or a fable. To be honest, Flawless Girls could work even better if it were aimed at younger YA audiences just coming into the genre, and I don’t mean that as a slight to the novel at all. It’s not subtle, but as a transitory book between middle grade and YA, it could work. With some significant polishing, of course.

Said main metaphor is femininity—more specifically the performance of it. The institution of the Alarie House served as a pointed commentary about the artificiality of our expectations for women and girls, and how unattainable and manicured these expectations are. It was especially poignant with Isla, a Latina and intersex protagonist struggling with performing femininity with a nonconforming body. Isla’s story felt incredibly personal—I had no idea that McLemore was also intersex, and it’s clear from every page that this is the story of their heart. There’s so little intersex representation out there, but that’s not the only reason why Flawless Girls, with a little polish, could be so important—it’s a fable of the madness that befalls women and feminine-presenting people crumbling under the weight of beauty and behavioral standards. Could it have been more subtle? Without a doubt. Was it impactful nonetheless? Absolutely.

That being said…a recurring thought I had while reading Flawless Girls was that it felt like a front for as many gemstone facts as possible. Next to the metaphor about femininity and performance, gemstones were right up there with the most striking motifs of the novel, but they were everywhere. Once you get past the 30% mark, characters will just ramble on about any kind of gemstone fact that they can shove in the span of two pages. At that point, a motif that bloats so much of the narrative just isn’t a motif anymore—it’s just swallowing everything else in its path. It did play a key role in the ending, but if McLemore wanted to make said ending more impactful, slimming down the endless character interactions where they just talk about gemstones for five pages would have been the right move. Like with jewelry, placement is key—you can’t just drown the narrative in a single motif and call it pretty.

Also, the worldbuilding is a mess. A complete mess. In the synopsis and the beginning of the novel, it’s stated that the reason that Isla and Renata are sent off to the Alarie House is that they’ve been raised to be rebellious and questioning of authority, and as they are Latina girls, it’s safer to teach them to keep quiet so that they don’t garner any unwanted attention. That would have been a very timely theme…if there was any indication of what society that Flawless Girls was set in! I assumed that it was a vaguely historical setting (and the author’s note didn’t clarify much else other than it being “historical”), but we get no sense of where we are in time, save for pre-21st century. Flawless Girls could equally work as being in a fantasy world or historical fiction with a touch of magical realism…but we have no idea which McLemore was going for, because outside of the Alarie House, nothing about the world is explained. No explanation of how and why the finishing schools came to be, no explanation of the technology level, no explanation of the (presumably) patriarchal powers pulling the strings and squeezing women into these molds. No worldbuilding, only gemstones!

All in all, a disappointing and messy effort from a longtime favorite that felt half-baked at best, but still shone in places. 3.25 stars.

Flawless Girls is a standalone, but Anna-Marie McLemore is also the author of Wild Beauty, When the Moon Was Ours, The Weight of Feathers, Lakelore, Dark and Deepest Red, Blanca & Roja, and Self-Made Boys: A Great Gatsby Remix. They also co-authored Venom & Vow (with Elliott McLeMore) and Miss Meteor (with Tehlor Kay Mejia), and have contributed short stories to several anthologies, including All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens throughout the Ages, Eternally Yours, Color Outside the Lines, and many others.

Today’s song:

one of my favorite songs from this album!!

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (6/17/24) – Floating Hotel

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Old news: I’m desperate for good cozy sci-fi, and most of that desperation comes from the fact that nobody does it like Becky Chambers, but publishers will slap “perfect for Becky Chambers fans!” on literally any sci-fi book with a hint of several people crammed on a ship. It has to stop. Floating Hotel looked like it might actually live up to those expectations, but I was hesitant because I didn’t enjoy Grace Curtis’ debut, Frontier. But I’m glad I gave Floating Hotel a chance, because it was just what I needed!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Floating Hotel – Grace Curtis

The Grand Abeona Hotel knows no borders, no political affiliations, and no galaxy or planet to call home. But for many, the Grand Abeona is their home away from home—a safe haven where nobody cares who you are and why you’re here. Run by Carl, the aging manager who first came to the hotel as a stowaway, the Grand Abeona is home to a vibrant cast of characters, all of whom will have paths that will unexpectedly intersect. And as small mysteries begin piling up in the far corners of the Grand Abeona, Carl and the hotel’s misfit staff must pull the pieces together before the hotel itself is put in harm’s way.

TW/CW: death, torture (both offscreen), verbal abuse

In retrospect, there’s really no better book that I could have read on my Kindle, which has the Grand Budapest Hotel on the case. Some things were just meant to be.

I doubt anyone will ever top Becky Chambers in terms of cozy sci-fi, but Grace Curtis comes close—and that’s exactly why I’m so glad that I gave her another chance. Though it’s not without its mystery and relatively high-stakes subplots, Floating Hotel is a cup of tea for the soul: quiet, observant, and downright warm and charming.

My main issue with Frontier was that it promised action, but delivered next to nothing; it’s not that I don’t like books without action, but when your book’s tagline is “love, loss, and laser guns,” you kind of…have to deliver there, no? After reading Floating Hotel, it’s clear that quieter, cozy sci-fi is what Curtis was meant to write; aside from the rebellion subplot, which was relatively under-the-radar and wasn’t a major issue until the last 20% of the novel, this novel had comfortably low stakes. Although there was a fair amount of turmoil in the empire established in the world of Floating Hotel, you really do feel like the Grand Abeona is a safe haven from all of the ills of the galaxy. There, nobody cares who you are, so long as you have a story to tell.

Another issue with Frontier was that, with all of the characters and subplots it juggled, a lot of the plot points blended together, giving the reader little time to connect with anybody. If my leap from Frontier’s 2-star rating to my 4-star rating of Floating Hotel wasn’t indication enough, Curtis has significantly improved on that aspect of her writing in the space between the two novels! This novel similarly juggles a multitude of characters—many of whom only get one chapter in the vast sea of POVs—but all of them have a unique place in the story. None of the backstories or motivations felt forced, and all of them connected back to how the Grand Abeona has healed them as people; through all of their eyes, whether it’s a waitress, a piano player, or a professor visiting for a conference, you can see just how important of the Grand Abeona is as a safe haven. Floating Hotel is one of the few books with more than 10 (I think?) POVs that has truly worked for me, and it’s a combination of really being able to connect each one to the hotel and its story, and it incorporates other characters organically before we even get their POVs—the interconnectedness was so smooth that I didn’t mind the massive amount of voices displayed.

Curtis clearly understands the cozy part of cozy sci-fi that so many people who market books as “cozy” never seem to get—the near absence of stakes. For the majority of the novel, it’s a very down-to-earth, slice-of-life kind of plot where all of the mysteries are more humorous than troubling; I mean, one of the main subplots of the first half of the novel is trying to find the culprit of an anonymous admirer leaving love letters in the lobby index. And I ate it up. It’s just so gentle!! Is the fate of the galaxy at stake? Absolutely not! The hotel staff is just getting together once a week to watch terrible movies for nostalgia’s sake!! Peak cozy sci-fi right here, folks!! There are queer and disabled characters abound (WOOHOO!!), but neither homophobia nor ableism are plot points at all! They’re just going about their lives!! This is the stuff!!

What both Curtis and Becky Chambers get right about cozy sci-fi as well is that cozy doesn’t necessarily equal apolitical. In the background, there’s plenty of discussions of imperialism with the tyrannical empire crawling with shady cloning and nepotism (take a guess at how those two things tie together…). Curtis isn’t afraid to take stabs at capitalism, environmental destruction, xenophobia (I love the subplot about the empire banning media about aliens because it would compromise the perceived superiority of the human race), and so much more over the course of the novel, and it elevates it exponentially. It emphasizes another truth (for me, at least) about cozy sci-fi, and being a gentle person in general—cozy or quiet does not equal docile or unwilling to speak out about injustice. To quote IDLES, another bastion of kindness: “Ain’t no doormats here/It doesn’t mean you have to bow, or say “Your Highness”/Just kill ’em with kindness.”

All in all, a gentle and masterful piece of cozy sci-fi, and a marked improvement from Grace Curtis’ debut. Consider my faith in her writing restored! 4 stars!

Floating Hotel is a standalone, but Grace Curtis is also the author of Frontier.

Today’s song:

am I ashamed of listening to this on repeat while writing the third book in my sci-fi trilogy? absolutely not.

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Tags

Read the Rainbow Book Tag 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Monday, bibliophiles!

I’m always up for a pride-themed book tag, so when I saw The Corner of Laura’s take on this one, I knew I had to give it a try! The tag was originally created by Isabelle @ Nine Tale Vixen.

RULES:

  • Link back to the person who tagged you
  • Credit & link back to the creator: Isabelle @ Nine Tale Vixen
  • Each book you pick should have an LGBTQIA+ main character and/or an LGBTQIA+ author. Try to include diverse books: different romantic/sexual/gender orientations, different ethnicities, etc.

Let’s begin, shall we?

🌈READ THE RAINBOW BOOK TAG🌈

RED: A book that gives you courage or is about courage

An Unkindness of Ghosts is a story of courage and resistance in circumstances that have all but walled you in—a generation ship that oppresses its lower-class passengers of color much like the antebellum South. Rivers Solomon never misses!

ORANGE: A book with a passionate/fierce protagonist

Jin-Lu from Road to Ruin is as tough as they come, but will do anything to protect the ones she loves. This novel was the perfect blend of post-apocalyptic sci-fi and fantasy!

YELLOW: A book that celebrates friendship

All of Alechia Dow’s books sparkle with themes of connection, but A Song of Salvation centers around the friendship (and eventual romance) between its three unlikely leads! Not her best, but still a sweet book.

GREEN: A Middle Grade book and/or a book featuring kids

It’s been ages since I’ve read (or even thought about) Star-Crossed, but I’m glad I remembered it—such a sweet coming-of-age story about a bisexual girl playing a genderbent Romeo in her class production of Romeo & Juliet!

BLUE: A book which includes a wedding or an already-established LGBTQIA+ couple

I seriously think that The Heartbreak Bakery has the most LGBTQ+ rep I’ve ever seen in a single book—several established queer couples, and characters spanning tons of sexualities, gender identities, and ethnicities!

PURPLE: A book featuring love at first sight

The Cybernetic Tea Shop is a sweet, cozy sci-fi novella about a robot who runs a tea shop and the romance that blooms between her and a technician!

BLACK: A book centered on an antihero or villain

Off With Their Heads centers around two cunning, bloodthirsty, and vengeful characters, in an equally bloodthirsty and vengeful world loosely based on Alice in Wonderland.

BROWN: A book that celebrates family, chosen or given

Don’t let the gritty-looking title and cover fool you—Activation Degradation is one of the most emotional celebrations of found family that I’ve read all year! Highly recommend it.

LIGHT BLUE: A book about star-crossed lovers

Across a Field of Starlight features a nonbinary romance that stretches across solar systems, war, and ideology.

PINK: A book as sweet as cotton candy

Just Your Local Bisexual Disaster is a lighthearted, sweet romance about a bisexual girl scrambling to find a date for her sister’s quinceañera—and sort out her messy romantic history.

WHITE: A book that isn’t focused on romance

Another piece of lovely cozy sci-fi (from the cozy sci-fi queen herself), A Psalm for the Wild-Built has no romance, and focuses on self-discovery and friendship!

PURPLE CIRCLE: A standalone book that is perfect and complete on its own

Only This Beautiful Moment is the story of three generations of men in an Iranian family, and the interwoven threads of sexuality, trauma, and love.

RAINBOW: Free choice! Recommend any LGBTQIA+ book that you love

A Half-Built Garden was one of the best pieces of sci-fi that I read last year—a wonderfully nuanced and human vision of first contact, featuring a whole host of cleverly designed aliens!

I TAG ANYONE WHO WANTS TO PARTICIPATE!

Today’s song:

:,,,,,,,,,,)

That’s it for this book tag! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Books

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️The Bookish Mutant’s Books for Pride Month (2024 Edition) 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles!

Here in the U.S., June is Pride Month! And every month, I find myself having a downer of an introduction, just because the world only gets kinder to queer people in the smallest increments, it seems. The vocal minority in this country are still bent on erasing all evidence that queer people exist in the first place, like an offending stain on a white tablecloth. (A note to homophobes: has it ever occurred to you that you don’t have to look at pride flags or queer couples? You can just look away and not make it anybody else’s problem…life is so short, man.) But our community is one characterized by resilience: no amount of book bans, culture wars, or bigotry will wipe us off the map. We are are here, we have always been here, and we will always be here. Nothing you do will make us disappear. Don’t let the vocal minority distract you from the beauty created and progress made by our community.

So once again, here’s a list of YA and Adult books with queer characters and themes, curated by your local bisexual. I also added the specific representation of each book.

Just a refresher on my key:

MC: Main character

LI: Love interest

SC: Side character(s)

For my previous lists, see below:

Enjoy these book recs!

🌈THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR PRIDE MONTH (2024 EDITION)🌈

FANTASY

SCIENCE FICTION

REALISTIC FICTION:

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and if so, did you enjoy them? What are some of your favorite queer books that you’ve read in the last year? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

That’s it for this year’s pride recommendations! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (6/11/24) – Junker Seven

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles! I’m back from vacation, and I’m feeling rested—and ready to review one of the books I read on my trip.

Junker Seven hung around on my TBR for about a year, and I ended up buying it on Kindle for my trip; as I’ve said ad nauseam, queer sci-fi is the stuff of life for me, so I’ll always lap it up when given the chance. Although I wish the worldbuilding (and the politics) were more creative, it was a solid tale of of love and the joy in reminding yourself that your existence is an act of resistance.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Junker Seven (Twin Suns duology, #1) – Olive J. Kelley

Castor Quasar makes a solitary but dangerous living as a junker, ferrying scrap—and fugitives—across the galaxy. They prefer to stay out of the business of others, whether that’s the widespread political unrest throughout the galaxy or simply making friends. But when Castor is offered a job with an exorbitant amount of money, they can’t help but be suspicious, even though the offer would mean valuable repairs for their ship—and an easier living. Their cargo is Juno Marcus, a trans activist with a target on her back and an urgent need to escape before the Intergalactic Peace Force finds her. Castor reluctantly agrees, but they soon find themself in over their head—and head over heels in love…

TW/CW: murder, loss of loved ones, transphobia, deadnaming, misgendering, ableism, police brutality

Junker Seven was by no means without its flaws, but if you’re looking for a love letter to trans love and identity, a slow-burn romance, and resistance in space, then you’ve come to the right place! Not my favorite, but this was a good book to start off pride month—unabashedly queer and political.

Structurally, there were a lot of odd worldbuilding choices (I’ll get to that later), but despite that, the world of Junker Seven felt wonderfully lived-in. The quiet moments where Castor was alone on their ship were what convinced me of this world being tangible; not everything is sleek, clean, and untouched. You never get the sense that the ship is cramped just because it was made so, but because of all of the choices that led Castor to the place they are today. It’s not just a plot device vehicle—it’s got special nooks and crannies that have been shifted over the years, and there’s a goldfish that’s been there through it all, Castor’s only constant companion. Details like this, as well as some of the pockets of resistance that Castor and Juno find throughout their journey, added a real human element to the story. Even with only two characters for most of the novel, Kelley did an excellent job of making the galaxy seem like a tangible place where humans have settled—and brought their unique ways into a new, far-future world.

If you’re looking for representation, especially trans representation, then you’re in the right place—Junker Seven has diversity in spades! Both the main character and the love interest are trans, as well as several side characters, and Castor is also disabled—they have burn scars, a prosthetic leg, and autism! The key part of said representation is that it never felt like a checklist; if the acknowledgements are any indication, Kelley’s goal was to create a resonant story of trans joy, love, and resistance, and though I’m not trans (disabled and queer, though), that love shone through; Junker Seven felt like a love letter to trans resistance all the way through, from Castor and Juno’s slowburn romance to Castor’s gradual radicalization. I love how the disability representation was handled as well! All of the details about Castor’s autism affects their job felt authentic as a neurodivergent person; no stone was left unturned, whether it was how wearing their prosthetic affected their sensory issues to how it affected their relationships. It’s clear from every page that the diversity in this novel wasn’t borne out of a need to tick off every possible marginalization—it was borne of a need to put authentic queer, trans, and disabled stories out into the world.

That being said, the worldbuilding of Junker Seven gets stranger the more I think about it. There are enough pockets that could convince you that, yes, this could be hard sci-fi that had some thought put into it, but the actual worldbuilding ends at the descriptions of the climates of the planets that Castor and Juno are hopping to and from. Other than that, the politics are the main focus, but given how political this book is, I was surprised at how unoriginal it was in terms of the evolution of politics and queer resistance. Junker Seven is set several hundred years from now, and yet the politics are all but copied and pasted from the U.S. politics of today—no changes whatsoever, save for being stricter when it comes to the treatment of trans people in particular. Yes, history does tend to repeat itself in terms of treatment of the marginalized, but it’s never in the exact same way twice; technology changes, rhetoric changes, leadership changes. None of that is reflected in Junker Seven; honestly, it was familiar to such a degree that it would have worked more if it were set in a less futuristic dystopia set on Earth. This story is set so far in the future that minimal changes in language and policy just makes no sense. It would have been so much more potent—and creative, frankly—to see how the adapted technology of the future actually factored into how trans people in this universe were being oppressed. There were a few throwaway mentions of more advanced technology that was being used to surveil trans people, but that was about the extent that anything changed. It all boiled down to unused potential—there were so many opportunities to explore how (possible) aspects like advancing technology, increased policing, and advancements in genetic modification could affect the status of trans people throughout the galaxy. And yet, Kelley chose to change almost nothing about our current political climate and paste it into space—to the detriment of my suspension of disbelief. Oppression of marginalized groups remains the same in its goals, but not necessarily in its methods—those change with the times.

What also suspended my disbelief was how little we knew about Marwood save for that he was horrible. Save for being a Trump stand-in, we knew almost nothing about him, save for that a) he’s evil (Trump), b) there’s a widespread news network that’s basically his mouthpiece that he uses to demonize trans people (Fox News), and c) did I mention? He’s evil. I will give Kelley some credit for at least establishing the Zephyr News aspect and the fact that his nepotistic predecessor both ended presidential term limits and instated Marwood in a corrupt, illegitimate election so that his fascist, ultra-conservative values would live on. That, at least, felt like a reasonable enough start for a villainous character, but that was it. The key word here is start. I wouldn’t say it completely falls into the dystopian trope of “we’re not going to say anything about the government, but you have to understand. They’re BAD, guys. BAD,” but it comes rather close. This circles back to my overarching issue of unoriginal worldbuilding, but I wanted to know what separated Marwood from any other run-of-the-mill fascist—did he come from a celebrity background and had no real political experience, like Reagan or Trump, or was he a more cold and calculating type with political prowess who knows exactly how to undo any kind of progress and twist the laws in order to abuse his power? A successful, frightening villain needs to be more than an evil cardboard standup that lurks in the shadows, and we never got more than fragments to show that Marwood was more than a stand-in fascist to move the plot along. (Also, did the entire galaxy, after blending into an almost universal accent after several hundred years, universally adopt a vaguely American two-party system and government? It’s…yeah, I have trouble believing that too.)

Although the disability representation is excellent, as I said before, I did find it odd that it wasn’t a part of Castor’s radicalization; being disabled in the 21st century is already a cyberpunk dystopia as it is, so I’m surprised that there wasn’t much discussion of not just Castor’s experience with being disabled, but how it affected their work or their perception of politics. Save for a throwaway line about an autistic person being driven to a life of crime because of how poorly said autism was treated and handled, there wasn’t much rumination on it other than that. I get that the main focus of Junker Seven was trans resistance specifically, I do wish we at least got more of it than what we got. Come to think of it…as diverse as Junker Seven was, there wasn’t a whole lot of intersectionality in terms of politics. I think there was…maybe one line about race and police brutality, and that was about it? I wouldn’t say that this is inherently a flaw of the book itself, but, once again, given how unabashedly political it was, I did find it odd that there wasn’t at least a small mention of the intersection of queer/trans issues with aspects like race, class, and disability.

All in all, a solid piece of queer sci-fi which suffered from unoriginal and nonsensical worldbuilding, but was nonetheless a shining ode to queer resistance. 3.5 stars!

Junker Seven is the first of the Twin Suns duology, followed by the forthcoming sequel Rebel Rising, which is slated for release in September. Kelley has also released D3F3CT: A Twin Suns Novella, set in the same universe as Junker Seven, as well as the novellas As the Light Goes Out and A Very Lighthouse Christmas. They have also contributed to Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology and the forthcoming Dead Cowpokes Don’t Wrangle: A Weird West Anthology.

Today’s song:

why, why, WHY DID I PUT OFF LISTENING TO THIS ALBUM FOR SO LONG??

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (5/14/24) – Dear Wendy

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Hooooooooooooo-whee…rant incoming…they’re good for the soul. Sometimes. I hate to do this so soon after I posted this year’s AAPI Heritage Month recommendations, but I just had to get this review off my chest. I highly recommend all of those books over this one.

God. I really wanted to like this one. Older YA where the characters are in college are few and far-between, and what’s even fewer and further-between is aromantic/asexual representation, much less POC aro-ace representation. I almost DNF’d this one, but I really wanted to stick it out and see if it turned out any better…and tragically, it didn’t. I hate to say it, but Dear Wendy was one of the most stiffly-written books I’ve read in quite a while.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Dear Wendy – Ann Zhao

Sophie Chi and Jo Ephron are both second-semester freshmen at Wellesley College, and they don’t know that they know each other. Sophie runs Dear Wendy, an Instagram account that gives love advice to Wellesley’s student body, and Jo runs Dear Wanda, a much more unhinged parody of the former with joke advice to contrast Wendy’s more serious online persona. The two meet in real life and immediately hit it off—they’re both aroace, and have never met many people, even in the queer community, who have experienced the same things as them. But as their online feud as Wendy and Wanda gets heated, Sophie and Jo must decide if they want to divulge their mutual secret—and risk their real friendship.

TW/CW: aphobia, anxiety, bullying, discussions of coming out/non-accepting parents (brief)

Ooof. Even from an outside perspective (as a non-ace person, but still queer), there’s a noticeable dearth of asexual-/aromantic- spectrum stories, even in YA, which is usually several steps ahead of the game as far as being progressive. So in concept, I’m glad that Dear Wendy exists, and I’m sure it will help a ton of a-spec people find their voices and feel seen. But good lord, this was easily one of the most poorly-written novels I’ve read all year. I’m genuinely baffled that I read the same book as all of the other people who left such glowing reviews. Baffled. Again, speaking from an outside perspective, but I think the a-spec community deserves better than this…

I usually preface my negative reviews with this, but I’ll say it again, because it always applies: I’m willing to give a certain amount of slack to Ann Zhao since Dear Wendy is her debut novel. It’s so hard to put pen to paper, and harder still to get it published, and that in and of itself is an intense labor of love. And I’m so glad that this book exists for some people for its discussions of AAPI, aroace, and gender non-conforming identity. I’m sure it’ll be a book that will mean a great deal to a great deal of people.

But. But.

All that doesn’t fully excuse how painfully stiff Zhao’s writing was. Dear Wendy would have been a DNF for me had I not stubbornly tried to stick it out, just because I was convinced that the rest of the book wouldn’t be a disappointment. I wanted to give it a chance, with the combination of the premise and the fact that it’s Zhao’s debut. I had faith that it would get better, but it never did. For a novel that purported itself to be charming and emotional, the writing felt more like a textbook or a brochure than fiction—never once did any of the characters feel like real people talking. The novel was full of writing choices that just felt downright odd; at some point, we hear one of the main characters eavesdropping on two other characters (about the Social Media Drama™️), and after each of these side characters speak, we get their first and last names—and then never hear from them again. Characters list out song titles like they’re being read aloud by Siri, and all of the attempts at humor are just the characters doing word-for-word reenactments of jokes from Tumblr and TikTok without any attempts to hide the evidence. And for two characters that are supposed to have opposing personalities, their voices blended together in an indistinguishable, bland mess—the only way we can “tell” is through the differences in their fabricated social media personalities. If I wanted to be hit over the head with something that unsubtly, I would’ve stood under the ice dispenser in the dining hall. But through it all, I was just struck by how none of the people acted like people—they acted like social media fabrications of queer people, and the world was similarly dictated through an artificial lens.

Dear Wendy is full of a myriad of relevant topics: aroace identity and acceptance, the suffocation of allosexual culture and the unrelenting pressure to find “the one,” and immigrant parents who don’t fully accept your queerness, to name a few. I’ll say again how glad I am that these subjects are being discussed in literature, because it’s true—we do need to talk about these things! But their delivery, more than not, zigzagged around one of the most time-worn rules of writing: show, don’t tell. Although this is realistic fiction, I feel like it falls into the same kind of mistakes that some sci-fi or fantasy novels make when they deliver information that is new to the reader: they deliver it in unpalatable blocks, making time all but stop in the narrative just so the author can explain The Important Thing™️. This was how most of the discussions felt in Dear Wendy; instead of a new worldbuilding point, it was just the character’s inner monologue, uninterrupted, for at least two pages at the longest. I get that it’s crucial to weave in these points, but there’s a way to do it without harming the flow of the story—once or twice is fine, when there’s a reason for the character to be so deep inside their head, but given that this story was supposed to center around Sophie and Jo’s relationship, there could have been so many more bonding scenes where they talked about this organically! That’s not to say that those scenes weren’t there, but since we were already stuck in inner monologue limbo 50 pages ago, none of the information was new, and therefore, none of the bonding felt like new ground.

In the author’s note, Ann Zhao calls this a love letter to Wellesley College, and that although her experience there wasn’t all good, she wanted to highlight the good in Dear Wendy. Remember what I said about the stiff writing? It applied to the surroundings, too. If her writing style contained…any sort of soul, then that mission statement would have come across. Instead, I felt like I was reading a college website for some parts of the novel. I got so far in to Zhao’s descriptions of the campus and the features of the dining hall that I had to blink and question whether or not she’d been paid to write all this by the college. Look—I’m sure Wellesley is a great place (historically women’s colleges are fantastic!) and I don’t want to negate the love that Zhao had for her time there, but there were so many places where the descriptions didn’t feel, again, like people experiencing their environment—it was just being dictated through a lens so devoid of personality that I felt like I was on a college tour, forced to hear a long-winded monologue about a bunch of landmarks that I’d never see again.

Usually, I’m in favor of a little pop culture referencing once in a while. I’ve never understood the argument that pop culture references in YA fiction take them out of the story. What, is fiction supposed to exist in some kind of culture-less vacuum? God forbid your characters engage with the same media as you do…god forbid you pay homage to the creators that inspired you to put pen to paper, apparently? If there’s anything that actually takes me out of the story, it’s the fake celebrities/artists/social media apps. (I get that a lot of that is dodging copyright, but the point still stands.) The argument has never made sense to me. Sure, dumping them all in a barrage is obviously a no-no, but there’s an art to a well-placed reference, and it’s an art that I appreciate. I have a completely arbitrary Goodreads shelf for books with good music references. (This one almost went on it just for an off-hand mention of Mitski.) But reading Dear Wendy made me understand where the anti-pop culture reference people are coming from. The whole book felt like a front to shove in as many references as humanly possible. Dear Wendy is over 360 pages—it wouldn’t have killed Zhao to cut out the chapter entirely consisting of Jo and Sophie talking about Harry Styles. The only places where the music references in particular felt relevant where when Jo was DJ-ing at the college station, and even then, when she was talking to Sophie about her upcoming song choices, it felt like they were being queued up and read aloud by Siri. Mind you, this wasn’t when Jo was actually DJ-ing—this was when she was talking to her friend. It only would have been worse if she’d said “Remastered version” in verbal parentheses.

And…god. If another book tries to smother me with this many Taylor Swift references, I’m going to chew my kindle in half. It’s already bad enough that even the dining hall TV was showing me news clips about whatever mediocre thing she’s doing…please, I thought literature was supposed to be an escape…

All in all, a platonic love story with all the ingredients for something meaningful and sweet that substituted personality and charm for stiffness and irrelevant references. 1.5 stars.

Dear Wendy is a standalone and Ann Zhao’s debut.

Today’s song:

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!