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Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (2/18/25) – Drown Me with Dreams (Sing Me to Sleep, #2)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

QUICK ANNOUNCEMENT: because I’m trying to divorce myself from Amazon as much as I can, I’m finally moving over from Goodreads to The Storygraph. From now on, my reviews will be available there @thebookishmutant.

I started the Sing Me to Sleep duology last year, and now that book 2 is out, I figured I would pick it up for Black History Month, but also so I could finally get some resolution! And I sure got a resolution…one that wasn’t as enjoyable as the first book, but nonetheless a twisty, romantic ending to a fantasy duology that balanced fun and social commentary.

Now, tread lightly! This review may contain spoilers for book one, Sing Me to Sleep. For my review of Sing Me to Sleep, click here!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Drown Me with Dreams (Sing Me to Sleep, #2) – Gabi Burton

Saoirse is on the run. Now that her siren identity has been exposed, she must flee to the other side of the wall that divides Keirdre from the rest of the world. Taking sanctuary with the budding Resistance, Saoirse discovers a world full of different species that Keirdre drove out of its kingdom, all waiting for the day that they can take back what is rightfully theirs. But tensions are brewing, and war is imminent. On the other side of the wall, King Hayes, her secret love, awaits, but do his loyalties remain with Saoirse? And will Saoirse be able to fend off the rising tides of war?

TW/CW (from Gabi Burton): murder, graphic violence, discrimination/segregation (fantasy), genocide themes, blood, descriptions of injury, imprisonment

You would think that a book that’s over 400 pages would have plenty of time to work out all of the wrinkles in the plot and the worldbuilding…apparently not. In a perfect world, Drown Me with Dreams would be a great second book in a trilogy, but in this world, it was a duology concluder that tried to do far too much. That doesn’t mean that it was bad by any stretch of the imagination, but it was certainly a step below Sing Me to Sleep.

Oops. I end up stumbling into books with startling relevance to the current climate, and oh my god, am I sick of using that phrase. But. Drown Me with Dreams does an excellent job of expanding on its themes of resistance, racism, and misinformation! Saoirse has now figured out that there’s a wide world beyond the walls of Keirdre that has been obscured by the racist regime in her home kingdom; now that she knows the truth, she’s exposed to a myriad of perspectives and has to do the work herself to deconstruct the lies she’s been fed all of her life. She meets dozens of new mythical species that have been respectively discriminated against by Keirdre, and finds out firsthand how many falsehoods that the ruling powers have upheld for decades. The simultaneous revelations and discomfort of Saoirse discovering the truth is such a wonderful thing for a YA fantasy book like this to explore—in the end, it’s up to us, in our varying experiences in the real world, to discover the truth about how our governments can shape (and mis-shape) the narratives we grow up on. I also love the themes of solidarity present—fantasy or not, I love that the kind of feminism that Drown Me with Dreams champions is the kind that holds celebrating individual experience and solidarity under shared oppressions in equal regard. It’s the kind of unity that I believe will push feminism forward, and it made for a powerful statement in Drown Me with Dreams.

Even though Saoirse and King Hayes were kept apart for the first half of the novel, Drown Me with Dreams had a great resolution to their romance! Was it classic, YA fantasy romance cheese? Yes. Was it good cheese? Absolutely. To paraphrase one of my high school English teachers, there’s a difference between gourmet cheese and “American cheese-food.” I’ve been a YA reader for quite some time now, and there’s a difference between cringeworthy cheese and high-quality cheese. Drown Me with Dreams falls into the latter category, 100%. There’s angsty angry-kissing aplenty, but it’s written believably. If anyone is looking to do slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers romance right, look no further. Saoirse and Hayes weren’t just given enough time to have their romance develop—the stakes of their forbidden love were built up for the whole series, and their chemistry together made for some high quality smoldering. It’s not trying to be enemies-to-lovers in the way that most BookTok fantasy books try and fail to do—Burton’s given us a well-developed romance you can root for, and it made Drown Me with Dreams a standout read in that department.

In my review for Sing Me to Sleep, I mentioned that the book’s main flaw was that it was juggling far too many characters. In that same review, I commended Burton’s ability to craft a rich, layered fantasy world. Both of those aspects collided in Drown Me with Dreams with disappointing results. In Drown Me with Dreams, we finally see the world beyond Keirdre, and it’s full of all of the creatures that Keirdre drove out—dryads, goblins, sprites, you name it. On the surface, I was so excited to see this aspect of the world, but two main issues arose. The first was that we were introduced to a truckload of characters, almost 80% of which had barely anything memorable about them other than the fact that they were from a “new” species. Some of them were slightly consequential, but only just. I had so much trouble keeping track of all of them, which definitely muddied my reading experience. The second problem was that all of this worldbuilding was crammed into a single book—with a kingdom and world this expansive, it needed at least another book to develop fully, which hindered how fleshed out the world ended up being, after all of these promises of it being fascinating and new. (Also, I get the point about racist narratives being made with the goblins, but…what was the reason for making goblins into glorified elves? Why did they need to be conventionally attractive?)

Which brings me to my second major gripe: this series should not have been a duology. Not only are we introduced to a staggering amount of worldbuilding that only amounts to a single book, the same goes for the plot. A full resistance movement, the tensions within said resistance movement, the looming threat of war from multiple sides, and the fallout from said monumental war are crammed into 424 pages…should be enough, right? Most of what I described only happens in the last 2/3rds of the book, and nothing gets nearly the attention it deserves. We get dragged along with a pointless red herring of a love triangle (only for Saoirse to end up with her main romantic interest and for the other guy to just DIE GRUESOMELY? I didn’t really care about the guy, but pour one out for Carrik), and all of the interpersonal conflict rarely lasts, only providing detours on what should’ve been a rich plot on its own. As with the worldbuilding. Drown Me with Dreams should have had at least one more book to expand on everything. It’s a case of Burton biting off far more than she could chew, to unfulfilling results.

All in all, a duology-concluder that didn’t deliver on its epic worldbuilding promises and rushed its climax to a dizzying degree, but delivered on its past themes and promised romance. 3.5 stars!

Drown Me with Dreams is the second and final book in the Sing Me to Sleep duology, which begins with Sing Me to Sleep.

Today’s song:

so uh guess who’s obsessed with the apple tv+ björk concert film

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

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (1/28/25) – The Marble Queen

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Graphic novels haven’t been all I’ve been reading this month, but I’ve certainly been on a kick of reviewing them. Unfortunately, this one wasn’t nearly as good as The Infinity Particle, but it’s apples and oranges to compare them. I really need to stop putting everything with “sapphic” and “fantasy” in the description on my TBR, because while I love those two things together, they aren’t automatically the recipe for a good book. Sadly, The Marble Queen is proof of that.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Marble Queen – Anna Kopp and Gabrielle Kari

Princess Amelia lives in a kingdom in turmoil. Accosted on all sides by pirates and on the brink of war between its neighboring nations, Marion is on the verge of collapse. Only a miracle can save it—and that miracle may be to marry Amelia off to the prince of the neighboring kingdom of Iliad. But soon, she finds out that there was a mistake—it was not the prince she is being married off to, but the new queen, the stunning Salira. Stuck in a foreign kingdom with no control over her destiny, Amelia searches for answers. But with political forces from all sides conspiring against them, she must ally with Salira in order to save both of their kingdoms from ruin.

art by Gabrielle Kari

TW/CW: blood, violence, loss of loved ones, anxiety, poisoning (attempted)

I went into this graphic novel thinking I’d get a sapphic fantasy. The sapphics? They’re here. The fantasy? Not so much. The writing and artwork? The latter picked up some of the slack left by the rushed writing, but not enough. Given more page time and refinement, The Marble Queen could have been something promising, but it was clearly a case of too many plot ideas in a shell that could not hold all of them.

If you’re looking for fantasy, The Marble Queen will likely disappoint. If you’re looking for something more along the lines of a regency romance with political intrigue thrown in, you might be more satisfied. The Marble Queen has plenty of ballroom dancing, flowy dresses, court intrigue, and pirates, but nothing that would necessarily separate it from something in our history. There was a vague, throwaway sequence about some crystals beneath Iliad that supposedly had magical powers, but it ended up having zero consequence to the plot—it felt like Kopp threw it in just so that she could say “See? See? This is fantasy, we promise!” Also, so many of the place names felt so randomly plucked and too close to real world things—kingdoms called Marion (not necessarily a common name, but similar enough to Marianne/Maryanne that it loses the fantastical feel) and Iliad (I don’t think I have to explain that one) made the worldbuilding feel even lazier. The Marble Queen’s artwork also had a lack of immersion—other than the glimpses we got of the palace and the outside world, many of the characters were shown on flat, monochrome backgrounds, making it difficult to get a full picture of the world. Had this been historical fiction with a loose basis in some of our cultures, it might have been more effective.

Additionally, The Marble Queen was all over the place in terms of plot. I got the impression that Kopp and Kari had a plethora of ideas for what to do with the story, but not nearly enough time to execute them. As a result, every subplot felt smushed together like sardines in a tin can—so many of them were there, and yet almost none of them had room for proper mobility. I was particularly intrigued by Amelia’s anxiety and her feelings of isolation in Iliad. Her fear and alienation, although given a fair amount of space in the first half of the novel, had the potential to be poignant, but since it was shoved in unceremoniously against at least six other subplots, it had to room to grow into a compelling, sensitive story. The same went for the political intrigue—I liked it in concept, but the plot with Stefan had so little room to develop that by the time the reveal came, I’d guessed it about 30 pages earlier. In between all this, we get rapid-fire scenes of training montages, poisoning attempts, emotional backstory with not nearly enough grace given to the grief they should have held, said random bit about magical crystals that doesn’t end up being relevant at all, and a pirate that was clearly supposed to be a “fan favorite” character, but only got about 5 pages of character interactions tops. Given more polishing, The Marble Queen could have been a successful story, but it had no sense of direction, which made me struggle to keep my interest in the characters.

Said plot, more overstuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey, is why I think the romance didn’t work for me either. I did get that the arrangement was meant to be rushed, but when so many extraneous plot events were happening around Amelia and Salira, I never bought the chemistry that Kopp so badly wanted to convince the reader that existed between them. We’re supposed to believe that Amelia and Salira are slowly falling in love, but there’s hardly any indication in the dialogue that a connection is being made, save for a heavy dose of panels of Amelia with sparkly eyes and anime blushing. We’re supposed to sympathize with Salira because of the untimely death of her first girlfriend, but we hardly get an indication that she’s uncomfortable during the wedding, and after the explanation to Amelia, she comforts her, and then they make out in front of a painting of her ex-girlfriend and move on. Again, this was a victim of The Marble Queen‘s full-to-bursting plot—a romance that could have been compelling was ruined by a plot that moved too fast and contained too much of the wrong things.

The art was…alright, I suppose. That gorgeous cover set my expectations too high. I could get on board with the almost-Manga art style, and I did enjoy some of the expressions that the characters made. Although the color palette was warm and pleasant, it was largely flat—there was a significant lack of shading and depth, which can sometimes work, but in a story and world this fantastical, some of it was necessary. Additionally, Kari had a tendency to overexplain some of the gestures of the characters. Instead of having some creative (and sometimes silly) depictions of sound effects, there were direct writings of, say, “rise,” “kneel,” or “stab” when characters stood up, knelt or got stabbed, or repetitions of “beautiful” when Amelia first sees Salira. In moderation, some of this could have worked, but in such large amounts (and in places where these things could have easily been inferred by…well, just looking at the artwork), they grated on me.

That being said, I loved Gabrielle Kari’s character designs! She did an excellent job of making the characters expressive and distinctive in their respective looks. Anime blushing aside (I could let it slide after a while), all of the characters had wonderful stylistic quirks and tells, making them fun to follow around their kingdom, even when the writing itself slacked off. The design language wasn’t just clear, but enjoyable to see between the kingdoms; I loved the contrast of Amelia’s flowing, flouncy dresses in contrast to the tighter, more soldierly attire of the royals of Iliad. It added what some of the writing failed to add with the themes of her alienation and isolation—she was clearly an outsider, in both her foreign mannerisms and personality and the way she stuck out in the crowd.

All in all, a fantasy (?) graphic novel with the potential for epic drama, but got dragged down by an overstuffed plot that squeezed the life out of the characters. 2 stars.

The Marble Queen is a standalone, but Anna Kopp is also the author of Lifeblood, as well as many Minecraft novels for younger readers. Gabrielle Kari is also the illustrator of No Holds Bard, written by Eric Gladstone.

Today’s song:

NEW TUNDE ADEBIMPE IN APRIL, LET’S GOOOOOOOOOO

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

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (5/21/24) – Squire

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Squire has faintly been on my radar on-and-off for the two years that it’s been out. I figured it would be something fun, but I didn’t expect such a hard-hitting, timely, and wholly beautiful graphic novel full of vibrant characters and sharp social commentary.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Squire – Sara Alfageeh and Nadia Shammas

Aiza wants nothing more than to be a Squire—she’ll be able to become a knight revered in legends and lore and send money home to her family, who are barely scraping by. And as a member of the Ornu ethnic group, she’s considered a second-class citizen by the empire of Bayt-Sajji, and becoming a Squire and joining the Knighthood is the only way to become a citizen. At first, she’s elated to join the ranks of the recruits, but after failing her first test, she’s relegated to the night watch. But she’s soon discovered by Doruk, the groundskeeper, whose past may lead her to discoveries about the Knighthood that may change everything. Soon, Aiza realizes that she’s become a part of the same machine that’s destroying her people, and must make a decision—loyalty to her heritage, or loyalty to the empire.

art by Sara Alfageeh

TW/CW: war themes, racism, violence, colonialism/imperialism themes, amputation (forced)

Whew. This hit me so much harder than I anticipated. But I am all the better for it—I’m so, so glad that this graphic novel exists, especially since it’s aimed at a younger YA audience.

Squire has some of the sharpest critique of imperialism in YA that I’ve seen since Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea duology. It’s all the more poignant since the main character is so young—we never get an estimate, but it seems Aiza is on the younger side of the 12-17 age range for Squires. It’s an intimate portrait of watching everything you know about patriotism, faith, and empire be deconstructed in front of your eyes, and how that radicalizes a person—especially a young person—into enacting positive change. It holds no punches, and that’s exactly what it’s meant to do: imperialism is not something to be sugarcoated, even for younger reasons, and Squire does all of this and more.

Seeing all of this through Aiza’s eyes was what made Squire so unique. Her journey throughout the novel is as complicated as they get; at a young age, she has to grapple with the fact that the only way to gain recognition and help her family survive is to betray her own people. It’s a decision that she feels is straightforward at first, but having been fed on heroic, medieval-style propaganda, she feels in her heart that she’s right. It’s only when she fails to meet the standards of the empire that she sees the error in her ways, and her crisis begins: how can she hold an empire that she’s been groomed to love and an identity that has shaped her life in equal regard? Not such a simple decision, especially when you’re 13 or 14—and when you realize that this empire has been carrying out raids on the very same people that you once called family and friends, who the empire likens to mongrels and scum. Alfageeh and Shammas executed her journey, in all of its emotional messiness, with such care and beauty; you really feel for Aiza as she watches the reality that the empire constructed for her crumble, and her eventual mission to pursue justice was a truly resonant call to action for our times.

For the first 30% of Squire, I didn’t think that I would end up rating it 5 stars. I loved Alfageeh’s art, toeing the line of stylized and realism with ease, with each character displaying a unique emotional range. For the first third of Squire, it’s mostly seeing Aiza go through her training—a lot of running around in the countryside and playing at being a Knight. But the minute the tone shifts, it shifts dramatically—and for good reason: this is when Aiza’s image of the empire is turned to dust. Never once did the tone shift feel unrealistic; not only did it represent the drastic fall of Aiza’s faith in herself (and the Knighthood) after failing her first round of tests, but it felt true to her age and situation. If I’d been in the same situation at that age, I would have lashed out just like she did, that classic mix of sadness, anger, and deep-seated frustration at trying so hard, only to miss your goal by a hair.

Squire’s cast of characters were equally vibrant, and beautifully rendered by both Alfageeh and Shammas. Shammas’ writing made them feel like real teenagers grappling with circumstances out of their control. Like Aiza, each of them went through a complicated journey before joining Aiza and her cause; some had reason to believe that empire was beneficial to them, others never wavered in their faith until the end. Above all, they felt like confused kids—and that’s what they were. But the relationship that stood out most to me was that of the mentor relationship between Aiza and Doruk. After some hesitation, Doruk begins to see himself in Aiza—a child abandoned by the empire and forced to see the might that she once viewed as heroic being turned against her own people. I’m always a sucker for stories with ambitious, energetic kids being guided by disgruntled, older mentors, but in this case, it was a relationship that was crucial to Aiza’s development. Here was someone who had been ground through the same machine as she was and come out the other side knowing the truth; Doruk knew he had the power to change things, and mentoring Aiza in secret was his way of rebelling: teaching. God. God. Somebody hold me.

Squire’s climax was one of the book’s strengths, not just in its execution but in its symbolism, if the latter was in your face. (I’d argue that it’s supposed to be in your face—explosively annihilating a symbol of imperialism doesn’t really scream “quiet” to me.) The unity of Aiza and her band of misfits shone through after page after page of delicate development, and the conclusion, as dramatic as it was, really was the only way the book could end: in flames. What a beautiful note to end on—the physical representation of imperialism and blind patriotism, both as a character and a location, going up in flames as a result of the justice and drive of ordinary people. Yes. YES! I’ve seen some reviews that it’s a very straightforward way of going about imperialism as a whole, but I think what Squire has the power to do is be an introduction to the horrors of imperialism for younger readers just getting into the genre. Especially in these horrific times, Squire gives older MG and younger YA readers a picture of imperialism digestible enough to apply to both history and the present (especially the present). And I can’t think of any other novel fitting of the job: it’s a heavy load to carry for so many young readers, but I am so, so glad that Squire exists.

All in all, a timely and deeply emotional portrait of imperialism and war that is sure to touch the hearts of readers young and old. 5 stars!

And by the way, if it wasn’t already clear: Free Palestine.

Squire is a standalone; Nadia Shammas is also the author of Ms. Marvel: Stretched Thin, Confetti Realms, Where Black Stars Rise, and several other comics. Sara Alfageeh is also the illustrator of Not Yet: The Story of an Unstoppable Skater, and has contributed to Once Upon an Eid, Bingo Love, vol. 1: Jackpot Edition, and many other comics.

Today’s song:

I LOVE MY MOM!! (in the sense that I love my mom, and also this album, I Love My Mom.)

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

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (5/7/24) – Off With Their Heads

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles! I’ve returned from finals hell!

I’ve been a massive fan of Zoe Hana Mikuta ever since I fell in love with her Gearbreakers duology a few years back. Off With Her Heads is her most recent novel, having just come out in late April, and even though I would’ve read it no matter what genre it was in, the idea of her writing a novel loosely based on Alice in Wonderland intrigued me—and it did not disappoint.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Off With Their Heads – Zoe Hana Mikuta

Wonderland is full of monsters.

After a deadly plague ravaged the land, most of the remaining witches and magic-users have transformed into monstrous Saints: bloated, bloodthirsty beasts that scour the land looking for fresh meat. Carousel Rabbit and Iccadora Alice Sickle were brought up in a world of predators and plague, orphaned at a young age and eventually escaping their decrepit orphanage together, madly in love with each other. But their obsession tore them apart, and their paths diverged.

Now, Caro has become the Red Queen’s royal butcher, killing Saints and watching as the Queen stitches together Saints of her own through dark, flesh-binding magic. Alice has been on her own for years, slaughtering Saints to get by. With every Saint that she kills, she treads closer and closer to the Red Queen’s throne—and to Caro, who Alice will stop at nothing to bring down to size. But what she finds in the Red Queen’s palace may be even greater of a threat than the love that once tore her to shreds…

TW/CW: loss of loved ones (past), murder, graphic violence, body horror, disease, blood, gore

Dark fairytale (or fairytale-adjacent) books used to be everywhere on the YA landscape. It’s the kind of stuff I ate up from about ages 12 to 16, to various degrees of quality. What they had in common, however, were universally horrible covers. God. They’ve circled back around to being hilarious now, but you could just snag any book off of the YA fantasy shelf at Barnes & Noble, and it would have a cover with an airbrushed white girl with flowy hair and an equally flowy gown either spinning gracefully or fixing your stare with a photoshopped smolder. And the gown was usually melting into…I don’t know, feathers or blood or some shit. It was all very emo. Since then, this subgenre has slowly begun to die down in popularity (or maybe not? My tastes have probably just shifted). Whether or not Off With Their Heads is the slow beginning of that subgenre’s resurgence in YA remains to be seen, but either way, I’m glad that we’ve got much prettier covers for the next generation of budding YA readers. It’s what they deserve. (Give it up for Tran Nguyen’s gorgeous cover art!)

After the Gearbreakers duology, I figured that I would read just about anything that Zoe Hana Mikuta writes. Even if Godslayers was a bit of a lackluster series concluder, it was still a fun read. Even if it isn’t her best work, you’re going to have a good time reading it regardless. Gearbreakers got a fair bit grim, as dystopias are wont to do, but Off With Their Heads is the darkest that Mikuta has ever gone (so much so that it almost borders on new adult and not YA), and she writes it with a unique talent. Whether or not the urge was pent-up, this novel revels in the “dark” of the “dark fairytale retelling,” drenching Alice in Wonderland in bloodlust, obsession, and backstabbing. However, what a lot of the dark fairytales of yesteryear interpreted darkness as was just being edgy; most everything was for shock value and appealing to the “what if this fairytale was………BAD and EVIL” urge that ropes in all the 13-year-olds and it didn’t go far beyond that. But this genuinely feels like horror, and not being an edgelord for edginess’ sake. It’s gory, it’s grim, and it’s bloody, but more in the interest of horror than shock—these characters are surviving a truly horrific world, and it turns them into horrific people for understandable reasons. There’s a distinction to be made there, and Mikuta certainly recognized it. (Also, it’s worth noting that Off With Their Heads is unflinchingly queer, which, given that most of said older fairytale retellings only added in queerness when it was a side character that would inevitably die, is a vast improvement. The bar is low, but it’s noteworthy that it’s being exceeded nonetheless. Let’s go, lesbians!)

I’ve seen a lot of reviews call Caro and Alice “morally gray,” and…I have some thoughts. I almost see it. Almost. But if they were gray, it would be an incredibly dark gray, if anything. Maybe they were morally gray at the beginning, but by the time we get to the present timeline, they’ve both become such awful people that they’re nearly indistinguishable from the one evil person that they’re respectively allured by (Caro) and disgusted by (Alice)—the Red Queen. To paraphrase Obi-Wan Kenobi (hey, I missed my chance on May 4th), they’ve both become the very thing they swore to destroy. They’re both just despicable people, but their differences are written in such a way that their different breeds of horridness play off of each other fascinatingly; Caro’s become this world’s version of a class traitor and idolizes the pinnacle of evil, while Alice has become so consumed with revenge that she’ll justify just about anything. Add in the fact that the root of their personal vendettas lie in their past romantic relationship, and you’ve got a dynamic that was delicious to pick apart for all 400+ pages of the novel. Again, it all makes sense for the truly cutthroat circumstances they were brought up in—they’re products of their surroundings, in the worst possible way.

Even as someone who doesn’t engage with a ton of horror media in general, I know that the key to executing it is making the suspense feel real, especially if the threats in your world are entirely fictional and alien to the audience. Mikuta had a multitude of ways that kept the suspense palpable, and all of them hooked me over the course of the novel. I’m not sure why it is that the “There are [x] remaining Saints” count excited me so much at the beginning of each chapter, but it was a failsafe way to keep track of both the danger and the kill count of the various characters—the tangible effects of the butchering they’re described as doing. Having those numbers up front also provided a sense of scale; in the present timeline, the Saints numbered in the thousands, giving an idea of just how dangerous being in Wonderland truly is—you can’t go for a walk in the woods without encountering a bloated, bloodthirsty, and quite possibly engineered monstrosity on the prowl for flesh. It’s a constant danger—and Mikuta make it feel much more dangerous just by having a chapter subheading.

However, what brought down some of my suspension of disbelief was the worldbuilding. Clearly, there was attention to detail, but only in the ways that Mikuta saw fit. There were tidbits here and there that I wished were expanded on—I loved the concept of the original Alice dreaming being this world’s creation myth, but we never got anything more out of that past the prologue. Outside of things like the Saints and the royal lineage, the worldbuilding was rather messy. I get that Off Their Heads is a very loose retelling at best—just using Alice and Wonderland and its characters as a jumping-off point for the setting—but there were so many convoluted and contradictory bits that I wasn’t completely invested. It’s mentioned that there’s a Jabberwocky court amongst the gentry of Wonderland who are described as humanoid, and yet the girls find a Jabberwocky in the woods described monstrously that has clear intention to kill them. Either that was a poorly-described Saint, or there’s some inconsistencies that need to be addressed. The reworking of Alice in Wonderland-related names into the characters were also a bit sloppy and corny; I get that there’s got to be some signal to the source material, but they were often so obvious, and barely related to the original character that they just made me cringe. I expected more from Mikuta on this front—slapping on character names just to remind the reader that, yes, this is a retelling, doesn’t seem like her style. I almost think it would have worked better if all of the Alice in Wonderland pretense was stripped away and made into a dystopian fantasy world.

Overall, an unflinchingly horrific retelling that displays Mikuta’s love and talent for suspense and obsessive sapphics—but her pitfalls in worldbuilding. 3.75 stars, rounded up to 4!

Off With Their Heads is a standalone, but Zoe Hana Mikuta is also the author of the Gearbreakers duology (Gearbreakers and Godslayers), and an untitled novel slated for release in 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!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (2/27/24) – The Melancholy of Summer

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I believe I heard about The Melancholy of Summer somewhere around the blogosphere when it first came out last May, and I figured it would be a good piece of fiction between several hefty fantasy reads. Louisa Onomé is a new-to-me author, and now that I’ve read her newest work, I don’t regret it—a coming-of-age story that pulls no punches.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Melancholy of Summer – Louisa Onomé

Summer is alone. Waiting to turn 18 and gain her independence, she has been staying at friends’ houses after her parents were convicted of fraud and went on the run without warning. Left to her own devices, Summer has been able to keep her status a secret, but after her counselor discovers that she has been living alone, she’s sent to live with a cousin she barely knows. Struggling to balance her double life with a cousin who’s barely more independent than she is, Summer is faced with a myriad of difficult decisions for the future. But Summer is left with a burning desire to find out what really happened to her parents, and it will take her to places she didn’t bargain on going to.

TW/CW: parental abandonment, grooming, homelessness, emotional abuse

First off: this isn’t about the book itself so much as the marketing. About the marketing…whose idea was it to tag this book as “sad girl summer”? How do you see a book tackling a myriad of sensitive topics, including but not limited to parental abandonment, homelessness, and familial betrayal and go “ah, yes, ✨sad girl summer✨” WHAT? I just wanna talk to whoever made that decision. Just a quick chat. WHY? And I thought trope marketing couldn’t get any worse…

All this is to say that I’m saying these things because it’s more than The Melancholy of Summer deserves. Situated on the older side of YA, it’s not just a coming-of-age story: it’s an unflinching portrayal of the topics I discussed earlier. There’s no sugarcoating or dancing around the reality of issues here. It’s a heartbreaking novel, but it’s not one that employs horrific events for shock value—they’re an authentic consequence of Summer’s circumstances. I haven’t read a lot of novels—especially not YA novels—that have dealt with these kinds of subjects, but I really respect the route that Onomé chose to go down in terms of portraying them. Although I can’t speak to their accuracy, it feels like an unapologetic respectful depiction of parental abandonment and homelessness, along with the emotional turmoil that brings.

Going off of that, Summer’s character felt just as authentic. She really feels like a teenager, and not in a forced way; it really should be a given for a YA novel, but you’d be surprised at how many authors miss the mark. Summer isn’t just a teenager—she’s a messy one, an emotional one, and sometimes a brazen and impulsive one, but never once did it feel like Onomé was forcing it down our throats that she’s 17. Summer’s yearning for independence felt all too real, especially given her circumstances; none of the pent-up anger that she expresses felt out of place, and none of her emotional outbursts were without reason. Summer felt, more than anything, just how someone with teenage, volatile emotions would feel having to grapple with circumstances out of her control, and that’s a large part of why The Melancholy of Summer was so successful for me.

That being said, although most of the plot points did feel appropriately and respectfully handled, much of the development (or lack thereof) with the character of Olu felt very rushed and unresolved. The plot point about her being groomed, as well as the plot of Summer trying to help her out at the venue, felt like it was tossed in as a slice of filler, and therefore felt half-baked at best. With how authentically Onomé portrayed a lot of the topics in the novel, it seemed uncharacteristic that something as serious as grooming was brushed over so quickly and resolved in a way that could only be described as unsatisfying. It was all but a footnote, and it seemed like it wanted to be a major plot point, but with how unceremoniously it was shoved into the middle of the novel, it felt poorly handled.

This was a symptom of a larger issue in The Melancholy of Summer overall; other than Summer, hardly any of the side characters get the development that they need. Save for Summer’s aunt, the side characters that we’re meant to care for almost as much as Summer were often one-note and tossed aside whenever the plot called for it. Tanya, Summer’s cousin and guardian, could have been a vital character to explore, and although we do get the sense that she still feels like a kid and doesn’t know any more than Summer does about navigating life, she shows hardly any growth throughout the course of the novel. The same can be said for Olu, Sid, and many of the other people that we meet. It was clear that Summer got the most attention, and yes, she’s the protagonist, but that doesn’t mean that the side characters had to be left in the dust.

All in all, a heartbreaking and authentically-written novel with a vibrant protagonist but a not-so-vibrant supporting cast. 3.5 stars!

The Melancholy of Summer is a standalone, but Louisa Onomé is also the author of Twice as Perfect, Like Home, and Pride and Joy.

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!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (11/21/23) – A Crooked Mark

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles, and more importantly, MERRY FARGO DAY!! SEASON FIVE IS FINALLY HERE!! REJOICE!! I’ve been waiting three years for this…I can’t WAIT to watch it tonight!

I’ve noticed that I’ve read a lot of adult books this month (much of which have been more literary fiction) and not a lot of YA; although it’s been a much better reading month than October, I wanted some YA to mix it up. A Crooked Mark was the perfect book to scratch that itch—campy and silly in the best possible way.

Enjoy this week’s review!

A Crooked Mark – Linda Kao

Matthew Watts knows that evil works in mysterious ways. That’s why his father has raised him to know the signs of those marked by Lucifer himself. Ever since he was young, they’ve been going from town to town, making sure the Marked are killed before their evil is unleashed on the innocent. But Matt’s father has a new mission for him—his first ever solo mission, following a girl named Rae Winters. As Matt tries to blend in at the local high school, he befriends Rae—and begins to fall in love with her. And as his mission steers in the wrong direction, he begins to question if all that he’s working for is a lie…

TW/CW: murder, descriptions of burning alive, car crash, grief, loss of loved ones (on and off page), descriptions of injury

A Crooked Mark caught my eye over the summer because of its premise—not necessarily that it was particularly unique, but because it sounded so similar to Frailty—a movie about a father and his sons killing those that God has told him are demons. As far as I can tell, there’s no real correlation between the two (though I’d be shocked if this wasn’t at least a partial inspiration for the book), but, again, caught my eye—of all the movies to inspire a younger-leaning YA novel, Frailty would not be my first choice. That being said, A Crooked Mark, though not without its flaws, scratched the itch I needed—corny, supernatural fun.

From here on out, if I say “corny” in this review, I mean in the most affectionate way possible. I was on a streak of reading a lot of adult fiction/more literary-leaning fiction, and while I enjoyed all that, A Crooked Mark was just the kind of unserious book I needed to shake things up. It feels like it could’ve been the kind of campy, supernatural drama that I would’ve watched in middle school, down to the fact that there’s actually a character named Moose. It’s great. I’ve seen a lot of reviews comparing it to Supernatural, which I haven’t seen, but even from the vibes I get from the show, the comparison hits the nail right on the head. The writing, while it wasn’t the best, really nailed that feel, even if it wasn’t what Kao was going for. I can probably enjoy it more because there isn’t cheesier acting attached to the already cheesy writing, but either way, A Crooked Mark was made for corny enjoyment.

Going off of that, A Crooked Mark really nailed the beats of that kind of campy, paranormal story. Matt was the perfect protagonist for this story—not overly brooding, but still self-serious (in a very un-serious way) enough that he was fun to follow around. His friend group didn’t necessarily contribute a whole lot to the narrative, but they served the purpose of putting a shield around Rae—and later being sources of conflict once everything went south. Rae was on the too-perfect side, but again: this is the campiest book I’ve read all month. I’m not expecting monumentally good character development. I did also love that Matt was mixed-race—as a mixed-race person, I wouldn’t say it’s groundbreaking rep, or that the book explores his mixed-race identity poignantly (it really doesn’t), but it’s more important in that everybody deserves to be the hero of a cheesy, paranormal teen drama. It’s what we deserve.

That being said, for a book where Matt was up against the clock trying to discover if Rae really was marked by Lucifer himself and put an end to said evil, A Crooked Mark meandered quite a lot. It was more than a sagging middle—more of a sagging 60-75% of the whole book. There was a whole lot of uneventful high school bonding, a lot of Rae’s tutoring sessions that went nowhere, and a lot of hemming and hawing in general. It would have been easy to add bits of drama here and there to amp up the stakes, and Kao partially did this, but not enough to sustain the story. Especially since a lot of the “twists” ended up being dead ends, (save for the Big Twist™️), there really should’ve been more suspense—or at least more drama—before the main twist right before the climax. I was in it for the cheese in the first 30% or so, and it only managed to pick up in the last 20% of the book—not enough to hold my attention.

All in all, A Crooked Mark isn’t anything revolutionary or exceptionally well-written, but if you’re in the mood for something spooky and campy, this is the perfect book for you. 3.5 stars!

A Crooked Mark is a standalone and Linda Kao’s debut novel.

Today’s song:

I love listening to music like this while I’m just calmly doing chores…I’ll just be cleaning the sink and Joe Talbot’s aggressively screaming about kindness and consent in my ears bahahaha I love IDLES

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

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (10/24/23) – Stars, Hide Your Fires

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Here I am with a proper book review this week! I’m not exhausted now! However, I’ve still been in something of a reading slump for a fair portion of the month. Behold the consequences.

Knives Out in space? Yep. I am not immune to propaganda. I fell for that one. The gorgeous cover helped. Duped by a pretty cover again. I’m always on the hunt for YA sci-fi that really delivers, but even though Stars, Hide Your Fires was an entertaining read, it largely fell into the “ballrooms in space” trap that so much of the subgenre suffers from.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Stars, Hide Your Fires – Jessica Mary Best

Cass knows her place. As a thief scraping out a living on a backwater moon, she knows that there’s no escape that the life that the Emperor and his family have made for people like her. But when she sees the chance to hitch a ride to the Palace Station, she knows she’s hit it big. Steal enough jewelry, and she’ll be able to escape the planet forever. But when the Emperor is mysteriously murdered and suspicion lands on her, Cass must find a way to escape the space station—and clear her name.

TW/CW: murder, blood, sci-fi violence

I really need to stop going after YA sci-fi books where most of the plot takes place in some kind of ballroom or palace. After a certain point, it just gets so bogged down in the flowy dresses, jewelry, and court intrigue modeled after…I don’t know, Ancient Rome, probably, that it barely feels like sci-fi anymore. It’s really a travesty. But even though Stars, Hide Your Fires was far from perfect, it didn’t fall into every single one of the pitfalls I just described. It at least had a few elements that almost set it apart. Almost.

I’ll give Best this—for the first quarter of the book or so, Stars, Hide Your Fires did actually feel like science fiction. Although we didn’t get into the full extent of the worldbuilding, I did like the setup of the class difference just from showing the differences between two planets. You really did get a sense for Cass’ situation, and the setting of the dead, backwater moon really emphasized not only that, but the stakes that Cass later had to follow up on. Best’s writing sold the dusty, gloomy setting that dominates the first quarter of the book, and in comparison to all of the glittery ballroom business that comes later, it was a well-written contrast.

I’d also have to hand it to Best for keeping Stars, Hide Your Fires so tightly paced! Even though I lacked much connection to the plot, I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge how neat it was—that part really felt sanded to a polish. All of the beats lined up straight into place, and with the exception of some dawdling in the middle, it at least held my attention for most of the novel. If anything, Stars, Hide Your Fires had some solid timing—Jessica Mary Best clearly had her line of dominoes ready to fall from the start, and the suspense was palpable.

That being said, other than the first and last quarters, I barely got the sense that this was science fiction. It’s one of those books where it could have just as easily been a historical drama or even fantasy if you took away the space setting. Sci-fi is my go-to, and usually, I’d like for a novel to present at least something partially new, whether it be a subversion of a typical setting, a unique kind of technology, or even some aliens to populate the universe. (ALIENS! ALIENS! ALIENS!) But other than being set in space, Stars had nothing to its name in that department. You could have just as easily made the palace a grounded palace on Earth, and hardly anything about the plot would have changed. Cass’ home moon could have been a different country, the spaceships could have been trains, the escape routes that she took could have been back alleys or indoor ventilation ducts. Even though it’s billed as sci-fi, Stars, Hide Your Fires doesn’t have anything to show for it other than being in space.

Additionally, I felt hardly any connection to the plot or characters. That was in no small part thanks to how unoriginal much of it was. You’ve got a generic setup of a tyrannical empire, but you don’t get much of a sense of what exactly is tyrannical about what they’re doing, other than being generally evil and a bit of monkey business with clones. To oppose them is an equally generic rebellion, and other than them being billed as heroic, you don’t really have much motivation to root for them since their goal is defeating said empire and not much else. Cass doesn’t have any ties to either, but other than her poorer background, there’s not much to her, either. My, a loner, rebellious pickpocket? Where have I seen that before? That’s the sad thing about this novel—if we’d had some original elements to any of the plot points, it could have been really fun. I’m all for a heist in space, but you’ve got to have the sci-fi chops to pull it off. And there’s some slack I’m willing to give Best since this is her debut novel, but it was still disappointing on that front.

All in all, an entertaining YA novel that could have elevated itself above simply “entertaining” if it had boasted any kind of original elements. 3 stars.

Stars, Hide Your Fires is a standalone; it is also Jessica Mary Best’s debut novel.

Today’s song:

thank you to whoever was in charge of the Wilco pre-show playlist on Sunday night for this

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

Posted in Books

The Bookish Mutant’s Book for Asexual Awareness Week – 2023 Edition

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

First off, apologies for the lack of a book review/Sunday Songs this week. I’ve just been busy with school, and I didn’t have as much time to sit down and write something that wasn’t the draft I’m trying to get myself back into the rhythm of writing. (I’ve been cobbling at this post in advance before this week, so that’s why you’re able to see it now.) Plus, I was just generally exhausted on Tuesday, but it was a good exhaustion, all things considered, because I’d seen Peter Gabriel the night before! Words don’t do justice to how incredible of a show it was. You’ll definitely hear about it later.

Here in the U.S., Asexual Awareness week, or Ace Week, is celebrated from October 22-28! Even though I’m not on the asexual/aromantic spectrum, it’s impossible to not see how much this community gets left behind, even within the LGBTQ+ community; just as any other spectrum of identity, it’s just as valid and worthy of respect as anything else. I’ve been meaning to make more asexual book lists, but this time of year is kind of crazy for me. But this year, I figured I would start early so I would have another book list—we need to shed more light on these fantastic books and authors!

For my original list from 2020, click here!

Let’s begin, shall we?

THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR ASEXUAL AWARENESS WEEK

FANTASY:

REALISTIC & HISTORICAL FICTION:

SCI-FI:

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and what did you think of them? What are your favorite books with characters on the asexual spectrum? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

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

Posted in Books

The Bookish Mutant’s Books for AAPI Heritage Month (2023 Edition)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles! I wrote most of this post in advance, but as of now, I’m about to move out of my dorm!! I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY FINISHED MY FIRST YEAR OF COLLEGE!!

Here in the U.S., May is Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, and I’ve compiled another list of book recommendations for the occasion! Diverse reading shouldn’t be restricted to a single month, but it’s so important to amplify marginalized—in this case, AAPI—voices during this month. My lists serve as guides to read during not just their respective months, but any time you’d like.

However, this year is a little different. Even though I’m too lazy to change the header image (sometimes you’ve gotta be a bit stingy with your media space), I’ve decided to put both YA and adult books on this list. I’ve started to read more adult books in the past few years, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t include some of these books on this list. So it’s a slightly wider pool to choose from this year—read at your leisure!

If you’d like to see my past lists, click below:

Enjoy these recommendations!

THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR AAPI HERITAGE MONTH

YA:

ADULT:

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and what did you think of them? What are some of your favorite books by AAPI authors? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

I FEEL LIKE I’VE ASCENDED TO ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE HELP

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

Posted in Books

Feminist YA Books for Women’s History Month (2023 Edition)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles, and more importantly, Happy International Women’s Day!

Aside from that, the month of March in the U.S. is Women’s History Month! These past few years have been tumultuous for women here in the U.S. and elsewhere, with the attacks on bodily autonomy being some of the most violent in recent years. But despite it all, we cannot lose hope—by lifting each other up, we can foster an environment that respects women as equals. And as I’ve always said, literature is resistance: it isn’t just real-life heroes that can inspire us to incite change—fictional heroines can have just the same effect. So for the occasion, I’ve gathered even more feminist YA book recommendations.

For my previous lists, click below:

Enjoy these book recommendations!

FEMINIST YA BOOKS FOR WOMEN’S HISTORY MONTH (2023 EDITION)

Most Likely, Sarah Watson

GENRES: Contemporary, realistic fiction, romance, LGBTQ+

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

An intersectional story that weaves together the lives of four girls in their senior year of high school—one of which will become the president of the United States.

Extasia, Claire Legrand

GENRES: Dystopia, paranormal, horror, romance, LGBTQ+

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

Claire Legrand has made another gem of a feminist novel—this time, a chilling tale of unseen beasts and hidden power.

One for All, Lillie Lainoff

GENRES: Historical fiction, retellings

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75, rounded up to ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

A genderbent retelling of The Three Musketeers with a disabled, swordfighting protagonist—actually by a disabled author too!

Hollow Fires, Samira Ahmed

GENRES: Contemporary, realistic fiction, mystery

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Samira Ahmed always ends up showing up on these lists, and for good reason—she’s never missed with any of her raw and fiercely feminist novels, and Hollow Fires is no exception.

The Most Dazzling Girl in Berlin, Kip Wilson

GENRES: Historical fiction, romance, LGBTQ+

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.25

A beautiful novel in verse about two queer girls who perform in a cabaret in 1930’s Berlin.

The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School, Sonora Reyes

GENRES: Contemporary, realistic fiction, romance, LGBTQ+

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

A fantastic novel about a lesbian Mexican-American girl navigating a Catholic high school—and her budding feelings for a classmate.

Last Night at the Telegraph Club – Malinda Lo

GENRES: Historical fiction, LGBTQ+, romance

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

A raw but tender love story of two queer, Chinese-American girls in 1950’s Chinatown.

Cool. Awkward. Black. – Edited by Karen Strong (anthology)

GENRES: Fiction, fantasy, science fiction, paranormal, LGBTQ+, romance

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

An anthology of Black stories of all genres, but with a particular focus on geek culture!

The Reckless Kind, Carly Heath

GENRES: Historical fiction, LGBTQ+, romance

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I’ve described this one enough times, but I promise that I will NEVER shut up about how meaningful this book is. Just go read it. TRUST ME.

Follow Your Arrow, Jessica Verdi

GENRES: Contemporary, realistic fiction, LGBTQ+, romance

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Though this book was far from perfect, I think it’s still worth it to put on this list; the writing and romance weren’t great, but Follow Your Arrow has plenty of timely discussions around bisexuality and how we treat queer women.

HONORABLE MENTION:

The Trouble With White Women: A Counterhistory of Feminism, Kyla Schuller

GENRES: nonfiction

MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

Although this list was intended to be just for YA and fiction, I’d be remiss if I made a post about feminism and didn’t include this book. The Trouble With White Women presents a view on feminism that is necessary for moving past simply white feminism, and presents the feminist movement through those on the margins, such as Frances Harper, Pauli Murray, and Alexandria Ocasio Cortez. It’s seriously one of the best nonfiction books I’ve read in ages—on any subject matter.

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! What did you think of the books on this list? What are your favorite feminist YA books? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

Most of the Warpaint I’ve heard hasn’t done much for me (aside from their great cover of “Ashes to Ashes”), but I love the quietness of this one!

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