Category: Book reviews

Reclaim the Stars by Zoraida Cordova. 3/5
This is a bit of a mixed bag of SFF by Latine/Latinx writers. Some of the stories were solid, well-crafted with compelling characters and storylines, but quite a few were just middling. Check it out from your library, and dip in and out to find the stories that you like best.

The Other Family by Wendy Corsi Staub. 4/5
An excellent thriller with nice twists, good pacing, and strong character development. Some of the characters–the husband, the younger daughter–seemed incidental and unnecessary and the postmortem photo bit was pretty pointless, but in general this was a good read and will appeal to a lot of readers.

Damnation Spring by Ash Davidson. 5/5
This is going to make a great movie. Through careful use of language and gesture, author Davidson creates life in a small logging settlement in the 1970s, from the loggers’ terminology (there are a few too many references to “big pumpkins,” though) to the danger of the business to how the industry affected the families of employees. As the protagonists slowly come to understand how harmful the industry is, they must also grapple with everyday life in a poor and underserved community. The beginning felt slow to me, and I had almost just written off Rich as an asshole and the writing as repetitive before I pushed myself to continue and found that all of the characters’ development was being beautifully crafted within a dense network of relationships and histories. This isn’t just a great read: it could also serve as a model writers to study.

The Electricity of Every Living Thing by Katherine May. 1/5
In this memoir, the writer is diagnosed with autism, and in order to cope, decides to take on a challenging walking program. Many people who are diagnosed as adults are surprised (many are often relieved or feel vindicated), but I felt little sympathy for the author, who isn’t at all prepared for her various hiking trips, is prone to a lot of self-pity, and seems to think that her diagnosis means she doesn’t need to work at connecting with her partner or child. She’s confused and jumps to a lot of erroneous conclusions about autism, uses outdated terminology and ideas, and I fear that this book may do more harm in perpetuating autism stereotypes than it helps anyone else who is diagnosed as an adult.

The Year’s Best Science Fiction Vol. 2 by Jonathan Strahan. 5/5
Strahan is a reliable editor, and brings home another win with this collection. I love the mix of perspectives this volume brings, and I am always partial to Meg Eilison and Yoon Ha Lee. I’m ready for my panda-shaped support bot and am delighted by so many stories that could be labeled “hopepunk”–a term that’s gotten a drubbing recently for being Pollyannish, but is a new genre that so many readers have found solace and comfort in recently. I can’t wait to discuss these stories with friends; this will be a great book club book.

When Things Get Dark by Joyce Carol Oates; Karen Heuler; Elizabeth Hand; Benjamin Percy. 5/5
This is a delicious collection of horror stories deliberately evoking the work of Shirley Jackson. I love almost all of the tales herein, and the authors do a great job channeling Jackson’s blend of the domestic, the everyday, and the dark and awful. For the most part, the writing is solid and smart. I’d love to read this for a book club of readers knowledgable about Jackson’s work so that we can suss out all of the details that pay homage to her here.

Disability Visibility (Adapted for Young Adults) by Alice Wong. 4/5
An excellent collection of essays on disability and chronic illness, drawn from the full/”adult” version of this book. I don’t know why there needs to be a separate YA edition, but I suppose that the length and some of the essays are more suited to reading in classes or as families or with friends. I’m an advocate for disability issues, and would happily put this book into the hands of everyone I know, although the title is bizarre to me: visibility is working here in an ableist context.

The Hidden by Melanie Golding. 1/5
This book brings together folklore, the urban paranormal genre, and the hard-boiled cop story. It’s just too much, and the method of telling it, moving back and forth through time, doesn’t quite work here. There’s selkies, captured selkie skins, a child, a serial killer, identity theft, women who were raised as sisters despite the older one actually being the younger’s mother, oh, and the older one is the cop, who is the very stereotype of the policewoman who ruins her personal life because of her desire for work. The younger sister is a violinist and composer, but some of the music-related writing is rather dumbed down for readers, unnecessarily. The elements are all fine, mostly, but they way they’re combined here is just a big mess. the book doesn’t know what it wants to say or be.

The Best American Poetry 2021 by David Lehman. 3/5
I can’t say that any of the poems included in this collection are bad or unworthy, but I do wish there were more from smaller outlets and independent presses. There could be more representation, too, of historically marginalized writers. But the poems here are almost all excellent, if somewhat conservative in scope and approach. It’ll be fine for classes and reading groups, but I don’t feel like it really represents the best American poetry right now.

Once Ghosted, Twice Shy by Jessica Arden. 5/5
This is a delightful and poignant cozy mystery set in New Orleans and featuring a main character who has just learned to talk to ghosts. The mystery is a good one, taking the reader all through the city’s various neighborhoods and cemeteries (while keeping it very real, which is a nice touch for New Orleanians reading it); the characters are all interesting and well-fleshed out; there’s a lot of romance and potential romance; and there’s a talking hedgehog. Now, for some readers, ghosts + talking hedgehog might seem to go just past the limit of the supernatural cozy, but I loved it and I think lots of other readers do too. I’m looking forward to reading more in the series!

Field Guide to Invasive Species of Minnesota by Amelia Gorman. 5/5
This is a superb and elegant and funny and spooky book of poetry and I love it. Perfect for fans of Max Brooks, Cherie Priest, and T. Kingfisher, these poems confront climate change via mythology and imagination, offering beauty and nightmares both.

Beowulf by Andrew B. F. Carnabuci. 1/5
I’ve read a lot of translations of Beowulf, but I’ve never read one with such a pompous, condescending, and elitist introduction as this one. And the translation itself is dull and overly wordy, with an emphasis on finding more obscure words as part of the alliteration. Unless you’re a Beowulf completist, you can give this one a pass and go read Heaney or Hadley again.

The Ghost Tracks by Celso Hurtado. 2/5
I like the premise of this book–a young man dabbling with the paranormal in an effort to help his grandmother, But the story is a bit messy, and sometimes not easy to follow. Who’s dead? Who stabbed who? What’s happening now? I’d love to read it again after one more edit for temporal clarity and better character definition.

Joan Is Okay by Weike Wang. 4/5
I really enjoyed this novel about embracing the life you want and the life that makes you happy, and about how it’s not just possible but important to push back against social expectations that don’t fit. I hope readers will learn from this that not everyone wants to get married have kids, put careers on autopilot or scale them back. Joan has to fight this constantly and I understand how exhausting it is.

Medousa by Butchin Michael. 1/5
As someone who has also written a newish take on the legend of Medusa, I was eager to read this book. But it sorely needs editing–it’s overlong, the dialogue is an awkward mix of the colloquial and the “elevated,” and there’s just a ton of stuff that takes away from the narrative rather than adding to it.

Beyond the Veil by Mark Morris (Editor). 2/5
This collection is full of stories about bargains: is the thing I desire worth the life of a child? Can I make a deal with god? In this way, the collection lives up to the blurb that it’s very Shirley Jackson-esque. But many of the stories fail to thrill or horrify or even retain interest. Honestly, I’d say skip buying this one (get it from the library) and just go read Shirley Jackoson–or M. R. James–again.

Can You Sign My Tentacle? by Brandon O’Brien. 5/5
This is a delight and a trip and full of joy and angst and passion and fear and amazing, original language. I want everyone to read it and talk about the author’s descriptions and constructions and flair. An excellent read for anyone who enjoys poetry and SFF.

Oil and Dust by Jami Fairleigh. 5/5
I loved this subtle and (mostly) gentle novel about finding one’s place in the world. The characters are beautifully created with affection and are each layered and fascinating. Their quests and desires make them stand out in a world of service and community. and I am rooting for them to all find happiness. I can’t wait to read the next book in the series.

Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead. 4/5
Whitehead steps away from the supernatural here to follow the life of a man trying to live a lawful life but unable to resist the needs of family, friends, and others who seek to lure him into being the middle man for all sorts of exchanges. The plot seemed almost secondary, as the real story was about the city, and specifically about Harlem during several decades of the mid-20th century. Shops open and close, people come and go, the drugs change, the music unfurls through it all, and the city heat and chill envelop you as you read.

The Sleeping Beauties by Suzanne O’Sullivan. 3/5
This book, which examines the effects or mental trauma on the body, and calls for an end to the body-mind division, is provocative. Scientific research into somatic manifestations of trauma is still relatively new in Western mainstream medical culture. I appreciated the author’s consideration of indigenous and/or ethnic explanations and treatments of the episodes she describes. However, while a lot of the case studies presented here are argued well and with corroborating support, others are not. In the example of “Havana Syndrome,” for one, the author ignores the large amount of scholarship on music and sound as a weapon. This book has me thinking, and I’ll be interested to talk about it with other readers.

Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson. 3/5
A SFF thriller in which a young woman must make a deal with the spirit trying to possess her, figure out what is going on with all of the newly dead and possessed who are attacking the living, and clear up some conspiracies. The influences of Garth Nix, Tamsyn Muir, and Lois McMaster Bujold are very clear in Vespertine, but it’s a fun read and has plenty of original twists and details.

My review of Katherine R. Larson’s The Matter of Song in Early England, for Early Modern Women: An Interdisciplinary Journal, is now available via Humanities Commons CORE. A sneak peek:

The Safekeeper by Esther Archer Lakhani. 3/5
This is an ok SFF novel in which a young woman becomes a Chosen One, animals can talk, and aliens take vacations by inhabiting human bodies and experience Earth life. There are a lot of disparate elements, and things get a little overloaded with alien politics, secret missions, bureaucracy, dating, sentient ground, and more. But overall it’s a fun read and the trope of the girl who saves the day is down pretty well.

The Accomplice by Lisa Lutz. 1/5
Summary: incredibly boring characters may or may not be murderers, drink a lot, aren’t interested in anything but themselves. The characters are one-line descriptions without any underlying detail, interests, personality, or charisma. By the end, I didn’t care who did what or what happened because the characters are so lacking in, well, everything. The writing is awkward and the plot is poorly constructed, and the ending is in keeping with everything else–a big meh.

Even Greater Mistakes by Charlie Jane Anders. 4/5
This is a terrific collection of Anders’s stories. Some readers may be a bit lost in the pieces that follow up on the author’s novels, but the standalone stories are entertaining and thought-provoking. Readers get a board range of genres and approaches; there’s something for just about everyone.

A Net for Small Fishes by Lucy Jago. 3/5
This historical novel tells the story of the marriage of Frances Howard and Robert Devereaux, the Earl of Essex, their annulment, Howard’s relationship with Robert Carr, the Earl of Somerset, and Howard’s attempts to murder/murder of Thomas Overbury. It’s a complicated tale, but told here through the POV of Anne Turner, one of Howard’s waiting-women, it becomes detangled and more easily followed. The retelling, though, isn’t terribly engrossing: although there is good detail throughout, the large jumps in time often derail the plot, and the lack of follow-ups on significant events and information on important people and their numerous relationships and networks will send readers to Wikipedia for explanations.

Major Detours by Zachary Sergi. 3/5
This seems like a fun book, but in the reviewer ebook I read, none of the links worked for me to make selections, so I had a hard time figuring out exactly what was happening when in the stories.

Dark Stars by John F.D. Taff. 5/5
This is an outstanding collection of horror stories, ranging from body horror to psychological horror. With stories from Stephen Graham Jones, Priya Sharma, Usman T. Malik, Caroline Kepnes, and Alma Katsu, the collection has tales reminiscent of M. R. James and James Hynes as well as new takes on old lore, including vampires and wendigo. I loved the brilliance with which these stories have been crafted, never showing the reader too much until just the right moment, letting the reader understand what’s going on before a protagonist does, or making breakneck–almost literally–twists that surprise, delight, and horrify.

The Resting Place by Camilla Sten. 5/5
I liked Sten’s earlier book about a town that disappeared, so I was looking forward to reading this, and I was not disappointed. This is a great gothic tale, full of mysteries and murder and dark twists. I really enjoyed it and think it will be a hit with anyone who likes the gothic, Shirley Jackson’s work, Kate Mortons novels, and Scandinavian mysteries.

The Breath Between Waves by Charlotte Anne Hamilton. 5/5
A fun and sexy romp gets serious when two passengers on the Titanic are, well, on the Titanic. I know the Titanic gets exploited a lot, but in this case I found it a great setting for the romance between two women sailing in second class, each being pressured to find a husband when what they really want is–after some ambiguity and caution–each other. So: like Titanic stuff? Like romance? This is for you.

A Fine Yellow Dust by Laura Apol. 5/5
This is a devastating collection of poems, full of grace and pain and desperation. It chronicles Apol’s grief and celebrates her late daughter, and is as compelling as any memoir. It’s a difficult read, especially as more and more heart-breaking details emerge as the poems progress, but it’s a very valuable one.

Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson. 5/5
I love this fantastic novel about Caribbean immigrants to the UK and the US. The characters are rich and interesting, and they develop over the course of the book. There are family secrets and hard decisions to be made and struggles with identity and community, all of which make for a great read.

The Sisters Sweet by Elizabeth Weiss. 3/5
This book has a great premise: set during the waning years of vaudeville and the rise of the motion picture, it follows the life of a woman who once appeared on stage with her sister, where they pretended to be conjoined twins. But the primary story drags, and the side plots and flashbacks are overly long and not terribly illuminating. I’d love to see this go through a developmental edit before it’s published; as it is, there’s a lot that can be trimmed and tightened up.

Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr. 5/5
An intelligent, beautiful book. I know other major reviewers will be writing about this in superlatives; I enjoyed every moment of it and learned things in the process. As always, Doerr’s writing is evocative and poetic while still always moving the stories forward.

Hungry Hill by Eileen Patricia Curran. 1/5
A grieving woman moves to her family’s old neighborhood to take care of her dying aunt, makes new friends and finds a new lover, and begins a part of her life. I think this is meant to be heartwarming and feel-good, but the protagonist is really very unlikeable. She’s a snob–and admits it–whose snobbery is harmful to those around her; she objectifies everyone she sees, and is self-centered–the writing in which she looks at herself and assesses her body and clothes come across like bad writing by men in which they imagine women gazing at their perky breasts and so on. She takes on a “tough love” approach to her aunt, but it isn’t very loving at all, and I found myself wincing constantly over her treatment of her aunt. She’s a user, and doesn’t care if others know it, and so full of herself that she happily runs people’s lives–or tries to–and takes over for them, making decisions without their input or approval. I’d love to use this book as one to teach close reading on, because it offers so many examples of things that might seem ok if you’re not reading critically, but really come into focus as problematic if you’re paying attention.

The Voyage of Freydis by Tamara Goranson. 3/5
I enjoyed this novel, based on the brief accounts of a Freydis from the Eddas. Freydis is a complex and interesting character, and her world is richly created. The ending is a bit abrupt, and overall the novel could benefit from a little bit more editing and definitely a sensitivity read in relation to the indigenous characters and plot.

Alma Presses Play by Tina Cane. 1/5
I really like the new, broader inclusivity of fiction in verse, but this novel is not a good example of it. The verse clunks along in mostly short phrases, and feels heavy and drags. The author’s reasons for making tabs or breaks in the lines aren’t clear, and even reading it out loud offers no illumination on why she’s made the choices she has. It’s also a bit difficult to read, typeset as it is. Wearing my editorial hat, I’d say that short prose vignetters would work a lot better. The book pays homage to YA of the 1980s, and tries to follow the issues depicted in Judy Bloom’s Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret–notably parents of different religions and getting your period for the first time. But Alma and her friends aren’t very interesting, lacking depth and any compelling reason to follow their stories, and the potential avenues of exploring faith and the rituals society has imposed on “growing up” are largely ignored. There are lots of brief subplots: a girl who moves away and can’t be found; a boy who uses homophobic slurs; the class differences between some of the friends; one girl’s alcoholic parents. All of these could have enriched the book, but are sort of tossed off without having lasting meaning.

Chouette by Claire Oshetsky. 5/5
It’s…fantasy? It’s…a metaphor? It’s…a fever-dream? I don’t know exactly how to classify this thought-provoking novel about a woman who gives birth to an owl. Is she an unreliable narrator extraordinaire, or is she the only one in the story who can actually see clearly? This delves into disability, the ideals and pressures of motherhood, sexuality, the meaning of marriage and family, what it means to know someone intimately, medical intervention, and–depending on how you read it–mental illness. Chouette is full of complex layers and images and actions and words–a dazzling feast for the reader.

Queen’s Favorite Witch #1 by Benjamin Dickson. 5/5
This is an absolutely adorable book about a young witch who must learn about friendship, false friends, and how to be mentored as she vies for a role as Queen Elizabeth I’s official witch. (Yes, I know it totally ignores the historical persecution of witches during this time period, but whatever; it’s an alternate universe anyway) The characters are excellently written and drawn, and I’m looking forward to the next in the series.

Singing Like Germans by Kira Thurman. 5/5
This is a standout book. Thurman brings together musicology, history, critical race theory, and much more in this excellent account of how Black American musicians were treated in Germany and Austria, where many at first thought they had found a new and welcoming home away from the overt racism of the United States. But as Thurman documents, most Black performers in Germany found themselves treated as the Other nonetheless. As Nazism grew, singers like Marion Anderson realized that despite their followers and admirers, they were in grave danger. Thurman focuses on many notable musicians whose stories are important, even if we do not remember them as well as Anderson, and the narrative is clear and elegantly written. This should appeal to a large audience, not just academic readers, and I hope it will be picked up by book clubs and similar reading groups as one of the best works of non-fiction (and musicology) I have read in a very long time.

Our Violent Ends by Chloe Gong. 2/5
I liked the first book in this series/duology, but wasn’t so satisfied that it was being drawn out into a sequel. Now the sequel is here, and it feels unnecessary and also unsatisfying. Roma and Juliette are back, fighting and fighting for their respective family-led gangs. But the threats of a blackmailer in control of monsters never really seems dangerous, and the politics are convoluted and at times boring. The minor characters who have plot lines never come completely alive.

You’d Be Home Now by Kathleen Glasgow. 3/5
I enjoyed this novel about high school student Emory and her brother, who tries–and fails–to stay clean after rehab. Their terrible parents and their self-absorption rang true, as did Emory’s struggle to deal with survivor’s guilt, social ostracization, and an unexpected romance. Emory’s development –pushing back against her mother’s heartlessness and her father’s absenteeism–and her drive to save her brother makes for a good story, although the homelessness camp plot line feels forced. A decent read for book groups, particular parent-child groups.

The School for Good Mothers by Jessamine Chan. 4/5
An indictment of fascist social practices, the performance of parenthood, and the ways relationships manipulate peoples’ perceptions and self-understanding. Frida is a lousy mom, and she’s sent to a special facility with other parents, most women, all of whom have failed to perform motherhood in acceptable ways within their social strata/communities. The parents undergo “training” with sentient dolls, passive-aggressive counseling, and punishment for “offenses” and “failure” to get the dolls to behave as required in timed tests of their mothering abilities. There’s a heavy overlay of gender essentialism in the training and the men in a parallel program are clearly treated differently–usually better.

It’s a well-created world and system, but while Chan tries to make the mix of parents diverse, there are no obviously queer parents, just women who enter into romances with each other out of loneliness. Following the timeline of events is difficult at times–days are counted by “days in uniform” and holidays, but this becomes confusing; it’s easier when, partway through the book, Chen starts to mark time by months instead. It’s easy to feel sympathetic for some of the characters, but not the protagonist, which–for me-made the book more interesting and unique.

The Book of Magic by Alice Hoffman. 4/5
Like all of Hoffman’s books in this series, this is full of lovely language about magic and friends and family and love and despair and fear and depression and happiness. But boy is it white and wealthy. It’s a little too easy for the characters to just leave jobs and demands and hop on airplanes, and everyone wants to help them and trusts them. The villain is a bit cartoonish and his backstory is pretty thin and superficial. So enjoy the language and moving passages, but do give a thought of how simple it seems it is to be white and rich and a witch, even a cursed witch.

Personal Effects by Robert A. Jensen. 3/5
This is fascinating, and I really enjoyed the stories contained in the book. But it needs an enormous amount of better organization, with less repetition, and a little bit more sensitivity in the delivery. Organizing it by topic or by a linear timeline–wherein the author could refer to past and future events more coherently–would help readers considerably.

Sisters of Shadow by Katherine Livesey. 2/5
A nice, atmospheric queer romance (and a straight romance), but filled with monologuing, a lot of tired language and descriptions, and not a lot of actual character development. The Kindle edition has some serious formatting errors, with material shifted from one line to the middle of the line below and vice versa.

Lying with Lions by Annabel Fielding. 4/5
I really enjoyed this gothic novel about how manipulation–of things, of people–can save, and how it can doom. Agnes is an excellent anti-hero, and I found myself rooting for her as she climbs her way through the wealthy family that employs her. An archivist, she learns–and the audience learns–the power that documents have, even when they appear trivial on first glance. Agnes’s secret lover, Lady Helen, is a bit of a caricature at times, but her scheming too is fascinating to see, even as it leads to ruin. I also appreciated the structure of the book, which moves through time without losing steam, and which doesn’t conform to a typical intro-conflict-resolution template.