Category: Book reviews

Unravel by Amelia Loken. 5/5
Reader, I devoured this one. A disabled heroine who saves the day? Magic sewing and other kinds of needlework? Shakespeare, fairy tale, and song references? Witch trial realities? Strong women leading armies? Hell yes! Protagonist Marguerite is the princess of Valonia, a nation in a thinly disguised early modern Europe. She’s deaf, left-handed, and can see and wield magic, which her evil uncle has forbidden on pain of death. When Evil Uncle poisons his father, the King, Marguerite plans and plots and is foiled an captured and tortured and plots and most of all sews to be a witness, to make repairs, to save herself and those she loves, and emerges not unscathed but utterly confident and able to lead her people.

Ashton Hall by Lauren Belfer. 4/5
This is a nice, solid, modern gothic novel complete with the trimmings: a body, a secret room, old letters, a dying relative with a secret…. plus some excellent additions: an autistic/neurodivergent child, a very good dog, a straight woman married to a man whom she’s just discovered is bi and sleeping with his best friend. While the marriage subplot is the weakest and could easily have been jettisoned, the rest is strong and enjoyable. It’s always handy to have a character who is or is almost a PhD so that you can include cool research things, like library ledgers from great houses in the 16th and 17th centuries and so on. I think book clubs will like this one for its array of discussion points, and it’s also a great vacation read.

Dark Circles by Caite Dolan-Leach. 3/5
I enjoyed this novel with an unreliable narrator and lots of little mysteries to solve, but I feel like it needed one more round of edits. The protagonist is well-developed and the plot moves along well, but a few of the characters are stock–Bart, for example, and Wyatt. I liked the diversity of the cast and the complicated layers Olivia deals with, and the ending has just the right touch of ambiguity.

Never Name the Dead by D. M. Rowell. 1/5
This was atrociously written, relying on some serious willing suspension of disbelief, cardboard characters, and the idea of the “magic” Native American. The dialogue was unrealistic, the plotting dull, and far too much of the story told, rather than unfolded through action, for readers.

One Foot in the Fade by Luke Arnold. 2/5
A new entry in Arnold’s Sunder City series, One Foot in the Fade has some clever moments, some very predictable plotting, and an overall feeling of the author not quite knowing how to deal with the fictional world he’s created. There’s magic and the mundane, and a lot of violence, and a mostly frustrating ending. Despite the occasional flashes of wit or references, these are too much of a fight for me to keep reading.

Escaping the Body by Chloe N. Clark. 5/5
This is an outstanding book of poetry. Moving, provocative, thoughtful, and compelling, the poems here move in and around the body and the world around bodies, helping readers envision things in new ways. The language and imagery is unique and well-honed, and I especially enjoyed the references to and ideas prompted by fairy tales and the gothic.

Divine Vintage by Sandra L. Young. 3/5
A sweet romance in which a modern-day couple puts the spirits of two long-dead lovers at ease, Divine Vintage will be a good choice for readers interested in history, fashion, and the supernatural. It’s not quite a cozy mystery with ghosts, but it comes close, with the victims of a long-ago murder showing their story to those who wear–or even touch–their clothes. There’s a Happily Ever After for everyone in the story.

The Foundling by Ann Leary. 2/5
This will probably be a best-seller and book club pick, but it was just meh to me. The villainous doctor is over the top, as a re a number of other characters. The sudden onset of a social conscious and easily flung-away bigotry arising from ignorance on the part of the protagonist was a little too much, but readers who are unaware of institutions such as the one at the center of this novel will probably be too horrified by that aspect of the book to notice. Readers should be aware that eugenics is still very much a thing in our world today, determining who gets medical care and who doesn’t, and how society treats disabled people.

Together We Burn by Isabel Ibañez. 3/5
I really liked a number of elements about this fantasy: it’s setting in a fictional Spain or similar place, the use of Spanish (although repeating every phrase in English to make sure readers understood it got a little tiresome by the end), and the characters. But it was easy to call out who the villain was in the first several pages, and equally as easy to see how the practice of dragon fighting would turn into dancing with dragons. But for audiences less well-versed in the tropes of the genre, it should be a fun book.

Throw Me to the Wolves by Lindy Ryan; Christopher Brooks. 3/5
Not a bad werewolf book, expanding on the lore with some fresh additions. The characters are pretty solidly constructed, although the differing focus on characters from a third-person viewpoint wasn’t always smooth. The setting is appropriately atmospheric, and overall the read was a good one.

Just Like Mother by Anne Heltzel. 3/5
Although often heavy-handed and too obvious to be considered nuanced or even unpredictable, this horror novel about forced motherhood, rape, and torture is still plenty disturbing.

Witch 13 by Patrick Delaney. 1/5
This was so poorly written–full of cliches and contradictions and lack of logical thought–that it was a chore to read. It really needed a strong and good editor to help the author organize their thoughts, write with clarity, avoid tired phrases and bad grammar, and create something worth reading.

The Daughter of Doctor Moreau by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. 5/5
This is an excellent reimagining of the classic Island of Doctor Moreau, a compassionate and brilliant version that I know I’ll be rereading and recommending to everyone I know. Moreno-Garcia is, as always, spot-on with her language and in creating her characters, positioning them in a historical period and place in a way that seems effortless and is yet packed with thoughtfulness and research. There are a few typos in the eARC I read–“sooth” for “soothe” occurs at least twice, and there is a “tale” where there should be a “tail” in one spot.

Classic Monsters Unleashed by Kim Newman. 3/5
This collection is a mixed bag of short stories taking on classic monsters from literature or movies–The Blob, Dracula, and others. Most are clever and fun to read, but there are a few that are slogs that could have been better. The organization of the stories is such that most of the really strong ones come first, leaving a weaker middle and end. The final story, but Joe Lansdale, is perhaps the most viscerally horrifying. The illustrations are superfluous and not particularly well-executed or interesting.

Woman of Light by Kali Fajardo-Anstine. 1/5
I was surprised to read the author’s bio at the end of this book, full of awards and accolades, because the book is just kind of meh. The characters lack depth and interiority and are often stereotypes (Diego the lover, sleeping with every woman he meets; David the shady Jewish lawyer; Mickey the Irish drunk). The protagonist, Luz, is like a damp rag–she’s passive and easily maneuvered by others, has no strong opinions, no interests, only her talent for reading tea leaves and then lying to people about them. The book is also riddled with typos, mostly of homophones (due for do, fair for fare) and a lot of creative or nonstandard usage whose meaning is not always clear: a “skimp dog” sticks with me.

Wise Gals by Nathalia Holt. 3/5
Wise Girls focuses on the careers of several women involved with the founding and early years of the CIA. It’s probably gonna sella lot of copies, and there’s no doubt that the women chronicled here deserve the attention. But the writing is clunky, full of awkward transitions and forced connections that make it a less-that-stellar read. I understand the author’s desire to show the interconnectedness of the women she covers, but a more linear or other structure would have served their stories better. I also look askance at the author’s decision to call the women by their first names while referring to men by their last names; this practice is sexist and most editors will call authors on it. Maybe Holt and her editor wanted the women to seem more familiar or human, but using an old-fashioned, male-centric practice undermines the feminist argument that the book offers.

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.

Petrograd by Philip Gelatt. 3/5
Petrograd is the story of the murder of Rasputin by Russian nobles. Told through sepia-toned graphics and a fast-paced series of dialogues and events, the book delves into rumors that the British SIS and its agent Oswald Rayner (here called Clearly and given a backstory that complicates his involvement) in the plot to kill the Tsarina’s advisor. The story is speculative, but well-told and bookended with statements about the facts of the murder by the author and by a historian of the period.

In a Garden Burning Gold by Rory Power. 1/5
I was really enjoying this–neurodiverse characters, characters doing smart things and learning from mistakes, interesting plots and conflicts, a terrific world (although the magic system is vague and makes little sense)–until the villain is revealed to be the character coded as autistic. Really? Oh yes, we autistics, we have no love for family or anyone, we don’t have the same emotions as others, we’re machine-like evildoers. It made me furious. I am still furious. I’d give it 0 stars if I could.

Sticker by Henry Hoke. 5/5
A short, wide-wheeling meditation on the material culture of queerness and queer childhood in particular, Sticker is full of surprises and thought-provoking ideas. I love the approach to a vast topic through the lens of something small, and Sticker succeeds brilliantly at it.

Circus of Wonders by Elizabeth Macneal. 4/5
The newest big entry into circus lit, Circus of Wonders delves into the social model of disability, the Victorian obsession with “freaks” and difference, and the relationship between the body and class in the period. Nell’s father sells her to a traveling circus, and while she rails against being betrayed, she soon finds a place, albeit an uneasy one, amid the other performers in the show. Made the star attraction after just a few weeks, Nell catapults the circus to fame as it sets up shop in London. But rivalries and jealousy and guilt and pride will bring down the entire enterprise, leaving Nell to consider how she really feels about her differences and abilities, and what she wants from life. This would be a good book club read, focusing on disability and bodily difference,

Memory Speaks by Julie Sedivy. 4/5
Memory Speaks is a combination memoir and research book that delves into the author’s own experiences of language learning and retention and recent scholarship in the area. The result is an intriguing blend of information and ideas that got me thinking about my own language learning and memory, and generated a lot of conversations on the topic. The blend of autobiographical information and case studies makes for an enjoyable read, and while I personally want to see more citations and information on some of the studies referenced, this book should be a good fit for anyone interested in how we learn languages, retain them, and lose them, and how community, activities, and age factor into those aspects of communication.

She Came from Mariupol by Natascha Wodin. 4/5
A detailed and personal account of the author’s search to learn more about her mother, an enigmatic figure whose traumatic experiences during WWII colored the rest of her life and the lives of her children. With only a scant bit of information, Wodin begins her quest online, connecting with other family history researchers, genealogists, survivors, and more. Each foray into the life of her mother’s immediate family reveals more heartbreak and suffering, but these are stories worth telling and remembering, including details of the Nazi’s forced work camps in which residents of Eastern Europe were sent to Germany to work; the looting and violence that occurred during the chaos of the Russian Revolution; and the coping mechanisms victims found–or couldn’t find–in the aftermath. At times the writing is a bit clunky, and sometimes the side-trips aren’t well integrated into the primary purpose of the book, but overall it is a testament to the need for historical records and documents and evidence, and to the author’s determination to learn about her family.

An Unlasting Home by Mai Al-Nakib. 2/5
The various plots and stories of this novel should be gripping: a young professor charged with blasphemy, her aunts’ and mother’s lives upended by politics and religious obligations. But the writing is stilted and old-fashioned, like a mannered novel from the 1950s. Much of it reads like journalism, like reporting, rather than a creative narrative, and the sentence structures rarely vary. Maybe it’s the alternating chapters in past tense and present tense, but the read was rocky. In addition to the mannered writing, the characters are stiff, their actions melodramatic or at the opposite end of that spectrum..

Three by Jennifer Jenkins. 2/5
While the subject matter–the plague–is timely, I’d recommend readers go to other books and even plays that imagine the inhabitants of Eyam in place of this book. Jenkins tries to create intrigue and drama in Three, but the characters and sense of place are flat and dull. Eyam’s history is fascinating, but this book doesn’t live up to the promise.

Dressed for Freedom by Einav Rabinovitch-Fox. 5/5
I really enjoyed this book on the history of fashion as a bellwether for feminist movements and progress. Rabinovitch-Fox has found some truly unique and interesting sources, and sews together the various forms and designs of women’s wear and activities. Chronologically arranged, the book begins in the 1890s, detailing how the media played a role in driving fashion; how, as women opened up new opportunities for themselves, fashion adapted and how designers even offered commentary on such opportunities; and how women used fashion for political purposes. From Gibson girls to Gloria Steinem, this book is both an entertaining read and a deftly constructed and thoroughly researched work of scholarship.