Wake the Bones by Elizabeth Kilcoyne. 4/5
Wake the Bones is a solid example of rural horror, drawing on the constant living with life and death in the woods and fields. Protagonist Laurel and the three men who assist her on her quest to rid her land of evil are well-drawn, complex, and human characters. The horror elements offer original twists on classic tropes, and are excellently thought-out and described. There’s a lot about herb lore that doesn’t really come to fruition in the story–the gun introduced in the first act doesn’t go off, here–but even so, the story is clearly one of land and growth and the soil and the people who work it. Some readers might complain that it’s yet another example of horror focusing on white people, and that’s true, but it also puts the spotlight on the rural poor and on being queer in rural America, areas that often get short shrift in horror.
Moonlight and the Pearler’s Daughter by Lizzie Pook. 2/5
What could have been a compelling and fascinating book is just meh. Pook clearly has all of the ingredients for a great book here–family strife, tragedy, resilience, natural history, the history of colonization in Australia–but it never quite comes together to be interesting. The characters feel flat and simple, and the events of the novel are related in ways that keep them from contributing to a stronger narrative or character development.
Memphis by Tara M. Stringfellow. 1/5
I didn’t like this book. It’s ultimately about forgiveness and the bonds of family, but I have never held to the idea that blood is thicker than water, and nothing the author wrote helped change my mind on that. I can’t understand why a mother would so willingly put her children in danger of repeated rape after one had already been raped. The writing was fine, but not especially interesting or compelling, and I found myself alternately appalled at and bored by the book.
All the Horses of Iceland by Sarah Tolmie. 5/5
This fable-like tale is a beautiful piece of writing that walks the reader through times and especially places rarely written about, following the star that is the founding mare of Icelandic horses. Anyone interested in stories of travel and trade among the Norse, Khazars, and others; in horses, of course; and in luminous writing. The framing device of a Christian priest relating the story is a bit weak, but does add an interesting layer in terms of religion.
Queer Country by Shana Goldin-Perschbacher. 5/5
This is an excellent contribution to the academic literature on queerness and music. Goldin-Perschbacher interrogates how and why country music is labeled as it is, how queerness and otherness work in the context of queer music, and, especially, how queer women are driving country music to a progressive place. There’s a good bit of repetition, but since most of the material appeared in articles prior to being included in the book, that’s not really unexpected. Highly recommended.
Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century by Kim Fu. 4/5
I have seen the monster and it is us. In this new collection of stories by Kim Fu provides excellent examples of the horrors of womanhood, of aloneness, of the possible futures we face. These stories are some of the most disturbing and powerful I have read in a long time, and I want to both re-read them all and never read them again. This is a masterful collection that will be studied and read and passed from reader to reader, all of them seeking someone to share it with and to talk about it with.
Wild Witchcraft by Rebecca Beyer. 5/5
This is a well-explained and carefully-researched book about Traditional Witchcraft, the practice of using natural elements for medicine and magic. I appreciated Beyer’s introduction and autobiography in her interest in becoming and witch and how she went about it, fully aware of and also willing to engage with science and modern methodologies of lore and ethnography. The lists of plans for spellwork and medicine are thoughtful and superbly described and will be of use to many people. Having grown up in Appalachia, I was familiar with a few of the ideas and materials Beyer lists here, and it was wonderful to learn more and to encounter new plants and concepts for their use.
The Man Who Invented Motion Pictures by Paul Fischer. 1/5
This book is a hot mess. Has it been edited? It’s full of hyperbole and false drama and purple prose. The author’s research is frequently questionable and sometimes lacking altogether, and it’s presented in a way that gimmicky and tabloidesque.
Crazy in Poughkeepsie by Daniel Pinkwater; Aaron Renier illustrator. 4/5
A light-hearted romp filled with wonders including ghosts, gurus, and gold told in classic Pinkwater style, Crazy in Poughkeepsie is a fun read for young readers or kids and adults reading together. It’s full of zany details and stories, and characters who are the kind of people you want to know–probably. Pinkwater manages to skewer and humanize lofty ideas of what it means to be a mystic, what it means to be an outsider, and what it means to follow an adventure no matter where it might take you with humor and absurdity that we could all use right now.
Artemisia Gentileschi by Sheila Barker. 4/5
This is a well-written intro to the life and works of artist Artemisia Gentileschi, complete with scholarly text and excellent illustrations, The text isn’t so scholarly as to make it difficult to read, and it offers an overview of the history of criticism and biography on Gentileschi that will be helpful to anyone interested in her work.
Little Bird by Tiffany Meuret. 1/5
I’ve been trying to think about how I’d write this review, because this book is an odd one. Protagonist Josie is an alcoholic who has recently experienced the death of her dad and the end of her marriage. She has an antagonistic relationship with her mother, and no friends to speak of. Then one afternoon strange vines begin sprouting in her backyard, accompanied by a talking skeleton who claims to want to help Josie. Things get worse, and Josie finds that her best way out is to die and become a creature like the skeleton, capable of interacting with people, presumably those in need. Is the whole thing an alcohol-induced hallucination or is it real? Is suicide really the best option for Josie? Is there no way for her to fix her life? I found the novel frustratingly vague–the dialogue alone is a masterclass in people saying nothing–and disturbing. Perhaps that was the author’s intent.
Required Reading for the Disenfranchised Freshman by Kristen R. Lee. 3/5
A solid read about institutional racism and its effects in and on college education. The character creation and development are a little bit obvious and heavy-handed, but they get the point across about the experiences of Black students at a historically white university, in this case a fictitious Ivy League school. The author shows readers everyday microaggressions, blatant racism and racist acts, and what makes an institution toxic. This will be good for book clubs, especially parent-child clubs or reading programs, and for high school classes.
Neruda on the Park by Cleyvis Natera. 4/5
This book is so well-constructed and tightly-built that it gave me serious anxiety. I wanted to yell at Luz and take her mom to a doctor and ask the Tongues for help and sit down with coffee with Vladimir and tell him what was going on with his family. But all I could do was wait and keep reading and see how author Natera spun out the stories and threads to a satisfying end. You, too, might want to yell at Luz and roll your eyes so hard at her boyfriend that they get stuck in your head, because it’s the kind of book that rouses your emotions and makes you try to figure out why people make decisions you wouldn’t make and to think about how people just think about the world. Go read it. Go yell at Luz. But definitely read all the way to the end, where her mom does exactly what I would do–and what you might do.
Such Big Dreams by Reema Patel. 3/5
You know when you’re reading a book and a new character shows up and immediately you know there’s going to be trouble and a mess and it’ll get blamed on the protagonist? This is one of those books. I wanted Rakhi, a young woman living in the slums of Mumbai and working as a tea lady for an NGO, to find her own way up or out or to improve her own lot through her own actions, but it takes, instead, the betrayals and manipulations of two men and Rakhi’s erstwhile mentor/boss for her to find her place in the world. Her lack of decision-making is frustrating, and is even more so when you realized that she’s been trained her entire life to only take direction from other people, to her own detriment. Overall, a good read, and the ending, which is horrifying from the view of an anticapitalist like me, makes a tragic kind of sense, even as it’s presented as positive.
When We Were Birds by Ayanna Lloyd Banwo. 4/5
I really enjoyed this book, which is full of evaluating the taboos and bonds of religion and culture in order to survive, and to find happiness. The characters are complex, and as their individual strands begin to intertwine in the narrative, the author deftly reveals more and more about them that help the reader understand what has happened already in the novel and what is going on. The writing is beautiful and enticing. This would make for a great book club book.
Last Dance on the Starlight Pier by Sarah Bird. 3/5
This is a decent historical novel in which a young woman, desperate to escape the exploitation of her past, tries to reinvent herself in Galveston, Texas, in the early 1930s, only to find that she’s embroiled in mob family drama and scheming. The plot is good and the book’s pace is quick without sacrificing detail. The characters are mostly well-drawn and interesting, with compelling stories. A major part of the plot revolves around the use of lobotomies for “treating” queerness; this entire plot line made me feel ill but of course it is historical fact, and in the end, no one is violated in this way. Overall, a good read, and readers interested in the time period, location, crime families, or show business will find it entertaining.
The Lost Dreamer by Lizz Huerta. 4/5
This is a great story, told in a clever way, that is a compelling fantasy novel as well as a book that models consent, compassion, and ways of leading and providing guidance without violence. There’s a ton of body knowledge and characters who are very cognizant of their emotions and physiological responses to things. The much-needed non-Eurocentric world-building is strong, although many aspects of the world are slowly revealed and readers will need to be patient with things that remain unexplained at the beginning. The book clearly has a sequel coming; what’s here are two backstories conveying what readers will need to know before they read the next book in the series, which promises more action. The writing was sometimes clunky, with short sentences and awkward phrasing, perhaps because the author is writing for YA audiences and thinks this is necessary, but the imagery and ideas are more than enough to overcome reader reluctance that might come up because of the writing seeming too simple.
