Always Human came onto my radar around three years ago—probably from my fellow bloggers—but I’d forgotten about it until I came across it at my college’s library. I’m always a sucker for cozy sci-fi, and I never say no to a graphic novel, so of course I picked this book up. But while it was sweet and had some great commentary on disability, it didn’t quite scratch my sci-fi itch in all the right ways.
Sunati lives in a world of body modification. With simple, easy-to-use technology, she can change any part of her appearance that she wishes—even enhancing her memory so that she won’t have to study for tests. But not everybody has it as easy as Sunati. Austen has Egan’s syndrome, which means that her immune system rejects any kind of body modification. When the two meet by chance, it’s love at first sight. And although they are different in all kinds of ways, it won’t take long before they realize that they were made for each other.
Art by Ari North
TW/CW: nothing that I can find—Always Human is very gentle, and I’d be hard-pressed to find anything triggering about it. Enjoy!
Always Human is sweet. It was a soft, tender palate-cleanser, but I didn’t find myself getting very attached to any of it. It’s cute, and I’d say it’s worth a read, but it lacked the emotional weight to fully immerse myself in the characters or the world.
Let’s start out with the positives. It’s rare that fictional, sci-fi disabilities actually mirror the experience of disabled people, but Always Human did an excellent job of portraying Austen’s disability. Austen has Egan’s syndrome, a fictional autoimmune disorder where her body rejects any kind of body modification, which is central in the futuristic world where Always Human is set. Throughout Sunati and Austen’s developing romance, this novel makes the very important case that disabled people do not exist to inspire you, and that going through life as a disabled person isn’t some grand feat. It’s something that Sunati has to contend with when talking about Austen, and watching her learn made at least some of the romance work.
Additionally, I loved how vibrant the art style was! I’m not usually one for the quasi-manga style that North draws in, but every panel really did pop. The vibrant pinks and blues truly shone, which simultaneously sold the joyous glow of young love and the bright, technology-centric world that Sunati and Austen inhabit. Just like the story itself, there are no hard edges: everything is soft and cloudy, calling sunsets, cotton candy, and hope to mind. It suited the story exceptionally well—Ari North absolutely looked like she knew what she was doing.
However, there was one part of the art that didn’t sit as pleasantly with me. Although the colors consistently popped, the character movements…did not. Their poses looked so consistently stiff. And listen. I’m an artist. I get it. Drawing dynamic poses is so hard. Game recognizes game. But the characters’ movements looked so wooden, no matter what pose they were drawn in. These static poses failed to immerse me fully in the story—if they don’t look like they’re really moving, how can I believe that anything else is? I’m saying this to myself as well as Ari North: maybe a few more of those nice references on Pinterest would have livened up the art.
Always Human made the jump from WebToon to print after seemingly wild success on the former, but I’m not sure if the plot format survived the leap. The broken-up chapters would theoretically work if I were getting them, say, once a week, but all together, they didn’t feel quite as coherent. I’m all for cozy sci-fi and slice-of-life stories, but what makes the ones I like work is that there’s still some kind of end goal, however low-stakes it may be, that the characters are heading towards. Always Human felt rather meandering in that sense. It really felt like the plot was being made up as North went along, and the result was quite lukewarm. Even the romance, which the plot clearly hinged on, was set up and happened so quickly that the rest of the story didn’t hold much water. If the romance had been slowly developed over the course of the graphic novel, I would have felt much more engaged. Thus, I never really felt the emotion that North was trying so hard to get across—it all felt rushed and half-baked. Insta-love is never the answer, kids.
All in all, a light and fluffy sci-fi comic that boasted vibrant color and cogent points about disability, but felt rather stiff in both the art and the plot. 3 stars.
Always Human is the first volume in the Always Human series; the series concludes with Love and Gravity.
Today’s song:
adore this album, but also, I can’t listen to it too many times in a row, y’know?
That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
It might still be a week or so before I completely return to some semblance of my normal schedule, but I’m starting to get to the point where I know where I’m going and what I’m doing. And as much as I hate the constant home football games we’ve been having, at least it means that my already quiet floor is even quieter, so I can get my homework done in a serene environment—and write these reviews as well!
Since my birthday last month, I’ve taken all of the books I got—ones that I bought on my birthday and gifts from family—back to my dorm, where I slowly (yes, slowly, settling into college is weird) devoured them over the course of several weeks. I’m happy to say that it was a fantastic batch—not every one was the best book I’ve ever read, but it’s chiefly in the 4-star range. I got a 5-star book out of these as well! And now they sit proudly on my little dorm bookshelf, ready to be reviewed.
Verse, Chorus, Monster! is the memoir of iconic British musician and Blur co-founder Graham Coxon, charting a life of music, fame, addiction and art. Before the noise and clamour of the Britpop era, Coxon was a shy Army kid tempering his anxiety through painting and a growing love of music. As he honed his artistic skill at school, his band with school friend Damon Albarn, fellow student Alex James, and a drummer called Dave Rowntree began to get noticed. But there are things they don’t tell you before you get famous. There are monsters out there. And some may even be lurking inside yourself.
☆
TW/CW: substance abuse/addiction, themes of mental health issues
I’ve been trying to branch out into more nonfiction over the past few years, but even if I wasn’t, I would have picked this up eventually either way. My Blur awakening back in 2021 made sure of that. So of course I was excited to see that Graham Coxon was coming out with a memoir—he’s always struck me as such a sensitive, creative person, and Verse, Chorus, Monster! fortunately cemented that, for the most part!
I always have a lingering fear that celebrity memoirs will somehow ruin my image of them, but with this one, I still hold that Graham Coxon seems like such a deeply insightful and sensitive soul. This glimpse into his mind was all at once raw and touching; the frequent sections about his struggles with anxiety and alcoholism were difficult to read, but I’m so glad to have verbal confirmation that he’s been getting better as of late, and that he’s starting to work on himself in that respect. Beyond that, there’s just so much about this memoir that was immediately endearing. The insight into one of the main creative forces behind one of my favorite bands (and a fantastic solo artist in his own right) was fascinating to hear from the front lines, and I loved the pieces we got of his creative process—opening the book with the spark of inspiration that lead to the hook of my favorite song (“Tender”) was the quickest possible way to win me over. And it’s easy for memoirs to have a sense of humility that’s manufactured, but Coxon’s personality really did come off as genuinely humble.
All in all, an excellent memoir by a truly admirable creative force—and a refreshingly humble one. 4 stars!
In the ashes of a dying world, Red finds a letter marked “Burn before reading.”
So begins an unlikely correspondence between two rival agents in a war that stretches through the vast reaches of time and space.
Red belongs to the Agency, a post-singularity technotopia. Blue belongs to Garden, a single vast consciousness embedded in all organic matter. Their pasts are bloody and their futures mutually exclusive. They have nothing in common—save that they’re the best, and they’re alone.
Now what began as a battlefield boast grows into a dangerous game, one both Red and Blue are determined to win. Because winning’s that you do in war. Isn’t it?
A tour de force collaboration from two powerhouse writers that spans the whole of time and space.
☆
TW/CW: blood, violence, murder, self-harm, descriptions of bodies/corpses, torture, poisoning, war
Hoowhee, brother. This one was good.
Time War had floated on the edges of my radar for years ever since it came out, but I ultimately decided to pick it up on the recommendations of one of my professors and one of my best friends. And their high praise—and the high praise of so many others—was more than well-deserved.
For such a short novella, Time War packs a truly unforgettable gut punch, vibrant and rich with emotion. Who knew that these two characters identified only by colors would consume so much of my days when I read this? I can’t praise this book enough. The prose is beyond rich, truly enchanting and expansive, fitting for the cosmic scale that this story is set in. It has an almost gothic sensibility to it, even with the firmly sci-fi trappings—what’s more romantic, dramatic, and emotional than two lovers reaching for each other across the vastness of space and time itself? But even with this grand scale, This is How You Lose the Time War is one of the most deeply human stories that I’ve read in ages. It taps into that innate desire to love and be loved, or even to just have someone to talk to as the world around you is collapsing. In spite of the grand, cosmic conflict and multiple universes colliding, nothing can come in the way of our desire for love and connection. It’s one of those stories where plot details—names and how this time-spanning war started—mean nothing in the face of the deep resonance of the characters.
Hold me. I need a minute…
What else is there to say? Go read this, what are you even doing? 5 stars!
Ambassador Mahit Dzmare arrives in the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire only to discover that her predecessor, the previous ambassador from their small but fiercely independent mining Station, has died. But no one will admit that his death wasn’t an accident—or that Mahit might be next to die, during a time of political instability in the highest echelons of the imperial court.
Now, Mahit must discover who is behind the murder, rescue herself, and save her Station from Teixcalaan’s unceasing expansion—all while navigating an alien culture that is all too seductive, engaging in intrigues of her own, and hiding a deadly technological secret—one that might spell the end of her Station and her way of life—or rescue it from annihilation.
☆
TW/CW: themes of colonialism/imperialism, murder/attempted murder, violence
College isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but man, it’s fun sometimes. I got an A on a literary theory assignment where I compared this book to an essay we read in class. I love being an English major.
If the fact that I used A Memory Called Empire for a literary theory assignment doesn’t make you think that there’s a ton of great stuff to chew on in this book, I’m not sure how else to convince you. It’s fantastic space opera, but it errs more on the side of a political thriller—a common enough combination these days, but one that was so well-executed in this case. Reckoning with the history of colonialism in science fiction has been on the rise—and for a very good reason—but A Memory Called Empire had such an interesting take on it. This is the first of these kinds of novels that I’ve seen tackle the seduction of colonialism; along with the actual murder mystery afoot, Mahit Dzmare is also being pulled—both physically and mentally—into the clutches of the reigning Teixcalaanli Empire, and is being groomed into the ruling culture as she tries to stay afloat and protect her space station from imminent colonization. The character work is nothing short of excellent, the worldbuilding is top-notch, and the suspense is palpable from start to finish. It’s all a treat.
This book has gotten quite a lot of hype over the years, but it really is all that—alluring, suspenseful, and nothing short of insightful. 4 stars!
Stel and Atan are interstellar investigators trying to find a lost space station and its crew. When they discover the mythical paradise planet Edena, their lives are changed forever. The long out-of-print Edena Cycle from Moebius gets a deluxe hardcover treatment! Moebius’s World of Edena story arc comprises five chapters–Upon a Star, Gardens of Edena, The Goddess, Stel, and Sra–which are all collected here.
☆
TW/CW: nudity, mild sci-fi action
I’ve been meaning to get into Mœbius for years now; ever since I reactivated my pinterest and went on a deep dive of sci-fi art, I’ve been drawn to the enigmatic, meticulous, and downright wondrous quality of his art. (I feel like it would’ve happened eventually—turns out that he was a major influence on Tony DiTerlizzi, and especially his inking style in the Search for WondLa trilogy, which has shaped me beyond repair.) I started here with Edena, and I put it on my birthday list.
I still hold that he may be one of my favorite artists. His style is so ethereally captivating, and I found many a piece that I’ve used for my desktop wallpaper in the past few years inside Edena. His landscapes are instantly transporting, and there’s not a single character design lacking in whimsical charm. The story itself…slightly less so? It’s like a sci-fi Yellow Submarine, but if the script was due in an hour and he’d forgotten all about it until then. Given the circumstances, it’s understandable; Edena apparently started out as a car ad (???), and then it took on a life of its own, completely unplanned. There’s inconsistencies aplenty with both the story and the art, but for the most part, it was just so wild that I enjoyed the ride. If it gives you some idea of what happens, Mœbius pulls the classic “IT WAS ALL A DREAM” move that ends up resolving (if you can call it that) the whole mess. It’s nuts. But there were so many pockets that I wished we could have explored more. There were some super interesting gender themes going on—I wish we got to know why Stel and Atan were on their gender-neutral hormone supplements, for a lack of a better word, but the resulting transformation into their Adam and Eve roles (hence the name) was so fascinating, especially since this only came out in the late eighties or so. (Of course, Atan/Atana effectively becomes a damsel in distress post-transformation, but that’s a whole other can of worms. Ouch.)
In short, The World of Edena was beautiful, if not a bit of a mess. Luckily, the mess was endearing, for the most part, or at least fun. 3.75 stars, rounded up to 4!
As a biracial, unenrolled tribal member and the product of a scandal, Daunis Fontaine has never quite fit in—both in her hometown and on the nearby Ojibwe reservation. When her family is struck by tragedy, Daunis puts her dreams on hold to care for her fragile mother. The only bright spot is meeting Jamie, the charming new recruit on her brother’s hockey team.
After Daunis witnesses a shocking murder that thrusts her into a criminal investigation, she agrees to go undercover. But the deceptions—and deaths—keep piling up and soon the threat strikes too close to home. How far will she go to protect her community if it means tearing apart the only world she’s ever known?
☆
TW/CW: racism, murder, sexual harassment and assault, misogyny, rape, death, gun violence, descriptions of injury, substance abuse
Originally, I put off reading this book because a) I’m not usually much of a YA mystery/thriller person, and b) the mountain of hype was certainly intimidating. I ended up reading Warrior Girl Unearthed because the plot fascinated me more from the start, and I loved it so much that I ended up buying Firekeeper’s Daughter after all. And, once again, I’ve been struck with the luck of hyped books being all worth the hype.
Every part of Firekeeper’s Daughter is excellent, from the effortless way that Angeline Boulley weaves a scene and setting together to the never-ending suspense that kept me guessing for page after page, twist after twist. Making a setting as tangible and populated as hers was is no easy feat—and it suited every other aspect of this book in every conceivable way. You can’t have a corrupt, hidden history of a town without the town itself. The sense of community—and the rifts driven into it—were some of the best I’ve seen in YA fiction in quite a while. Part of that wouldn’t have been possible without Boulley’s equally excellent character work; Just like their community, every character feels nothing short of authentic and multilayered. This all made the twists so much more effective—with such layered characters, I learned to expect the unexpected. And even with the ongoing expansion of diversity in YA as a whole, I feel like I haven’t seen as many novels centering Native American or Indigenous characters and stories, so I’m glad that this book exists in that sense as well. (Shoutout to Darcie Little Badger and Moniquill Blackgoose as well!) And Daunis is mixed-race as well! Yay!!!
If you’re questioning whether or not Firekeeper’s Daughter is worth the never-ending hype: trust me, it’s worth a read. 4 stars!
Change or die. These are the only options available on the planet Jeep. Centuries earlier, a deadly virus shattered the original colony, killing the men and forever altering the few surviving women. Now, generations after the colony has lost touch with the rest of humanity, a company arrives to exploit Jeep–and its forces find themselves fighting for their lives. Terrified of spreading the virus, the company abandons its employees, leaving them afraid and isolated from the natives. In the face of this crisis, anthropologist Marghe Taishan arrives to test a new vaccine. As she risks death to uncover the women’s biological secret, she finds that she, too, is changing–and realizes that not only has she found a home on Jeep, but that she alone carries the seeds of its destruction. . .
☆
TW/CW: death, violence, animal death, gore
I picked this one up after how much I loved So Lucky, also by Griffith. Thing is, I had no idea that a) this book was written almost 30 years before So Lucky (although this cover should’ve tipped me off to that), and b) that, even with the genre difference, that this would be a very different kind of book. At this point, nothing tops So Lucky for me, but Ammonite was still a fascinating book in its own right.
If you’re going into this book expecting what most would consider traditional science fiction, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Most of it follows Marghe, who is tasked with delivering a vaccine to an isolated colony of women whose community was decimated by a mysterious illness that wiped out all of the men. At its heart, Ammonite is firmly a survival story; it’s a story of the wilderness, of venturing into the unknown, and adapting to the world around you. There are moments of suspense, moments of tenderness, and moments of absolute fear. Another reviewer described it as “Dune but gay,” and other than the more traditionally sci-fi elements of the former, the comparison was spot-on. Ammonite also has the fact that it’s much slimmer than Dune going for it, but given how long Dune is, that’s not saying much. But I think what has seemed to make this book so groundbreaking is its take on gender dynamics. The cast is entirely women, but when all of the men are taken by the illness, the remaining women don’t automatically form a pacifist, hippie commune; there are flawed women, there are good-hearted women, there are warlike women, and everything in between. This banishing of broad generalizations about gender, I think, is what makes Ammonite feel so ahead of its time.
Sidenote: this was written in the nineties, so Nicola Griffith had to have known about goth people…right? Just saying, calling the barely-described alien megafauna “goths” made me envision a giant, towering version of Robert Smith, not, y’know, whatever she wanted us to picture.
All in all, a very unique take on sci-fi and survival with some groundbreaking gender dynamics that have held up for the past 30 years. 3.5 stars!
A mutated Abe Sapien fights carnivorous monsters crawling out of the desert sand, a fortified militia that’s walled Phoenix off from the rest of the world, and a vicious zombie swarm, while a mad necromancer rises over the monster-infested ruins of Seattle. Collects issues #6-#7 and #9-#11 of the series.
☆
TW/CW: gore, blood, violence, racism, body horror
I haven’t caught up on the actual Abe Sapien series since…[checks notes], eight grade, I think. Jesus. I just remembered flying to New York when I was about 14 and reading the first volume. But even then, I think I subconsciously chose a good place to pick up with it, since there’s a pretty clear gulf between the first three and vol. 4—before and after Abe gets mutated, shot, and quits the B.P.R.D. Just another day at the office for the guy, y’know?
Suffice to say, I was somewhat disappointed by this volume. It was still enjoyable, and even though I was never the biggest fan of Fiumara’s art, the more stylized look suits Abe’s stretched-out, mutated form. Other than that, there wasn’t a whole lot here that I found terribly memorable. Abe goes through the exact same arc as Hellboy upon leaving the B.P.R.D., but it never seems to culminate in much development on his end. Plot-wise, it’s the same ol’, I’m afraid—Abe goes into a random, apocalypse-ravaged town in the middle of nowhere, and, surprise surprise, it’s time to fight some zombies and witness a copious amount of fungus-related body horror. Somehow, the latter works better when it’s the whole B.P.R.D. trying to deal with it—the group dynamic is what makes B.P.R.D. consistently shine, and as much as I love Abe, I’m not sure if he could carry a story like that when it’s the same format they’ve been using on and off for several years. Abe is one of my favorite Mignolaverse characters, and it’s such a shame that he’s never gotten to shine as much in his solo comics. And judging from the reviews on the later volumes, it seems like the quality tanked until we got the band back together for The Devil You Know. Shame.
All in all, an entetraining trade, but one that ultimately did a disservice to one of the Mignolaverse’s most beloved characters. 3.25 stars.
Today’s song:
I swear, this has to be some of Mitski’s best work in YEARS
That’s it for this batch of mini reviews! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
We’ve come around again to Bisexual Visibility Week,which lasts from September 16 – September 23rd! September 23rd is also recognized as Bisexual Visibility Day. And to celebrate, I’ve rounded up another batch of some of my favorite bisexual books that I’ve read in the past few years. Even though I’ve been out as bisexual for nearly five years, seeing myself represented in that aspect of my identity never ceases to warm my heart. I’t’s hard to match the feeling of being seen, really seen, like some of these books have made me feel. But like my last post about Latinx Heritage Month, I wasn’t able to compile a list last year since I was still settling into college. So I prepared a post in advance so I can share my favorite bisexual books that I’ve read since my last post. (And although I’m trying to add more age ranges to these posts, almost all of the ones I wanted to highlight ended up being YA books, so here you are.) Enjoy!
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and if so, what did you think of them? What are your favorite bisexual books? Let me know in the comments!
Today’s song:
loving this album
That’s it for this year’s bisexual visibility week recs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Here in the U.S., National Latinx Heritage Month lasts from September 15 – October 15! I’m always looking to diversify my reading, but this month is especially important to me since I’m half Latina myself, and I love exploring parts of my culture and others’ through literature. I sadly didn’t get around to making a recommendations post last year, since it landed when I was still trying to settle into college, but I really wanted to make on this year, so I planned ahead. And even though the header says YA (I’m stingy about my WordPress space), I wanted to include books of all age ranges in this year’s post. Enjoy!
For my past lists for Latinx Heritage Month, click here:
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! What are your favorite books by Latinx authors? Have you read any of these books, and what did you think of them? Let me know in the comments!
Today’s song:
merry Shakey Graves, everybody
That’s it for this post! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
I’ve been reading Becky Albertalli’s YA books since middle school, and they’ve always had a special place in my heart. Although some of them have been hit-or-miss, I was looking forward to reading this one—it seemed so deeply personal to her, and I was so excited for the bisexual rep! And although it wasn’t perfect, it was such a deeply authentic depiction of the bisexual experience.
Imogen Scott knows her place—the token ally amongst her very queer friend group. She knows the nuances of queer culture and discourse in and out, but she’s confident in her heterosexuality. But all of that changes when she stays with her best friend Lili at her new dorm in college. Lili, who happened to tell everybody that Imogen was her ex in an ill-thought-out lie. Imogen is happy to keep up the ruse, but when she meets Tessa, one of Lili’s new (and very cute) friends, she begins to question whether or not it’s the role of “ally” that’s the lie after all.
From the start, I knew that Imogen, Obviously was going to be a deeply personal book for Becky Albertalli. That’s exactly what it was, and that’s exactly what it should have been. Even though it wasn’t without its flaws, Imogen, Obviously is an incredibly important book in that it shows us a narrative of bisexuality that isn’t portrayed as much, and that there is no one true narrative of how bisexuality is in the first place.
As a bisexual reader, Imogen’s story resonated so much with me, even if our coming-out journeys were different. And the fact that Imogen has a coming-out journey that deviates from a lot of the bisexual representation in media in general is a breath of fresh air; along her path of self-discovery, there’s some fantastic discussions about how we internalize stereotypes, the pressure to be “queer enough,” internalize biphobia and feeling like you don’t belong in queer spaces, and so much more. (And I’m glad that somebody’s talking about how random bisexual “traits” that float around social media…I once saw one that said “you may be bisexual if winter is your favorite season”…huh? What does that have to do with anything?) It’s a love letter to those who who feel like exceptions from the norm in a place that’s already populated by outsiders.
Adding onto that, what makes Imogen, Obviously such an important book to me is that it has such an important message about bisexuality, and about queerness in general: there is no one way to be bi, and that the entire queer experience doesn’t have to be entangled with suffering. We watch Imogen struggle with feelings of imposter syndrome in the queer community and repeatedly being put down by a “friend” who feels like she has the ultimate queer authority because she’s experienced quite a lot of homophobia, and it serves as an important reminder: we can’t exclude queer people from their own community just because they “aren’t queer enough” by some arbitrary measure. Again, it speaks to the personal element of this book, what with Albertalli’s own recent forced outing, but it’s a message that needs to be loud and clear.
Apart from the many wonderful messages that this book spreads, I loved watching the relationship between Imogen and Tessa develop! It really felt accurate to having your first queer crush in real time, with all of the stomach butterflies and shy conversations. They were a lovely match for each other, and although I was cheering for Imogen for every page, the two of them made my little bi heart so happy. Their romance really was a resonant and joyful one, something that Albertalli has nearly mastered writing.
All that being said, I had some issues with the writing that prevented me from giving Imogen, Obviously the full four-star treatment. I don’t remember enough about her other books to say how they were written (it’s been a while), but the way that she wrote these high school and college characters just felt so…off. She just peppered in all of the gen z slang into her dialogue whenever possible, and none of it felt natural or genuine. It felt like somebody observing gen z and/or TikTok from a distance, then trying to employ said slang from memory. It all felt so clunky, and at times, as much as I hate to say it, painful. I’m pretty sure that nobody says “discoursing” as a verb for discussing discourse. As fantastic as the rest of the book was, the cringy nature of the writing put me off from fully enjoying it.
All in all, a beautiful and necessary depiction of bisexuality that was hindered by its attempt to capture gen z speak, but excelled in every other department. 3.75 stars, rounded up to 4!
Imogen, Obviously is a standalone, but Becky Albertalli is also the author of the Simonverse (Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, Leah on the Offbeat, and Love, Creekwood) and Kate in Waiting. she is also the co-author of What If It’s Us and Here’s to Us (with Adam Silvera) and Yes, No, Maybe So (with Aisha Saeed).
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!
I’ve seen this novel around a fair bit ever since it came out, both in the blogosphere and from our queen Amie Kaufman, who co-hosted the podcast Pub Dates with Kate J. Armstrong. It seemed like a more unique YA fantasy concept, and the 20’s-inspired setting intrigued me, and…okay, who wasn’t looking at that gorgeous cover? Now that I’ve read it, I can say that I enjoyed it, but I came away with mixed feelings—Nightbirds was a well-crafted fantasy in terms of worldbuilding, but its characters and general fence-sitting about what it wanted to say slightly put me off.
In Simta, no one is more sought after than the Nightbirds. Long ago, these girls from the Great Houses were bestowed with the magic of witches, and with a kiss, they can grant that power to anyone who wishes to wield it. Matilde, Sayer, and Æsa are this season’s Nightbirds, but they have already learned that they will only ever be seen and treated as disposable. Yearning for something more to life, they stumble upon an underground networks of witches—witches whose powers come fro outside of the Great Houses, and are hidden from sight from the government. With the knowledge that their power will not be suppressed, the three Nightbirds set out to make things right.
TW/CW: misogyny, fantasy violence, murder, death, past mentions of torture, near-death situations
I came to this book mainly from the word of Amie Kaufman, who also happened to release a 1920’s-inspired YA fantasy this year. And while I did enjoy Nightbirds as a whole, the more I thought about it, the more drawbacks I found. If you’re torn between the two, stick with The Isles of the Gods.
Let’s start with the best part of the novel, though: the worldbuilding at the atmosphere! The Jazz Age inspiration was heavy, but it was executed incredibly; the worldbuilding, from the hidden magic to the forces trying to suppress it, was impeccably-crafted, with not a single stone unturned in terms of the intricacies of Simta and Armstrong’s world as a whole. It was a world that felt genuinely fun to be in—there was so much to explore along with the three main characters, and I enjoyed every minute of it.
All that wouldn’t have been possible with Armstrong’s atmospheric writing. There were other markers about Nightbirds that signaled it as a debut novel (more on that later), but for a first novel, the writing in this novel was fantastic! It’s the kind of writing that doesn’t just immerse you in the world, but dunks you headfirst into it with its vivid, vibrant imagery. Armstrong’s writing was so clear that I could visualize the world of Nightbirds almost cinematically, every scene played out like it already had a screen adaptation. The steady pacing added to that effect as well—it had a great balance of political intrigue, action, and down time to keep me intrigued for most of the novel.
However, the multiple POVs were an issue for me for most of the novel. The worst crimes that a multi-POV book can commit is not marking which POV the chapter is from, and switching POVs without warning in the middle of a chapter. Nightbirds was guilty of both. With these kinds of books, it’s often a struggle to pick out one character’s voice from another, but the third-person POV remedied that slightly. Even so, it was maddening trying to feel my way through the chapter and remember whose POV was being focused on. And speaking of the characters, they were in some serious need of being fleshed-out. Other than Matilde, whose personality was being entitled and stubborn, I could barely get a read on both Sayer and Æsa beyond what the synopsis said about them. Aside from Matilde, they had hardly any distinctive features, personalities, or traits, which made the whole multiple-POV mess all the more maddening. All of it could have been prevented with some chapter headers and giving the characters more life—it really wouldn’t have been all that hard of a fix.
And for a book that was advertised as being a feminist fantasy, Nightbirds really didn’t seem to know what it wanted to say. For a plot centered around an archaic system built on exploiting teenage girls, you would think that there would at least be some commentary on it. All we really got was a hollow, vague sense of taking back power, but there was no real call to action to do just that; aside from the revelation of the underground network of witches whose magic hasn’t been suppressed by the fantasy patriarchy, there’s hardly any real questioning of the system or realizing that there is a way to reform it and break away from it entirely. It’s like the book equivalent of thinking that you’re a feminist just because you post some instagram infographics on your story every once in a while and do nothing else. It’s saying “smash the patriarchy!” and then sitting comfortably and doing nothing. That’s basically what Matilde’s “character arc” ended up being, honestly. I know there’s probably better words to describe it, but the one that comes to mind is just…white woman-y. I guess I missed the queer rep (WHERE??? I saw no indication of any queerness 😭), but except for that and the conveniently described token side character of color, there was no hint of intersectionality. And no, I’m not saying that every book has to have an impeccably diverse cast, but for a book that billed itself as feminist and supposedly centered around tearing down oppressive systems, I feel like intersectionality should be taken far more into consideration. Nightbirds just came off as more white feminism than actual feminism.
All in all, a fantasy debut with stunning worldbuilding, but that was dragged down by its lack of fleshed-out characters and hardly any hint of the feminist messaging that it advertised. 3.5 stars.
Nightbirds is the first in the Nightbirds duology, which continues with the forthcoming sequel Fyrebirds. Nightbirds is Kate J. Armstrong’s debut novel.
Today’s song:
this is just such a GROOVE
That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles! Everybody say happy birthday to Hobbes, who turns 7 today:
I’ve been following Alechia Dow ever since The Sound of Stars was a 5-star read for me way back in 2020; I’ve loved reading her brand of hopeful, queer YA sci-fi with Black characters at the forefront, and so I was so excited to hear that A Song of Salvation was set in the same universe as her first two books! Unfortunately, I found it to be more lackluster than her first two books, but that doesn’t mean that I still enjoyed it.
Zaira Citlali knows her purpose. As the reincarnation of the goddess Indigo, she has been granted with their powers—but cannot seem to harness them. What’s worse, her mortal enemy, the destruction god Ozvios, remains at large, and as he creates war all across the galaxy, he’s eyeing Zaira as a prime sacrifice. But Zaira won’t go down without a fight, even if it means rushing to control her powers. With the help of Wesley, a disgruntled smuggler who just wants to get the job done, and Rubin, a celebrity podcaster that Wesley definitely doesn’t find ridiculously attractive, she must find her way to Terra, the center of intergalactic conflict, to ensure that the song of the universe remains intact.
TW/CW: themes of war, genocide, colonialism/imperialism, murder
I liked this book. But I wanted to like it so much more. Ever since The Sound of Stars, I’ve been trying to get my hands on every Alechia Dow that comes out—normally, I love her special brand of sweet, vibrant sci-fi with Black, queer characters at the forefront. But putting this book next to The Kindred has made me realize that I’m liking her books less and less with each one that comes out. And that makes me really sad. It almost makes me scared to re-read The Sound of Stars, which was a 5-star read for me, just out of fear that it won’t be as impactful for me now as it was back in 2020. All that is to say that A Song of Salvation was still a solid read, but a visible downgrade from both The Sound of Stars and The Kindred. It doesn’t feel like her best work at all.
I’ll start with the positives: if anything, A Song of Salvation was still fun and well-crafted. Dow’s space opera universe where queer characters of color are in charge of their own destinies and get to star in their own star-crossed romances is always a treat to step inside of. The new context and worldbuilding that Song adds to this already vibrant world made it even more fleshed out and real, and Dow was adept at handling all of the intergalactic politics as war descended upon the universe. It’s all richly layered and detailed, with no stone left unturned in terms of the eccentricities of everything going on. And of course, sci-fi with high(ish) stakes but with ultimately hopeful and happy resolutions are always a win. Before I get into my main gripes, I should clarify that I did enjoy the book—it was still a fun read, and better than a fair portion of YA sci-fi—but having read Dow’s other novels, it left me wanting more.
What was endearing to me about The Sound of Stars and The Kindred (the latter to a lesser extent) were the characters—Ellie and Morris felt so resonant, and Felix and Joy, even if they were slightly less so, were still a joy (no pun intended) to be around. Given that Dow’s books have leaned more on the side of character-driven, I expected Song to have the same kind of characters and character development, but unfortunately, I found it lacking. Zaira, Wesley, and Rubin were all fun characters, in the abstract, but it felt like Dow didn’t give them the same love and care that she did for her other characters. They all seemed to have a baseline personality trait each: Wesley is grumpy, Rubin is flamboyant, etc. There wasn’t a whole lot to Zaira, either—it genuinely saddens me to say this, but she feels like every single “reincarnated god/goddess/has the power of a deity” kind of character, whose only traits seem to be that they’re overpowered. And for all of the “I can’t control my powers :(” talk, she seemed to miraculously save the day most every time? That’s not to say that they weren’t all at least entertaining, though; they had a good group dynamic, and Wesley and Rubin were cute together. (Did anybody else feel like Rubin was a toned-down, YA version of Ruby from The Fifth Element? The name and everything…I can’t be the only one to see that…)
Plot-wise, A Song of Salvation struggled to remain relevant for at least half of the book; it felt like a lot of running about with no consequence to the story (and, y’know, the looming intergalactic war?). The second half more or less suffered from the same problem, but it hinged so much on the cameos from the previous books. Don’t get me wrong—it was really sweet to see Ellie, Morris, Joy, Felix, and all of the others, but the more that they showed up, the more it felt like they were being used as crutches to keep longtime readers interested in the story. And for such endearing, well-developed characters, having them used like this was such a shame. They were too well-written to just be cameos. It really felt like such a shame.
All in all, a fun addition to Alechia Dow’s sci-fi universe, but one that relied too much on the wondrousness of its predecessors to stand on its own. 3.5 stars.
A Song of Salvation is the companion to Alechia Dow’s other YA sci-fi novels, The Sound of Stars and The Kindred; they are not a concrete trilogy, but they are all set in the same universe, and can be (and probably should be, just to understand everything) read as such. Dow is also the author of the forthcoming middle grade novel Just A Pinch of Magic (slated for release this October) and All’s Fair(y) in Love & War (slated for release in 2025).
Today’s song:
haven’t been able to stop listening to this gaaaaah
That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
I haven’t even been into Palehound for a year; after loving Bachelor, her collaborative project with Jay Som, I decided to get a taste of her music last September, poring through her albums and EPs in a somewhat chronological order. There were hardly any misses that whole time—solid, guitar-driven indie rock the whole way through. So you can imagine my excitement when I found out that Palehound was releasing a new album this summer! And now, after playing it through many times, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s a perfect indie summer album, full of sharp lyricism and shredding.
Enjoy this album review!
EYE ON THE BAT – PALEHOUND (albumreview)
Release date: July 14, 2023 (Polyvinyl records)
TRACK 1: “Good Sex” – 7.5/10
“Good Sex” is the perfect intro to Eye on the Bat: short, funny, and self-awarely so. It seems to stumble around as it builds to a nonexistent crescendo, as El Kempner paints a scene of plans gone wrong, each note climbing as the situation mounts into more and more awkwardness. The laugh in her voice escapes as she describes “our cat licking his ass and looking confused,” backed by two, persistent guitar chords in this song’s 1:41 entirety. Not the best track, but a great bit of self-deprecating, awkward humor to start the album off.
TRACK 2: “Independence Day” – 8.5/10
I am living life like writing a first draft
Cuz there is nothing to it if I can’t edit the past,
And even if I could, it would kill me to look back
No I don’t wanna see the other path…
Palehound, “Independence Day”
“Good Sex” may have been track 1, but I feel like “Independence Day” is where Eye on the Bat really starts off. One of the undeniable highlights of the album, Kempner presents a tumultuous breakup in the middle of a holiday, woven through bright and spidery acoustic riffs. It’s one of those great songs that doesn’t just paint an image, but makes you visualize it so clearly that you might as well be watching a movie. With every detail, Kempner sets her breakup against the backdrop of “foaming sugar in our laps/sparkler in my throat, can we just take it all back?” And the chorus, with its driving guitars and musing on alternate paths, makes for an exceptionally catchy and witty indie rock track.
TRACK 3: “The Clutch” – 8.5/10
I’m glad that you know better now
And I’m glad that you found yourself
But you didn’t need my help…
Palehound, “The Clutch”
Whoever decided to release “The Clutch” as the very first single from this album needs a raise. What better song to build up excitement for the album than this one? Eye on the Bat is undeniably a breakup album, but it’s the shreddiest breakup album that I can think of—and “The Clutch” is proof. From the get-go, it launches into guitar work that pierces its way through your headphones and feels, just as the chorus says, like “a punch in the gut.” The shift from the quieter instrumentation of Black Friday to Kempner’s fiery riffs on this album never feel unnatural—in fact, it feels like a return to form, calling back to earlier tracks like “Molly” or “Drooler.” Punchy and vibrant, this is, without question, one of Eye on the Bat’s best tracks.
TRACK 4: “Eye on the Bat” – 8.5/10
Broken wing ails a standing bird She sings a gravelly call, But flightlessness is nothing new For an ostrich after all…
Palehound, “Eye on the Bat”
Eye on the Bat’s title track may slow the pace right after “The Clutch,” but the quality stays just the same. With its tangled riffs and steady drumbeat, it’s a real showcase of the deadpan wit of Palehound that endeared me to them when I first started listening to Dry Food. There’s not a single lyric that doesn’t pass my notice—I listened to these first few singles so much that I gaslit myself into thinking that “eye on the bat” was the actual expression and not “eye on the ball,” but that’s the power of a hooky song/album title. Other than being as snappy as it is, I can almost piece it into some of the album’s themes of being in the present; could “suckers will all tell you to keep watching for the ball/but better than that/keep your eye on the bat” be a mantra to focus not on what’s coming at you, but to focus on what’s tangibly in your hands? I certainly need to take that to heart, if it’s true.
TRACK 5: “U Want It U Got It” – 7/10
With a clicking, pulsing drum machine that sounds more like an old arcade game than Palehound’s normal sound, “U Want It U Got It” is a brief departure from the album’s cohesiveness—and from their sound in general. Though not all of it’s successful, it’s certainly catchy; though Kempner’s attempt to lower her voice comes out unsure and wavering, the steady, pulsating beat makes the song almost as vibrant as the other tracks. I wouldn’t say that there are any bad songs on this album, but this was a very brief low point. Experimenting is always welcome from Palehound, but this one doesn’t feel quite as successful, even if it’s a good listen. I’d still call it a good song.
TRACK 6: “Route 22” – 8/10
An instant head-nodder, “Route 22” feels all at once like classic Palehound and something fresh and new. It could’ve been right at home on A Place I’ll Always Go or Black Friday, but the maturing of Kempner’s songwriting makes it stand on its own. With its steady, Wilco-reminiscent, twangy-at-the-edges instrumentation and Kempner’s light, dreamy harmonization with herself, it’s a track that feels baked in the summer sun, smelling of fresh-cut grass and thinning clouds. Another highlight of Eye on the Bat, no doubt!
TRACK 7: “My Evil” – 7/10
This second single to come out of Eye on the Bat was my least favorite, and although I still like it, “My Evil” still hasn’t really grown on me. The lyrics are just as witty as any other song on the album, telling a narrative of grappling with yourself and the problems you’ve caused. But every time I listen to it, something feels like it’s missing. I still can’t quite put my finger on it, but something about “My Evil” feels almost bare and restrained, and not necessarily in an intentional way. With how well-written the lyrics are, it’s as though the music is struggling to catch up. That’s not to say that it’s an enjoyable song, but for Palehound’s fourth effort, it feels like it’s holding itself back. Either way, there’s no denying how great the lyric video is—whoever had the idea to make it mirror the opening credits to The Sopranoswas genius.
TRACK 8: “Head Like Soup” – 8.5/10
My head like a pot of thick soup, Stirred and tasted I live to fill you up, And I burn unwatched…
Palehound, “Head Like Soup”
What I thought was going to be a song about burnout or sickness (we’ve all had that feeling of having soup for brains, right?) turned out to be a great song about sacrificing your well-being for somebody else. And it’s one of the best songs on the whole album—certainly the best non-single tracks. I genuinely can’t find anything bad about this song; the instrumentation is impeccable, from the Wilco-esque chorus to the electronics creeping into the second verse. It pounds one minute and crawls in the next, never once losing its consistency or momentum. And what better way to end it than cranking up the distortion and letting it ring? Fantastic.
TRACK 9: “Right About You” – 7.5/10
With a gentler, folk sensibility to ease the album into its final minutes, “Right About You” is a tender, orange-colored piece of introspection. Every lyric makes a collage of moments leading up to an inevitable implosion, but lingers in the space between them. It’s a song that makes a gentle impact, like Kempner’s first lyric of “cold water breaking at our feet.” It isn’t as punchy and powerful as the rest of the album, but there’s no need for it to be—the final bits of introspection and quiet on this album are a perfect rest stop.
TRACK 10: “Fadin'” – 7/10
The fading (no pun intended) that “Right About You” set up culminates perfectly in this soft, gentle end of the album. With its drifting, subtle electronics painting the backdrop, “Fadin'” lingers in its faint distortion, almost all acoustic guitar and Kempner’s whispery vocals. However, it comes across as a song that solely came into being to be an album closer. Although it fits neatly into the themes of the album at large, I think it would have trouble standing on its own, as opposed to almost eery other track on this record. Nevertheless, it’s still a delightfully woozy, sleepy song, gently tucking you into bed as you say goodbye to the album.
I averaged out my ratings, and they came out right at a 7.8! Definitely reflects my thoughts to a T: a short, punchy album with no shortage of witty lyrics and songs to nod your head to. A perfect summer album, and a great addition to Palehound’s catalog!
Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.
That’s it for this album review! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
I came upon this book after poring through the “further reading” section of Alice Wong’s incredible Disability Visibility anthology (which you should also go read!!), and I put it on hold at the library soon after I heard about it. I was completely unfamiliar with Nicola Griffith before reading this novella, but she delivered so much power and resonance in the span of only 180 pages. We’re barely halfway through the year, but I know that I’ve got another favorite read of this year.
Mara Tagarelli has it all. Happily married and the head of a multimillion dollar AIDS foundation, she lives a life of contentment and security. But in the span of days, Mara is diagnosed with MS, and her wife leaves her soon after. Her colleagues now dismiss her needs, and she’s left without work, without the care she needs, and without any prospects for the future. But as she slowly begins to find a community, she realizes the power that she holds—to put those she values in danger, but to give them the justice that they deserve.
TW/CW: ableism, hate crimes, murder, medical mistreatment, misogyny
I finished this book several days ago, but I’m still positively reeling from the effect it had on me. I picked it up after seeing it included as a recommendation in the “further reading” section of Alice Wong’s Disability Visibility, thinking it would be something good to read during Disability Pride Month. What I found was something far more than just “something good to read”—it was wholly refreshing, resonant, and both heartbreaking and heartwarming. So Lucky wasn’t a novel that I expected to hit me so hard, but it did, and I am forever grateful for it.
I’ve never been more in love with such an angry character, to be honest. Griffith’s writing of Mara felt more than authentic, a character that climbed out of the page, demanding to have her voice heard. And although her anger is her primary character trait, it’s an anger that resonated with me like nothing has before; in a landscape where disabled women, both fictional and real, are expected to be demure and sadly accepting of their fate (but in a sexy way, of course, because they obviously only exist as objects of pleasure for men), having a character as fiery and determined as Mara very nearly made me cry. I don’t have MS, but I am a disabled reader, so watching Mara express her anger at her treatment, at her life, and at the world around her was more than I could have asked for. More disabled women who aren’t conventionally likable and are written authentically, please! Use this novella as a guide.
So Lucky is a hard read—it doesn’t pull any punches, and that’s exactly how it should have been. It displays a lot of some of the more harsh realities of being disabled, especially being physically disabled: dismissal by your colleagues, mistreatment at work (and eventually being fired because of said diagnosis), relationship turmoil, medical mistreatment, and disability-motivated hate crimes are all a part of the narrative that Griffith portrays. It’s visceral and heartbreaking, and it doesn’t hold back in the slightest. But never once did it feel amped up for tension, or unnecessarily exaggerated: this is the story of an angry woman, and the story of a system built on bringing her down, as well as others like her. It really represents a good portion of the spectrum of issues that disabled people, especially disabled women, face, and Nicola Griffith captured all of it with incredible aplomb.
Despite that, So Lucky never falls into hopelessness. Even though Mara faces hardships aplenty, it never portrays the disabled experience as defined solely by tragedy and suffering. In spite of it all, there is always hope: Mara finding an online community of other disabled people, taking care of her cat (shoutout to Rip), and coming to the realization that her anger was never from the MS itself: it was from the experience of living in a world that did not want her to succeed. At its heart, So Lucky is an incredibly raw story, but a fearlessly hopeful story, one where our protagonist knows that her anger doesn’t come from being disabled, but from existing in a world where disabled people are treated so poorly. And that anger only adds to her determination to continue to fight for a better, more accessible world. There is no disability to inspirationally overcome, only a system. I can’t think of much that’s more beautiful than that.
All in all, a short novella that packs a deeply impactful punch, and portrays disabled womanhood in a refreshing light. 5 stars!
So Lucky is a standalone, but Nicola Griffith is also the author of Ammonite, Hild, Cold Wind, Slow River, and many other books for adults spanning several genres.
Today’s song:
never in my life would I have anticipated liking a Weezer song THIS much, but you can blame Snail Mail for this one
That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Here in the U.S., July is Disability Pride Month! Although I’ve seen some more recognition for it in the past few years, I find myself saying this over and over—disability issues are left behind in intersectional feminism far too often. The larger representation in media of disabled people as otherwise white and cishet, the lack of accessibility at many pride events, and the hurdles that most disabled students have to go through in order to get accommodations at school is proof. And yet, around 27% of Americans have some sort of disability—myself included. As the literary world has slowly shown more stories with disabled characters, it’s more important than ever to uplift disabled voices.
Like some of my other themed lists this year, I’ve decided to expand it beyond YA, because I’d be remiss if I didn’t include some of the amazing Adult and MG reads with disabled rep over the years. I’ve separated all of these recs by age group, and included their genres, my rating, and the type of disability rep.
(SHOUTOUT TO NOT IF I CAN HELP IT, I FINALLY HAVE A MORSEL OF SPD REP)
for my lists from previous years, click here:
2022 (+ on having SPD and the lack of representation)
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and what did you think of them? What are your favorite books with disabled rep? Let me know in the comments!
Today’s song:
That’s it for this year’s Disability Pride recs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
The Bookish Mutant 