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fanboyriot's review against another edition
dark
emotional
mysterious
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.0
♡ Queer Horror
♡ Found Family
♡ Angst with a Happy Ending
In a world where the dead refuse to actually stay dead, and while dead himself Ian learns a few things from some unexpected friends; taking place in small town in the Appalachian (of West Virginia).
Overall though I thought it was good, it was a romance take on a survival horror story.
While I did enjoy most of the characters and relationships, and the friendships that felt like a found family, it did take me a little to get into, the pacing was a bit slow in a few parts meanwhile at the beginning everything happened rather quickly. It was on the younger side of YA which was difficult to really find interesting to me.
Thank you to the author, NetGalley, Peachtree, and Holiday House Imprint for this eARC in exchange for an honest review.
Spice Level: n/a
Angst Level: 💧💧💧💧 (4/5)
POV: First Person
Release Date: 04, June 2024
Rep: LGBTQIA+ (Main and Side Characters), BIPOC (Side Characters), Disabled (Main and Side Characters)
Content Warnings
Graphic: Pandemic/Epidemic, Fire/Fire injury, Grief, Body horror, Injury/Injury detail, Chronic illness, Death, Gore, and Cannibalism
Moderate: Medical content, Violence, Murder, Car accident, Medical trauma, Blood, Panic attacks/disorders, Mental illness, and Suicidal thoughts
Minor: Death of parent, Gaslighting, Ableism, Child abuse, Vomit, and Dementia
rileyswan's review
dark
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
At its core, Take All of Us is a story of disability liberation: of allowing yourself to be a burden, to take up space, to make selfish decisions, and to choose—again and again and again—a different life over an ended one.
The story starts with insecure, people-pleaser Ian, who also has Epilepsy. He has a seizure right before telling his best friend that he loves him, dies, and then wakes up in a rotting body with his best friend, —and everyone else in town—nowhere to be found. He also hates himself. Not in the obvious way many characters do, but in the way where he offhandedly, subtly talks about himself as if he is not boy but burden; in the way that is most easily recognised by fellow disabled people, who know better than most what it feels like to put upon someone the devastation of knowing someone who is dying.
But then—and this is my favourite part—he meets Monica, a Black girl with chronic pain and a cane, who feels just as burdensome as Ian, and Angel, a fiercely blunt autistic girl with zero fucks to give and even less patience when it comes to Ian and Monica's hesitance to take up space in this world. She convinces them to take up that space, because when else is a better time to let yourself be big and bold than when your small country town has been abandoned?
Ian rots, but he also lets himself love and be loved by his new friends as they search the town for survival necessities and the people dearest to them. I don't want to spoil too much in the romantic context, as the details there develop far after the early story which is detailed in the blurb, but I must say it was charmingly complex, and added an additional layer to the disability liberation lens of the overall narrative.
This is the first story that I've personally seen that has handled apocalypses and their consequences from an authentic and empowering disability perspective. Not everyone will agree, nor will everyone feel represented by it—but I do. I do, and so will many others. It was heartwarming to read a story about a gay disabled boy living in a decaying body and doing fucked up things, and yet loving himself and being loved by those around him more than ever.
Leif's Debut, Take All of Us, goes to show not only the importance of embracing your disability, of reasserting power over your life, of making autonomous decisions regarding how you want to live that life, but also the value that is found in these stories—whether they are melancholic contemporary explorations or visceral depictions of blood, guts, and love. (The latter is my personal favourite, and I believe Leif did an exquisite job.)
The story starts with insecure, people-pleaser Ian, who also has Epilepsy. He has a seizure right before telling his best friend that he loves him, dies, and then wakes up in a rotting body with his best friend, —and everyone else in town—nowhere to be found. He also hates himself. Not in the obvious way many characters do, but in the way where he offhandedly, subtly talks about himself as if he is not boy but burden; in the way that is most easily recognised by fellow disabled people, who know better than most what it feels like to put upon someone the devastation of knowing someone who is dying.
But then—and this is my favourite part—he meets Monica, a Black girl with chronic pain and a cane, who feels just as burdensome as Ian, and Angel, a fiercely blunt autistic girl with zero fucks to give and even less patience when it comes to Ian and Monica's hesitance to take up space in this world. She convinces them to take up that space, because when else is a better time to let yourself be big and bold than when your small country town has been abandoned?
Ian rots, but he also lets himself love and be loved by his new friends as they search the town for survival necessities and the people dearest to them. I don't want to spoil too much in the romantic context, as the details there develop far after the early story which is detailed in the blurb, but I must say it was charmingly complex, and added an additional layer to the disability liberation lens of the overall narrative.
This is the first story that I've personally seen that has handled apocalypses and their consequences from an authentic and empowering disability perspective. Not everyone will agree, nor will everyone feel represented by it—but I do. I do, and so will many others. It was heartwarming to read a story about a gay disabled boy living in a decaying body and doing fucked up things, and yet loving himself and being loved by those around him more than ever.
Leif's Debut, Take All of Us, goes to show not only the importance of embracing your disability, of reasserting power over your life, of making autonomous decisions regarding how you want to live that life, but also the value that is found in these stories—whether they are melancholic contemporary explorations or visceral depictions of blood, guts, and love. (The latter is my personal favourite, and I believe Leif did an exquisite job.)
Content Warnings
Graphic: Cannibalism, Death, Pandemic/Epidemic, Gore, and Fire/Fire injury
Moderate: Injury/Injury detail, Violence, Blood, Medical content, Murder, and Chronic illness
Minor: Vomit
shrikebait's review
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Take All of Us had my heart in a stranglehold. Tears were shed.
The kids are not alright...and that's okay. There's fantastic disability, neurodiversity, and queer rep. I love that these characteristics are very intentional and central to the story. Leif centers each character's identity and loudly denounces inspiration p*rn.
There is no shortage of gross-out body horror and cosmic horror between the heartwarming moments. I found myself pacing just to release some of the tension Leif builds so well. I highly recommend this book for both YA and adult readers, especially fans of queer horror.
Thank you so much to Leif, Holiday House, and NetGalley for the chance to check this ARC out for free. I'm leaving this review of my own accord.
The kids are not alright...and that's okay. There's fantastic disability, neurodiversity, and queer rep. I love that these characteristics are very intentional and central to the story. Leif centers each character's identity and loudly denounces inspiration p*rn.
There is no shortage of gross-out body horror and cosmic horror between the heartwarming moments. I found myself pacing just to release some of the tension Leif builds so well. I highly recommend this book for both YA and adult readers, especially fans of queer horror.
Thank you so much to Leif, Holiday House, and NetGalley for the chance to check this ARC out for free. I'm leaving this review of my own accord.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Grief, Cannibalism, Death, Injury/Injury detail, Abandonment, Child death, Fire/Fire injury, Terminal illness, and Gore
Moderate: Pandemic/Epidemic, Blood, Medical trauma, Mental illness, Domestic abuse, Child abuse, Murder, Dementia, Violence, Panic attacks/disorders, Ableism, Body horror, Chronic illness, Medical content, Vomit, and Suicidal thoughts
Minor: Gaslighting
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