A review by bookishmillennial
Lark & ​​Kasim Start a Revolution by Kacen Callender

challenging dark emotional hopeful reflective sad 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? It's complicated
disclaimer: I don’t really give starred reviews. I hope my reviews provide enough information to let you know if a book is for you or not. Find me here: https://linktr.ee/bookishmillennial

Yet another stunning work of art from Kacen Callender <3 Gosh, I actually cannot get over how talented and incredible they are. Ever since I closed this book, I can't stop thinking about it.

I know it was published in 2022, which was *only* two years ago, but its messages around social media, perceptions, accountability versus shaming, and self-introspection were so fucking powerful, timely, and honestly could act as a primer for anyone joining public online spaces especially. I think this work will be relevant for years to come, as social media evolves and the visceral awareness of which we all have in recognizing we are fallible, we will mess up, and it will likely be recorded. It's uncomfortable, but it's life, and we need to try our best to move forward in ways that do not perpetuate further harm.

UGH I ADORE THIS BOOK SO MUCH! I feel like I'm totally botching this review (I'm sorry, I'm not a writer, I'm just a peasant who loves to read) and nothing can do the book justice. It was just so staggeringly authentic and poignant about the time we are living in (I'm grateful for it, don't misinterpret that!)! I really urge everyone to read this, as KC brings up so many important conversations that we should ALL be having (if not already<3).

Lark, our Black main character, is a sweet little naive idealist angelbaby who wants everyone to reach for love first, and wholeheartedly believes everyone comes from love, and that hate is taught. They have amassed thousands of followers (I think about 20k at the beginning of the book) online, and they know that once they reach 50k followers, they will be more enticing for agents to respond to and to actually take their debut manuscript seriously. Lark desperately wants to be a published writer, and their first novel centers around YA main character Birdie, who not only lives on the pages of their manuscript, but is also present with them (sort of as an imaginary firend, but moreso Lark's coping mechanism of talking through their feelings in their head) and who we see on-page in this novel, especially during awkward moments (and there are plenty in this book lol!).

Lark is also still quietly reeling from the fallout of a formative friendship in the past year with Kasim, who acts as a foil of Lark. Kasim is perpetually unimpressed, does not have faith in systems, and is generally pessimistic. He thinks Lark's commitment to love and light is corny, and I don't blame him. He is in a relationship with Sable, who is also neurodivergent and begins to play a bigger role in Lark's journey. Sable doesn't necessarily extend an olive branch out to Lark, but she gives them the time of day, which is more than Kasim's other friends Patch and Micah, can say. They continue to call out Lark online and in person, antagonizing them every chance they get, without ever really trying to open a dialogue, and we see how this exhausts and confuses Lark even further.

The book follows a narrative of someone accidentally posting on Lark's account about "loving someone but being too afraid to tell them," and everyone thinks Lark is in an unrequited love situation. So, because they are scared of optics and think it will help their brand, they lie and say they did post that, and end up confessing their love for Eli, someone they *had* been crushing on, but weren't particularly *in love with* yet. The longer and longer the lie goes, the more and more Lark fumbles with thoughts that they post (like some really cringe-worthy stuff, but that absolutely does snowball into some folks entirely missing the plot ughhh), and the more that Lark must confront if the person they are, is 1) possible in the current world and 2) if they want to evolve and expand their perspective/mindset.

I really enjoyed this book because it speaks to me as a public bookstagrammer; look, I'm a nobody, please nobody roast me hahaha, I just really do get the aspects of navigating an online social media account with many eyes watching you and honestly, sometimes seemingly hoping you will fuck up? Anyway, I love the idea of exploring what it means to truly be an abolitionist; what it means to let go of punitive measures; what it means to be "redeemable" or worthy of a second chance; what it means to be in community with folks & what we owe each other; and what it means to implement these ideals into our daily lives, both on and offline.   

There is so much that this book covers with immense care, hope, and passion:
  • polyamorous relationships and explorations
  • being autistic, having ADHD, and (undiagnosed) neurodivergence 
  • navigating if YOU are indeed the toxic villain that others say you are while genuinely trying to self-examine and explore why you keep fumbling, and how you can do better
  • miscommunication in friendships, and how this can snowball into something so much bigger
  • the writing / querying journey of trying to get your manuscript into someone's hands; simply hoping someone can give you a chance, amidst all of the rejection of being told "not Black enough," "not realistic," "too self-aware or deep FOR A YA CHARACTER," etc. it's brutal out here!
  • social media: growing a following, the downfall of influencers/being "cancelled," shaming versus holding accountable, optics, how to move forward after making a mistake 
  • absent parents (due to incarceration and systemic racism)
  • naming feelings, being transparent, opening dialogues, and fostering braver spaces 

Quotations that stood out to me (I have 80 highlights, so dwindling this down to 8 was a *journey* and extremely painful hahaha): 
I nod, staring at the polished stone. “I think that’s what scares me the most. Being honest, just to be rejected. What’s the point of that?” I ask her. “I don’t want to show anyone my true self, just for other people to say I’m not good enough.”
Sable considers me, her gaze soft. “But being vulnerable is the only way you can really connect to anyone. How’re you supposed to connect with someone as a false version of yourself?”
There’s something about Sable—her energy, maybe—that makes me feel safe, makes me feel like I can practice showing her the real Lark. 

“I’m sorry for judging you,” I finally say.
“It’s okay.” They walk back over and lean against their desk, staring hard at their phone.
I kind of wish they would apologize, too, because I don’t think I was the only one who made a mistake— Birdie leans against the doorframe. “Is expressing yourself in a non-harmful way ever a mistake?” —and my feelings are hurt also, but I don’t know how to ask for an apology, and I don’t want them to be mad at me, not anymore, not ever again. 

It’s been over a year of this. This growing anger and resentment and hurt. And for what? Why? Because we didn’t know how to communicate yet, to ask each other questions and get clear answers? Jesus. How much might’ve been different if we’d just figured out how to talk about our feelings? 

So, here’s one thing about being neurodivergent: When I find an obsession, I really find an obsession, and for some people those obsessions might be something fun and upbeat and cool, like penguins or ice cream, but no, for me, right now, it’s trauma. Maybe that’s not something I should say out loud. “I’m obsessed with trauma.” Ha. Ever since the last class with Mr. S, where he talked about characters and trauma, I’ve started to wonder if I’m a character in a story, and if I need to figure out what my trauma is to start to grow, to change, to learn how to really and truly love myself. I scroll online as I read different web-sites. Trauma is legit stored in our bodies. It’s in our cells, which means that we have our ancestor’s traumas, too, and, holy shit, that’s a lot of fucking trauma—too much for me to even understand. When you heal your own trauma, you’re healing your ancestors’ traumas, too. That’s beautiful. Beautiful enough to make me cry.

White people write novels of dystopian futures and fantasies where they have to escape these systems of oppression, evil monarchs and corrupt governments. They don’t realize that Black people are the actual main characters. We’re the humans with magic in our blood, dismantling the systems from the inside out. We’re the godly beings, taught to be hated and feared. We’re the rebels, fighting for our lives in the streets. Surviving, even when so many want us dead. Thriving, even with what they have done to the people who came before us. It’s a miracle that I’m here. I’m a miracle. Black people are miraculous. That alone should be a reason for me to love myself. Why isn’t it enough?

Instead of wanting to discuss what I said, even if they disagreed with me, they jumped at the chance to attack me in a race for as many likes and retweets as possible, like it’s a competition or a game. What’s scariest of all? I really could be the harmful narcissist in this, trying to convince myself that I’m not. This is such a mindfuck. I’m confused and hurt and frustrated, and I don’t even know if I’m allowed to have those feelings.

Guilt is about action. Guilt lets us focus on what we need to do to make up for our mistake and how we can limit the harm we caused, while knowing with all the confidence in the world that we’re still worthy of love. Each and every one of us.

“No. I like awkward. I like uncomfortable. That’s where the hard conversations happen. That’s where we’re forced to be honest with ourselves and each other. That’s when we start to learn and grow together.”
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