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littlemonster's reviews
562 reviews
Bone Weaver by Aden Polydoros
Content Warning: death (including that of a child), murder, violence, racism, religious persecution, misogyny.
Finally, a book from my list of most highly anticipated 2022 reads that didn't disappoint! Bone Weaver is everything I could ask for in a Russian and Slavic inspired fantasy, replete with folklore and monsters, all while addressing the proletariat revolution and the faults of its fantasy empire.
To start off, this book is simply full of monsters. Something that often bothers me when I pick up a fantasy book is that while it proclaims to have pages full of monsters and folklore, they seem little more than window-dressing. That's never the case in Bone Weaver: there are rusalki, mavki, upyri, and more, all written about with an admiration for their haunting, sometimes frightening, beauty. It's obvious from the first page that Polydoros loves writing about these creatures, and although this obviously deals with much more mature subject matter, it reminded me a bit of reading The Spiderwick Chronicles -- and what more could I ask for then that?
As for the characters, all of them are lovable, even when they are not nice or friendly or on their best behavior. Toma, of course, is my favorite, and she operates as the kind of heroine that is naive but not obnoxious (which is hard to do; instead, her naivete feels endearing). Her companions, Mikhail and Vanya, are equally wonderful, although I will say that it took me a while to warm up to Mikhail. Perhaps it's because I'm a bit biased, but I wasn't sure that I would buy into his rehabilitation, into the narrative that he will truly fight for change in his empire. By the end, however, I greatly enjoyed Mikhail's character, and even ended up rooting for him (which took me by surprise). He still wasn't quite on the level of Toma or Vanya for me, but nonetheless, I think that Polydoros did an incredible job crafting every single character we encounter on the page.
Highly, highly recommended. This is, without a doubt, the best Russian and Slavic inspired fantasy I've ever had the pleasure of reading.
adventurous
dark
emotional
hopeful
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
Thank you to NetGalley and Inkyard Press for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death (including that of a child), murder, violence, racism, religious persecution, misogyny.
Seventeen-year-old Toma lives in the wilderness of the vast Kosa empire. Although the empire is turning in on itself, in the midst of a deadly revolution, Toma is unaware of the political tensions and ongoing civil war, having not been amongst other humans in years. Suddenly, the unrest is brought to Toma and her adoptive upyri family's doorstep with the crashing of an airship, holding only two passengers -- and one of them is Tsar Mikhail himself. Forced by disaster into a mission of her own, Toma accompanies Mikhail on his journey to destroy Koschei, the leader of the anti-Tsarist revolutionaries, picking up another straggler, Vanya, on their way. As the trio grows closer, Toma will be forced to confront her past and, even more frighteningly, her future -- and all three of them will learn that true monsters don't wear their wickedness on the outside.
Finally, a book from my list of most highly anticipated 2022 reads that didn't disappoint! Bone Weaver is everything I could ask for in a Russian and Slavic inspired fantasy, replete with folklore and monsters, all while addressing the proletariat revolution and the faults of its fantasy empire.
To start off, this book is simply full of monsters. Something that often bothers me when I pick up a fantasy book is that while it proclaims to have pages full of monsters and folklore, they seem little more than window-dressing. That's never the case in Bone Weaver: there are rusalki, mavki, upyri, and more, all written about with an admiration for their haunting, sometimes frightening, beauty. It's obvious from the first page that Polydoros loves writing about these creatures, and although this obviously deals with much more mature subject matter, it reminded me a bit of reading The Spiderwick Chronicles -- and what more could I ask for then that?
As for the characters, all of them are lovable, even when they are not nice or friendly or on their best behavior. Toma, of course, is my favorite, and she operates as the kind of heroine that is naive but not obnoxious (which is hard to do; instead, her naivete feels endearing). Her companions, Mikhail and Vanya, are equally wonderful, although I will say that it took me a while to warm up to Mikhail. Perhaps it's because I'm a bit biased, but I wasn't sure that I would buy into his rehabilitation, into the narrative that he will truly fight for change in his empire. By the end, however, I greatly enjoyed Mikhail's character, and even ended up rooting for him (which took me by surprise). He still wasn't quite on the level of Toma or Vanya for me, but nonetheless, I think that Polydoros did an incredible job crafting every single character we encounter on the page.
The worldbuilding has real depth to it. One of my favorite things in fantasy books is that feeling you get that, just beyond the page, there's a whole world out there -- real and fully fleshed out -- that we've yet to see. I never, ever say this, but I almost wish that Bone Weaver had been the first in a series. It feels as if there's so much more to explore, even with regards to Toma's background, for example, or Vanya's. My only real complaint about this book is that it simplifies the revolution, and in turn, simplifies its (amazing) villain. However, this is YA fantasy, so I don't mind it being boiled down to basics -- and that isn't to say that there isn't complexity or nuance in this book because there's plenty.
Highly, highly recommended. This is, without a doubt, the best Russian and Slavic inspired fantasy I've ever had the pleasure of reading.
Babysitter by Joyce Carol Oates
Content Warning: death (including that of a child), murder, violence, rape (on-page), homophobia, racism, racist slurs, homophobic slurs, victim-blaming, suicidal ideation, child abuse (physical, emotional and sexual).
Detroit, 1977. Hannah Jarrett lives a privileged life; the wife of a wealthy man, the mother of two perfect children, the cochair of many esteemed fundraisers and charity events. In the midst of her outwardly perfect -- if boring -- life, Hannah suddenly and unexpectedly meets a man who she is instantly drawn to. Calling himself only Y.K., Hannah falls headfirst into an affair that will change the course of her life forever. In another part of Detroit, there's Mikey, connected not only to Y.K., but to Babysitter, the child killer stalking the streets. As Hannah grows more and more suspicious of Y.K., questioning whether he is implicated in the Babysitter killings, everyone -- including Hannah's children and her husband -- will be drawn into the turmoil...
Joyce Carol Oates is adept at crafting stories centered around darkness. Of the several other books I've read by her, they were all similarly filled with themes of lust, hatred, and murder, and while some of them were more successful than others, I knew going into Babysitter that this type of tale was in good hands. Her stories often play with subversion, subterfuge, and nontraditional forms of writing, and so those who are not familiar with her style may find it a bit strange at first -- even I, having not read anything by her in a while, found it a bit jarring at first. However, the longer I read, the more compulsively I found myself consuming this, eager to know what frightening turn the plot might take.
Hannah Jarrett is our (main) protagonist; I would describe her as being squarely in the middle of the events that take place here, as well as the characters who surround her. She, both narratively and as a character, provides a sort of stepping stone, an opportunity for the reader to see themselves in the story. However, like most of Oates's protagonists, she is not likable on principle; she is complex, deeply flawed, and very, very naïve. I appreciated Oates's efforts to show us that while Hannah thinks of herself as being "rational" and "nonracist," she nonetheless continuously insults her children's Filipina nanny, Ismelda, with microaggressions. She projects her insecurities and fears onto Ismelda, the "other," just like her husband, Wes, does, though his is more outwardly aggressive, more "male."
Racism is a big theme in this book, as is fitting, I think, for a novel that takes place in 1970s' Detroit. Present, too, as in all of Oates's novels, are the questions of womanhood, femininity, and how motherhood changes women (for better and worse). Some of her attempts at dissecting racism are better than others but, overall, I think the message here is well-conveyed -- that racism is insidious in its many forms, and that white women perpetuate racism in ways different than their male counterparts (but that all are equally reprehensible). Her discussions of misogyny are incisive and clever, as always.
Now, onto why it didn't quite get the full four stars from me... my main complaint is that, sometimes, I struggled to truly "click" with the story or its characters. Mistakenly, I thought that this novel would revolve mainly around the Babysitter killer, also known as the Oakland County Child Killer, who I do have some prior knowledge of. Instead, this deals mostly with people who are connected to him, both tangentially and more closely, which I found a touch disappointing. The child killings serve more as a backdrop for what's going on in Hannah's life, as well as exacerbating her already heightened fears as a mother. It's important that I mention that while this book does deal with many dark, horrible things, sometimes in graphic detail, I never felt as if Oates was exploiting the real life tragedies that Babysitter committed.
I didn't like Hannah, per se; she's gullible, a bit spineless, not to mention her strange racist assumptions about Ismelda. However, I see the purpose of her story, and I do enjoy the fact that Oates doesn't worry so much about how "relatable" or "likable" her characters are. The story also feels disjointed, sometimes confusing; while this does work well in some aspects, in others, it fails to achieve its intentions. For example, the ending -- I'm still confused about what exactly it was meant to signify, even how much of it is "real." That might work for some readers, but in my case, it left me feeling a bit let down after the rather arduous journey I took to get there.
Ultimately, I think Babysitter succeeds in many of its efforts, but as a whole, it felt like a jigsaw puzzle missing a few pieces. I'd recommend this to Oates's fans, and to anyone who might have a fascination with true crime like I do.
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Thank you to NetGalley and Knopf for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death (including that of a child), murder, violence, rape (on-page), homophobia, racism, racist slurs, homophobic slurs, victim-blaming, suicidal ideation, child abuse (physical, emotional and sexual).
Detroit, 1977. Hannah Jarrett lives a privileged life; the wife of a wealthy man, the mother of two perfect children, the cochair of many esteemed fundraisers and charity events. In the midst of her outwardly perfect -- if boring -- life, Hannah suddenly and unexpectedly meets a man who she is instantly drawn to. Calling himself only Y.K., Hannah falls headfirst into an affair that will change the course of her life forever. In another part of Detroit, there's Mikey, connected not only to Y.K., but to Babysitter, the child killer stalking the streets. As Hannah grows more and more suspicious of Y.K., questioning whether he is implicated in the Babysitter killings, everyone -- including Hannah's children and her husband -- will be drawn into the turmoil...
Joyce Carol Oates is adept at crafting stories centered around darkness. Of the several other books I've read by her, they were all similarly filled with themes of lust, hatred, and murder, and while some of them were more successful than others, I knew going into Babysitter that this type of tale was in good hands. Her stories often play with subversion, subterfuge, and nontraditional forms of writing, and so those who are not familiar with her style may find it a bit strange at first -- even I, having not read anything by her in a while, found it a bit jarring at first. However, the longer I read, the more compulsively I found myself consuming this, eager to know what frightening turn the plot might take.
Hannah Jarrett is our (main) protagonist; I would describe her as being squarely in the middle of the events that take place here, as well as the characters who surround her. She, both narratively and as a character, provides a sort of stepping stone, an opportunity for the reader to see themselves in the story. However, like most of Oates's protagonists, she is not likable on principle; she is complex, deeply flawed, and very, very naïve. I appreciated Oates's efforts to show us that while Hannah thinks of herself as being "rational" and "nonracist," she nonetheless continuously insults her children's Filipina nanny, Ismelda, with microaggressions. She projects her insecurities and fears onto Ismelda, the "other," just like her husband, Wes, does, though his is more outwardly aggressive, more "male."
Racism is a big theme in this book, as is fitting, I think, for a novel that takes place in 1970s' Detroit. Present, too, as in all of Oates's novels, are the questions of womanhood, femininity, and how motherhood changes women (for better and worse). Some of her attempts at dissecting racism are better than others but, overall, I think the message here is well-conveyed -- that racism is insidious in its many forms, and that white women perpetuate racism in ways different than their male counterparts (but that all are equally reprehensible). Her discussions of misogyny are incisive and clever, as always.
Now, onto why it didn't quite get the full four stars from me... my main complaint is that, sometimes, I struggled to truly "click" with the story or its characters. Mistakenly, I thought that this novel would revolve mainly around the Babysitter killer, also known as the Oakland County Child Killer, who I do have some prior knowledge of. Instead, this deals mostly with people who are connected to him, both tangentially and more closely, which I found a touch disappointing. The child killings serve more as a backdrop for what's going on in Hannah's life, as well as exacerbating her already heightened fears as a mother. It's important that I mention that while this book does deal with many dark, horrible things, sometimes in graphic detail, I never felt as if Oates was exploiting the real life tragedies that Babysitter committed.
I didn't like Hannah, per se; she's gullible, a bit spineless, not to mention her strange racist assumptions about Ismelda. However, I see the purpose of her story, and I do enjoy the fact that Oates doesn't worry so much about how "relatable" or "likable" her characters are. The story also feels disjointed, sometimes confusing; while this does work well in some aspects, in others, it fails to achieve its intentions. For example, the ending -- I'm still confused about what exactly it was meant to signify, even how much of it is "real." That might work for some readers, but in my case, it left me feeling a bit let down after the rather arduous journey I took to get there.
Ultimately, I think Babysitter succeeds in many of its efforts, but as a whole, it felt like a jigsaw puzzle missing a few pieces. I'd recommend this to Oates's fans, and to anyone who might have a fascination with true crime like I do.
The Oleander Sword by Tasha Suri
Content Warning: death, violence, murder, emotional abuse, misogyny, body horror,
After the prophecy that has named her the rightful Empress of Parijatdvipa, Malini is well on her way to deposing her cruel brother. Although she anticipates being defied at every turn, her newly-appointed status as a ruler chosen by the gods has left her more open than ever to criticism and hardship. Meanwhile, Ahiranya has finally found its freedom from imperial oppression, and Priya has risen fully to her position as an Elder. The magic that flows through her body, however, is changing -- and Priya is no longer sure if she knows what she's capable of. As the war rages on, Malini realizes that she needs Priya -- her secret weapon -- and against all odds, they find themselves together once more... but will their reunion end in happiness, or destruction?
In my opinion, yes. We are once again following Malini and Priya, as well as several other characters introduced in the first book (including Bhumika, who I simply adore), and it felt like coming home to jump into their shoes again. Now, they're contending with even bigger problems than they were before, Priya with her new role as an Elder (a role that she isn't quite sure how to embrace) and Malini with keeping the faith she's engendered in her new followers. This book is much bigger than just Malini and Priya, though, and I felt like there was more of a focus on what's happening outside of them this time around.
The Jasmine Throne got some criticism for its many POVs, and, if anything, I did feel that this problem is not fixed -- if anything, it felt as if there were even more perspectives and characters to contend with. For me, it's not a problem, but I think that some people will struggle with it. There were moments where I wondered why, exactly, we were getting a certain character's perspective, or following a particular storyline, as it seemed to add nothing overall to either the plot or pacing. I'm also confused as to why, instead of allowing us to enter into the head of Varsha, Chandra's new wife, we are given the POV of her brother. I think it would have been more interesting (and fitting) to let us see the world and her marriage through her eyes.
Those are my main complaints; otherwise, I was just as enchanted by this entry into the series as the first. The moments between Malini and Priya were beautiful, and truly made the novel shine. I also love Bhumika, and you really get the chance to fall for her in this book.
While it wasn't perfect (like I thought The Jasmine Throne was), this is a solid second book, and I'm excited (and scared!) for the final installment.
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
tense
medium-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
4.0
Thank you to NetGalley and Orbit for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death, violence, murder, emotional abuse, misogyny, body horror,
After the prophecy that has named her the rightful Empress of Parijatdvipa, Malini is well on her way to deposing her cruel brother. Although she anticipates being defied at every turn, her newly-appointed status as a ruler chosen by the gods has left her more open than ever to criticism and hardship. Meanwhile, Ahiranya has finally found its freedom from imperial oppression, and Priya has risen fully to her position as an Elder. The magic that flows through her body, however, is changing -- and Priya is no longer sure if she knows what she's capable of. As the war rages on, Malini realizes that she needs Priya -- her secret weapon -- and against all odds, they find themselves together once more... but will their reunion end in happiness, or destruction?
I don't read many series these days, but after I finished The Jasmine Throne, I was so happy to find out that it was going to be a trilogy. Not only did I instantly fall in love with our two heroines, Priya and Malini, but I was also captivated by the magic system and the gorgeous world Suri has created. So, does the sequel live up to the amazing potential captured in the first book?
In my opinion, yes. We are once again following Malini and Priya, as well as several other characters introduced in the first book (including Bhumika, who I simply adore), and it felt like coming home to jump into their shoes again. Now, they're contending with even bigger problems than they were before, Priya with her new role as an Elder (a role that she isn't quite sure how to embrace) and Malini with keeping the faith she's engendered in her new followers. This book is much bigger than just Malini and Priya, though, and I felt like there was more of a focus on what's happening outside of them this time around.
The Jasmine Throne got some criticism for its many POVs, and, if anything, I did feel that this problem is not fixed -- if anything, it felt as if there were even more perspectives and characters to contend with. For me, it's not a problem, but I think that some people will struggle with it. There were moments where I wondered why, exactly, we were getting a certain character's perspective, or following a particular storyline, as it seemed to add nothing overall to either the plot or pacing. I'm also confused as to why, instead of allowing us to enter into the head of Varsha, Chandra's new wife, we are given the POV of her brother. I think it would have been more interesting (and fitting) to let us see the world and her marriage through her eyes.
Those are my main complaints; otherwise, I was just as enchanted by this entry into the series as the first. The moments between Malini and Priya were beautiful, and truly made the novel shine. I also love Bhumika, and you really get the chance to fall for her in this book.
While it wasn't perfect (like I thought The Jasmine Throne was), this is a solid second book, and I'm excited (and scared!) for the final installment.
Set in Stone by Stela Brinzeanu
In medieval Moldova, Elina and Mira live totally separate lives. Elina is the wealthy daughter of a boyar, the aristocratic class that employ serfs and slaves, while Mira is a simple potter's daughter, used to going without a meal and trying to fight off the cold. But when the two are inadvertently brought together, there's an immediate spark between them, and they begin to realize that, as women, their stations in life might not be so different after all. As they come to terms with their feelings for one another, Mira and Elina both will have to make the ultimate sacrifice to achieve freedom -- and the possibility of spending their lives together.
Doesn't the premise for this book sound so great? Medieval Moldova is not a time nor place I've ever seen in another book, and it's a culture I'm not overly familiar with. Even more fascinating, the central relationship is between two women, and Set in Stone tackles many issues (some which we are, sadly, still facing today) over the course of Mira and Elina's journey. It saddens me to say I'm not able to give more than three stars here, though. For me, there were too many problems to bump this up to a full four stars. With that being said, let's delve into what worked for me, and what didn't.
Firstly, Brinzeanu's writing style didn't click for me. It was a little too dry for my tastes, and when it wasn't, the similes felt strangely overwrought. There was more telling than showing, which grew a bit irritating over time. I wanted to actually feel as if I was experiencing the scenes, instead of being told of it secondhand. This problem persists throughout the novel, although I will say that the longer I read, the more acclimated to the style I became.
Sadly, the characterization also struck me as a touch shallow. While I ended up loving both Elina and Mira, it took quite a while for it to actually feel as if you're seeing the events and emotions through their eyes. I also found the abrupt beginning to their relationship not only strangely paced, but I struggled with whether or not it made sense for young women of this time period and place. Personally speaking, I'm a huge fan of slow-burns, and I think there was more than enough time to work up to their relationship, and deepen it in the process.
That being said, I did root for both of them, separately and together, and this book offers a beautiful (and harrowing) insight into Moldavian culture, religion, class, and, of course, the lives of Moldavian women. There are some beautiful moments, suffused with nature magic and the tenderness of love, but once again, the writing style kept you at such a distance that it was sometimes hard to admire them fully.
One of my other issues concerns a (very one-dimensional) side character, Dafina. Dafina is a Romani slave, and in the brief instances where she interacts with Elina, she comes off as stereotypically "mysterious," reading palms and telling fortunes. Had she been more developed, it might've not been an issue, but otherwise, she serves little narrative purpose -- well, she does serve a purpose, but it would be a huge spoiler to say how. Let's just say that the purpose is to further Elina's journey, and otherwise, Dafina is just a walking stereotype, there to make cryptic comments and save Elina's hide. The slur commonly used against Romani people is also frequently found in this book. As I'm not Romani myself, I can't say whether or not this is offensive in its historical usage (considering Set in Stone takes place in the Middle Ages). I would love some input on this; all I'll say for now is be forewarned, and it did make me uncomfortable when I was reading it.
Overall, I did like Set in Stone, but nothing about it blew me away. I'm not sure it's the kind of book that will stick with me for very long. If you're interested in the culture and the time period, I'd definitely say give it a shot, but as it stands, for me, this felt more like reading a screenplay. I will consider picking up whatever Brinzeanu writes next, however, as I imagine her second novel will improve upon the issues I've mentioned here!
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
Thank you to NetGalley and Legend Press for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death, violence, murder, rape (on-page), homophobia, misogyny, victim-blaming, outdated racial terms, racism, drowning, incest.
In medieval Moldova, Elina and Mira live totally separate lives. Elina is the wealthy daughter of a boyar, the aristocratic class that employ serfs and slaves, while Mira is a simple potter's daughter, used to going without a meal and trying to fight off the cold. But when the two are inadvertently brought together, there's an immediate spark between them, and they begin to realize that, as women, their stations in life might not be so different after all. As they come to terms with their feelings for one another, Mira and Elina both will have to make the ultimate sacrifice to achieve freedom -- and the possibility of spending their lives together.
Doesn't the premise for this book sound so great? Medieval Moldova is not a time nor place I've ever seen in another book, and it's a culture I'm not overly familiar with. Even more fascinating, the central relationship is between two women, and Set in Stone tackles many issues (some which we are, sadly, still facing today) over the course of Mira and Elina's journey. It saddens me to say I'm not able to give more than three stars here, though. For me, there were too many problems to bump this up to a full four stars. With that being said, let's delve into what worked for me, and what didn't.
Firstly, Brinzeanu's writing style didn't click for me. It was a little too dry for my tastes, and when it wasn't, the similes felt strangely overwrought. There was more telling than showing, which grew a bit irritating over time. I wanted to actually feel as if I was experiencing the scenes, instead of being told of it secondhand. This problem persists throughout the novel, although I will say that the longer I read, the more acclimated to the style I became.
Sadly, the characterization also struck me as a touch shallow. While I ended up loving both Elina and Mira, it took quite a while for it to actually feel as if you're seeing the events and emotions through their eyes. I also found the abrupt beginning to their relationship not only strangely paced, but I struggled with whether or not it made sense for young women of this time period and place. Personally speaking, I'm a huge fan of slow-burns, and I think there was more than enough time to work up to their relationship, and deepen it in the process.
That being said, I did root for both of them, separately and together, and this book offers a beautiful (and harrowing) insight into Moldavian culture, religion, class, and, of course, the lives of Moldavian women. There are some beautiful moments, suffused with nature magic and the tenderness of love, but once again, the writing style kept you at such a distance that it was sometimes hard to admire them fully.
One of my other issues concerns a (very one-dimensional) side character, Dafina. Dafina is a Romani slave, and in the brief instances where she interacts with Elina, she comes off as stereotypically "mysterious," reading palms and telling fortunes. Had she been more developed, it might've not been an issue, but otherwise, she serves little narrative purpose -- well, she does serve a purpose, but it would be a huge spoiler to say how. Let's just say that the purpose is to further Elina's journey, and otherwise, Dafina is just a walking stereotype, there to make cryptic comments and save Elina's hide. The slur commonly used against Romani people is also frequently found in this book. As I'm not Romani myself, I can't say whether or not this is offensive in its historical usage (considering Set in Stone takes place in the Middle Ages). I would love some input on this; all I'll say for now is be forewarned, and it did make me uncomfortable when I was reading it.
Overall, I did like Set in Stone, but nothing about it blew me away. I'm not sure it's the kind of book that will stick with me for very long. If you're interested in the culture and the time period, I'd definitely say give it a shot, but as it stands, for me, this felt more like reading a screenplay. I will consider picking up whatever Brinzeanu writes next, however, as I imagine her second novel will improve upon the issues I've mentioned here!
A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows
adventurous
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
tense
slow-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? It's complicated
5.0
Thank you to NetGalley and Macmillan-Tor/Forge for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death, violence, murder, rape (on-page), victim-blaming, homophobia, self-harm, suicidal ideation (including suicide attempts), PTSD, animal death.
Velasin vin Aaro is shocked when his father announces that he has arranged a marriage for him, in the neighboring country of Tithena. Not only is Velasin unsure of being forced to move to a country he knows little about, but he will also be married to a woman -- and Velasin is gay. But when something horrible happens, revealing Velasin's sexuality, the Tithenai propose that he marries not Laecia Aeduria, but her brother, Caethari. Desperate to get away from his native Ralia, Velasin agrees, but when he arrives in Tithena, it becomes very clear that not everyone is happy about this alliance between the two countries, and will do anything to stop it. Teaming up with his new husband, Velasin and Caethari try to hunt down the murderous faction plaguing them at every step, and discover that sometimes, love can bloom in the strangest of circumstances.
Finally, a highly anticipated book that I absolutely adored! Swept up in the first few chapters, enamored with Meadows's gorgeous use of language, I realized quite quickly that this was most likely going to be the kind of book I just fell in love with. And that's exactly what happened!
I love books that deal with arranged marriages, as they're often able to explore a side of romance and emotion that is sometimes absent in more quickly formed relationships, and I was so pleased that this one was actually a gay romance. Both Velasin and Caethari are instantly lovable; Velasin in particular, with his sharp, cutting witticisms and sometimes frustratingly obstinate personality, stands out as a character who will leave a lasting impression upon readers. Velasin's manservant (who is more like his best friend), Markel, was also very well-written, and the fact that he is mute and uses sign language to communicate was another exciting addition. We don't often see characters like that (or any disability of any kind), and so it was a breath of fresh air. As far as characterization goes, I do think that Caethari's sisters, Riya and Laecia, suffered a bit in comparison to others. They were both very interesting, and I would've liked to see a bit more of their inner worlds, too.
This book is beautifully diverse, as I'm sure you'll have gathered from some of what I've written above. Caethari's sister, Riya, is a lesbian; there are several nonbinary characters; a transgender character; and most of the cast is dark-skinned, to some degree. How refreshing it was to read something that had no qualms about including a diverse ensemble of characters, and did it without batting an eye.
As for the plot, it's so unique to find a book in this genre that doesn't follow the tried-and-true fantasy formulas. Although there's plenty of Velasin and Caethari finding themselves, there's also a bit of a murder mystery going on, complicated by the layered politics both of Tithena and Ralia. While many other readers seemed to be disappointed by the revelation of who the villain is, I didn't mind it; I suspected who it was long before the reveal, but to me, it didn't seem rushed or hasty -- just the opposite, in fact. The clues are there from the very beginning, which is more than I can say for some books. I didn't feel cheated, either, as if Meadows had purposefully kept things from me in the narration that would've otherwise helped us to understand who might be behind everything.
The shining star of A Strange and Stubborn Endurance is Velasin and, by association, his burgeoning relationship with Caethari. Velasin has been through hell, and I felt that Meadows handled all of the difficult topics brought up in this book with grace. There is an on-page rape scene, very early on, which many people felt (understandably) uncomfortable with, but for me, none if it felt gratuitous or cheapening to the narrative. Velasin's growth over the course of this huge book was slow, sometimes painful, and beautifully executed. Everything he did, in regards to Caethari, felt like it made sense, and while everyone's journey of healing is, of course, different, I appreciated the slowness and gentleness of Velasin's.
All in all, this book is simply fantastic. I highly, highly recommend it, and I think that this is such a refreshing take on the fantasy genre. It's beautiful, heartfelt, sometimes funny, sometimes very, very dark, and the journey is well worth it.
Content Warning: death, violence, murder, rape (on-page), victim-blaming, homophobia, self-harm, suicidal ideation (including suicide attempts), PTSD, animal death.
Velasin vin Aaro is shocked when his father announces that he has arranged a marriage for him, in the neighboring country of Tithena. Not only is Velasin unsure of being forced to move to a country he knows little about, but he will also be married to a woman -- and Velasin is gay. But when something horrible happens, revealing Velasin's sexuality, the Tithenai propose that he marries not Laecia Aeduria, but her brother, Caethari. Desperate to get away from his native Ralia, Velasin agrees, but when he arrives in Tithena, it becomes very clear that not everyone is happy about this alliance between the two countries, and will do anything to stop it. Teaming up with his new husband, Velasin and Caethari try to hunt down the murderous faction plaguing them at every step, and discover that sometimes, love can bloom in the strangest of circumstances.
Finally, a highly anticipated book that I absolutely adored! Swept up in the first few chapters, enamored with Meadows's gorgeous use of language, I realized quite quickly that this was most likely going to be the kind of book I just fell in love with. And that's exactly what happened!
I love books that deal with arranged marriages, as they're often able to explore a side of romance and emotion that is sometimes absent in more quickly formed relationships, and I was so pleased that this one was actually a gay romance. Both Velasin and Caethari are instantly lovable; Velasin in particular, with his sharp, cutting witticisms and sometimes frustratingly obstinate personality, stands out as a character who will leave a lasting impression upon readers. Velasin's manservant (who is more like his best friend), Markel, was also very well-written, and the fact that he is mute and uses sign language to communicate was another exciting addition. We don't often see characters like that (or any disability of any kind), and so it was a breath of fresh air. As far as characterization goes, I do think that Caethari's sisters, Riya and Laecia, suffered a bit in comparison to others. They were both very interesting, and I would've liked to see a bit more of their inner worlds, too.
This book is beautifully diverse, as I'm sure you'll have gathered from some of what I've written above. Caethari's sister, Riya, is a lesbian; there are several nonbinary characters; a transgender character; and most of the cast is dark-skinned, to some degree. How refreshing it was to read something that had no qualms about including a diverse ensemble of characters, and did it without batting an eye.
As for the plot, it's so unique to find a book in this genre that doesn't follow the tried-and-true fantasy formulas. Although there's plenty of Velasin and Caethari finding themselves, there's also a bit of a murder mystery going on, complicated by the layered politics both of Tithena and Ralia. While many other readers seemed to be disappointed by the revelation of who the villain is, I didn't mind it; I suspected who it was long before the reveal, but to me, it didn't seem rushed or hasty -- just the opposite, in fact. The clues are there from the very beginning, which is more than I can say for some books. I didn't feel cheated, either, as if Meadows had purposefully kept things from me in the narration that would've otherwise helped us to understand who might be behind everything.
The shining star of A Strange and Stubborn Endurance is Velasin and, by association, his burgeoning relationship with Caethari. Velasin has been through hell, and I felt that Meadows handled all of the difficult topics brought up in this book with grace. There is an on-page rape scene, very early on, which many people felt (understandably) uncomfortable with, but for me, none if it felt gratuitous or cheapening to the narrative. Velasin's growth over the course of this huge book was slow, sometimes painful, and beautifully executed. Everything he did, in regards to Caethari, felt like it made sense, and while everyone's journey of healing is, of course, different, I appreciated the slowness and gentleness of Velasin's.
All in all, this book is simply fantastic. I highly, highly recommend it, and I think that this is such a refreshing take on the fantasy genre. It's beautiful, heartfelt, sometimes funny, sometimes very, very dark, and the journey is well worth it.
Death on Gokumon Island by Seishi Yokomizo
During the war, the famed private detective Kosuke Kindaichi finds himself befriending a young man from a strange, isolated island called Gokumon-to -- Hell's Gate. When this man, Chimata Kito, sadly dies on their repatriation ship, he makes Kosuke vow that he will go to Gokumon and protect the lives of his three young sisters. Although there are rumors of the island's strangeness, Kosuke is surprised by how insular the community is, relying primarily on Chimata's family for their livelihoods. Welcomed by the island's Buddhist priest, Ryonen, Kosuke quickly discovers that this mysterious place holds many secrets -- and no one is eager to let them go...
adventurous
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.5
Thank you to NetGalley and Pushkin Vertigo for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death, violence, murder, misogyny, alcoholism, rape apologism.
During the war, the famed private detective Kosuke Kindaichi finds himself befriending a young man from a strange, isolated island called Gokumon-to -- Hell's Gate. When this man, Chimata Kito, sadly dies on their repatriation ship, he makes Kosuke vow that he will go to Gokumon and protect the lives of his three young sisters. Although there are rumors of the island's strangeness, Kosuke is surprised by how insular the community is, relying primarily on Chimata's family for their livelihoods. Welcomed by the island's Buddhist priest, Ryonen, Kosuke quickly discovers that this mysterious place holds many secrets -- and no one is eager to let them go...
Upon my initial request for this book, I didn't realize that it was actually the second in a series, and I was a bit concerned about how this might impact my reading. I didn't have the chance to fit the first in before I read this one, but I'm happy to report that while it certainly would make you more familiar with the characters, it doesn't seem to be necessary at all to understand or enjoy this installment!
Yokomizo is considered one of the finest Japanese mystery writers, one of many who thrived and, indeed, created Japan's Golden Age of detective fiction. This book is referred to as a "locked room mystery," but I think that's a bit misleading. This is heavily influenced by Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None, something I also saw in another revered Japanese classic, The Decagon House Murders. In spite of the fact that it's obviously inspired by Christie's work, this novel is decidedly its own, and its uniqueness is what made it work for me.
I'm afraid I have to admit that Yokomizo's famous detective, Kosuke, is not all that interesting (at least not in this book). He's a bit milquetoast, a kind of springboard for the brilliance of the criminals, but I was pleased that he's not so magnificently-minded that he never makes any mistakes. I warmed up to him over the course of the novel, but its true strength lies in the many side characters, full of eccentricities and described shrewdly and cleverly. The female characters in particular interested me, but they are, naturally, put on the backburner (and there's some rather aggravating misogyny to boot). This was written somewhere around 1947/1948, I believe, so it's not exactly surprising, but disappointing nonetheless.
The mystery itself kept me engaged, and while the writing style is dry, it has that classic Japanese feel that lends itself to both introspection and readability. It's only because of some very convoluted explanations that this doesn't quite get the full four stars, but readers of classic mysteries will find a lot to be pleased with in this intriguing story.
Recommended. It's entertaining and full of fascinating insights into Japanese culture, and I will definitely be looking into Yokomizo's other books!
The Foundling by Ann Leary
Having some prior knowledge of the long, dark history of eugenics here in the United States, I wasn't totally shocked by the story being told in The Foundling. A topic like this, though, is never one you quite "get used to," and I must applaud Leary for deciding to bring these atrocities to a wider audience. This is a piece of America's past that often gets overlooked, and while this book takes place in 1927, the attitudes of the public towards those who are considered mentally disabled haven't changed as much we'd hope.
Our heroine is Mary Engle, a "half-orphan" who lived in an orphanage until she was twelve. You would think that her own disadvantaged past would perhaps make her more sympathetic to those who are from similarly unlucky circumstances, but it's just the opposite: she's ingrained with a sort of self-righteousness that will make you grit your teeth. I'm of two minds on Mary's character, and it's hard to decide what exactly to feel about her, and whether one opinion precludes the other. On the one hand, Mary is self-centered, naïve, intent on saving her own skin, and seems worryingly lacking in empathy; on the other hand, I think her opinions and thoughts are, sadly, realistic for a character in the 1920s. I hate to say this, considering the author notes that Mary and the entire story are based off her own grandmother and her experiences working at an institution similar to the Nettleton Village, but it's just downright hard to like Mary.
If she displayed character growth, well -- that'd be something entirely different. But throughout the story, she never quite grows up, in spite of her claims that she does. Her whole character revolves around her saying, "But what about me?" One of the side characters, a nurse called Bertie who quickly befriends Mary, is much more likable, relatable, and interesting. Although she displays similar prejudices, she's also openminded, and she's the one who really seems to care and fight for the girls from the very beginning. It's only around the 80-90% mark that Mary seems to show any development at all. This is my main issue with The Foundling. The story itself is fine, and the topic is both interesting and extremely disheartening, but Mary is simply not the kind of character you root for.
Moving onto the plotline, it's decently paced, and there are moments of real interest. Lillian, the girl who is falsely imprisoned (or is she?), is fascinating and lovable. At times, I felt the panic of the characters as they tried to make the right choices in harrowing situations. The descriptions of the women who are forced to live and work there are touching; I wish that we'd been given an insight into more of them. For example, there's a character called Elsie, a savant who plays the piano with astonishing beauty, who I would have loved to see even more of. I liked Leary's villain, Dr. Vogel. Like real-world "villains," she is complex, cultured on one hand, bigoted on the other; loving towards Mary, cruel towards those she thinks of as "lesser"; and in this case, Leary certainly succeeds in making a character who is both unlikable and interesting.
Most importantly, there's something missing from this tale that lends it a feeling of being half-told. It never seems to occur to Mary that even if these women and girls are, in fact, mentally disabled, they deserve love, care, and a world outside of the limited, frightening one they live in at Nettleton Village. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Mary's "aha!" moment of realizing that being mentally disabled does not make you "morally weak," "criminal," or deserving of being imprisoned from the moment you can bear children until the moment you no longer can, but it never comes. She has a few passages where she seems to be leading into this, but overall, the main focus of the story seems to be on the fact that Nettleton Village might be wrongfully imprisoning girls and women who are "of sound mind." That, certainly, is an issue in and of itself -- but what about those who are mentally disabled?
To conclude this already overly long review, I think there are some good, succinct points made here, but the overall story and characterization left me feeling disappointed. Those who are not aware of the history of eugenics in the United States will definitely find this a very valuable read, and I do recommend it if you are looking for more on the subject. However, it is slightly disjointed, and I just couldn't bring myself to be fully immersed when I had so many questions and doubts surrounding Mary's character, as well as the other issues I mentioned.
I hate to do this, but I must compare this to Take My Hand by Dolen Perkins-Valdez, which I reviewed here. This is another book about eugenics, forced sterilization, and reproductive violence (focused mostly on black women) that will open your mind, touch your soul, and has a main character who is struggling (and sometimes failing) to do the right thing. Unlike Mary, Civil, the heroine of Take My Hand, is someone also questioning the system and what she believes to be true, but she manages to be lovable, interesting, and a character that still sticks out in my mind.
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
Thank you to NetGalley and Scribner for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death (including that of a child), violence, sexual assault, rape, anti-Semitism, racism, dated racial terms, dated psychiatric terms, ableism, eugenics, misogyny, miscarriage and stillbirth, incest, childhood sexual abuse.
Mary Engle is only eighteen when she's offered a prestigious opportunity to work at an isolated institution, the Nettleton State Village for Feebleminded Women of Childbearing Age. Her employer, Dr. Agnes Vogel, is a suffragist and one of the leading psychiatrists of her time, and Mary is only too eager to learn from this educated, cultured woman. At first, she is touched by the dedication Dr. Vogel seems to have towards her patients, but when Mary discovers that a girl she used to know -- a fellow orphan at St. Catherine's -- is one of the mentally disabled girls, she struggles to make sense of it. The Lillian she remembers from her childhood was vivacious, brave, and whip-smart. Could this really be the same girl? And if she is -- is there something nefarious going on at Nettleton Village? Determined to get to the truth, Mary takes it upon herself to find out what exactly is going on in this scenic, outwardly beautiful institution.
Having some prior knowledge of the long, dark history of eugenics here in the United States, I wasn't totally shocked by the story being told in The Foundling. A topic like this, though, is never one you quite "get used to," and I must applaud Leary for deciding to bring these atrocities to a wider audience. This is a piece of America's past that often gets overlooked, and while this book takes place in 1927, the attitudes of the public towards those who are considered mentally disabled haven't changed as much we'd hope.
Our heroine is Mary Engle, a "half-orphan" who lived in an orphanage until she was twelve. You would think that her own disadvantaged past would perhaps make her more sympathetic to those who are from similarly unlucky circumstances, but it's just the opposite: she's ingrained with a sort of self-righteousness that will make you grit your teeth. I'm of two minds on Mary's character, and it's hard to decide what exactly to feel about her, and whether one opinion precludes the other. On the one hand, Mary is self-centered, naïve, intent on saving her own skin, and seems worryingly lacking in empathy; on the other hand, I think her opinions and thoughts are, sadly, realistic for a character in the 1920s. I hate to say this, considering the author notes that Mary and the entire story are based off her own grandmother and her experiences working at an institution similar to the Nettleton Village, but it's just downright hard to like Mary.
If she displayed character growth, well -- that'd be something entirely different. But throughout the story, she never quite grows up, in spite of her claims that she does. Her whole character revolves around her saying, "But what about me?" One of the side characters, a nurse called Bertie who quickly befriends Mary, is much more likable, relatable, and interesting. Although she displays similar prejudices, she's also openminded, and she's the one who really seems to care and fight for the girls from the very beginning. It's only around the 80-90% mark that Mary seems to show any development at all. This is my main issue with The Foundling. The story itself is fine, and the topic is both interesting and extremely disheartening, but Mary is simply not the kind of character you root for.
Moving onto the plotline, it's decently paced, and there are moments of real interest. Lillian, the girl who is falsely imprisoned (or is she?), is fascinating and lovable. At times, I felt the panic of the characters as they tried to make the right choices in harrowing situations. The descriptions of the women who are forced to live and work there are touching; I wish that we'd been given an insight into more of them. For example, there's a character called Elsie, a savant who plays the piano with astonishing beauty, who I would have loved to see even more of. I liked Leary's villain, Dr. Vogel. Like real-world "villains," she is complex, cultured on one hand, bigoted on the other; loving towards Mary, cruel towards those she thinks of as "lesser"; and in this case, Leary certainly succeeds in making a character who is both unlikable and interesting.
Most importantly, there's something missing from this tale that lends it a feeling of being half-told. It never seems to occur to Mary that even if these women and girls are, in fact, mentally disabled, they deserve love, care, and a world outside of the limited, frightening one they live in at Nettleton Village. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Mary's "aha!" moment of realizing that being mentally disabled does not make you "morally weak," "criminal," or deserving of being imprisoned from the moment you can bear children until the moment you no longer can, but it never comes. She has a few passages where she seems to be leading into this, but overall, the main focus of the story seems to be on the fact that Nettleton Village might be wrongfully imprisoning girls and women who are "of sound mind." That, certainly, is an issue in and of itself -- but what about those who are mentally disabled?
To conclude this already overly long review, I think there are some good, succinct points made here, but the overall story and characterization left me feeling disappointed. Those who are not aware of the history of eugenics in the United States will definitely find this a very valuable read, and I do recommend it if you are looking for more on the subject. However, it is slightly disjointed, and I just couldn't bring myself to be fully immersed when I had so many questions and doubts surrounding Mary's character, as well as the other issues I mentioned.
I hate to do this, but I must compare this to Take My Hand by Dolen Perkins-Valdez, which I reviewed here. This is another book about eugenics, forced sterilization, and reproductive violence (focused mostly on black women) that will open your mind, touch your soul, and has a main character who is struggling (and sometimes failing) to do the right thing. Unlike Mary, Civil, the heroine of Take My Hand, is someone also questioning the system and what she believes to be true, but she manages to be lovable, interesting, and a character that still sticks out in my mind.
Siren Queen by Nghi Vo
Luli Wei is determined to make a name for herself. In her world, monsters are real, and there's nowhere they're more popular than Hollywood. Growing up in Hungarian Hill, working in her family's laundry, Luli is enchanted as a child by cinema, with its starlets and the fame that follows them. When she's given the opportunity to work on sets, she takes it, but her ambition doesn't stop there. Luli refuses to take the demeaning roles of maids and "fainting flowers," but as for playing the monster, she realizes that perhaps it isn't so bad -- and it might suit her just fine.
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
fast-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
Thank you to NetGalley and Tor Books for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: violence, racism, xenophobia, misogyny, homophobia, sexual assault, sexual harassment, anti-Semitism.
Luli Wei is determined to make a name for herself. In her world, monsters are real, and there's nowhere they're more popular than Hollywood. Growing up in Hungarian Hill, working in her family's laundry, Luli is enchanted as a child by cinema, with its starlets and the fame that follows them. When she's given the opportunity to work on sets, she takes it, but her ambition doesn't stop there. Luli refuses to take the demeaning roles of maids and "fainting flowers," but as for playing the monster, she realizes that perhaps it isn't so bad -- and it might suit her just fine.
There's no one that can write quite like Nghi Vo. Every time I read one of her stories, I'm blown away by her attention to detail, her ability to make characters leap from the page, and the sheer beauty of her prose. When I picked up Siren Queen, I was certain that I'd love it, and I'm happy to say that as it turns out, I was right!
Once again, Vo is creating magic. From the first page, I was captivated by her gorgeous descriptions, and for me, it was instant love with Luli. She's allowed her monstrousness, an exploration of the racism that creates the infamous "Dragon Lady" stereotype, and here, Vo takes it back for Asian women with a beautiful vengeance. In spite of the boxes that they try to corner Luli into, she defies them all, rising up to become something far beyond the petty imaginations of her white costars, directors, and screenwriters. She faces obstacles that her white costars never have to face to begin with, and I think that her story of triumph, despite the odds, despite those who try their hardest to bring her down, will resonate beautifully with those still fighting these very same problems today.
Reading this book transports you into another world. I was so pleased to see that there are some remnants of the magic seen in The Chosen and the Beautiful here, and it always excites me to realize that in Vo's next book, we might see a little more of what lurks beneath the surface. While some people might find it a little frustrating, I personally love that Vo leaves some things unexplained, adding to the sensation both of a whole world just beyond our view, and the mystery that makes her stories so compelling in the first place.
At the heart of this story is Luli's relationship with her identity as a Chinese woman, a lesbian, and how those things change how she views the world and how the world views her. Her dynamics with the women she falls in love with were all equally interesting, and I particularly appreciated that there's something beautiful and otherworldly in her love for all of them. I would've loved to see a bit more of Luli's relationship with her sister, as well as Jane, and I'd be only too happy to read their stories should Vo decide to elaborate on their lives.
The ending took my breath away. There's no other way to put it. For a moment, it was as if everything stopped. Luli's legacy and impact, in the flesh, and in these difficult times, when we are discussing whether or not the overturning of Roe v. Wade may lead to the destruction of LGBT rights as well, it was something so moving that it nearly brought me to tears. Once again, Vo has done it: created something that lives beyond the page, something that will leave its readers full of emotion and remembering this book for a long, long time.
Highly, highly recommended. Stunning and compelling, timely, and a fantastic glimpse into the world of Pre-Code Hollywood.
Forbidden City by Vanessa Hua
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
medium-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
4.0
Thank you to NetGalley and Random House Ballantine for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death (including that of children), murder, violence, misogyny, rape, sexual assault, grooming, minor/adult relationship, torture, parental abuse.
It's 1965. China is on the edge of its Cultural Revolution, a plunge off a precipice that will lead to even darker depths than anyone can imagine. Mei Xiang is on the edge of revolution, too. She makes a decision that will not only lead her into Chairman Mao's inner circle, but will have repercussions that she could never even begin to imagine. Not quite sixteen, she is chosen as one of the many young girls to be in the "cultural troupe" that will dance not only with the most elite members of China's Red Party, but Mao himself. What Mei doesn't realize is that Mao is as quick to choose a girl as he is to discard her, and the competition is shockingly cruel. By chance, she becomes the girl that Mao takes on as his mistress and his protégée, but there's a steep learning curve as Mei goes from wanting to be a revolutionary hero to realizing just how deeply the darkness in Mao's party goes...
Prior to picking up this book, I had basic knowledge of Chairman Mao, the Cultural Revolution, and China's Communist party, but my knowledge of his personal life was definitely lacking. Through the eyes of the brave, independent Mei, we become privy to the workings of Mao's relationships and life, but I think what sets this book apart from others that deal with relationships between a famous (or infamous) man and a woman (or, as in this case, a girl) is that this is squarely Mei's story. While it does offer us incisive commentary on the man Mao is and the man he believes he is, our heroine drives the narrative and also fearlessly fights against the ever-constricting rules imposed upon her.
Although the relationship between Mao and Mei is portrayed as what it is -- a much, much older man, preying on a little girl -- it also does a fantastic job of conveying Mei's feelings to you without romanticizing the twisted "love" that Mao supposedly feels for her. It also impressed me that you see Mei as she grows into that awkward stage of somehow being both woman and child, growing up but still being young and vulnerable to the manipulation of adults. I loved that Hua expertly weaved in the repulsiveness of Mao and his predatory behavior to this girl, all while making it clear to us how she falls under his sinister spell.
I must also praise the side characters, because while they remain on the outer edges, they nonetheless impact Mei and the narrative. Secretary Sun has to be the first mentioned: in spite of the fact that this novel is told solely through first-person, he is complex, deep, and his emotions -- his darkness and his light -- are plain to see due to Hua's wonderful character crafting. The gradual build of his relationship with Mei felt authentic, and it was obvious to see why he was the one she sought out time and time again. While both Mei and Sun act as foils to Mao, I think it's also worth remembering the role he plays in Mei's story, and how the adults in her life continue to fail her, no matter how much they claim to like her or understand her.
Mei's main rival, Midnight Chang, didn't quite get a chance for the same depth (mostly since she spends the majority of the novel off-page), but it was so fascinating to see her play this character of the revolutionary heroine that Mei longs to be. I loved that there were moments where it was obvious that in another place, in another time, perhaps she and Mei would've become not enemies, but friends and allies. Mei's teacher, Mao's clever, imperious wife, and some of the other characters Mei encounters (however briefly) also leave lasting impressions.
I think that some people will find this story a little slow, perhaps even meandering, but for me, there's a strength in the way that Hua lingers over the smaller details of Mei's life with Mao, hidden away in the Lake Palaces or traveling with him to see where he was born. The portrait Hua paints of Mao's inner vulnerabilities and insecurities, Mei's political training, and the suffocating sensation of being trapped constantly with Mao in his paranoia is powerful, oftentimes uncomfortable. There were some moments where I thought things could've been trimmed or moved a bit more quickly, but overall, I think the impact of forcing us to sit with Mei as she goes through her mixed, conflicted feelings is painfully effective.
The pacing is not perfect, but I can't stress enough how fantastic this story is in its characters, plotlines, and the way it brings history to life.
Highly, highly recommended!
Queerly Beloved by Susie Dumond
Going into this, I expected it to be more on the romcom side of things, but what I ended up finding here was something quite different. Instead, this is more focused on Amy's life, her ups and downs, and in particular, her struggle in trying to both find out her authentic self and who exactly she wants to be in this world. There is a romance, with Charley, who meets Amy by chance at the bakery she ends up being fired from (no spoilers here: it's in the summary). Sadly, the romance isn't quite as dreamy or steamy as I'd hoped for; Charley lacks much character outside of being a whip-smart, butch engineer, and I think that she could've benefited from deeper development of her personality and, perhaps, some flaws to make her more interesting.
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
sad
tense
slow-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
3.0
Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: homophobia, misogyny, forced outing.
The only thing Amy Fariner loves more than baking is weddings. Working at a Christian bakery has forced Amy to become straight-passing "Amelia," and while she secretly dreams of being able to be her genuine self at work, she is afraid of what might happen should her coworkers or ultrareligious boss discover she's a lesbian. It's also 2013, and Amy is caught up in the conflict of loving weddings while being unable to marry once she finds the woman of her dreams. And it looks like she might've met that woman: Charley, an engineer who works in oil and gas, shows up at the bakery, and Amy is instantly smitten. When things do end up going wrong at Amy's baking job, she turns to the world of professional bridesmaids. But in order to make a life for herself -- one that she truly, really wants -- Amy has to decide: is it worth hiding herself in order to make others happy?
Going into this, I expected it to be more on the romcom side of things, but what I ended up finding here was something quite different. Instead, this is more focused on Amy's life, her ups and downs, and in particular, her struggle in trying to both find out her authentic self and who exactly she wants to be in this world. There is a romance, with Charley, who meets Amy by chance at the bakery she ends up being fired from (no spoilers here: it's in the summary). Sadly, the romance isn't quite as dreamy or steamy as I'd hoped for; Charley lacks much character outside of being a whip-smart, butch engineer, and I think that she could've benefited from deeper development of her personality and, perhaps, some flaws to make her more interesting.
The rest of the cast comes off as strangely stereotypical, especially Amy's two best friends, Damien and Joel. They're a couple, and in fact, it's hard to really tell them apart -- and they serve the role of "gay best friend" with a lack of heart that left me feeling a bit confused. It's always odd to find stereotypes like these in books about gay people written by gay people, but regardless, I wished that the two of them could have grown beyond their ill-fitting roles. I liked that Joel ends up challenging Amy and speaking up for himself, and I very much enjoyed the way that things turned out between the three of them and how their dynamics ended up developing, but I still felt as if there could've been so much more to them beyond going to pride with pink, sparkly capes, watching HGTV, and providing "sassy" remarks.
Speaking honestly, though, I actually ended up not minding that the centering of the story was more on Amy and her self-discovery, rather than the romantic aspects of her (slightly tumultuous) relationship with Charley. It was slightly refreshing to see how Amy needed time to work on herself and come to terms with some of the issues in her life before fully diving into the romantic dream of happily-ever-after with Charley. I also liked that Amy was, at first, reluctant to address her problems, something that strikes me as being authentic and also relatable. Then, when she finally did have the "aha!" moment of realizing where she'd gone wrong, and the things that perhaps she needed to work on fixing for herself and for those in her life, it was satisfying to go through the journey with her.
I do have a couple more nitpicks here, so I'll just go ahead and get them out of the way. These things mostly have to do with preference; I have no doubt that some of the issues that stopped me from fully loving this novel will pose no problem for other readers. Firstly, I think that this book takes on a little too much, and even with its 400 pages (which even seemed too long), it isn't able to fully or completely tackle all of the issues it wants to discuss. For example, there's a few meaningful conversations about what gay marriage equality means for the LGBT+ community, and how everyone in the community has different feelings towards it (whether or not it's another heteronormative trap, what it means for the future of equality rights, how it impacts things that straight people take for granted, like visitation rights at the hospital), but I'm not sure Dumond ever reaches any conclusions about it or gives these discussions the spotlight they really need. I think it's wonderful that she wanted to bring up all these topics, but I think it would've helped the book's pacing and tone if she'd cut some of it down.
Another problem I had was the (in my opinion) overusage of the term "queer." Sometimes the word was used when it would've been easier, and more poignant, to be specific: lesbian, gay, transgender, nonbinary, whatever it might've been. Although it's now a commonly used term and, for many, in no way offensive, it's a word that I think we should be use sparingly and with remembering how not so long ago, it was a slur, used to make LGBT+ people feel like outsiders, feel hated, afraid. Not everyone is comfortable with that term, and we'd do one another a favor if we thought of that before using it. It particularly made me cringe when characters used it in reference to older members of the LGBT+ community. I also thought it seemed a little strange and out-of-place when characters introduced themselves with their pronouns. I don't remember this being common in 2013; even now, people don't do it much in public spaces (LGBT or otherwise). We certainly should, and we should do our best to make others comfortable and use their pronouns of choice, but things like that made this book feel distinctly as if it were happening in 2022.
All in all, I think that, for me, this book was firmly average. Lots of people will probably enjoy it, and I think it's fantastic to see a self-discovery journey that doesn't focus entirely on romance, but some of the issues were too pressing for me to become totally immersed. Dumond's writing is simplistic, pleasant to read, but often told us what was happening instead of actually allowing us to experience it.
Recommended if you love weddings, discussions of religious homophobia and the ways we can use religion positively, and happy endings!