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damalireads's reviews
223 reviews
In The End, It Was All About Love by Musa Okwonga
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
The Unfortunates by JK Chukwu
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
Sahara Nwadike is a queer, half-Nigerian/half-Black (this distinction is so wild but I get it lol), sophomore student at a PWI in the Midwest on the cusp of ending her life. With the stress of juggling her academics with her personal struggles with her identity, body, family, friends, and depression - who is her Life Partner (LP) – she sets out to do a final meaningful act of writing a thesis outlining her college experience before joining the Unfortunates – black students who disappear, drop out, or die by suicide. We follow Sahara as she stumbles through the first quarter of the year trying to maintain the performance of a Good Friend, Good Student, Good Black Person Fighting Against Endless Institutional Injustice At A PWI while she secretly plans her suicide after the winter holiday.
The plot of the book isn’t really straightforward, so Chukwu does well to add media elements into the pages to help drive the story and find creative ways to engage the reader. I really enjoyed the experimental form of storytelling through emails, texts, footnotes, theatrical scenes, and even a scantron/multiple choice exam sheet (that one was a doozy). Each chapter is titled as a “Track” and had a play on words with popular songs connected to Sahara. The art placed between each chapter also helped to set the mood surrounding Sahara’s mind. As dark as this book gets, there is also a lot of wit and humor woven through the story and showcases a strong testament to friendship.
Chukwu does a masterful job of giving full access to the mind of someone with depression and suicidal ideation. There’s no logic in depression and Sahara’s doesn’t try to argue that there is – another stark example of how she’s accepted LP’s control over her life. Sahara’s grim tone in talking about her own death or flaws can get very heavy and difficult to read, but the honesty exposes how destructive her thought patterns have become. To me, this was probably one of the best depictions of living with depression I’ve ever read.
Something I also appreciated & related to was the depiction of how isolating it can be for black students at a PWI. While the black students had their moments at the Black Student Coalition meetings and a group chat at their fingertips, it did not outweigh the weight the university puts on them to withstand an overall sense of disinterest and dismissal of their struggles.
My college experience wasn’t exactly like Sahara’s, but there were a lot of similarities I could personally relate to, so that influenced my overall reading experience. I have a tendency to judge books that I can personally relate to harsher than those I cannot. I already had a deep understanding with some core topics explored in this book – academia, macro/microaggressions in college, disconnection from culture, immigrant parent, depression, institutional conflict with black students/organizations – so I end up judging the book on whether I walk away with a new/unique way to view these experiences. And unfortunately, I did not, but I don’t think this takes away from the quality of the book. I haven’t read many books that talk about these topics so pointedly (only Disorientation most recently) and there’s immense value in that. Just a personal nitpick that stops me from rating this higher.
3.75 Stars
The plot of the book isn’t really straightforward, so Chukwu does well to add media elements into the pages to help drive the story and find creative ways to engage the reader. I really enjoyed the experimental form of storytelling through emails, texts, footnotes, theatrical scenes, and even a scantron/multiple choice exam sheet (that one was a doozy). Each chapter is titled as a “Track” and had a play on words with popular songs connected to Sahara. The art placed between each chapter also helped to set the mood surrounding Sahara’s mind. As dark as this book gets, there is also a lot of wit and humor woven through the story and showcases a strong testament to friendship.
Chukwu does a masterful job of giving full access to the mind of someone with depression and suicidal ideation. There’s no logic in depression and Sahara’s doesn’t try to argue that there is – another stark example of how she’s accepted LP’s control over her life. Sahara’s grim tone in talking about her own death or flaws can get very heavy and difficult to read, but the honesty exposes how destructive her thought patterns have become. To me, this was probably one of the best depictions of living with depression I’ve ever read.
Something I also appreciated & related to was the depiction of how isolating it can be for black students at a PWI. While the black students had their moments at the Black Student Coalition meetings and a group chat at their fingertips, it did not outweigh the weight the university puts on them to withstand an overall sense of disinterest and dismissal of their struggles.
My college experience wasn’t exactly like Sahara’s, but there were a lot of similarities I could personally relate to, so that influenced my overall reading experience. I have a tendency to judge books that I can personally relate to harsher than those I cannot. I already had a deep understanding with some core topics explored in this book – academia, macro/microaggressions in college, disconnection from culture, immigrant parent, depression, institutional conflict with black students/organizations – so I end up judging the book on whether I walk away with a new/unique way to view these experiences. And unfortunately, I did not, but I don’t think this takes away from the quality of the book. I haven’t read many books that talk about these topics so pointedly (only Disorientation most recently) and there’s immense value in that. Just a personal nitpick that stops me from rating this higher.
3.75 Stars
The Late Americans by Brandon Taylor
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Full Exposure by Thien-Kim Lam
Did not finish book. Stopped at 38%.
Did not finish book. Stopped at 38%.
Kinda bored but also don't think i picked this up at the right time.
The Deep by Rivers Solomon
challenging
emotional
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? Yes
3.0
Small Worlds by Caleb Azumah Nelson
Well y’all. He did it again. He just don’t miss fr. Brilliance and talent know him personally. Masterpiece pt. 2 what can I say. You will see me purchase anything this man releases for the rest of his days.
In Small Worlds, we follow Stephen – a child of Ghanaian immigrants living in England – through three pivotal summers in his life. As he transitions from high school to university to adult life, Stephen grapples with the changes in relationships with friends and family, and well as the changes he sees in his community by outside forces. Throughout the novel, Nelson explores the ‘small worlds’ one creates and is a part of – with family, on the dancefloor, in a jam session, with friends – and the space for freedom and honesty it allows.
“Space” is a recurring theme throughout the book. This “space” is breathing room made in the small worlds throughout the book. It’s created amongst friends, family, and sound and gives Stephen the chance to be honest, earnest, seen, and free. Ironically, there’s a fullness found in this space when you can be true to yourself and your emotions. Nelson so intensely describes this feeling that the absence of it is just as impactful. For Stephen, the absence of space is synonymous with the suffocating feeling he experiences when he becomes depressed in university.
Small Worlds also feels a bit like an English teacher’s dream because Nelson delicately crafts his themes using repetition through the whole book, giving the novel a sort of rhythm/lyrical nature you’d find in a song. The parallels found between Stephen’s life and his parents, or amongst his friends, or in his heritage, left me breathless. The love of music and dance is also an undercurrent through the whole novel, both used as a tool for expression and its absence a sign of loss and the freedom to just be.
It’s a gift to see yourself in a book, but even more so to see your culture, friends, family, and thoughts written into every page. It is very easy to resonate with the characters in this book because they are immediately made tangible by how honestly Nelson exposes their heart and emotions. This was especially poignant for me in the final chapters, where we learn about Stephen’s father’s journey from Ghana to England, and gain a new layer of understanding behind the tensions the pair of struggled through in each chapter. Seeing the hills and valleys of the relationship between father and son is what ultimately brought me to tears with this book – Nelson has a unique talent to expose the root of any relationship or emotion with a single sentence.
Small Worlds is the type of book you need to read, re-read, and study. Understanding it leads to a better understanding of yourself, a greater love for the people in the small worlds you have, and a desire to keep building more small worlds to weather all the seasons of life.
Thanks to Grove Atlantic + netgalley for the eARC in exchange for an honest review.
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
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? Yes
5.0
“We stand in silence, the air heavy with things we don’t like to say to each other but can never forget: to forge these worlds for each other means to collectively dream of our freedom. In the wake of violence, acute or prolonged, we ask what we might need, how we might weather this time, how we might care for each other, how we might cultivate the space which encourages honesty, which encourages surrender. How we might build a small world, where we might feel beautiful, might feel free.”
Well y’all. He did it again. He just don’t miss fr. Brilliance and talent know him personally. Masterpiece pt. 2 what can I say. You will see me purchase anything this man releases for the rest of his days.
In Small Worlds, we follow Stephen – a child of Ghanaian immigrants living in England – through three pivotal summers in his life. As he transitions from high school to university to adult life, Stephen grapples with the changes in relationships with friends and family, and well as the changes he sees in his community by outside forces. Throughout the novel, Nelson explores the ‘small worlds’ one creates and is a part of – with family, on the dancefloor, in a jam session, with friends – and the space for freedom and honesty it allows.
“Space” is a recurring theme throughout the book. This “space” is breathing room made in the small worlds throughout the book. It’s created amongst friends, family, and sound and gives Stephen the chance to be honest, earnest, seen, and free. Ironically, there’s a fullness found in this space when you can be true to yourself and your emotions. Nelson so intensely describes this feeling that the absence of it is just as impactful. For Stephen, the absence of space is synonymous with the suffocating feeling he experiences when he becomes depressed in university.
Small Worlds also feels a bit like an English teacher’s dream because Nelson delicately crafts his themes using repetition through the whole book, giving the novel a sort of rhythm/lyrical nature you’d find in a song. The parallels found between Stephen’s life and his parents, or amongst his friends, or in his heritage, left me breathless. The love of music and dance is also an undercurrent through the whole novel, both used as a tool for expression and its absence a sign of loss and the freedom to just be.
It’s a gift to see yourself in a book, but even more so to see your culture, friends, family, and thoughts written into every page. It is very easy to resonate with the characters in this book because they are immediately made tangible by how honestly Nelson exposes their heart and emotions. This was especially poignant for me in the final chapters, where we learn about Stephen’s father’s journey from Ghana to England, and gain a new layer of understanding behind the tensions the pair of struggled through in each chapter. Seeing the hills and valleys of the relationship between father and son is what ultimately brought me to tears with this book – Nelson has a unique talent to expose the root of any relationship or emotion with a single sentence.
Small Worlds is the type of book you need to read, re-read, and study. Understanding it leads to a better understanding of yourself, a greater love for the people in the small worlds you have, and a desire to keep building more small worlds to weather all the seasons of life.
Thanks to Grove Atlantic + netgalley for the eARC in exchange for an honest review.
Jade Legacy by Fonda Lee
adventurous
dark
emotional
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Real Life by Brandon Taylor
I was totally unprepared for how much I was invested in and gutted by this book.
Initially, you think this is going to be a Standard Campus Novel. We have a queer black PhD candidate (believe it’s biology?) approaching his 4th year, feeling uncertain of his place in his lab, amongst his friends, in academia, and as a Southern boy living in the Midwest. The central plot seemingly surrounds a sabotaged experiment, but as you read on, you begin to see the acute conflicts and pain inflicted upon Wallace from multiple sources. As Wallace struggles with belonging, you begin to question if that acceptance is possible or even worth the trouble.
There is a quiet brilliance woven through the entire novel. Jeremy O. Harris described Real Life as a novel that “excavates the profound from the mundane”, and I think that’s the perfect description. Wallace, at heart, is an observer constantly dissecting the people and the interactions around him. When a friend is worried about their boyfriend opening up their relationship, Wallace attributes this to really a fear of losing the “inoculation against the uncertainty of the future” that a relationship brings. When he is subject to microagressions and blatant racism by his peers, Wallace notes that in the rare times he raises the issue, he finds that white people hold his accusations “up to the light and try to discern if you are telling the truth…As if they can tell by the grain if something is racist or not, and they always trust their own judgement.” When he’s assaulted by a lover, who is reeling from exposing his deepest secrets, Wallace notes that the cruelty he experiences is a “conduit of pain…a delivery system, as in the way that certain viruses convey illness, disease, irreparable harm.” It’s in these moments that Taylor shines and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. As Wallace takes the time to turn these astute observations inward, it peaks in a chapter where he recounts his past/family that is probably one of the most gut wrenching things I’ve read in my life.
There’s a lot of honesty in this book, even with Wallace admitting the ways he even has misjudged or characterized his friends, making it an even more compelling read.
The most human, but frustrating part, about this novel is the lack of confrontation or character development in Wallace. We do not see any retribution for the racism he experiences, or the physical abuse inflicted upon him by a lover, or just generally how awful (I think) his friends are. But sometimes, that’s Real Life 🤪. There’s no perfect resolution, but that does makes sense for a character who is committed to shedding the past in an attempt to become something new, but insincere, in the face of his community & environment.
This novel is special. It was still a Campus Novel, but to center a black and queer experience allowed for an added layer of reflection that was particularly poignant. I laughed in recognition at the Hell of doing anything within the sciences, the consistent doubt that is cast upon you by peers/leaders, and trying to understand how to mold yourself into dimensions that people can understand. I’m excited to read his short stories next, and looking forward to his next novel coming out this year.
4.25 Stars
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
“This could be their life together, each moment shared, passed back and forth between each other to alleviate the pressure, the awful pressure of having to hold on to time for oneself. This is perhaps why people get together in the first place. The sharing of time. The sharing of the responsibility of anchoring oneself in the world.”
I was totally unprepared for how much I was invested in and gutted by this book.
Initially, you think this is going to be a Standard Campus Novel. We have a queer black PhD candidate (believe it’s biology?) approaching his 4th year, feeling uncertain of his place in his lab, amongst his friends, in academia, and as a Southern boy living in the Midwest. The central plot seemingly surrounds a sabotaged experiment, but as you read on, you begin to see the acute conflicts and pain inflicted upon Wallace from multiple sources. As Wallace struggles with belonging, you begin to question if that acceptance is possible or even worth the trouble.
There is a quiet brilliance woven through the entire novel. Jeremy O. Harris described Real Life as a novel that “excavates the profound from the mundane”, and I think that’s the perfect description. Wallace, at heart, is an observer constantly dissecting the people and the interactions around him. When a friend is worried about their boyfriend opening up their relationship, Wallace attributes this to really a fear of losing the “inoculation against the uncertainty of the future” that a relationship brings. When he is subject to microagressions and blatant racism by his peers, Wallace notes that in the rare times he raises the issue, he finds that white people hold his accusations “up to the light and try to discern if you are telling the truth…As if they can tell by the grain if something is racist or not, and they always trust their own judgement.” When he’s assaulted by a lover, who is reeling from exposing his deepest secrets, Wallace notes that the cruelty he experiences is a “conduit of pain…a delivery system, as in the way that certain viruses convey illness, disease, irreparable harm.” It’s in these moments that Taylor shines and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. As Wallace takes the time to turn these astute observations inward, it peaks in a chapter where he recounts his past/family that is probably one of the most gut wrenching things I’ve read in my life.
There’s a lot of honesty in this book, even with Wallace admitting the ways he even has misjudged or characterized his friends, making it an even more compelling read.
The most human, but frustrating part, about this novel is the lack of confrontation or character development in Wallace. We do not see any retribution for the racism he experiences, or the physical abuse inflicted upon him by a lover, or just generally how awful (I think) his friends are. But sometimes, that’s Real Life 🤪. There’s no perfect resolution, but that does makes sense for a character who is committed to shedding the past in an attempt to become something new, but insincere, in the face of his community & environment.
This novel is special. It was still a Campus Novel, but to center a black and queer experience allowed for an added layer of reflection that was particularly poignant. I laughed in recognition at the Hell of doing anything within the sciences, the consistent doubt that is cast upon you by peers/leaders, and trying to understand how to mold yourself into dimensions that people can understand. I’m excited to read his short stories next, and looking forward to his next novel coming out this year.
4.25 Stars
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child abuse, Physical abuse, Rape, Sexual assault
Rootless by Krystle Zara Appiah
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
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
4.0