March – The Bookish Mutant

Book Review Tuesday (3/10/26) – To Ride a Rising Storm (Nampeshiweisit, #2)

Posted on March 10, 2026March 10, 2026 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I fully thought I reviewed the first book in this series…whoops. Did I just hallucinate writing a book review? In 10-ish years of writing book reviews, I guess it was bound to happen…

Suffice to say, I really enjoyed To Shape a Dragon’s Breath—it filled the void left by Harry Potter and rekindled my love for good old magic school YA, but without having to remember that J.K Rowling exists. To Shape a Dragon’s Breath is unabashedly Indigenous and queer, with a witty, delightful protagonist, a lovable supporting cast, and potent commentary on racism and colonization. And did I mention the dragons? Naturally, I was excited to see what the sequel had in store. And for the most part, To Ride a Rising Storm was a very rewarding sequel, full of the same heart that endeared me to book one.

Now, tread lightly! This review contains spoilers for book one, To Shape a Dragon’s Breath. If you haven’t read it and plan on doing so, you may want to skip this review.

Let’s begin, shall we?

To Ride a Rising Storm (Nampeshiweisit, #2) – Moniquill Blackgoose

Anequs has survived her first year at Kuiper Academy. Eager to return home with Theod, her only other indigenous classmate…who she may be developing feelings for. She intends to spend her summer break with her family, but what she returns home to is quite the opposite. The Anglish have begun to encroach on her homeland. Anequs is determined to assert her people’s right to govern themselves, but before she can intervene, she’s swept back to Kuiper Academy for another semester. With new friends and enemies, Anequs is determined to not let the idiosyncratic, nonsensical rules of Anglish society beat her down. But with a looming political threat mounting outside of her school, Anequs’s peace might be short-lived.

TW/CW: racism, xenophobia, misogyny, homophobia, colonialism, classism, violence, descriptions of injury

I love the Nampeshiweisit series—both books have been a delight to read. But for both books, I’ve been slightly torn about the worldbuilding. What you have to know right off the bat is that it’s not subtle, but also that it’s not trying to be subtle. Anequs and her people are Native American-coded, and the English stand-in is quite literally Anglish. You can see where we’re going here. But I wouldn’t be reading book two of this series if I wasn’t on board with it; and to be fair, the Anglish are basically a hybrid of England and a lot of Scandinavian countries in terms of their culture and folklore, even though they play the role of the English here.

However, I appreciate it more in the sense that it’s a political statement rather than a worldbuilding one—Blackgoose isn’t here to beat around the bush here when it comes to critiquing colonialism. Once you get past the names, there’s a rich fantasy world to be found here. It’s a world of dragons and secret societies and magic, and Blackgoose does an excellent job of explaining how they’re integrated into this world, and how they’ve affected geopolitics; this book gets even more into the politics of the world, which I greatly enjoyed. Plus, if you’re sick of how said magic schools have handled diversity (you all know who I’m talking about here), there’s so much diversity here, be it queer, POC, or disabled characters. And none of it feels like ticking off boxes—it all feels like how marginalized people would have lived and acted historically in a multicultural space.

One of the parts I most enjoyed about To Shape a Dragon’s Breath was Anequs herself. She’s just such a spirited and downright delightful protagonist, but one that easily holds her own against the obstacles that she faces. The Nampeshiweisit series is one that I’d recommend to readers of all ages, honestly, but especially younger readers who have just reached the age range of YA, and one of the main reasons I’d recommend it to younger readers (especially young girls) is Anequs. She’s such a good role model for young women, especially young, queer women of color: she’s determined, smart, and takes both her peers and the authorities to task for their racism and colonialism. Her personality practically bursts off the page. She isn’t without her flaws, either, and all the better—young girls are better off with role models who aren’t perfect. But so much of the draw for this series is how much I love being in her head and going on adventures with her and Kasaqua. Blackgoose really struck gold with Anequs—she’s a memorable protagonist in every way.

To Ride a Rising Storm was more character-driven than its predecessor, and for the most part, it greatly benefitted from it. For most of the novel, there’s not any hardcore, climactic action, but there are so many parts of the world and other cultures that get fleshed out that I can’t complain…mostly. (More on that later.) Either way, I loved the development of Anequs and her friends, old and new. Blackgoose’s characters are just so charming and compelling, and I loved that we got more page time with them. Jadzia was a great new addition, and I loved what she added to the friendship dynamic with Anequs, Theod, Sander, and the others. The glimpses we get of those on the margins of Anglish society outside of Kuiper Academy made the world feel even realer—there were so many pockets that we hadn’t seen before, and Blackgoose’s prose made me so much more immersed into the setting. Though some of the other parts of the book suffered from this focus, To Ride a Rising Storm felt like it was there to make the world more real.

However, there are drawbacks to having a book just for making the world feel more immersive. I’m torn about To Ride a Rising Storm because although I loved reading every second of it, there was a very clear pacing issue. While I enjoyed the more cozy, somewhat low-stakes approach that this book had, it was paced quite unevenly. We get some very serious action and stakes, but they aren’t introduced until halfway through the book. The final battle is crammed into the last 3% of the novel—I checked on my Kindle when this huge battle went down, and it started at the 97% mark! For a moment this climactic, it was introduced far too late. It just didn’t quite feel like Blackgoose quite knew whether she wanted to make this novel fully cozy or low stakes; either commit to the coziness or give the stakes more weight throughout the rest of the novel. Again, I enjoyed the pace until I didn’t—the last quarter of the novel proved that there was a serious issue with imbalance.

All in all, a worthy sequel with timely political commentary, tender friendships, and one of YA fantasy’s most memorable protagonists today. 4 stars!

To Ride a Rising Storm is the second book in the Nampeshiweisit series, preceded by To Shape a Dragon’s Breath.

Today’s song:

prepping myself to see Jeff Tweedy this friday…thanks to my dad 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!

Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 3/8/26

Posted on March 8, 2026 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.

This week: in a terrible day for feminism, I only have a single song by a woman this week, on International Women’s Day, no less. Cancel me if you must. Also, saying “Cobra” by Geese makes me sound like a caveman giving somebody directions for exhibits at the zoo.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 3/8/26

“Cobra” – Geese

“Cobra” starts at 6:15.

Shit. Okay. I get it now.

The mountain of hype finally caught up to me. I can’t say that Getting Killed lives up to all of the hype it’s received, but that’s because it’s probably gotten enough hype that, if it were all translated into text in a uniform size, it could probably circle the Earth itself. But Getting Killed really is an excellent album; though it does have some low points, I think it embodies a kind of breaking point in alternative music, and I think that’s what’s resonated with so many people. Getting Killed oscillates between fevered, dystopian breakdowns and moments of contemplative tenderness, but what ties it together is that, for this generation, those emotions often go hand in hand in quick succession. To me, it feels like a response to Gen Z turning to the horrors of the world and poisoning everything with irony; Geese saw this landscape, and the irony we put into it, and slaps us upside the head with this bit from “Islands of Men”: “You can’t keep running away from what is real.” And that monumental amount of hype has to be tapping into something deep within our generation. Honestly, I’m right here raising a glass at the celebration of the death of Gen Z irony poisoning—it’s not fully dead, but hell, Cameron Winter and co. are ready to clobber it with baseball bats. What they’re putting out is chaotic, frenetic, and not always organized or perfect, but it sure as hell feels authentic.

There’s something pure about “Cobra.” By all accounts, the lyrics don’t feel all that wholesome—there’s a strong undercurrent of “that guy isn’t right for you, leave him for me,” which could either be noble or more egoistic. With the whole cobra motif, there’s plenty of back and forth between venom and temptation, and all sorts of spite. So how does it come off so purely? Was it just because I heard the “you can dance away forever” bit and latch onto that? It sure does make you want to dance away forever—it’s a song that commands at least a little shimmy out of you, and the instrumentation—from Emily Green’s high-pitched, intricate guitar work, Winter’s innate ability to make a piano yearn, and the percussion that feels like Tiny Desk without being recorded at Tiny Desk—itself seems to smile. There’s an anthemic quality embedded into a lot of the lyrics, and regardless of whatever romantic foibles it happens to be about, it’s about severing yourself from unwanted temptations and breaking free. And despite the resentment the narrator holds towards this temptor character, I almost feel a kind of respect—he’s still saying that she should leave her boyfriend because he’s keeping her from doing things independently that she was always capable of. So I think that’s what makes this circle back around to feeling wholesome. “Cobra” is like being tugged out of monotony and onto a dance floor bathed in sunlight. It’s so joyous.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Stardust Grail – Yume Kitasei – “Whatever he’s got in his hand/You can get it on your own, you’ll see/Baby, let me wash your feet forever/Baby, you can stay in my house forever and ever…”

“Wu-Tang” – They Might Be Giants

They Might Be Giants have practically been a part of my life since…well, birth probably. I grew up in the golden age of their children’s music (Here Come the ABC’s, Here Come the 123’s, and Here Comes Science), so they were about as vital to my hipster development as the milk in my baby bottle. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I’d be hard-pressed to think of a memory from early childhood that they’re not present in. And yet, other than said children’s albums, I’ve consistently loved them…but never their full albums. Other than Flood, I’ve never been compelled to listen to an entire album of theirs. They’re been prolific since the ’80s (this coming album, The World Is to Dig, will be their 24th), which means that there’s a lot to love…but also a lot to cherry-pick. And unfortunately, as much as I admire them as a band, their newer material has rarely grabbed me. I like them, but I never love them.

Until now. “Wu-Tang” is a burst of energetic, jangly joy, much more lively and enlivened than a lot of their new material. (Speaking of jangly, I swear the guitar part beginning at 0:20 sounds exactly like the guitar on Graham Coxon’s “You & I.”) The World Is to Dig, though the title is an homage to Maurice Sendak’s classic children’s book A Hole is To Dig, means “dig” in the more “beatnik-y” sense, according to John Flansburgh: “A bit beatnik-y for sure…but hey daddy-o. That’s me.” In that context, “Wu-Tang,” which is about, well…how much the Johns like the Wu-Tang Clan, the title makes even more sense; apparently they’re sitting on dozens of songs that are simply about whatever’s grabbed their attention and has given them joy, which is as good a rulebook for songwriting as any. Impervious to any sort of industry molding or trends, They Might Be Giants have continued to be the flagship for musical weirdos everywhere—and heck, I’m glad they’re still going.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

A Letter to the Luminous Deep – Sylvie Cathrall – “Something was hid in a secret compartment/Inside my heart/Somebody planted a seed and/They’d have me believe that it/Was all my idea…”

“Fireworks” – Jim Noir

HE’S BACK! MY BOY IS BACK!!

Well, he’s only been gone from streaming, really, but the man himself has returned from his almost seven-year album hiatus (not counting his phenomenal and criminally underrated side project Co-Pilot). However, for those who have been following him on Patreon, we know that this has been a long, long time coming. He initially revived the Jim Noir Club, where he released EPs that gradually became his 2012 album Jimmy’s Show (real ones know that this album was originally going to be Jimmy’s Show 2), with the promise that in 2023, he would have three whole albums to show for it. I can’t fault him—I know I’ve made big declarations about projects and not followed through on them until way later. But as we got even more EPs than originally planned, I knew that the album that eventually became Programmes for Cools was going to be something special.

Three and a half years was an excruciating wait for a new album, and that’s also bookended with the time since his previous album, A.M. Jazz. (Insert the “it’s been 84 years” GIF from Titanic here.) But my recurring thought while listening to Programmes for Cools was that it was worth the wait. There’s nothing more gratifying than seeing an artist that you’ve been intimately watching craft an album finally put it out into the world. The demos and first takes have blossomed into fully-formed and polished incarnations of the offbeat pop that Jim Noir has made a name for himself (in my heart, at least) in; it’s slick, it’s ’60s, it’s synthy and sampley, and nothing but him.

Back when he was releasing EPs through the Jim Noir Club, “Fireworks” was a cut from EP 2 (you can probably guess how far along into the project it was released) all the way back in 2022. EP 2 remains one of my favorites of the bunch (it’s a crime that “Mr. No-One” didn’t make it onto the album, but maybe there’s a chance for Programmes for Cools 2…). It was difficult to imagine “Fireworks” getting much better than it already was, but the final version if it makes me realize how much potential was brewing in it from the start. The mix on the original was much more muddied, and in the light of day (the morning light, if you will), it gleams ten times brighter than before—just like the crackling, incandescent explosions that it takes its name from. Jim Noir has honed his craft here more than ever, creating a whole coral reef’s worth of different species of sound, with all sort of electronic blurts and flourishes that make it feel more like a bustling cityscape than the work of a singular man. But there is just one man behind it, and I’m as happy as ever that he’s populated our world with his music.

Programmes for Cools is only available on Bandcamp as of now, but Jim Noir has said that it will come to streaming eventually. In the meantime, support him on the former!

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Murder by Memory – Olivia Waite – I imagine Jim Noir’s synths being the soundtrack to Olivia Waite’s heavily-populated generation ship.

“That White Cat” – Mitski

So…Nothing’s About To Happen To Me, right?? I stand by my opinion that The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We is the best Mitski album of this decade, but this one was a success for sure. Though it’s not as cohesive or quite as emotionally potent (though it has plenty of moments that come close), it’s an album with a clear vision. It’s a Shirley Jackson-esque house with peeling, moldy wallpaper and women scratching claw marks down the walls. Mitski’s occasional ventures into Americana weren’t quite as successful as the ones on The Land for me, and at worst, the transitions between those and the more rock-oriented tracks were jarring; but as a whole, the album is nervy and feverish, but wholly certain of its image. After so long working with more deeply personal lyrics, it’s clear that Mitski’s indulging in a more fictional image—and it’s worked a charm so far. And yet, she can’t help but imbue her lyrics with the truth: about fame, about womanhood, and predatory people (see: “Dead Women”).

Some of my favorite moments on the album were when Mitski returned to her scratchy, guitar-oriented roots from albums like Bury Me at Makeout Creek. As much as I love her newer sound, something inside me always longed for the explosive torrent of her guitars from albums past. At least half of the album scratched that itch, and I could not be happier. In a downright neurotic album, “That White Cat” might be one of the most neurotic tracks. With only the accompaniment of bass and drums for most of the track, Mitski howls about losing control of her house thanks to a white cat whose scent-marking has declared her house his: “It’s supposed to be my house/But I guess according to cats/Now it’s his house.” Her ragged vocals lament the takeover of her house by a whole menagerie of invading animals in her signature, frantic lyricism: “Gotta go to work/To pay for that cat’s house/For the red corseted wasp/Who lives in the roof/For the family of possums/For the bugs who drink my blood.” Pushing her vocal range to the limits, making her voice rasp and gurgle and growl, she laments the loss of her autonomy, an invasion of her house—and her mind.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Yellow Wallpaper – Charlotte Perkins Gilman – this might be cheating, since this is a short story and not a full-length book, but I kept thinking about this story for the entirety of the album. Mitski had to have drawn some inspiration from here.

“A Globe of Frogs” – Robyn Hitchcock & The Egyptians

Getting this excited about a remastered, remixed version of a song means one of two things: either I’m officially getting old, or I’ve just surpassed some new benchmark of pretentiousness. But why don’t you go and listen to the original and then the 2026 remix/remaster of “A Globe of Frogs” and then look me in the eye and say that it isn’t a marked difference? The 1986 original was never subpar by any stretch of the imagination, but this remix, 40 years later, brings out what was blooming under the surface in the original. It’s far clearer and brighter. It feels like how the world looks after you wipe all the gunk off of your glasses. Robyn Hitchcock’s lyrics and artistic vision at large never needed any improvement; as it was before, “A Globe of Frogs” feels like taking a walk through the gardens behind a Victorian mansion, but the gardens slowly lead into Wonderland—not the Disney version, but the Lewis Carroll one, for sure. All that was evident from the first demo, I’m sure, but this reworked version feels like forcefully blowing the dust away to find the clean glimmer beneath.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Mad Sisters of Esi – Tashan Mehta – the strange world of this novel is certainly adjacent to the microcosm in “A Globe of Frogs.”

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

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

Books

The Bookish Mutant’s Feminist Books for Women’s History Month (2026 Edition) 🚺

Posted on March 4, 2026March 4, 2026 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles!

In the U.S., March is Women’s History Month! More than ever, it’s blatantly clear that this administration views women as inferior and disposable, given the sweeping legislation attempting to curtail women’s rights and the complete lack of consequences here in the States for those in the Epstein Files. With all of that weighing on my shoulders, it’s hard to not feel that I’m disposable; I’ve unfortunately realized from a fairly young age that the government does not have my best interests at heart, but it’s hard not to internalize that rhetoric that I don’t matter. But that’s exactly how they want us women to feel. We have to remember, especially now, that the government is no match for the power that we have in numbers and strength. After all, this is Women’s History Month—there’s a long, proud line of women who have fought before us, and if they could face the oppression of their times, then we can face the oppression today. For all women—women of color, queer and trans women, disabled women, immigrant women, and all the rest—there is always hope.

So for the occasion, I’ve compiled another list of feminist books for women’s history month: fiction and nonfiction, Adult and YA, and from all different genres and contexts. (NOTE: I’ve included We Will Rise Again in this list; not all of the contributors to this anthology are women, but I thought this would be fitting since it directly talks about resistance and feminism, and many of the contributors are women. This is not to diminish or invalidate the different identities of the authors, but rather to celebrate the feminist message that they encourage.) I hope you enjoy this list, and I hope it makes you realize that there are so many ways to be a feminist.

For my previous lists, click below:

Let’s begin, shall we?

🚺THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR WOMEN’S HISTORY MONTH🚺

SCIENCE FICTION:

The King Must Die – Kemi Ashing-Giwa | Adult | dystopia, space fantasy, POC | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Red Star Rebels – Amie Kaufman | YA | romance, LGBTQ+ | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
We Will Rise Again: Speculative Stories and Essays on Protest, Resistance, and Hope – edited by Karen Lord, Annalee Newitz, and Malka Older | Adult | speculative fiction, fantasy, dystopia, LGBTQ+, POC | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75
The Library of Broken Worlds – Alaya Dawn Johnson | YA | space fantasy, POC, LGBTQ+, romance | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75
The Resisters – Gish Jen | Adult | dystopia, POC | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75
The Calculating Stars – Mary Robinette Kowal | Adult | alternate history, historical fiction, disability | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

FANTASY:

Lady’s Knight – Amie Kaufman & Meagan Spooner | YA | high fantasy, LGBTQ+, romance | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Needy Little Things – Channelle Desamours | YA | magical realism, urban fantasy, POC, disability | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
She Who Knows – Nnedi Okorafor | Adult | afrofuturism, novellas | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75
Scout’s Honor – Lily Anderson | YA | paranormal, urban fantasy, disability, POC | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75
Saints of Storm and Sorrow – Gabriella Buba | Adult | high fantasy, LGBTQ+, romance, POC | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
The Volcano Daughters – Gina María Balibrera | Adult | historical fiction, magical realism | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

REALISTIC & HISTORICAL FICTION:

Afrotistic – Kala Allen Omeiza | YA | fiction, disability, POC | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books – Kirsten Miller | Adult | realistic fiction | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
This Town Is on Fire – Pamela N. Harris | YA | POC, realistic fiction | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75
If We Were a Movie – Zakiya N. Jamal | YA | fiction, POC, LGBTQ+, romance | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
Sisters in the Wind – Angeline Boulley | YA | mystery/thriller, historical fiction, POC | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

NONFICTION:

Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza – Gloria Anzaldúa | Adult | essays, memoir, POC, LGBTQ+ | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Read Dangerously: The Subversive Power of Literature in Troubled Times – Azar Nafisi | Adult | literature, POC, history | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World – Robin Wall Kimmerer | Adult | nature, economics, POC | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Girl on Girl: How Pop Culture Turned a Generation of Women Against Themselves – Sophie Gilbert | Adult | history, essays | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
Unmasking AI: My Mission to Protect What is Human in a World of Machines – Joy Buolamwini | Adult | POC, technology, memoir | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Separate Roads to Feminism: Black, Chicana, and White Feminist Movements in America’s Second Wave – Benita Roth | Adult | history | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

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 feminist books? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

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

Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (3/3/26) – Red Star Rebels

Posted on March 3, 2026 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

BEFORE I BEGIN: as this is a bookish space, I feel that it’s essential to bring this to your attention. Here in the States, H.R. 7661 (misleadingly named the “Stop the Sexualization of Children Act”) presents a grave danger to libraries and our freedom to read as Americans. This legislation, as many similar ones are, is presented under the guise of “protecting children” from sexually explicit material, but we all know what it targets in reality: fiction and nonfiction about queer people, people of color, and other marginalized groups. EveryLibrary has both a petition to oppose H.R. 7661 and instructions to call your representatives. Excluding stories of marginalized people doesn’t protect anybody. Protect our freedom to read!

It’s 2019. I’m about to finish my first year of high school, and I’m excited to buy the new Amie Kaufman book.

It’s 2026. I’m about to finish my last year of college, and I’m excited to buy the new Amie Kaufman book.

Needless to say, longtime followers of this blog (and longtime friends of mine in general) know how pivotal of a role Amie Kaufman has played in my life. Her sci-fi and fantasy novels have been a positive constant for seven years and counting, especially the Aurora Cycle. I was over the moon to find out that she was returning to science fiction after a long stint focusing on fantasy. And though it wasn’t as emotionally potent as some of her other novels, Red Star Rebels was an action-packed and romantic blast all the way through!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Red Star Rebels – Amie Kaufman

Hunter Graves has Mars in the palm of his hand. As the grandson of the man who settled Mars, he’s got it made. If only the rest of his family would actually pay him any mind. But when he’s trapped on the U.N. base after a mysterious attack, he’ll have to use more than his name to get out alive.

Cleo just wanted to stow away on this U.N. base to get the Earth gangs off her back and make a quick buck. Having to stow away with Hunter Graves when the base goes on lockdown was not part of the plan. But they’ll have to work together for eight hours before a bomb detonates, killing everybody on the base. And neither of them counted on falling for each other…

TW/CW: violence, loss of loved ones (past), fire

I’m a huge fan of Zoë Van Dijk’s artwork and I love her cover art for the U.S. edition of Red Star Rebels, but…I can’t unsee the fact that Cleo is doing the Dreamworks face. It haunts me. The thing is, it’s 100% in character for her, which almost haunts me even more.

The main draw for Red Star Rebels is that it’s a pulse-pounding action thriller in space; Kaufman has compared it to Die Hard and Home Alone in equal measure, in reference to both the atmosphere and the amount of interstellar hijinks. All of the events of Red Star Rebels happen in the span of 8 hours (the time it’ll take for the U.N. base to detonate), and it really does feel like it’s all crammed into such a short amount of time. Be prepared to be gripping the edge of your seat, because this novel moves fast—and this is the exact type of novel that needs to go at breakneck speed. The pacing is impeccable. The only drawback is that Red Star Rebels sacrificed some of the emotional potency that I come to expect with your typical Amie Kaufman novel. There’s a reason that her books are normally so thick—she doesn’t hesitate to get in the weeds with character development and poignant arcs. Though Hunter and Cleo’s relationship was charming as ever, some of the emotional aspects of this novel were quite rushed in comparison to her other novels, and I think that can exactly be chalked up to the uncharacteristically short page count—288 pages, in comparison to her often 400+ page whoppers. While the pacing worked for the plot, it didn’t work all the way for the characters—give it at least 50 more, and I think this would’ve been near perfect. That being said, even a weaker Amie Kaufman book is guaranteed to be a cut above the rest, so I’m not complaining.

Every time there’s a chance for Amie Kaufman to write a relationship dynamic where one’s a scrappy criminal and the other is a spoiled, rich brat (both of whom secretly have a heart of gold), by God, she’ll take it (see also: Selly and Lysander from Isles of the Gods, Lilac and Tarver from These Broken Stars, Nik and Hanna from Gemina, etc.). And do I eat it up every time? Absolutely. At least she switches the genders up. It’s a blatant pattern at this point, but she writes it so compellingly that I’m not even that mad. Would I like for her to mix it up a little? Sure, but this is Amie Kaufman we’re talking about—no matter what kind of relationships she’s writing, they’re always so charming and heartstring-tugging, so I’m not here to complain. The setup for Cleo and Hunter’s relationship was a perfect storm, but Kaufman did such an excellent job of making the development of their relationship realistic—it’s a survival situation spaced over eight hours, but never at any point did their romance feel too rushed. They were trapped together with very little interaction from the outside world (other than the antagonists), and there was plenty of time for their chemistry to develop. All in all, it’s another slam dunk from Kaufman—Cleo and Hunter were so sassy, and yes, made for each other. Plus, I’ve loved Kaufman’s casual queer inclusion, especially in terms of bisexuality. Beyond that, it’s so, so important to show that straight-passing relationships are just as valid and still queer, so I’m very grateful to Red Star Rebels for showcasing this!

Red Star Rebels should be a masterclass in why you shouldn’t underestimate the craft that goes into good YA novels. The best part about Amie Kaufman’s books is that sure, they look like cheesy YA (and in some ways, they are, but tastefully so) on the surface, but 9 times out of 10, they’re Trojan horses for top-notch, exhaustively researched worldbuilding. Aside from the Illuminae Files, Red Star Rebels might honestly be some of the hardest science fiction that she’s ever written. There was a ton of thought put into the physics and logistics of establishing colonies on Mars, and every aspect was pored over in exceptional detail, from the nutrients you’d need to survive on Mars to how the gravity affects the red planet’s permanent residents. Not only that, Kaufman goes headfirst into discussing the geopolitics of international Mars settlements. All of this fed into some great commentary on corporate space exploration and how corporations have unjustly been able to buy their way into influencing world politics. Kaufman’s vision of 2067 is basically what would happen if Elon Musk—[ahem] Graves had his way with things, and the commentary was an excellent way to scaffold the worldbuilding.

Back to Cleo and Hunter—as well as the worldbuilding—what I really appreciate about Kaufman’s class-divided relationship dynamics is that the less privileged person in the couple doesn’t sacrifice their values. There’s some potent class commentary in Red Star Rebels, and I love Hunter’s arc in seeing that their colonialism has consequences, and that the exceptionalism of his family came at a bloody cost. There’s also some sharp commentary on how poor people have to circumvent the law in order to make a living and are punished for it, but rich people use the same methods and get away scot-free—for instance, Cleo and Hunter ending up on the U.N. base in the exact same way, but Cleo being the only one who would be theoretically imprisoned for it. There’s a fine line in these dynamics where the poorer person in the couple ends up excusing the power imbalance and the narrative ignoring any issues of class disparity and the circumstances that made them so, but Kaufman is always right on the money (no pun intended) with imbuing her relationships with a strong sense of justice and class commentary.

All in all, another win for Amie Kaufman, full of outer space hijinks, crafty characters, and romance. 4 stars!

Red Star Rebels is a standalone, but Amie Kaufman is the author of several other books for children and teens, including the Isles of the Gods duology (The Isles of the Gods and The Heart of the World), The Illuminae Files (with Jay Kristoff; Illuminae, Gemina, and Obsidio), The Aurora Cycle (with Jay Kristoff; Aurora Rising, Aurora Burning, and Aurora’s End), The Other Side of the Sky duology (with Meagan Spooner; The Other Side of the Sky and Beyond the End of the World), and many more. Her next book, co-authored with Meagan Spooner, is One Knight Stand, the sequel to Lady’s Knight, which is slated for release on June 4th, 2026.

Today’s song:

gonna be honest…I wasn’t a huge fan of The Mountain, but this song was fantastic, so it’s not a complete loss.

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

Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 3/1/26

Posted on March 1, 2026 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.

This week: lots of watery songs this week—you’re either in a swimming pool or standing mysteriously in the pouring rain, so pick your poison.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 3/1/26

“Nobody New” – The Marías

Apparently, 2025 was an exceptionally fruitful year for women who make music that sounds like you’re underwater (see also: Cate Le Bon). There’s a broader spectrum of both vibes and aesthetic here without a doubt, but in separate ways, María Zardoya and Le Bon have made music that sounds like dunking your head into crystal-clear water and watching tiny fish dart past your face. Of course, Cate Le Bon’s completely on another planet, but although The Marías don’t snag me nearly as much as she does (and nobody makes aquarium gravel music like Cate Le Bon), they’ve clearly perfected their own art of making music that sounds like light reflecting off the bottom of a swimming pool.

Here’s another contender for my list of songs with specific lyric pronunciations that scratch a very specific itch in my brain; pretty much everything that comes out of Zardoya’s mouth is downright ethereal, but the way she sings “nadie como tú” in the chorus feels like a massage on the tired folds of my brain. Gently wistful and listless, “Nobody New” has the heavy-eyed feeling of the first thoughts that tumble through your head after you drag yourself out of a dream you can’t quite remember. It’s sleepy, but in a way that instantly draws you in—in my limited experience, the best Marías songs feel like slipping into the sea, but fully embracing the swell of the waves as they crest over your head. It’s simultaneously weightless, like hair billowing underwater, but sagging with the weight of yearning.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Seep – Chana Porter – “Baby, I promise/There’s nobody new/I’m being honest/There’s no one like you…”

“Raymond Chandler Evening” – Robyn Hitchcock & The Egyptians

I often lament that perfect songs are too short. I’m the last person I’d expect to say that about a Robyn Hitchcock song that barely scrapes past the two minute mark is just the right length. “Raymond Chandler Evening” only repeats its chorus once, and it’s generous to even call it a chorus when there’s only just verses apart from it. But some songs were meant to be a brief but potent punch, and “Raymond Chandler Evening” is one of them. It’s a series of polaroids strung together from the atmosphere of a noir detective novel—fitting, since the song itself is a tribute to detective fiction author Raymond Chandler. Every darkly humorous turn of phrase creates a vivid image that can only seen in black and white, from the abandoned body to the rain-soaked pavements. The only burst comes from Hitchcock’s description of the “yellow leaves [that] are falling/in a spiral from the sky.” It smells like rain. But interspersed within that noir backdrop is some of Hitchcock’s most wry lines: “I’m standing in my pocket/And I’m slowly turning gray” and “There’s a body on the railings/That I can’t identify/And I’d like to reassure you/But I’m not that kind of guy.” Hitchcock knows exactly how to package so much vitality and wit into such a short amount of time—as usual, Hitchcock doesn’t get the flowers that he deserves by and large. But the song was included in the comic The Crow, and a Cyberpunk 2077 side quest also paid homage to it in title, so it’s made more than a few ripples in pop culture—and rightfully so.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Even Though I Knew the End – C.L. Polk – “It’s a Raymond Chandler evening/And the pavements are all wet/And I’m lurking in the shadows/’Cause it hasn’t happened yet…”

“Queen of the Bees” – Jack White

I wish that there was a real, tangible reason for Jack White to get on my nerves. Scratch that—maybe it’s good that it’s just his personality that’s grating. It could be way worse. I’ve just never recovered from how much of a pretentious prick he came off as in It Might Get Loud. But he’s recently created his own publishing house and absolutely shredded with IDLES…the man makes it harder and harder to hate him every day.

After No Name proved to be rather samey (I saw a promotional poster last year that said “the best rock record of 2024 has no name“…lmao), it was official that I was just kind of sick of Jack White. After the adventurous two-for-one deal that was Fear of the Dawn and Entering Heaven Alive, White’s sonic range started becoming the same song over and over. So I let him fade into the background…and somehow forgot about this gem from Entering Heaven Alive. How could I have possibly forgotten about this song? “Queen of the Bees” is one of my favorites of his. He’s putting on every ounce of bluesy airs, but this time, but it doesn’t feel as posturing as some of his other stabs at the genre. So much of his solo work is very bluesy, but there’s a point where he almost becomes a caricature of himself (we once again circle back to It Might Get Loud). But “Queen of the Bees” feels like an honest embodiment of the genre. It’s a slick, charming strut where every strike of the mallet against the xylophone feels like a Cab Calloway-style cartoon feeling a visual chill up its spine. White’s rasping croon, though indebted to past rockers, comes straight from the soul, surpassing mere tribute. Yes, almost everything about the man is a meticulously curated performance, but I’ll give him this: he never half-asses anything. Everything you get from him is a labor he puts every ounce of his passion into.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Portrait of a Thief – Grace D. Li – “I’ll butter your toast/While you’re taking it easy/My tea needs honey/’Cause it’s not so good/And who cares if I’m misunderstood/’Cause I love you…”

“Alien” – Beach House

NOTE: definitely proceed with caution before watching the music video if you have epilepsy or any kind of photosensitivity issues.

Sometimes there’s no use in giving a big preamble about how I found this song. The other day, I just thought to myself, “isn’t there a Beach House song called ‘Alien?’ Wonder what that’s like,” and here we are. I’m just glad that it’s good—but then again, I’ve never met a Beach House song that I didn’t like. Them naming a song “Alien” is almost redundant, because all of their songs that I know have an equal degree of spaciness, and this track is no different. But it’s pure shoegaze indulgence; the distortion roars like the engine of a rocket careering through space, while Victoria Legrand’s vocals are whispers clinging to the soaring jet trail hurtling through the stratosphere. The lyrics verge on being surreal, but the castoff “helpless and glimmering” feels exactly how it is to be carried away on the comet’s tail of this song.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Ocean’s Godori – Elaine U. Cho – this track would fit in with the shining, sci-fi world of this novel: glistening, but with traces of rust and grime around the edges.

“There She Goes” – The La’s

“There She Goes” has to be one of the more ironic stories in rock music history. It’s considered by legions of musicians, music critics, and music directors for every rom-com under the sun to be a perfect song. It heralded a renewed appreciation of the ’60s styles of The Beatles and The Kinks, but is often credited with being one of the songs that jumpstarted Britpop in the early ’90s. Yet by all accounts, its architect, Lee Mavers, hated it. Even when you brush past the inevitable “this song is popular and mentions veins once, it’s gotta be about drugs” (it’s been confirmed by multiple band members that it isn’t about heroin) rumors, there’s so much mythos swirling around this song; most of them are about frontman Lee Mavers, who hates the band’s one and only album. The characterizations span from troubled perfectionist at best to irascible and impossible to work with at worst, cycling through dozens of producers and band members just to achieve the unreachable, perfect sound in his head. It has to be a tragedy to never have that satisfaction be reached, and to have your legacy be the runoff from those fruitless sessions. And yet…how the hell could “There She Goes” be considered a failure? This ought to be the guidebook for a pop song—catchy, charming without being cloying, and guaranteed to make you nostalgic. This song is a must if you want to make your bus ride into a rom-com montage. It’s jangle pop royalty, and rightfully so—nobody jangles like The La’s, and not many have jangled quite so well since.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Isles of the Gods – Amie Kaufman – “There she goes/There she goes again/She calls my name, pulls my train/No one else could heal my pain…”

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

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

Monthly Wrap-Ups

March/April Wrap-Up🪻

Posted on May 1, 2025May 1, 2025 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Thursday, bibliophiles!

Here’s my favorite flower emoji. Pick it if you like—it’s for everyone to enjoy, but it’s not real, no damage done! Keep it for the road:🪻

You’ve probably noticed by now that I’ve gone into my finals hibernation. The only reason I’m popping on right now is because this post is mostly pre-written, so I’ll probably be radio silent for another week or so. March and April have been topsy-turvy—despite the veil of illusion that is the internet, I’m always on the verge of freaking out about the news. I’ve had my fair share of spirals. I repeat to myself: I do what I can. I can freak out, but I can never give in to fear. Easier said than done, but I’m trying here. I’m donating when I can. I’m getting the word out. And when I actually have the time, I’m keeping up with reading diversely and reviewing intersectionally. The sun is out, the weather is warmer, and I am trying to soak up as much of it as I can.

Today’s my last official day of my junior year of college. I’ve got finals ahead, but I’ve got the humanities blessing of having no in-person finals, just papers to turn in. They’re all longer than I’d care to write, but thankfully they’re all about things I enjoy. I’ve done a lot of writing about science fiction, especially cozy sci-fi and how it’s a counter to sci-fi convention of how everything has to have the universe at stake. It’s worth it to tell stories where, to take Kurt Vonnegut at his most literally, all the characters want is just a glass of water. Quiet stories of kindness are not naïve—they teach us to dream about worlds where everything around us is kinder.

As I look back on junior year, I see a fishbowl with pebbles strewn across the floor, but the goldfish flopped back into what was left and did its very best to thrive. I took on a hefty workload while juggling a metric ton of anxiety, and it’s been an uphill battle to stay mindful and stay present. But I am learning. I’m getting better. I really think I can see clear signs that I’ve gotten better this semester. Sure, I had the workload, but I was able to, y’know, get out and realize that there are people and places beyond my bed and that the voices in my head are full of shit. I stepped out of my comfort zone…within bounds. I expanded the zone, shall we say. I went to some new restaurants and got a tad more social. Most of all, I tried to embody the joy that I don’t see in the word around me. I know there are plenty of lazy people using “joy as an act of resistance” as an excuse to do absolutely nothing to counteract the hellscape around us, but it’s true. When people are unironically saying things like “the sin of empathy” and not even stopping to think about what the hell they’ve just said, being joyful and showing those in power that you won’t bend to their tactics is as powerful as any protest. So keep on finding and being the joy.

Today, I group-hugged some friends of mine after class. Two of them are graduating seniors, and today was their last ever day in undergrad. In an attempt to adjust my position, I ended up jostled to the center of the hug. It embodied the feeling that I hope to give to myself and others: being surrounded by love on all sides. Junior year’s out the window. Onto better things Thursday.

Let’s begin, shall we?

MARCH READING WRAP-UP:

I read 13 books in March! I focused mainly on books by women for Women’s History Month. I also got into a major sci-fi stint (they never go away, every other reading mood just happens in between them), and read some new greats by familiar authors!

2 – 2.75 stars:

A Children’s Bible – Lydia Millet (for school) (⭐️⭐️.75)

3 – 3.75 stars:

Stars Uncharted – S.K. Dunstall (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)
The Teller of Small Fortunes – Julie Leong (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)
Water Moon – Samantha Sotto Yambao (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)
Why on Earth: An Alien Invasion Anthology – edited by Rosiee Thor and Vania Stoyanova (anthology) (⭐️⭐️⭐️.75)
All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries, #1) – Martha Wells (re-read, for school) (⭐️⭐️⭐️.75)

4 – 4.75 stars:

*Bowling with Corpses & Other Strange Tales from Lands Unknown*

Ocean’s Godori (The Alliance, #1) – Elaine U. Cho (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)
Daughter of the Merciful Deep – Leslye Penelope (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)
Sheine Lende (Elatsoe, #0) – Darcie Little Badger (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)
Black Girl You Are Atlas – Renée Watson (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.25)
Sunrise on the Reaping (The Hunger Games, #0.5) – Suzanne Collins (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.25)
Bowling with Corpses & Other Strange Tales from Lands Unknown – Mike Mignola (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)
The Last Gifts of the Universe – Riley August (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.75)

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH – The Last Gifts of the Universe – 4.75 stars, rounded up to 5

REVIEWS:

BONUS:

The Bookish Mutant’s Feminist Books for Women’s History Month (2025 Edition)

SUNDAY SONGS:

APRIL READING WRAP-UP:

I read 16 books in April! Trust me, I have genuinely no clue how that managed to happen. “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened,” or something? We’ll see if I can actually keep up the momentum. Either way, April was a mixed bag—some absolute hard-hitters, but also my very first DNF of the year. (Sorry, The Phoenix Keeper. I just feel like there’s millions of better ways to describe the pale white MC than having skin like “gossamer.” With all of the mythical creatures, I was starting to think that she was one too, given that word choice…)

1 – 1.75 stars:

The Phoenix Keeper – S.A. MacLean (DNF – ⭐️.75)

2 – 2.75 stars:

The Queer Girl Is Going to Be Okay – Dale Walls (⭐️⭐️.5)

3 – 3.75 stars:

Earthflown – Frances Wren and Mallory Litarnes (⭐️⭐️⭐️.25)
Afrotistic – Kala Allen Omeiza (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)
Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books – Kirsten Miller (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)
Uncommon Measure: A Journey Through Music, Performance, and the Science of Time – Natalie Hodges (⭐️⭐️⭐️.75)
Mrs. Caliban – Rachel Ingalls (⭐️⭐️⭐️.75)
Roll for Love – M.K. England (⭐️⭐️⭐️.75)

4 – 4.75 stars:

Heartstopper, vol. 5 – Alice Oseman (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)
Devil’s Gun (The Disco Space Opera, #2) – Cat Rambo (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)
Rumor Has It (The Disco Space Opera, #3) – Cat Ramb o (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)
Compound Fracture – Andrew Joseph White (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)
The Trees – Percival Everett (for school) (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)
Faithbreaker (Fallen Gods, #3) – Hannah Kaner (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)
You Sexy Thing (The Disco Space Opera, #1) – Cat Rambo (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)
The River Has Roots – Amal El-Mohtar (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH: The River Has Roots – 4.5 stars

REVIEWS:

SUNDAY SONGS:

Today’s song:

remembered this song out of nowhere yesterday…this song was on a birthday playlist that my dad made for me, and I had it on my new iPod. it’s still kickin’ to this day, somehow. fond memories abound…

That’s it for the second wrap-up of the year! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 3/30/25

Posted on March 30, 2025March 30, 2025 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.

This week: new music from 2025—both released this year and overheard before a Soccer Mommy show.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 3/30/25

“Triumph of a Heart” – Björk

I’ve finished the Sonic Symbolism podcast, and all it’s left me with is a rabid desire to do a deep dive of the rest of Björk’s albums. Medúlla is enticing as it’s the next one chronologically (even though I’ve given up on listening to her albums chronologically), but also because of the uniting concept behind it. Inspired by primal, prehistoric imagery of motherhood, family, and storytelling around campfires, Medúlla was constructed almost entirely from the human voice. Aside from some synths and piano, it’s almost all a-capella, but not in the way that you’d think. Each voice becomes percussion, scattered onomatopoeia, and rising tidal forces that lift something primal from your soul. And every possible voice ends up featuring on this album—Tanya Tagaq (throat singing), Rahzel, Dokaka (beatboxing), and Mike Patton (deep backing vocals that Pitchfork described as “demonic”) all feature in the varied vocal tapestry. I ended up being too busy to write about “Pleasure Is All Mine,” but that song, in its simultaneous feminist ode and playful toying with women’s capacity to be selfless, really does succeed in digging into something innate, almost instinctual within me.

In concept, “Triumph of a Heart” is almost as ridiculous as the music video. (Fun fact: Björk’s cat husband in this video spawned the “I should buy a boat” meme from way back when.) Forming the percussion of the song, alongside Dokaka’s melodic beatboxing, is what can only be described as restrained raspberry noises and sounds that are almost akin to somebody who’s only heard a cat once trying to make cat sounds. Yet it all works in such a familiar yet alien synchronicity that comes together in a way that only Björk can make it. The track is an ode to how music can make you feel and the joy of dancing, a pleasure shared since early humans were able to whack sticks together and harmonize around the fire; maybe it’s an obvious choice for this album, but using only bodily instrumentation is the perfect medium to explore the visceral nature of music and dance, the way that it sometimes vibrates your soul: “The nerves are sending shimmering signals/All through my fingers/The veins support/Blood that gushes impulsively towards/The triumph of a heart.” I always see such sentiments of people undervaluing the arts, even as they consume it by the truckload and think nothing of it; it’s not a viable, useful profession, more fodder for AI and mindless listening. It’s so easy for us to forget that art in all its forms, the same as the need for medicine and food, is innate to us, and has been since we were gathered in the shelter of the first fires.

As a bonus: here’s some behind the scenes footage of the recording of “Pleasure Is All Mine”:

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Binti – Nnedi Okorafor – this novella also falls into that merging of preserving cultures that have survived for thousands of years and alien technology, and it blends into a bizarre, delightful trilogy.

“Honey Water” – Japanese Breafkast

For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) sadly fell under the She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She curse on this blog, which roughly translates to “I wanted to write about at least 2-3 of the singles, but they all ended up landing on weeks where I didn’t have time to write.” Shame, really, because “Orlando in Love” and “Mega Circuit” were silk-drapingly romantic and creepily artful, respectively. Now that I’ve listened to the whole album, at its best, it embodies those qualities, oscillating from semi-autobiographical, tragic stories to some of the more fictional songwriting that Michelle Zauner drew on for Jubilee. She simultaneously leans into the notion of the “sad girl” while critiquing the fact that women are so often pigeonholed into this description (see the title), embroidering her own dramatic melancholy with orchestral arrangements and references to Greek mythology. Though it wasn’t always successful and the end dragged (see: “Men in Bars,” an faux-earnest, ballad-y duet with…Jeff Bridges? Huh?), For Melancholy Brunettes was, for the most part, an artistic leap that was a good 75%-80% successful in its feats of daring. It acknowledges its place amongst the traditionally emotional role of female musicians, but also acknowledges the light that peers in through the cracks (see: “Here Is Someone”—for maximum enjoyment, transition it with “Frosti” by Björk).

“Honey Water” was one of the standout tracks. I never thought of Japanese Breakfast as someone who could necessarily conjure up eeriness. Sure, she’s written plenty about all manner of unpleasant feelings, but I’ve never gotten dread as one of the most prominently featured ones. Zauner’s signature, breathy whisper takes on the feeling of a carnivorous plant laden with dew, ready to ensnare all manner of insects. Yet she’s not the one doing the ensnaring in this song—the narrative, toeing the line between fiction and reality, as her songs often do, speaks of an unfaithful lover repeatedly leaving her for someone else: “The lure of honey water draws you from my arms so needy/You follow in colonies to sip it from the bank/In rapturous sweet temptation, you wade in past the edge and sink in/Insatiable for a nectar, drinking ’til your heart expires.” The dread that Zauner dredges up is more a kind of stagnation, the sinking feeling of seeing the inevitable unfold around you, and yet somehow feeling powerless to move—or leave. The closing refrain, as the guitars rise in a crashing, insectoid drone, echoes Slaughterhouse-Five’s famous tidbit: “So it goes/I don’t mind”; the narrator convinces herself that all of her partner’s unfaithful transgressions are a fact of life. That tired powerlessness is what makes the dread so palpable, the music swallowing her as she mutters the last repetition of her exhausted mantra.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Familiar – Leigh Bardugo – “In rapturous sweet temptation, you wade in past the edge and sink in/Insatiable for a nectar, drinking ’til your heart expires…”

“God Knows” – Tunde Adebimpe

Remember how I was halfway chiding myself for hoping that Thee Black Boltz was just going to be TV on the Radio 2: Electric Boogaloo? Now that “God Knows” is out, I think that might honestly just be what the album is like regardless of expectations. “Magnetic” introduced us to a familiar, nostalgic sound full of energy, “Drop” was the point where Adebimpe seems to diverge, and now we’ve got “God Knows,” which sounds straight off of Nine Types of Light or even Dear Science. It’s giving me some perspective on how much Adebimpe made TV on the Radio—Dave Sitek constructed the scaffolding, but Adebimpe was the heart of it all, without a doubt. Balancing sharp acoustic strumming with synths that ripple and bubble, this track adds to “Drop” in the sense that both songs feel like they’re floating. It fits with the album cover for me—as Adebimpe clings to his geode island in the middle of an undefined void, he’s buoyed through it, like an ocean, propelled by nothing but the endlessly catchy hooks he’s been producing of late. “God Knows” stands out to me as the strongest of the three offerings so far—like “Magnetic,” it’s been sharpened to its tightest point to make indie rock tracks that wouldn’t be out of place 10 or even 20 years ago. Tunde is timeless.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Full Speed to a Crash Landing – Beth Revis – “God knows you’re the worst thing I’ve ever loved/And you’re bad news/But we still got to have our fun…”

“Whole Love” – Wilco

Man, YouTube comments are so funny sometimes. I hope the Latina woman who posted “I love this white song, don’t tell my homegirls I listen to this” is doing okay and still listening to Wilco happily. Wilco really is the great unifier.

Here’s an album that I’ve probably listened to in full, but only remember about half of. The Whole Love soundtracked many a car ride to school or piano lessons and whatnot back in 2011. I even remember popping my dad’s borrowed CD into my old Hello Kitty CD player while I was playing with my Build-A-Bears in my room. That should give you a picture of the kind of hipster child I was, but I digress. The resulting tour was also the first time I saw Wilco—and my very first concert, at Red Rocks at the age of eight. So even if I haven’t mapped it out fully, The Whole Love was integral to my childhood, whether it was watching the music video for “Born Alone” on my dad’s old laptop (I distinctly remember saying that it “made my head spin”) or sitting on my dad’s shoulders on that summer night. Really, it boils down to my dad. Raising me on all that Wilco made me turn out alright, I think.

Back to “Whole Love” in particular. The song already carries a metric ton of nostalgia for me, but it never gets old with any successive playing. As far as The Whole Love goes, it feels like one of the more accessible tracks—it’s classic Wilco, but with the artsy twist that the album presents. There’s a passage in Steven Hyden’s This Isn’t Happening: Radiohead’s ‘Kid A’ and the Beginning of the 21st Century that talks about the significance of album openers setting the tone for the album as a whole. Hyden points to “Art of Almost” as an example—with all of the Thom Yorke-esque synth weirdness, it signals to the listener that this is gonna be the weird Wilco album. That experimental nature leeches into the most “accessible” sounding tracks—like this one. Even as Jeff Tweedy brings his gentle, acoustic sway into fruition, the background can only be described as fluttering—they jitter and judder like the freshly-dried wings of just-hatched butterflies, creating tiny fractals in the background. Yet even if you stripped that weirdness away, “Whole Love” would still be a classic—whether it’s craft or my nostalgia talking, there’s something so innately comforting about the layered harmonies, folded on top of one another like layers of fine fabric.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Heart of the World (The Isles of the Gods, #2) – Amie Kaufman – “And I know that I won’t be/The easiest to set free/And I know that I won’t be the last/Cold captain tied to the mast…”

“Get Away” – Yuck

This song played before Soccer Mommy came on when I saw her a few weeks back, and for a split second, I confused it for some Apples in Stereo song that I somehow hadn’t heard in my childhood. Turns out, there’s probably no Apples in Stereo song that I missed when I was a kid, hence why I didn’t recognize it. (Cut me some slack, it was loud in there…) Yuck doesn’t have the same electronically-oriented whimsy as the Apples in Stereo, but they seemed to branch off of the indie sound of the early 2010’s, with their synth-like guitars, ’90s distortion, and the nasally vocals of Daniel Blumberg. Those guitars were what made me nearly mistake them for the Apples in Stereo, but they’re clearly more students of, say, Sonic Youth or Dinosaur Jr. But they had that sun-soaked, 2010’s indie aesthetic down to a science; even without the yellow filter on their music video, “Get Away” just oozes the sensation of a dream of being on a road with no speed limits while the sun beats down through the windshield. Even as Blumberg laments that he can’t get away, wrestling with negative thoughts, the track speeds along with a carefree freedom, kicking up gravel as it forges its own path. Certainly fits right in with Soccer Mommy’s sound too—she’s got an eye for good indie, that’s for sure….

…and so does the Academy, apparently? You’re telling me that this guy just won an Oscar for his original score for The Brutalist? That’s a connection I didn’t expect to make in this post…good for you, Daniel Blumberg!

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester – Maya MacGregor – “Summer sun says get out more/I need you, I want you/But I can’t get this feeling off my mind/I want you, I need you…”

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

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

Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 3/23/25

Posted on March 23, 2025 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

Since I haven’t been able to post in a few weeks, here are the Sunday Songs graphics from that time:

3/9/25:

3/16/25 (or, NEW CAR SEAT HEADREST IN MAY, WE ARE SO BACK):

This week: you thought this would be a quick post after I haven’t been able to write regularly for two weeks? WOE, TEN MINUTE SONG BE UPON YE!

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 3/23/25

“Love” – Hana Vu

One of the best surprises a concert can have in store is a good opener. There are infinite jokes about bad openers, half of which…well, might be dogging on perfectly fine artists trying to get their foot in the door, and half of them are true. I really do try to at least go into openers with an open (no pun intended) mind, because everybody has to start somewhere, no matter how big of an artist they’re opening for. But sometimes it’s just up to your taste. Even with some cringy performances, you can at least tell that they’re trying.

I saw Soccer Mommy about two weeks ago (stellar performance!!!! as always!! and the crowd had basic human decency this time, unlike the parasitic frat bros that populated her crowd last time) with Hana Vu as the opener. I kept my expectations low. I expected to just nod along and twiddle my thumbs, but I think I may have found an excellent artist! She came off quite shy, mumbling to the audience and asking us what we had for dinner, but once she started performing, it was clear that Soccer Mommy had a worthy match to her sound. However, if I had to compare Vu to anyone, it would be to Lucy Dacus—they have a similar brand of indie rock, both bearing warm, rich vocals and guitar-driven angst with no shortage of heart. Nothing can come close to “Night Shift,” but Vu clearly studied how that song goes supernova at the end. The closer to her most recent album, Romanticism, “Love,” like Vu’s performance before Soccer Mommy, starts out unassumingly, but quickly becomes a dramatic landslide aided with thundering drumbeats, strings, and Hana Vu bellowing as though into a cavern. The lyrics, as sparse as they are, come sung clutching a bleeding heart in both hands, staining everything within arm’s reach. It truly lives up to the drama of the album cover, with Vu draped in robes and with a sword pressed to her neck, modeled after Artemisia Gentileschi’s “Judith Slaying Holofernes.” Either way, Hana Vu has earned a tally in favor of the good opening bands I’ve seen—and a place in my more regular rotation of artists. A big thank you to Soccer Mommy for giving a platform to Vu’s talent, and thank you to Vu for the fantastic opening act!

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

To a Darker Shore – Leanne Schwartz – “I just want you to stay/You know I hate giving up/And oh, Well I guess it’s just me/Please don’t leave me alone/You know I can’t let you be…”

“Bad Timing” – Jim O’Rourke

Once my dad sent me this song, it was immediately relegated to my quiet instrumental study playlist. I shouldn’t say “relegated,” really. It’s a great song to peacefully study along with, but it keeps you on your toes. Ten minutes long and dense doesn’t make it sound appealing, but “Bad Timing” sounds like how those slow motion videos of flowers unfurling after the frost melts from their buds look. “Bad Timing” also proves my long song theory right with flying colors—the best ones have enough changes to keep you interested for ten minutes. This track in particular feels like two songs in one. The first is a homely, acoustic ditty, which peacefully bows out at the 2:50 mark, giving way to a chorus of plucked strings and, of all instruments that should sound shimmery, an accordion would be my last guess. Yet Jim O’Rourke pulls it off, making it shudder and glimmer along with the synths. You’re lured into a soft, ambient sense of security, but like rot climbing up the roots of a plant, O’Rourke tears away at the music, fiber by fiber, until the remnants are ablaze in distortion and ascending mayhem by the time you reach the eight and a half minute mark. It’s clear to me the magic O’Rourke made with producing almost all of Wilco’s albums—he has such a talent for taking a simple melody, stretching it out and contorting it as easily as a chef kneads dough. He put something entirely unassuming into the oven, and something wholly unexpected came out the other side once the experimental yeast rose.

On another note: I can’t for the life of me find who made the album art for Bad Timing, but it’s just so charming to me.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Annihilation – Jeff Vandermeer – everything becomes slowly, gradually unrecognizable and strange, just like the progression of “Bad Timing”

“Ends Meet” – Panda Bear

Brian Wilson is alive and well, but what I’ve listened to of Sinister Grift feels like a glimpse into an alternate universe where Brian Wilson got temporally airlifted from the ’60s into the 2020s and had to find his way around. That, and if he’d been given nothing but a knapsack full of various synths and electronic knickknacks to carry with him on his time-out-of-time journey. “Ends Meet” is the definition of psychedelic, constantly fading in and out of focus like ripples over sunlit water. Noah Lennox’s voice also feels piped in from beneath the shallows of a reef—released this February as it was, everything I’ve heard of Panda has been carefully crafted to be specifically summery and aquatic, at least in sound (see: “Comfy in Nautica,” “Ferry Lady”*).

The existential lyricism feels at odds with the music at first glance: Lennox is confronting what we all have to confront at some point in our lives: we’re all gonna die, so what else is there to do? His answer is as simple and as difficult as any: appreciate everything in it, bad and good: “And when it is my time/Dig it all.” It’s a lesson I’ve been chipping away at for the better part of last year, what with my difficulty in staying present and not projecting myself into possible futures (not the time traveling Brian Wilson ones, unfortunately), but the way that Panda Bear takes it musically seems different than most. Sonically, “Ends Meets” feels so daydreamy and almost dissociative—its head isn’t in the clouds, it practically is the clouds. Even the face on the album cover of Sinister Grift looks like their mind is somewhere else entirely. But that in and of itself is putting that sentiment of being un-anchored into music and into words. It’s a jarring pairing in concept, tackling this subject matter with such an acid-tinged, vacation-like musical landscape, but to me, it’s the feeling of letting go of that burden, of knowing that all you can do in life is appreciate every facet of it.

*the “Ferry Lady” music video is about as trippy as you’d expect, so if you’re sensitive to flashing images or eye strain, you’ve been warned.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Library of the Unwritten – A.J. Hackwith – “They got a spot to bury you/It’s not news, you’re tremblin’ for what?/Just keep it in the groovе (Don’t let up)/But keep the doorways shut…”

“La Vie en Rose” (Édith Piaf cover) – Louis Armstrong & His Orchestra

I was never much of a Disney kid, but Wall-E, one of the first movies I saw in theaters as a kid, will always unlock a particularly special place in my heart. Star Wars was my true introduction to sci-fi, but the more I think about it, Wall-E was right up there in conditioning me to fall headfirst into the genre. Even now, in my twenties and watching Wall-E for a grade to analyze the gender dynamics for a class on Disney and gender…it broke me. I knew it would. Sure, Mark Fisher cites it by name in Capitalist Realism when he talks about how Hollywood has subsumed anti-capitalist resistance and yada yada yada, but…god, how could even the most shriveled soul not be moved by an almost newborn race of humankind returning to the same earth, babies treading over barren ground as the giddy captain gleefully lists off all the plants that can be grown in it? And you’re already crying? And then they hit you with “Down to Earth?” Diabolical.

Part of my class’s discussion on the gender dynamics of Wall-E, beyond how we’re socialized to see Wall-E and Eve as boy and girl even though they’re…intelligent machines with no gender to speak of, was how the viewer is socialized to show their relationship as romantic (and traditionally heterosexual) from the markedly older, “classic” media surrounding them. Notable songs and clips from Hello, Dolly! do the heavy lifting there, but in the barest sense, Louis Armstrong’s cover of “La Vie En Rose,” one of the more ubiquitously recognized love songs of this century, which plays when Wall-E first becomes romantically interested in Eve, adds to this effect. And while I see the argument, as women and gender studies/queer theory-pilled as I am, I really don’t think Wall-E is nearly as guilty as a whole cadre of other Disney movies who have improperly shaped particularly women and young girls’ views on how gender and romance should be. For me, “La Vie En Rose” feels as pure as Wall-E and Eve, in all of their innocent, nonsexual romance. Even as a little kid, only knowing Louis Armstrong from “What A Wonderful World” (and thinking that Grover from Sesame Street was behind the vocals), something about those piano flourishes unfurled a kind of petal inside of me. It’s one of the first examples I can name of a melody really scratching an itch in my brain. I’m next to illiterate when it comes to jazz, but Armstrong was clearly one of those rare people who could give his trumpet such an individual voice—by the end of the song, you could call it just as much of a vocalist as he is. Paired with the cinematography of Wall-E’s tire treads tracing neat lines in the trash-laden dirt, something about it felt so neat, so meant to be, a puzzle piece shifting into place. Both of them are clean, and yet not sanitized—they’re sweet, earnest, pure. A part of childhood me is warmed every time I hear this song, obviously, but even outside of that context, the soothing spell of this rendition is undeniable. As is Wall-E.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Cybernetic Tea Shop – Meredith Katz – Louis Armstrong’s take on “La Vie En Rose” is obvious coffee/tea shop music, but combined with my Wall-E association, why not return to this cozy, tender tea shop in a distant future?

“Here Comes Your Man” – Pixies

The music video for “Here Comes Your Man” has to be one of the more uncomfortable music video experiences I can think of, not because of any particular content, but more because you get the overwhelming feeling that nobody wants to be there. Every time they pan to Frank Black or Kim Deal (or Joey Santiago, honestly), they look like they’re trying to telepathically kill the cameramen, Professor X style. They don’t want to be there, the camera crew doesn’t want to be there, and they don’t want you there either…oh, my bad, sorry for the intrusion. I’ll see myself out. For good reason, though—they were averse to making music videos, and when their label pressured them to do so, they famously decided to stick it to the man and gape their mouths open like fish while the lyrics were playing. Given…well, everything I’ve heard about Frank Black, it could easily just be them being petty, but for an underground band who were achieving success they didn’t seem to want, it’s understandable.

I always feel a kind of odd shame when I like That One Song/Album That Got Popular with a certain band that the band openly hates with a passion. If I’d had the time to write a post last week, I would’ve said the same thing for Julian Cope and “Someone Like Me”—My Nation Underground is one of his poppier albums, and one that he wasn’t satisfied with. (See also: “Me Myself & I,” a song I love, but that De La Soul inserts “we hate this song” into live performances of the lyrics…yeah, you get the picture.) For Pixies, they weren’t satisfied with this pop song to the point where they almost never performed it live. But…it’s so good. Sure, it’s simpler and more accessible than some of their work, but they knew how to make one of the most iconic alternative pop songs. Most alternative rock fans would probably be able to recognize that bassline immediately, all thanks to the timeless talent of Kim Deal. There’s layers to the genius of it—the harmonies of Deal and Black, the vague, surrealist lyrics about homeless people boarding a train before an earthquake, the faint comfort and hope in spite of that. The chorus of “here comes your man” was a last minute addition, but it’s always given a kind of solace for me, ever since I was a kid, before I understood the lyrics of the verse. Even with the bleak nature of the verse, it’s always implied a kind of salvation or relief to me. Bottom line: sometimes, even if That Song got popular, it’s obviously popular for a reason, but how talented a band’s craft is can often shine through in the charts.

Sometimes. We don’t talk about “Creep.”

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

If Tomorrow Doesn’t Come – Jen St. Jude – a similar kind of disaster-oriented scenario to the song, of people scrambling to safety in the wake of a planet-destroying asteroid.

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

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

Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (3/18/25) – The Teller of Small Fortunes

Posted on March 18, 2025March 18, 2025 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

You know it. You know I’m all for cozy literature. I wasn’t particularly in a moment where I needed cozy fantasy, but these days, I love to space them into my regular reading rotation to keep things lighter, if need be. I’m usually more for sci-fi than fantasy, but I love a good fantasy every once in a while. The Teller of Small Fortunes wasn’t the best cozy fantasy I’ve read, but like a mug of tea, it was great for a momentary hug of warmth and love.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Teller of Small Fortunes – Julie Leong

Tao is an immigrant from Shinara, making a living far to the west in Eshtera. She makes a living off of fortune-telling, but hers are not like the grand tales that people expect from those with Shinn heritage. But Tao’s fortunes have a catch: they are small fortunes, minor events that seemingly have no consequence, but will add up towards a life of crucial choices. She cannot stay for long in one place, lest these fortunes pile up and her customers start to expect more complex predictions. But when she crosses paths with an ex-mercenary and a thief-turned-poet on the road, Tao has to keep a promise to the fortune she gave them: they’re looking for a missing girl, and Tao knows that she’ll be reunited with them. What’s unknown, however, is how it’ll happen…

TW/CW (from Julie Leong): political conflict, death of a parent, parental neglect, racism, grief, alcohol

While The Teller of Small Fortunes wasn’t the best cozy fantasy I’ve ever read, if you’re looking for something sweet to tide you over, look no further! In the mood for found family, cats, spells, and wonky pastries? I’ve got just the book for you.

Given the crowds that I hang around with, it might surprise you that I’ve never actually played DnD. I’ve always been adjacent to people who are into it and frequently play it, but I’ve never played myself. By osmosis, I know enough about it to discern that anyone who loves DnD will absolutely eat up The Teller of Small Fortunes! Somebody with more DnD knowledge could probably sort each character into a class, but I’m illiterate in that department; yet even still, I can tell that it came about in the way that many DnD campaigns seem to: out of love and out of friendship. Leong’s cozy fantasy has the perfect balance of wholesomeness, levity, and more serious themes, and overall, it’s an ode to the friends we find in unexpected places. The contrasting personalities of Tao, Mash, Silt, and Kina made for a delightful found family with goals that often got in the way of each other, but twisted to form a journey across a fantastical land that taught them lessons about identity, friendship, and individuality. It’s just so sweet. Admittedly, it did border on a bit cloying at times (even for me, both with my cozy fiction proclivities and my merciless sweet tooth), but overall, cozy fantasy fans will be more than satisfied. Plus, there’s a cat. Automatic win in my book.

Tao’s character arc and the themes around it were the heart of The Teller of Small Fortunes. This novel focuses heavily on her immigrant identity, but it explored something that I haven’t often seen with these narratives. In order to make a living outside of her home country, Tao has to perform a stereotype—in her case, being a seer. She relies on this preconceived notion of her people all being able to see the future, and knows that she’ll be able to make money off of it, yet she tries so hard to make it define her. On the other side of the coin, there’s the Guild of Mages, who physically want to use her as a pawn, fitting her into their similarly superficial stereotype of what a magic-user should be. Yes, The Teller of Small Fortunes is very much a “be yourself” narrative (I will always hate Disney for making people trivialize this kind of message), but it’s one that’s complicated by the nuance of the aspects of Tao’s identity. For her, being herself is a lifelong fight, held up by several systemic forces of oppression. Her journey is a mental one just as much as it is physical, and it required the same labor, with a satisfying conclusion: the conscious effort by her to not let other people box her in.

However, the writing sometimes got on my nerves. For me, cozy fantasy can sometimes fall into the trap of being almost condescending in its writing style; it veers to strongly into the “and what did we learn today, kids?” kind of storytelling, even if it’s often aimed at adults. There is a marked difference between having a low-stakes plot and dumbing down the language for your audience. The Teller of Small Fortunes didn’t completely fall into making the language overly digestible, but every plot point and side quest (of which there are many) tended to have a very clear, obviously stated lesson that accompanied the ending. Even if said plot points were well-executed—which they often were, especially the scene with the phoenix egg—their impact was often lessened by the regurgitating of what the scene was meant to mean for the characters and the message, as if we couldn’t figure it out. I honestly didn’t mind that these plot points, especially the ending, were wrapped up in notably kind, easier ways—that’s almost a staple of cozy fiction, at this point—but we didn’t have to get their message shoved in our faces on a neon sign. Additionally, as a character, Kina also erred on this side of saccharine—she was sweet in the way that some cozy fiction characters are, but like the pastries she made, it got a little too sweet in a grating way.

I also found the worldbuilding to be quite generic. The Teller of Small Fortunes was one of those fantasy novels that took existing countries, copied and pasted them into the narrative, and added magic and mythical creatures; Shinara was clearly an analogue for China, which, while it was great for the themes of anti-immigrant sentiment and xenophobia, didn’t make for worldbuilding that was interesting or novel in any way. The same can be said for most of the other places that Tao and the gang pass through—most of them fell under the “vaguely European, I will not elaborate” curse that plagues high fantasy, and the only things that distinguished them, if any, were some of the exports/trades that they had. I will say that I loved the system of the Guild of Mages, and they served as great commentary for tokenization and a distant but tangible source of corruption in the world, but they didn’t have enough of a presence for them to have an effect on the world for me. It all felt very lackluster to me in contrast to the care that was put into the characters. I also would’ve liked more clarification on the regional magic. It’s implied through some of Tao’s background that magic is often associated with/endemic to particular regions (hence the stereotypes of Shinn people being seers/fortune tellers and whatnot), but we don’t get a clarification of whether or not the rule also applies to the surrounding regions.

Overall, a cozy fantasy that had lovely, poignant characters and themes, but was less fortunate in the worldbuilding department. 3.5 stars!

The Teller of Small Fortunes is a standalone and Julie Leong’s debut. Her next novel, The Keeper of Magical Things, is a companion novel set in the same universe as The Teller of Small Fortunes, and is slated for release in October 2025.

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!

Books

The Bookish Mutant’s Feminist Books for Women’s History Month 🚺 (2025 Edition)

Posted on March 4, 2025March 4, 2025 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Here in the U.S., March is Women’s History Month! Every year, I find myself repeating the same horrors about the attacks on women’s rights in the past five years. This year is no different, save for the fact that with Trump’s presidency, so many men have felt emboldened to let their misogyny run rampant—and our society seems to encourage it, time after time. Every year, we fight to make sure that misogyny, sexism, and rape culture become impermissible again. Though it seems like an uphill climb with no discernible light at the end of the tunnel, there will always be a constant: we will keep fighting for all women. For women of color, for immigrant women, for queer and trans women (especially trans women, because feminism wouldn’t be possible without them), for disabled women, for survivors. They keep pushing against them, so we’ll keep fighting—and keep reading. The good news is that literature is rife with heroines fighting against the system, and as long as these stories are told and spread, someone will be inspired to fight. So as with all the other year, I’ve compiled even more books of women fighting against oppression from a variety of perspectives, age ranges, and genres.

NOTE: once again, I’ve switched these posts to books for several age ranges, too lazy to change the header, etc. etc.

For my previous lists, click below:

Let’s begin, shall we?

🚺THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR WOMEN’S HISTORY MONTH🚺

SCIENCE FICTION:

Countess – Suzan Palumbo | Adult, POC, retellings | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Camp Zero – Michelle Sterling | Adult, POC, dystopia | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75
Womb City – Tlotlo Tsamaase | Adult, POC, Afrofuturism, horror | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75
Goldilocks – Laura Lam | Adult, dystopia, disability | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
Agnes at the End of the World – Kelly McWilliams | YA, dystopia | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

FANTASY:

Our Crooked Hearts – Melissa Albert | YA, paranormal, urban fantasy, mystery, LGBTQ+ | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
The Maid and the Crocodile – Jordan Ifueko | YA, POC, high fantasy, disability | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75
So Let Them Burn – Kamilah Cole | YA, POC, high fantasy, | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
Brooms – Jasmine Walls and Teo DuVall | YA, alternate history, LGBTQ+, POC, disability | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
The Unbroken – C.L. Clark | Adult, high fantasy, POC, LGBTQ+ | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Squire – Sara Alfageeh and Nadia Shammas | MG, POC, high fantasy | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

REALISTIC FICTION:

This Book Won’t Burn – Samira Ahmed | YA, contemporary, LGBTQ+ | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder – Holly Jackson | YA, mystery/thriller | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Shit Cassandra Saw – Gwen E. Kirby | Adult, short stories | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
While You Were Dreaming – Alisha Rai | YA, romance, POC | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
Love Letters for Joy – Melissa See | YA, romance, LGBTQ+, disability | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

NONFICTION:

Disability Intimacy: Essays on Love, Care, and Desire – edited by Alice Wong | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
You’ll Never Believe What Happened to Lacey: Crazy Stories about Racism – Amber Ruffin and Lacey Lamar | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
How Women Made Music: A Revolutionary History from NPR Music – National Public Radio | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Year of the Tiger: An Activist’s Life – Alice Wong | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
All About Love: New Visions – bell hooks | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

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 feminist books? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

How Women Made Music brought me here…

That’s it for this year’s Women’s History Month list! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!