I’ve been a huge fan of Melissa Albert ever since I fell in love with The Hazel Wood series way back when (2018? No way…I feel old…). I forget how or why it’s taken me so long to pick up her follow-up, Our Crooked Hearts, but it was worth the wait—this novel made me remember exactly what endeared me to Albert’s writing in the first place!
Ivy has found herself at the center of string of unexplainable events. An eviscerated rabbit in her driveway. Secrets buried in the backyard. And now, a nude woman in the middle of the road that Ivy and her boyfriend almost hit with their car. The more she digs into these strange happenings, the more they lead to her mother, who dabbled in forbidden magic when she was a teenager. Ivy, now the age that her mother was when she started tapping into the supernatural, wonders if this magic has come back with a vengeance—and if there’s a way to control it before it comes back for her mother.
TW/CW: animal death/abuse/torture, blood, gore
I don’t know why it took me this long to pick up Our Crooked Hearts and how I could’ve possibly gone three years without reading something of Melissa Albert’s, because wow. This one toes the line between magical realism and horror, but either way you took it, there’s no doubt that Albert is the master of YA magical realism!
Let’s start with Albert’s obvious strength: the lyrical nature of her prose. Though Our Crooked Hearts wasn’t steeped in fairytales like the Hazel Wood duology was, it was no less enchantingly written. Every line feels like its own fairytale, full to bursting with metaphors so unique I found myself highlighting up and down the page. Albert has the ability to weave magic into the smallest of things, from the small moments in the suburbs to the unexplainable events that litter the plot like strange trinkets found on the side of the road. The Hazel Wood was already luscious, but Our Crooked Hearts feels like a maturation of everything that makes Albert’s writing good: a recognition of the magic in everything, but also of the darkness behind the glitter.
The way that Albert writes magic itself was just as compelling! Though the magic system itself is not gone into depth, it’s understood to be the kind of magic that only awakens in the shadows, summoned by girls left to their own devices without any clue of the consequences. I understood some of the unexplained bits to be a byproduct of how little Dana, Fee, and Marion understood of what they were getting themselves into—they knew about as much as we do. Like the relationships running through this novel (more on that later), it is an undercurrent to every decision that they make, rooted in revenge but later a series of bandages to throw over every little breadcrumb they leave behind by accident. On that note, I loved that this wasn’t simply a revenge story—it started as such, but that revenge grew into something so monstrous that it was spread down through generations. Hmm, sure feels like a metaphor to me…
Our Crooked Hearts is written in a dual POV between timelines, following our protagonist, Ivy, and her mother, Dana; Ivy’s perspective finds her in a quiet suburb, while Dana’s perspective is set in Chicago in the ’90s. I loved how the two of them evolved in tandem—dual POVs aren’t especially difficult to pull off, but having them set in different timelines was such a wonderful move to not only elevate the story, but deepen the mother-daughter relationship at the heart of the novel. In terms of literary fiction, I feel like there’s a trend of multigenerational novels (somehow they’re all set in New York) where they hop between time periods and family members; sometimes they’re successful (see: Elizabeth Acevedo), but often, they miss the nuance of familial connection and just focus on being literary. This is far from literary fiction (complimentary), but what this novel does that a lot of others don’t is make the timelines feel distinct. Ivy and Dana have radically different personalities, and though their journeys of dabbling in forbidden magic are similar, their goals—and endpoints—were so different that I found myself fully invested in both of them.
Mother-daughter relationships are at the heart of Our Crooked Hearts, and the dual POV makes for such a fascinating examination of when such relationships become toxic, and the events building up to the toxicity once Dana began raising Ivy. Dana’s perspective was one of constantly being pulled along—by her friends, by authority figures, and by forbidden magic beyond her comprehension. The guilt that resulted from living a life predicated almost entirely on the decisions of other people tragically informed how Ivy grew up—picking up the pieces, and discovering the pieces of her mother along the way. Without spoiling the ending, I loved how it was resolved—there’s no immediate absolution of guilt once familial ties are brought up (unlike a certain recent Disney film beginning with E), but there’s an understanding to how and why things turned out the way they did. Ivy is still left to sift through the wreckage, but all that she thought was lost was not far beyond reach.
Also, one thing that Melissa Albert can always be counted on is top-tier music references. All she had to do was mention Dana putting Liz Phair on the jukebox, and I was already foaming at the mouth.
All in all, a horrific and lyrical observation on magic and teenage girlhood, mothers and daughters. 4 stars!
Our Crooked Hearts is a standalone, but Melissa Albert is also the author of The Hazel Wood duology (The Hazel Wood, The Night Country, and the companion novel Tales from the Hinterland) and The Bad Ones. She is also the founder of the Barnes & Noble Teen Blog.
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!
Here in the U.S., July is Disability Pride Month! Although I’ve seen some more recognition for it in the past few years, I find myself saying this over and over—disability issues are left behind in intersectional feminism far too often. The larger representation in media of disabled people as otherwise white and cishet, the lack of accessibility at many pride events, and the hurdles that most disabled students have to go through in order to get accommodations at school is proof. And yet, around 27% of Americans have some sort of disability—myself included. As the literary world has slowly shown more stories with disabled characters, it’s more important than ever to uplift disabled voices.
Like some of my other themed lists this year, I’ve decided to expand it beyond YA, because I’d be remiss if I didn’t include some of the amazing Adult and MG reads with disabled rep over the years. I’ve separated all of these recs by age group, and included their genres, my rating, and the type of disability rep.
(SHOUTOUT TO NOT IF I CAN HELP IT, I FINALLY HAVE A MORSEL OF SPD REP)
for my lists from previous years, click here:
2022 (+ on having SPD and the lack of representation)
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and what did you think of them? What are your favorite books with disabled rep? Let me know in the comments!
Today’s song:
That’s it for this year’s Disability Pride recs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
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!
Huntress (Ash, #0.5) – Malinda Lo: (Fantasy, LGBTQ+) normally I wouldn’t put a prequel/spin-off on a list like this, but this one can stand on its own—worth a read! | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
Not Here to Be Liked– Michelle Quach:(Realistic Fiction) a wonderfully feminist read about a high schooler’s battle with sexism in her school newspaper. | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
In the Watchful City – S. Qiouyi Lu: (Science Fiction, Fantasy, LGBTQ+) a multilayered anthology-novella centered around a strange cabinet of curiosities! | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
Portrait of a Thief – Grace D. Li: (Mystery, Thriller) a group of Ivy League students turned thieves and con artists set off on a mission to return prized art back to China. | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Stories of Your Life and Others – Ted Chiang: this anthology contains “Story of Your Life,” the inspiration for the movie Arrival, and although that was the only story in the collection to absolutely wreck me, all of the stories were fantastic! | ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Light from Uncommon Stars – Ryka Aoki: (Science Fiction, LGBTQ+) if you can think of anything, there’s a good chance it’s in here somewhere—aliens, donut shops, and cursed violins, oh my… | ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75, rounded up to ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
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!
As some of you may know, last week (March 20-27) was when the #TransRightsReadathon was hosted in response to a dangerous increase in anti-trans legislation across the U.S. Created by Simi Kern, the goal of the readathon was to give the spotlight to as many trans books and authors as possible to bring them awareness and support in light of the rampant transphobia across the country and beyond. It’s been frightening and heartbreaking to see what’s happening in other states, and I want to support my trans siblings in any way possible. So I’ve decided to include shorter reviews of all of the trans books I read this week—all of which were good!
For as long as they can remember, Aaron and Oliver have only ever had each other. In a small town with few queer teenagers, let alone young trans men, they’ve shared milestones like coming out as trans, buying the right binders–and falling for each other.
But just as their relationship has started to blossom, Aaron moves away. Feeling adrift, separated from the one person who understands them, they seek solace in digging deep into the annals of America’s past. When they discover the story of two Revolutionary War soldiers who they believe to have been trans man in love, they’re inspired to pay tribute to these soldiers by adopting their names–Aaron and Oliver. As they learn, they delve further into unwritten queer stories, and they discover the transformative power of reclaiming one’s place in history.
TW/CW: transphobia, dysphoria, misgendering/deadnaming, homophobia, off-page sexual assault, religious bigotry
Novels in verse always get me when they’re done well, and A Million Quiet Revolutions was no exception. The story of Aaron and Oliver is one that was essential to be told, and it resulted in a beautifully poignant piece of verse!
The growing relationship between Oliver and Aaron felt so genuine, and the combination of pseudo-epistolary format (oh god, that sounded pretentious…) with verse emphasized the way that their relationship transcended barriers of both place and time. The interweaving of the past with the present gave me an insight into a queer part of history that I’m almost embarrassed that I didn’t consider until reading this—better late than never, I suppose. Their voices both leapt off the page, and the easy flow of Gow’s verse made the reading experience feel effortless, drifting like wind—good poetry, to me, doesn’t quite feel like poetry; the rhythm remains, but it doesn’t feel like going line by line in such a rote way.
Above all, the message of this novel in verse is one that’s so important, especially in a time where the narrative of LGBTQ+ people being trendy and new is being pushed so often—queer people have always been here, and we will always be here. Aaron and Oliver’s journey of researching their trans namesakes—cross-dressing soldiers in the Revolutionary War—was one that’s so necessary for understanding our own roots. The key to belonging is realizing that you have always been a part of history, no matter how many pains historians have taken to ignore or deliberately erase the queerness and transness that has always been there. For me, that’s why A Million Quiet Revolutions is such an important read.
Brimming with history and rich verse, A Million Quiet Revolutions is an ode to discovering your own roots, and finding solace in hidden histories. 4 stars!
In this queer contemporary YA mystery, a nonbinary teen with autism realizes they must not only solve a 30-year-old mystery but also face the demons lurking in their past in order to live a satisfying life.
Sam Sylvester’s not overly optimistic about their recent move to the small town of Astoria, Oregon after a traumatic experience in their last home in the rural Midwest.
Yet Sam’s life seems to be on the upswing after meeting several new friends and a potential love interest in Shep, the pretty neighbor. However, Sam can’t seem to let go of what might have been, and is drawn to investigate the death of a teenage boy in 1980s Astoria. Sam’s convinced he was murdered–especially since Sam’s investigation seems to resurrect some ghosts in the town.
Threatening notes and figures hidden in shadows begin to disrupt Sam’s life. Yet Sam continues to search for the truth. When Sam discovers that they may be closer to a killer than previously known, Sam has a difficult decision to make. Would they risk their new life for a half-lived one?
My ultimate hope was that this book would be as well-crafted as its cover, and for the most part, it lived up to my expectations! The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester deftly toes the line between a coming-of-age story and a decades-old mystery, buoyed by a diverse and lovable cast.
Sam Sylvester has a batch some of the most diverse representation I’ve seen in a realistic fiction/mystery novel in a while—aside from having a nonbinary, asexual, and Autistic protagonist (more neurodivergent protagonists, please!!), there were so many different characters that were incredibly intersectional—queer, POC, and disabled characters all across the board, and not just the teen characters too! All of these identities were woven so well into the story, and I loved the journey of self-acceptance and reckoning that Sam experiences throughout the novel as they unravel the mystery of the boy who died in their room 30 years ago.
That being said, although I liked most every aspect of this novel, this really feels like a novel that’s going to date itself. I enjoyed a handful of the references (always extra points for David Bowie), but a lot of the more recent ones—the references to Tumblr, Gen Z slang, internet culture, and a Steven Universe gag every other page, read as very hackneyed and stilted. As authentic as the rest of Sam Sylvester was, those parts dragged down what would have otherwise been powerful and realistic dialogue. Most of the writing did its job and did it well, but the attempt to ground it in the present day only ended up making a novel that’s going to date itself far quicker than it was probably intended to.
Despite that, I’d say that Sam Sylvester is still a must-read—for the excellent representation, for the mystery, and for the coming-of-age story. 3.75 stars, rounded up to 4!
The author of the “vivid and urgent…important and timely” (The New York Times BookReview) debut The Map of Salt and Stars returns with this remarkably moving and lyrical novel following three generations of Syrian Americans who are linked by a mysterious species of bird and the truths they carry close to their hearts.
Five years after a suspicious fire killed his ornithologist mother, a closeted Syrian American trans boy sheds his birth name and searches for a new one. He has been unable to paint since his mother’s ghost has begun to visit him each evening. As his grandmother’s sole caretaker, he spends his days cooped up in their apartment, avoiding his neighborhood masjid, his estranged sister, and even his best friend (who also happens to be his longtime crush). The only time he feels truly free is when he slips out at night to paint murals on buildings in the once-thriving Manhattan neighborhood known as Little Syria.
One night, he enters the abandoned community house and finds the tattered journal of a Syrian American artist named Laila Z, who dedicated her career to painting the birds of North America. She famously and mysteriously disappeared more than sixty years before, but her journal contains proof that both his mother and Laila Z encountered the same rare bird before their deaths. In fact, Laila Z’s past is intimately tied to his mother’s—and his grandmother’s—in ways he never could have expected. Even more surprising, Laila Z’s story reveals the histories of queer and transgender people within his own community that he never knew. Realizing that he isn’t and has never been alone, he has the courage to officially claim a new name: Nadir, an Arabic name meaning rare.
As unprecedented numbers of birds are mysteriously drawn to the New York City skies, Nadir enlists the help of his family and friends to unravel what happened to Laila Z and the rare bird his mother died trying to save. Following his mother’s ghost, he uncovers the silences kept in the name of survival by his own community, his own family, and within himself, and discovers the family that was there all along.
TW/CW: transphobia, xenophobia, racism, Islamophobia, miscarriage, grief, sexual assault, animal death, loss of a parent
I didn’t go into The Thirty Names of Night with any expectations, but I was stunned by the writing! This novel is one of the best magical realism novels I’ve read in recent years, with writing as rich as a tapestry and a story that’s just as well-woven.
Joukhadar’s writing style was the star of Thirty Names; this is the first of his novels that I’ve read, but he has such a unique talent for finding unlikely comparisons and weaving them into the richest, most obvious but out-of-sight metaphors imaginable. I would never have compared the gray sky on a foggy day to the color of a kitchen knife, and somehow, it was right in front of me. His talent for metaphor suited the emotional depth of this story, as well as the almost fantastical element of the birds in New York—I will never claim to be the expert on him, but if there was any story that was suited for Joukhadar to tell, it’s this one.
That writing also made the emotional core of this story possible. There’s so much to Thirty Names: gender identity, grief, heritage, family, and the body itself, but all of it was handled with such grace and aplomb that made the story feel really, truly real. I might’ve even passed the aspect of the birds by as something that could feasibly happen with how this story was written. Every part of this novel is deeply moving, raw and beautiful, and the prose flows as smoothly as air over a bird’s wings.
All in all, a beautiful, literary tale of connections—to family, to gender, and to the world around us at large. 4.25 stars!
“If you control our sleep, then you can own our dreams…And from there, it’s easy to control our entire lives.”
From the brilliant mind of Charlie Jane Anders (“A master absurdist”—New York Times; “Virtuoso”—NPR) comes a new novel of Kafkaesque futurism. Set on a planet that has fully definitive, never-changing zones of day and night, with ensuing extreme climates of endless, frigid darkness and blinding, relentless light, humankind has somehow continued apace—though the perils outside the built cities are rife with danger as much as the streets below.
But in a world where time means only what the ruling government proclaims, and the levels of light available are artificially imposed to great consequence, lost souls and disappeared bodies are shadow-bound and savage, and as common as grains of sand. And one such pariah, sacrificed to the night, but borne up by time and a mysterious bond with an enigmatic beast, will rise to take on the entire planet–before it can crumble beneath the weight of human existence.
TW/CW: animal attack/animal death, police brutality, body horror
Alright, so the only explicitly stated Latinx characters, specifically of Mexican ancestry, are named…Carlos and Maria? So most everybody else gets semi-unique names, but not them? It’s like Cho Chang all over again…[LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER}
If I hadn’t read Victories Greater Than Death beforehand, I would’ve been more suspicious, but it seems like Anders has gotten a lot better with diversity on that front, but…still iffy. Just saying.
That aside, The City in the Middle of the Night was one of the more inventive dystopias that I’ve read recently, but it fell victim to very convoluted writing. It’s obvious from every page that Anders put so, so much work into creating a fleshed-out world with an equally fleshed-out history—that was a riotous success on her part. The premise of society being divided by a tidally-locked planet felt eerily feasible, and I absolutely ADORED all of the alien life forms on the night side of January—the Gelet were obviously my favorites, but I would’ve liked to have seen more creatures. ALWAYS MORE CREATURES.
However, Anders’ writing choices ended up making parts of The City in the Middle of the Night something of a struggle. The story itself ended up being rather convoluted and tangled, and I found myself getting lost and confused about wait, which side of the planet are we on again? Why are we here in the first place? The additions of a boatload of characters that ended up having very little consequence to the plot at large didn’t help either. This story had the potential to be incredible, but it ended up getting so lost in itself that it became an ordeal to figure out where I was.
All in all, an inventively-conceived dystopia that excelled in worldbuilding but floundered in its writing. 3.25 stars.
Tell me what you think! Did you participate in the #TransRightsReadathon, and if so, what books did you read? What do you think of these books?Let me know in the comments!
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
Here we have the last of my pride month recommendations for this year! This post is focused on contemporary and realistic fiction books, but romance and mystery are included in here as well. And as always with my recommendations: diversify your reading 24/7, but always take this time to uplift LGBTQ+ voices!
(click here for this year’s queer YA sci-fi and fantasy recs!)
So let’s begin, shall we?
🏳️🌈THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S 2022 YA PRIDE MONTH RECS: CONTEMPORARY/REALISTIC FICTION 🏳️🌈
LGBTQ+ REP: Bisexual MC, lesbian, bi, pan/nonbinary, and gay side characters, straight-passing relationship
MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I’m saying this as a proud bisexual woman: Perfect on Paper is seriously some of the best bisexual rep I’ve ever read! There’s so many important discussions in this book, from internalized biphobia to how the queer community views straight-passing relationships, all with a sweet and messy romance!
LGBTQ+ REP: Bisexual love interest, straight-passing relationship
MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
Sick Kids in Love is such an important book for so many reasons (namely its groundbreaking disability rep), but this is what intersectionality looks like—both protagonists are disabled and Jewish, and the love interest is also bisexual! Always warms my heart to see disabled bisexual characters.
LGBTQ+ REP: Gay MC, bisexual love interest, mlm relationship, trans woman, lesbian, and gay side characters, side wlw relationship
MY RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I’d be remiss if I didn’t include Heartstopper here—such a sweet and heartwarming LGBTQ+ romance comic! Plus, I can say with certainty that the bisexual rep is ON POINT. I adored the Netflix show too! (did anybody else full-on SOB during Nick’s coming out scene 😭)
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! What are your favorite queer YA contemporary/realistic fiction books? Have you read any of these books, and if so, what did you think of them? Tell me in the comments!
Today’s song:
That’s it for this post! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Goodreads Monday is a weekly meme created by Lauren’s Page Turners. All you have to do to participate is pick a book from your Goodreads TBR, and explain why you want to read it.
I had forgotten that this one was on my TBR, and I might just have to try and find it soon! Despite the low ratings, this one’s really catching my eye.
Let’s begin, shall we?
GOODREADS MONDAY (11/8/21) – BLACKBIRD by N.D. Gomes
My name is Alex. I am fifteen years old, and I don’t know where my sister is. Or if she will ever come back.
On New Year’s Eve 5,000 blackbirds dropped dead. The same day Olivia McCarthy went missing from a small coastal village in Orkney.
Her younger sister Alex is on a mission to find out just what happened to Olivia. But does she really want to know all the answers?
So why do I want to read this?
Blackbird has a fairly low average rating (3.36 at present), but there are only 266 ratings and fewer reviews still, so I think I’d like to give this one a chance. One of the main complaints I’m seeing in the reviews is that it’s too predictable; I’m historically bad at predicting plot twists and falling for red herrings (see: me watching Last Night in SoHo), so I won’t mind that part, at least. Unless, of course, it’s just a bland plot altogether. But I have faith that it won’t be.
The synopsis is wonderfully vague, which is just the way I like it. Synopses are like movie trailers: reveal too much, and the whole movie doesn’t feel quite as exciting. Leaving little crumbs for the reader is the perfect way to go. And I’m eating up these crumbs, 100%! I love the idea of a magical realism type of story melded with a missing person mystery. Plus, birds falling from the sky? I’m intrigued.
Today’s song:
That’s it for this week’s Goodreads Monday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Apologies for disappearing again, I just had some stuff to work out school-wise. I’ll probably be back to semi-normal for some of this week and next week, but I’ll probably be more infrequent in April and May because of the SAT and AP exams.
Anyway, I recently received this eARC but put it off for a few weeks, knowing I had to review it…and in retrospect, I wish I hadn’t. For although The Life and Deaths of Frankie D. wasn’t without its flaws, it was a quirky and fun blend of historical fiction, mystery, and contemporary fiction. With more than a few awesome goths added to the mix, of course.
Frankie Doe doesn’t remember much of her childhood, but what she does remember is the constant bouncing between foster homes. But lately, she’s been having the same recurring dream, in which the ringmaster of a circus beckons for her to join him.
As her dreams grow more vivid, Frankie finds her way into the mystery of a 100-year-old sideshow and the strange cast of characters who inhabited it. But behind the curtain lurks a more sinister story, one that may hold the key to her missing memories.
Frankie at any given moment
Thank you to Edelweiss+ and Dundurn Press for sending me this eARC in exchange for an honest review!
TW/CW: childhood trauma/PTSD, bullying, brief mention of sexual assault, fire
This is my first taste of Colleen Nelson’s writing, but I’m already a little sad that The Life and Deaths of Frankie D. has such a low rating on Goodreads at present (3.48 at the time I’m writing this review). There were certainly flaws, for sure, but this novel was one that shouldn’t be missed, a mystery cloaked in circuses and dreams.
Frankie wasn’t the most likable of protagonists, but for the story she was in, she was the perfect fit. She’s certainly more than a little dramatic, and for the first part of the novel, she definitely fell into the dreaded “not like other girls” trope; I would’ve certainly rated Frankie D. lower if it had continued, but luckily, with the introduction of Jessica’s character, Frankie learned a lot from her past mentality, and although it wasn’t entirely cured, it was a step forward that I was so grateful for. I also loved seeing some of the story come alive through her personal graphic novel and the art that filled her sketchbook.
The plot was easily the most compelling aspect of this novel. Frankie’s world oscillates from present day to a 100-year-old circus filled with all manner of unusual denizens, and although we only got small glimpses of all of them, it was so fun to see them all characterized! The historical aspect of the world felt wonderfully fleshed out, and there was clearly so much care put into it.
Adding onto that, I loved seeing the mystery of both the fate of the circus and Frankie’s origins unfold before my eyes. The various twists that came together were both clever and added a fascinating layer to the story. The conclusion was a bit too neatly wrapped up for my taste, but most of the story leading up to that point mostly made up for it.
All in all, a fresh and inventive piece of genre-bending YA with circuses, immortality, and mystery. 4 stars!
Expected release date: April 13, 2021
Today’s song:
My friend and I made playlists for each other on Friday and it was so fun 🥺 this was one of the songs off of the one she made for me
That’s it for this eARC review! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
First off, I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the fact that it’s Martin Luther King Jr. day. Thank you, sir, for everything you have done in an effort to better this nation. ❤️
Goodreads Monday is a weekly meme created by Lauren’s Page Turners. All you have to do to participate is pick a book from your Goodreads TBR, and explain why you want to read it.
I put this one on my TBR after being blown away by How to Hang a Witchlast year, and it sounds just as gripping! I still haven’t read Haunting the Deep, but I’m eager to get into more of Mather’s work.
Let’s begin, shall we?
GOODREADS MONDAY (1/18/21)–KILLING NOVEMBER by Adriana Mather
It’s a school completely off the grid, hidden by dense forest and surrounded by traps. There’s no electricity, no internet, and an eye-for-an-eye punishment system. Classes include everything from Knife-Throwing and Poisons to the Art of Deception and Historical Analysis. And all of the students are children of the world’s most elite strategists—training to become assassins, counselors, spies, and master impersonators. Into this world walks November Adley, who quickly discovers that friends are few in a school where personal revelations are discouraged and competition is everything. When another student is murdered, all eyes turn to November, who must figure out exactly how she fits into the school’s bizarre strategy games before she is found guilty of the crime…or becomes the killer’s next victim.
So why do I want to read this?
One thing I’d definitely like to note…I haven’t even read Deadly Class, but this book sounds similar…(has anybody here read or watched it? Let me know…)
[ahem] anyway…
Mather’s talent in How to Hang a Witchwas 100% her characters and mastery of the art of tension; with the medium of a school where the students are literally bred to kill, I’m so excited to see how she executes this again! I’m usually not one for mysteries or thrillers, but this is a twist on it that I’ve rarely seen in the world of YA. The “every student for themself” aspect also gives it another layer of tension, which I’m eagerly looking forward to.
This one’s available at my library, so I might have to snag a copy soon…
In conclusion, Madeline finds herself, in a very rare instance, actively looking for a certain YA thriller.
Today’s song:
[insert Walter dog here]
That’s it for this week’s Goodreads Monday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
The Bookish Mutant 