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731 reviews

Ending the Pursuit: Asexuality, Aromanticism, and Agender Identity by Michael Paramo

informative inspiring reflective medium-paced

5.0

Michael Paramo’s Ending the Pursuit: Asexuality, Aromanticism, and Agender Identity is a poetic and searing interrogation of the colonial forces that shape our understandings of attraction, gender, and relationality. With incisive critique and lyrical prose, Paramo unravels the structures that have taught us to see separability as inevitable—to believe that identities must be fixed, that attraction must be sexual, that romance must be the pinnacle of intimacy.

At the heart of Ending the Pursuit is the concept of "azeness," a term Paramo uses to describe the shared experiences of asexual, aromantic, and agender people navigating a world that renders their existence impossible. Through a decolonial lens, they expose how cisheteropatriarchy has dictated the terms of identity and desire, pathologizing any deviation from its norms. Paramo demonstrates how colonialism is not just a system of domination but a force that meticulously sorted, categorized, and policed the most intimate aspects of being—constructing gender, sexuality, and attraction as rigid and hierarchical. In resisting this, Ending the Pursuit refuses the idea that ace, aro, and agender people are lacking something. Instead, it celebrates interconnectedness, rejecting the imposed loneliness of nonconformity.

Throughout the book, Paramo deconstructs the ways in which asexuality, aromanticism, and gender nonconformity have been medicalized, sexualized, and made unintelligible. They challenge the assumptions that tie asexuality to disability, unravel the racialized myths that deem certain bodies incapable of desirelessness, and reveal how sexology has long sought to define and constrain attraction. The book skillfully articulates how bi and pan identities, much like ace and aro identities, disrupt binary thinking, and how dismantling rigid concepts of attraction allows for a more expansive and liberatory way of relating to others.

Perhaps one of the most powerful threads of Ending the Pursuit is its critique of romantic supremacy—the deeply ingrained belief that fulfillment hinges on romantic partnership. Paramo argues that this hierarchy fuels the pathologization of aromanticism, enforcing the notion that a life without romance is a life incomplete. In rejecting these narratives, the book insists on the legitimacy of chosen kinship, platonic devotion, and the infinite ways we can structure our relationships outside of colonial expectations.

Paramo’s writing is both intellectually rigorous and emotionally resonant, weaving together historical analysis, personal reflection, and radical imagination. They call for a world beyond rigid labels, beyond imposed desires, beyond the necessity of proving one’s existence to systems that refuse to see it. Ending the Pursuit is a vital text for anyone seeking to unlearn the colonial logics embedded in their understanding of relationality and to embrace a future defined by liberation, not legibility.

📖 Read this if you love: decolonial critiques of gender and sexuality, radical reimaginings of identity beyond colonial binaries, and the works of Sherronda J. Brown and Angela Chen.

🔑 Key Themes: Colonialism and the Construction of Identity, The Politics of Attraction, Gender and Desire as Social Constructs, Medicalization and Pathologization of Asexuality, Queer Liberation Beyond the Binary.

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How to Fuck Like a Girl by Vera Blossom

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emotional hopeful inspiring fast-paced

4.5

Vera Blossom’s How to Fuck Like a Girl is a memoir that doesn’t ask for permission. It’s messy, sharp, and defiantly trans—an unflinching exploration of sex, gender, and survival that thrums with both pain and possibility. Through electrifying prose, Blossom maps the collision of desire and identity, documenting what it means to seek home in a world that refuses to make space for you.

Blossom’s writing crackles with urgency, oscillating between biting wit and raw vulnerability. She traces the ways transness complicates girlhood, the ways poverty shapes survival, and the ways sex becomes a means of self-definition, liberation, and sometimes, contradiction. For Blossom, sex is not just an act but an invocation—a spell cast, a threshold crossed, a battle waged. She sees it as a way into girlhood, a way out of it, a means of refusing its constraints altogether. And always, she remains keenly aware of the uneasy correlation between desirability and femininity, how trans women are forced to navigate a world that conflates womanhood with legibility, beauty with survival.

But this isn’t just a memoir about hardship. It’s also about the audacity of queer joy. Blossom is loud, celebratory, and unapologetically herself, rejecting respectability politics at every turn. She describes herself as an “effervescent, large and in charge Jungle Asian,” carving space for trans women of color in a world that erases them. Her words are brash, poetic, and sometimes dizzying—spinning through self-discovery, medical transition, and the tenuous, often exploitative economies that trans people must navigate to survive. She dissects passing, being clocked, and the impossibility of fitting into cisnormative standards when you’re also BIPOC, fat, disabled, or neurodivergent.

At its core, How to Fuck Like a Girl is about self-sovereignty. It’s about refusing to let the world dictate your worth. Blossom doesn’t write for cis readers seeking palatable trans narratives—she writes for trans women clawing their way toward something freer, messier, and real. With a voice that is as defiant as it is tender, Blossom lays bare the contradictions of trans womanhood, crafting a memoir that is as much a survival guide as it is a battle cry.

📖 Read this if you love: bold, unflinching memoirs and raw, poetic reflections on identity; books exploring the intersections of transness, survival, and desire; the works of Roxane Gay or Casey Plett.

🔑 Key Themes: Gender and Self-Discovery, Trans Survival and Agency, Desire and Femininity, Intersectionality and Identity, Empowerment through Subversion.

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Girl Work by Zefyr Lisowski

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challenging emotional reflective fast-paced

4.5

To read Girl Work by Zefyr Lisowski is to step into a landscape of jagged edges and unraveling seams, where the boundaries between self and survival blur. This collection is a meditation on the violences that shape gender—how femininity is sculpted by expectation, how desire is tangled with harm, how to live inside a body constantly made into an object. Lisowski writes with a lyricism that is both splintered and searing, each line cut with a precision that makes the fragmentation itself feel intentional, necessary. This is poetry that refuses neat resolutions, demanding instead that we sit with its hauntings, its echoes, its wreckage.

At the heart of Girl Work is an interrogation of labor—the labor of girlhood, of desirability, of making oneself into something men want, even (especially) when it erases the self in the process. The collection pulses with the understanding that to be seen as beautiful is often to be consumed. “To be beautiful: to survive,” Lisowski writes, but survival here is not safety; it is a negotiation, a question without an answer. The poems reckon with sexual violence and men’s presumed access to feminized bodies, tracing the ways in which harm becomes inheritance, how girlhood is a performance of fear learned early and worn forever.

Lisowski invokes The Ring, the 2002 horror film, as a recurring motif—Samara Morgan, abandoned at the bottom of a well, becomes a spectral mirror for the speaker. The fear isn’t just of becoming her, but of realizing that all girls might already be her, trapped in cycles of harm they never consented to. The horror here is not cinematic but structural, embedded in the fabric of gender itself.

Among the standout pieces, “Crazy4Crazy, or Pharmacological Solutions for Personal Problems” lingers long after reading. A meditation on T4T love, psychiatric institutionalization, and the limits of care under capitalism, the poem underscores one of the collection’s central tensions: what does it mean to care for others when access to care is itself a privilege? Girl Work does not offer easy answers, but it does offer a space to sit with the complexity.

This is a book that resists closure, one that leaves you a little raw, a little undone. Lisowski’s voice is urgent, interrogative, and unflinching—each poem reaching outward, demanding to be heard, to be reckoned with.

📖 Read this if you love: haunting, fragmented poetry that interrogates gender, labor, and survival; pro-survivor narratives that resist easy redemption; and works by Andrea Long Chu and Franny Choi.

🔑 Key Themes: Gendered Violence and Survival, The Commodification of the Body, Haunting and Memory, Beauty as a Construct, Solidarity and Care Under Capitalism.

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The Ephemera Collector by Stacy Nathaniel Jackson

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mysterious reflective tense medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Plot
Diverse cast of characters? Yes

2.75

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book will be published in the US on April 1, 2025 by Liveright / WW Norton.

There’s so much to admire in The Ephemera Collector—its intricate worldbuilding, its incisive critique of corporate control over historical narratives, and its deeply felt exploration of disability and bodily autonomy. Stacy Nathaniel Jackson crafts a story that is both intensely personal and expansively political, weaving together the life of Xandria Brown, a 23rd-century archivist battling long COVID, with the fate of a separatist underwater city. Yet, despite the novel’s ambitious scope and compelling themes, its execution left me frustrated.

Xandria has spent her life working to preserve marginalized histories, most recently the Diwata Collection—ephemera from a climate separatist community in Monterey Canyon. But when the massive corporation WIKA acquires the Huntington Library, her work becomes threatened by profit-driven motives. As she spearheads the #BlackoutWIKA resistance campaign, an attack on the building leaves her trapped inside, shifting the novel’s focus to the efforts of her AI support bots to save her. This introduces a second narrative thread: a deep dive into Xandria’s fragmented memories, caused by Long COVID inflammation, leading to a mid-novel exploration of her family history and the systemic forces that shaped her lineage. Eventually, the book closes with a long section from the perspective of Diwatan citizens, reflecting on their revolutionary project and the artifacts Xandria has been archiving.

While the novel’s thematic richness is undeniable, its structure felt unwieldy. The perspective shifts—particularly those involving Xandria’s support bots—were often difficult to track, making it challenging to stay grounded in the narrative. The attack on WIKA and the exploration of Diwata’s history felt like two entirely separate books, with Xandria’s personal struggles acting as a bridge that wasn’t quite strong enough to hold them together. The most frustrating aspect was how major plot threads—Xandria’s health, memory distortions, and the corporate interference with her work—were introduced with weighty significance, only to be dropped, then abruptly revisited before being sidelined again.

I wanted to love this book. Its vision of resistance, its commitment to interrogating who controls history, and its nuanced depiction of disability all resonated deeply. But the scattered execution ultimately made it difficult to fully connect. With more structural tightening, The Ephemera Collector could have been a powerhouse. As it stands, it’s an ambitious novel that doesn’t quite cohere.

📖 Read this if you love: speculative fiction that interrogates corporate overreach, radical disability justice, and archival resistance; books by Octavia Butler or Rivers Solomon.

🔑 Key Themes: Memory and Autonomy, The Commodification of History, Environmental Collapse and Resistance, Technology and Surveillance, Disability and Care.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Death of a Parent (minor), Grief (minor), Sexual Harassment (minor), Medical Content (severe), Racism (minor), Bullying (minor), Sexual Content (minor), Animal Death (minor).

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Border and Rule: Global Migration, Capitalism, and the Rise of Racist Nationalism by Harsha Walia

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informative reflective slow-paced

4.75

"Right-wing nationalism is bourgeois nationalism, and in our struggles against capitalist austerity we must emphasize that our enemy arrives in a limousine and not on a boat."

Harsha Walia’s Border and Rule: Global Migration, Capitalism, and the Rise of Racist Nationalism is a searing indictment of how borders aren’t just lines on a map but weapons of capitalist and racial domination. Walia dismantles the myth that migration is a crisis needing management—what we’re really witnessing is a crisis of displacement, driven by imperial wars, neoliberal extraction, and climate devastation, all orchestrated by the very states that claim to offer refuge. With unflinching clarity, she exposes how borders don’t just keep people out; they uphold global apartheid, divide the working class, and consolidate ruling-class power.

One of the book’s most urgent takeaways is how white supremacy has shaped immigration laws to maintain its stranglehold on power. As Walia makes clear, “illegal” migration only exists because the state criminalizes movement while ensuring that racialized migrants remain hyper-exploitable. She also hones in on US border imperialism’s direct harm to Indigenous nations within occupied territories—this land was never the US government’s to police in the first place. The book expertly weaves together how border control is inseparable from state violence, linking militarized immigration enforcement to the War on Drugs, free trade agreements like NAFTA, and the forced displacement they create.

As someone who grew up in post-9/11 America, Walia’s discussion of the War on Terror hit especially hard. I’ve watched Islamophobia, surveillance, and mass deportations become routine, and Border and Rule makes it impossible to ignore how US border policies are part of a much larger global system of oppression. From the US-Mexico border to Fortress Europe to the violent policing of Palestinians, Rohingya Muslims, and caste-oppressed groups in India, Walia connects the dots with a precision that left me enraged, inspired, and even more committed to border abolition.

📖 Read this if you love: anti-imperialist analysis, radical frameworks for solidarity, and the works of Angela Davis and Ruth Wilson Gilmore.

🔑 Key Themes: Imperialism and Displacement, Capitalism and Migrant Labor Exploitation, State Violence and Surveillance, Border Abolition.

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Like a Hammer: Poets on Mass Incarceration by Diana Marie Delgado

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dark informative inspiring reflective medium-paced

4.25

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book will be released in the US on March 4th, 2025 by Haymarket Books.

In Like a Hammer: Poets on Mass Incarceration, editor Diana Marie Delgado gathers a compelling collection of poetry that unmasks the painful truths of the U.S. prison-industrial complex, demanding the reader confront the inescapable grip it has on both bodies and minds. These poems are birthed from the voices of the incarcerated, formerly incarcerated, and those who love them, each one a testament to the human cost of carcerality. With stark imagery and layered metaphor, the poets refuse to accept the notion that incarceration is an inevitable force, choosing instead to depict it as a monstrous system fueled by colonialism, white supremacy, and capitalism’s demand for control.

The collection is a vivid portrayal of the suffocating nature of imprisonment, where time becomes a stagnant, oppressive force and where families are torn apart, their bonds stretched thin by the miles and glass that separate them. The poets also offer an incisive critique of the systems that push individuals toward crime, exposing the links between poverty, addiction, and state-sanctioned violence. Themes of guilt, survival, and resilience pulse through the pages, as these voices reflect on the dehumanization inherent in both punishment and policing. The body, as both a site of resistance and suffering, is explored with tenderness and urgency, especially through the lens of the feminist experience within the prison system.

One of the most striking elements of Like a Hammer is the experimental form of many poems. Poems like Sin à Tes Souhaits' "TRAP," which interrogates the devastating consequences of racism through multiple definitions of "trap," and Vanessa Angélica Villarreal's "Architect 1," which traces the birth of carcerality back to European colonialism, provide sharp political critique while maintaining deep emotional resonance. Meanwhile, Candace Williams' "black, body" and Nicole Sealey's "An excerpt from ‘Notes from the Visitations’" challenge the dehumanizing structures of policing and the ways they disproportionately affect Black and brown bodies.

Ultimately, Like a Hammer is not just a collection of poems; it is a call to imagine a world beyond prisons, one where justice is not synonymous with suffering. Through these poems, we are asked to witness the pain, but also the resilience, of those who have been brutalized by the system—and in doing so, to demand a future without cages.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of radical poetry, abolitionist thought, and the intersections of personal testimony and political critique; readers interested in the impacts of carcerality on individuals and families; those interested in abolition of police and prisons.

🔑 Key Themes: Mass Incarceration, Dehumanization, Family Separation, Historical and Systemic Roots of Oppression, Feminist Perspectives on Prison, Resistance and Re-imagining Justice.

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Hunchback by Saou Ichikawa

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challenging dark emotional reflective fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? It's complicated
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.5

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book will be released in the US on March 18th, 2025 by Hogarth Press.

Hunchback by Saou Ichikawa is a poignant and darkly humorous exploration of disability, autonomy, and the complexities of living in a body that doesn’t conform to “normal” standards. Through the eyes of the narrator, Shaka, the story unfolds in the confines of a group home she owns after inheriting it from her deceased parents. Shaka suffers from myotubular myopathy, a degenerative muscle disorder that leaves her physically and socially isolated, relying on a ventilator to breathe and mobility aids to navigate her life. This novella is an unflinching portrayal of Shaka’s frustration with a world that continuously infantilizes her, expecting nothing from her because of her disability and gender.

Ichikawa’s writing is a blend of biting wit and deep emotional insight. The humor is self-deprecating, often sharp and cynical as Shaka observes the absurdity of her existence. The prose is introspective, never shying away from the raw truths of Shaka’s situation. She yearns for experiences that so many others take for granted—like the simple act of reading a book without pain—yet struggles against the physical limitations her body imposes. Her longing for normalcy evolves into an obsession with reproductive autonomy, particularly the choice to experience an abortion. This fixation serves as a lens through which the book delves into the intersections of disability and reproductive justice, forcing us to confront the often-overlooked realities of disabled people’s rights over their own bodies.

At its heart, Hunchback is a meditation on identity and autonomy. Shaka’s internal battle is one of dignity—how to maintain it in a world that expects you to be less than human, a body that isn’t meant to be sexual, capable, or independent. The narrative questions what it means to truly have a choice when the world has already decided that your body is incapable of making its own decisions. Through Shaka’s voice, Ichikawa gives us a character who is defiant and vulnerable in equal measure, desperate to reclaim agency over a life that constantly denies her that power. It's a powerful, necessary book, one that demands we reconsider how we view disability and autonomy in a society that often relegates the disabled to the margins.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of introspective literary fiction, disability justice narratives, and darkly humorous, character-driven stories; readers interested in the intersections of gender, disability, and reproductive justice; those who appreciate sharp, self-aware protagonists and biting commentary on social norms.

🔑 Key Themes: Autonomy and Agency, Disability and Isolation, Reproductive Justice, Gender and Disability, Identity and Dignity.

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I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman

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mysterious reflective tense fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

5.0

There is something deeply unsettling about I Who Have Never Known Men, a novel that unfolds with a quiet, eerie inevitability. Harpman strips her dystopian world of ornamentation, presenting a stark and enigmatic narrative that lingers in the mind long after the last page. This is not a book of grand revelations or traditional climaxes, but one of slow, existential unraveling.

The story follows a group of women confined to a bunker, watched over by silent, unreadable guards. Their lives before captivity are fragmented memories, half-remembered glimpses of a world that once made sense. But at the novel’s center is a narrator who stands apart from them all—a woman who was a child when she arrived in the bunker, never given a name, and never quite belonging. She observes the rigid structures the other women cling to, questioning their hierarchies and the ways they attempt to impose order onto their unknowable fate. To her, time is an abstraction, rules are arbitrary, and the world beyond the bunker is a mystery she cannot stop yearning to solve.

When an unexpected event allows the women to escape, the novel shifts, yet the unease remains. The outside world is barren, stripped of life and history. With no landmarks to anchor them, the women wander, seeking answers that never come. Their survival is a testament to resilience, but also to the futility of hope in a world that refuses to offer meaning. The narrator, insatiably curious, refuses to accept the constraints imposed on her—not in the bunker, and not in the fragile community the women attempt to build. Her defiance is quiet but absolute: “No, this country belongs to me. I will be its sole owner and everything here will be mine.”

What makes I Who Have Never Known Men so haunting is its refusal to provide certainty. Are they still on Earth? Why were they imprisoned? Who were their captors? The narrator never learns the answers, and neither do we. Instead, the novel lingers on the question of what it means to be human when history, memory, and even companionship begin to erode. Harpman’s prose is sparse yet lyrical, its detachment mirroring the narrator’s own alienation. There are no grand emotional revelations, no cathartic resolutions—only the relentless forward motion of life, and the eventual certainty of death.

This is a novel that defies easy classification. It is dystopian, yet deeply philosophical; speculative, yet achingly human. It is a meditation on isolation, grief, and the fragility of identity. And in the end, it leaves us with the same unsettling uncertainty that defines its narrator’s existence. After all, what does it mean to survive if survival is all there is?

📖 Recommended For: Admirers of introspective dystopian fiction, existential meditations on isolation and survival, and minimalist yet haunting prose; readers drawn to stories that explore humanity’s fragility and resilience; fans of Octavia Butler and Yoko Ogawa.

🔑 Key Themes: Isolation and Identity, Memory and Erasure, Autonomy and Captivity, The Search for Meaning, Survival vs. True Existence.

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Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Díaz

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emotional inspiring reflective fast-paced

4.5

Natalie Diaz’s Postcolonial Love Poem is a collection that aches and pulses, alive with longing, grief, and defiance. It is a book that moves like water—eroding, sustaining, and shape-shifting—demanding that readers sit with the contradictions of survival and desire. Diaz’s poems weave together the personal and the political, exploring the aftermath of colonial violence on Indigenous communities while fiercely reclaiming love, body, and language. The result is a collection that is both a love song and an act of resistance, refusing to let Indigenous bodies be reduced to relics or statistics.

The relationship between body and land is central to this collection, often blurring into one entity. In Mojave thinking, Diaz reminds us, the words for body and land are almost identical, making their destruction indistinguishable. Her poetry renders the wounds of colonialism tactile—rain, blood, rivers, and cracked earth appear as motifs, reinforcing the deep connections between identity, environment, and historical trauma. Yet, amid the loss, there is also an insistence on pleasure, on the sacredness of touch. The body, often framed as a site of violence in colonial history, is here rewritten as a site of love, agency, and transformation.

Diaz’s language is breathtaking—both sparse and lush, sharp yet fluid. Her poetry moves between declarative, fragmented lines and sweeping, lyrical imagery, creating a rhythm that mimics the contradictions she navigates. She layers striking metaphors—maps as ghosts, America as a clot of clouds, a lover’s body as a lake-glint—crafting a landscape that is both haunted and radiant. The tension between visibility and erasure runs through these poems: the weight of existing in a country that seeks to erase Indigenous presence while simultaneously consuming its image.

Postcolonial Love Poem does not offer easy resolutions. Instead, it carves space for survival as an act of creation, for love as both a reckoning and a refuge. Diaz challenges the reader to hold grief and joy in the same breath, to witness history without turning away, and to recognize that language itself can be an act of reclamation. This collection is a masterwork of lyricism and defiance—a necessary read for those willing to step into its river and be changed by the current.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who appreciate lyrical, visceral poetry exploring colonialism, desire, and survival; those drawn to works that intertwine body, land, and language; fans of Ocean Vuong.

🔑 Key Themes: Erasure and Survival, Love and Intimacy, The Body as Landscape, Indigenous Identity and Resistance, Water and Transformation.

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Waiting for the Long Night Moon: Stories by Amanda Peters

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challenging reflective sad medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Plot
Diverse cast of characters? Yes

3.5

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book was published on February 11th, 2025 by Catapult.

Amanda Peters’ debut short story collection, Waiting for the Long Night Moon, is a quiet meditation on grief, resilience, and the enduring bond between Indigenous people and the land. Through spare yet lyrical prose, Peters captures the weight of intergenerational trauma while insisting on the vitality of survival—a delicate balance between sorrow and defiance.

Each story in the collection offers a window into the complex realities of Indigenous life across time and place. In one, a grieving mother finds purpose as a water protector, her fight against state violence becoming an act of remembrance for her daughter. In another, an Indigenous family shelters their white French trading partners from English invaders, driven by a hard-earned empathy born from their own experiences of displacement. The titular story reflects on the lasting wounds of settler colonialism, as an Indigenous man reckons with how white settlers irrevocably altered his life. Time and again, Peters highlights the violent legacies of residential schools, the theft of language, and the slow, deliberate erasure of Indigenous identity. Yet, these stories are not defined solely by loss; the land itself emerges as a character, offering its own quiet promise of healing. Trees, rivers, and mud are not merely backdrops—they are witnesses, collaborators, and lifelines.

While Peters' storytelling is rooted in dignity and truth, I found myself longing for a stronger emotional connection to the characters. Though the writing is undeniably beautiful, the brevity of certain stories and the broad sweep across historical periods sometimes left me feeling unmoored. The collection's structure made it difficult to find a reading rhythm, and I finished the book admiring its themes more than remembering its people. This left me with a sense of respect, but not quite love.

That said, Waiting for the Long Night Moon is a valuable contribution to contemporary Indigenous literature. Peters reminds us that survival is resistance, and that memory—held in the soil, in language, in the body—is its own form of power. For readers seeking stories of resilience told with gentle lyricism and deep reverence for the earth, this collection offers a quiet but necessary voice.

📖 Recommended For: Readers drawn to lyrical, land-centered storytelling; those interested in Indigenous resistance, intergenerational trauma, and the resilience of community.

🔑 Key Themes: Land and Belonging, Grief and Resilience, Colonial Violence and Erasure, Memory as Resistance, Survival as Defiance.

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bisexualbookshelf's reviews 731 reviews

bisexualbookshelf's reviews
731 reviews