Happy Monday, bibliophiles! I’m not fully back on schedule yet (still in the process of cleaning up my dorm), but I figured I would put out this post for the occasion.
Here in the U.S., May is Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month! Among the many histories that America has been attempting to erase is that of the AAPI (Asian American and Pacific Islander) community, even though they are a critical part of our country’s history. We’re so quick to dismiss the discrimination of Chinese immigrant laborers in the late 1800’s, the Japanese internment camps, and the bigotry faced by South Asian Americans, whether or not they were Muslim, as part of the rampant Islamophobia post-9/11. This history may not be in the spotlight as far as discrimination targets, but just because it’s getting less press doesn’t mean it’s there. Just look at Maggie Tokuda-Hall, who received requests from her publisher to remove specific mentions of racism from the author’s note of her picture book, Love in the Library, which takes place in the Japanese internment camps. (Good on her for not taking the licensing deal. Another reason to love Tokuda-Hall, who appears on this list!) Erasing the horrors of discrimination and racism from our shelves only serves to raise an uneducated, uncritical generation—the opposite of what we need right now.
Looking back on my previous lists, I noticed something. I’ve neglected the PI in AAPI, and that’s a mistake on my part. Books by Pacific Islanders rarely seem to get the spotlight, even during AAPI Heritage month, but that still doesn’t excuse me overlooking that part of the acronym—and the world. This is the first year that I actually do have a few great recommendations from Pacific Islander authors, but please let me know if you have any more recommendations! I’m on the lookout.
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of the books on this list, and if so, what did you think of them? What are some of your favorite books by AAPI authors?
Today’s song:
That’s it for this list! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
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 iskinder.
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!
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…)
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!
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.
This week: I wish I’d gotten this unintentionally all-women lineup (or, all frontwomen, at least) for March, but every month is Women’s Month! (Especially now…reach out to your representatives about the SAVE Act, for the love of god. Protect your right to vote!) Also, the broad spectrum of romance: rollerskating past a cute person’s window on one end, and beating up creepy guys in the club on the other. Duality of woman.
Somebody needs to start a hypothetical support group for carefree, childhood-inspired songs that get slapped with distinctly “adult” interpretations (see: “Lookin’ Out My Back Door,” a delightful song about imagination that everybody chalks up to LSD). Yeah, yeah, you can’t control how your work will be interpreted, but for the love of god, EVERYTHING ROD-SHAPED ISN’T AN INNUENDO. Quit summoning Freud with an ouija board…why can’t we as a culture let go of darkening everything inspired by childhood? Everybody just seems content to label anything childish as naïve, whack it with a frying pan, and justify its essence by saying that there’s a “mature” meaning behind it…can you not digest a little unadulterated happiness without your edgelord pills?
Anyways. As Melanie tells it, the song was inspired by eating McDonald’s after an extensive fast: “no sooner after I finished that last bite of my burger …that song was in my head. The aroma brought back memories of roller skating and learning to ride a bike and the vision of my dad holding the back fender of the tire.” It’s such a weightless song—from the minute the opening riff kicks in, it never walks—it skips between jump-ropes. “Brand New Key” is just so charmingly joyous to me. Melanie boldly announces herself with a smile that never fades as the song retains a timeless bounce that makes every step into a little shimmy, every turn of the shoulders into a carefree sway. Yet even with the folksy instrumentals, the kind that should give this song a one-way ticket into Wes Anderson’s next movie, it’s Melanie’s voice that makes “Brand New Key.” She takes on the persistence of the song’s narrator with a self-assured confidence—she can roller-skate anywhere she pleases, and she’ll do it with gusto. The way she crows the iconic line in the second verse—”For someone who can’t drive, I’ve been all around the world/Some people say I’ve done alright for a girl”—can’t inspire any emotion other than pure, fist-pumping joy. “Brand New Key” isn’t exactly some sort of revolutionary work of feminism (and that might be as much of a stretch as the innuendo), but I can’t help but think of Melanie’s boldness and relentless devotion to her creative vision, so soon after she’d performed at Woodstock at the age of 22 and begun to make a name for herself as an artist. “Brand New Key” has gone down in history more as a novelty song than anything, but it’s stuck for a reason—I can’t help but bob up and down with joy with every successive play.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
The Heartbreak Bakery – A.R. Capetta – The romance isn’t a one-to-one match, obviously, but the carefree spirit of young love (and bicycle-riding) remains the same.
Now that the dust has settled and I’ve listened more to Forever is a Feeling, it’s still a good album, but not the good I can usually expect from Lucy Dacus. After my first listen, I came away with the thought that the singles were better than the album as a whole, but also that she’d almost sold out, that dreaded stage in an artist’s career. It’s not like she wasn’t indie-popular before, but now she’s on the verge of popular popular, dueting with Hozier popular. I don’t believe Dacus, with her penchant for turns of phrase too clever to fully fit any kind of mold, will ever go fully mainstream. But with the relatively toned-down spirit of Forever is a Feeling, I can’t help but think that it was the doing of a major label that made some of these songs…almost tame. Even though the same amount of emotional explosion remains under the surface, for half of the songs, it almost feels curtailed. She’s never allowed an impassioned belt or more than a small guitar solo at the end of a song. I’m not saying that she was, y’know, absolutely screamo or anything, but she knew how to give even the smallest moments the weight of the world. This album should’ve been the perfect opportunity, given that it’s crafted from heartfelt vignettes of falling in love with Julien Baker (SO HAPPY FOR THEM!!! my boys…I wish them all the best!! 🥹). Maybe it’s just personal. It’s always weird to see indie artists get popular. Who knows.
That being said, it’s not like Forever is a Feeling was a bad album by any stretch. Lyrics? Always top-notch. And when it was able to delve into the deepest well of emotion (see: “Lost Time”), it got plenty of moments of true, misty-eyed beauty and affection. “Most Wanted Man” was one of the immediate standouts, and not just because of the tempo. With it’s upbeat, guitar-driven sway, Dacus constructs a tattered, energetic scrapbook styled like a blurry-viewed movie montage of moments with Julien Baker: “Tied in a double knot/Just like our legs all double knotted/In the morning at the Ritz/$700 dollar room, still drinking coffee from the Keurig/We’re soaking up the luxuries on someone else’s dime.” Dacus called it the song on the album that’s most overtly about her relationship with Baker, and it’s full of unbridled joy for what they’ve had, but also for the adventures they’ve yet to have together, repeating a starry-eyed refrain of “I’ll have time to write the book on you.” Besides the healing reference to “Everybody Does” (“Gripping my inner thigh/Like if you don’t, I’m gonna run”…right in the 2020 Madeline) and Baker herself contributing harmonies, it’s a song brimming with hope, of seizing the moment, and yet holding the excitement of spending your life with someone in your heart. Major label or no, they can’t stop Lucy Dacus from penning the most heartfelt songs about relationships, be they romantic or platonic.
I know an album intro when I see one…and I heard this single before Deerhoof announced their new album, Noble and Godlike in Ruin. It’s short, anthemic, it feels like a nice thesis…and it’s a good thesis to boot: “Love to all my aliens/Lost, despised, or feared/You are why I wrote these passages.” I feel like that scene in Into the Spiderverse at Peter Parker’s funeral where one of many strangers in a Spider-Man masks tells Miles Morales that “he’s probably not talking about you,” but I will gladly be accepted as one of said aliens. Hey, “Future Teenage Cave Artists” got me through a pretty nasty bout of anxiety, and I cherish it to this day.
Thus far, some of the album seems to be about frontwoman Satomi Matsuzaki’s experience as an immigrant in America alongside all of the hateful rhetoric that is (and has always been) multiplying; Admittedly, I balked at the use of the word “savages” in the way that it’s used here, but I can see it as being a reclamation of a term that has been historically lobbed against immigrants. (Still not ideal, but I can at least see the justification of it.) “Overrated Species Anyhow” feels almost choir-like, meant to be sung as a kind of incantation of sanctuary; amidst the chaotic melding of birdsong, “Via Chicago”-like drumming, and a cascade of rippling instrumentals, the track serves as both an outstretched hand to the othered and an opening of the album’s curtain. I don’t think I’m dedicated enough of a fan to go into Noble and Godlike in Ruin, but this offering is a lovely, delightfully weird one, as Deerhoof always is.
Wet Leg’s self-titled 2022 debut isn’t a particular favorite of mine, but it marked its place right when I graduated high school—it was full of droll, commandingly danceable anthems for that short time in my life. Yet even then, I got the sense that their songs were on the repetitive side. They’re a bit like Weezer, in a way—they have maybe two or three songs, but all of them are great. They know what they’re good at. Now that Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers have announced their next album, moisturizer (are all of their albums going to be synonyms for “wet?” damp, coming in 2028!), it seems as though they’re trodding on the same path. Here’s the thing: it’s a good path. I feel like it’d be too harsh to call them one trick ponies, because they’ve got at least two or three, but those tricks? They’re infectious, catchy, and begging to be played over and over. “catch these fists” may be covering the same ground they’ve covered for three years (unsatisfying romance, drugs, clubbing, shitty men), but they inject it with energy that would make anyone want to get up and have some fisticuffs. The disaffected, rhythmic way that Teasdale intones the lines of “Can you catch a medicine ball?/Can you catch yourself when you fall?” provide a slinking hook for a song with a killer right hook that never loses its potency.
Whew, we’ve got another whiplash transition here…not necessarily from the tempo, but without a doubt, the lyrics. I guess if we’re going linearly, we’re healing? You gotta beat scummy men hitting on you to a pulp sometimes, but then you’ve got to go reconnect with nature and regain your faith in humanity the next morning. Healing! We’re circling back to Melanie’s unfettered happiness in no time.
Leave it to The Cardigans to bring that pure levity. “Rise & Shine” was the first song that they recorded with Nina Persson as the lead vocalist, which…the fact that they considered anyone else but her is astounding, given how enduring and clear her voice has proven to be, but it seems that it’s the reason they began their upward descent to fame. It later came on their debut album, Emmerdale, and the track feels as free as the album cover’s dog bounding through a field of grass. With its jangly guitars and tambourine percussion, there’s an inherent scent of summer that they’ve bottled inside every note as Persson sings of reconnecting with nature: “I want to be alone for a while/I want to Earth to breath to me/I want the ways to grow loud/I want the sun to bleed down.” Despite the angst aplenty that they’d later become masters at (see: “Step On Me”), this kind of upbeat, optimistic spirit became an undercurrent of their music that keeps me returning time after time. Even when Nina Persson’s in abject misery, they at least make you want to dance, right?
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.
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!
The Bookish Mutant 