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Content Warning: death (including that of a child), murder, violence, racism, slavery, misogynoir, torture, sexual assault, rape, mental, physical and verbal abuse, 

Based off the real life Mary Lumpkin, this story follows Pheby Brown, an enslaved woman who is promised freedom upon her eighteen birthday. When Pheby stands up to the so-called "lady of the house," however, it ends in disaster: she is sent to the notoriously horrifying Devil's Half Acre, a jail for the enslaved. In a desperate bid for safety and protection, Pheby will be forced into becoming the "mistress" of the brutal, frightening jail owner, and continue her fight for freedom.

Pheby Brown is a force to be reckoned with. Told from her first-person perspective, Yellow Wife is a heart-wrenching, powerful tale of one woman's fight against the brutal, horrifying slave system, and the sacrifice she makes to save not only her own life, but the lives of her children. This is the fourth book (totally by accident) I've read this year that tackles the terrifying, disgusting history of slavery, and like all of the others I picked up, this book neither shies away from its horrible legacy, nor exploits the suffering of these poor people trying only to survive.

What I enjoyed most about this book was, of course, its heroine, and the complex issues discussed here. After reading this, I took the time to do a bit of research into the woman who inspired Pheby's character. Much has been speculated about Mary Lumpkin's "affair" (a word used by others that softens what was a relationship of sexual slavery) with the proprietor of the jail -- was it coerced? An attempt by Mary to prevent her children from having a future like hers? There's a third option that people throw out: perhaps it was love. But just as Johnson makes clear, there is no such thing as a "relationship" between an enslaved person and their owner. Because Pheby (and by extension, her real-life counterpart, Mary) is enslaved, the choice is never, and can never, be hers.

Pheby is constantly forced to make decisions that are split-second, and have the potential to endanger not only her, but her children as well -- a reality that so many enslaved women had to live with. Would a certain interaction with a white person lead to punishment? Would her children be taken away from her? Should they make an attempt to escape North, or was it somehow better in this twisted world to remain where they were? I recommend this book to people, particularly other white people, who have little knowledge of what exactly slavery was like or constituted. As long as we remain ignorant about its horrors and its realities, white people will continue to misunderstand it and the fact that its ripples are still here with us today.

Another aspect that I must mention is how Johnson doesn't ignore that white women played a very large part in the agony and misery of the lives of the enslaved. As a white woman myself, I think it's incredibly important to recognize that part of our history, especially if we claim to be feminists or women who care about social justice. 

All of the characters come to life on the page, but a secondary character I must mention is Essex Henry, Pheby's first love who escapes to the North. He was interesting, charismatic and it was so easy to care for him and to smile at his interactions with Pheby. He's also inspired by a real-life man, Reverend Anthony Burns. Please do yourself a favor and look him up as well! 

Highly recommended. Beautiful, haunting, and amazingly vivid. 

Book Review: The Keeper of Night by Kylie Lee Baker

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Inkyard Press for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: racism, death, violence, gore, drowning, bullying.

Ren Scarborough is tired of living under the oppressive rule of the British Reapers. Although she is half Reaper herself, she is also half Japanese Shinigami, tormented by others due to her heritage. She collects souls for Death, like all Reapers, but secretly dreams of leaving London for Japan, where she will be accepted regardless of her lineage. When an incident of cruelty leads to Ren exposing her forbidden Shinigami powers, she has no choice but to flee -- taking her beloved half-brother Neven along with her. Arriving in Japan, Ren descends into the Japanese underworld of Yomi, to serve the Goddess of Death. The Goddess, however, has other plans for her, and demands that Ren prove herself by hunting and killing three deadly Yokai. But just how far is Ren willing to go to earn the respect she has gone without her entire life?

Requesting this was a no-brainer for me. As someone who has a fascination with Japanese folklore and Shintoism, I was so happy to be given the privilege of reading this early. Initially I was a bit worried, as it took me about 20% to fully get into this, and for the first few chapters there was a shocking amount of information about the world that Ren lives in. Of course it has to be explained, but I felt that there was too much at one time, leaving me slightly confused and overwhelmed. Once Ren gets to Japan, however, the story immediately picks up, and instantly became something that I could throw myself into fully.

Don't let that slow start fool you -- this book is bursting at the seams with a fascinating, in-depth exploration of Japanese spirits, Gods, and the perpetually dark underworld of Yomi. Baker's visualization of the afterlife, with its shadows and frightening specters and spirit-village, is particularly powerful. It was not only totally unique to any other book I've ever read, but also wonderfully exciting in its execution of Ren's character. If you're after a complex, morally gray female character, look no further.

Ren is allowed her rage, her hatred of those who terrorize and underestimate her, her desire for power and her fears that she might slowly be turning into a monster worse than any she's seen before. There were times where I was irritated with her, or frustrated, but not once did I find myself unable to understand her motivations or feelings. Constantly she asks herself: Am I one or the other? Both? Neither? How does one deal with always being half, and never being seen as a whole?

The side characters who help Ren along on her journey are interesting too; her brother, Neven, is sweet, a bit of a moral compass for Ren, although I did find myself thinking that he was prone to simplifying her struggles. Hiro, who Ren slowly begins to fall for, was wonderfully mysterious but thankfully a bit more complicated than the brooding bad boy trope. To be honest, there's so much I could talk about here! It feels like I could write pages on Ren and her story, but in an effort to keep this from running too long, I'll try to quickly sum it up.

I think the ending of this book is what really makes it stand out amongst others of its genre. It doesn't shy away from darkness, nor does it make an attempt to justify or excuse everything that Ren does (in spite of the fact that she remains interesting and likable throughout). There are some imperfections here, like the pacing, but in the end it doesn't take away from a story that will leave you desperately wishing for the sequel. 

Highly recommended! 

Book Review: The Glass Forest by Cynthia Swanson

 

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Content Warning: murder, violence, death, domestic abuse (primarily verbal and emotional), incest, references to sexual assault, racism, misogyny.

It's 1960. Angie Glass is only 21, and has the perfect life: a beautiful cottage close to family, a charming artist husband, Paul, and a sweet newborn baby. When Paul receives a call from his niece, Ruby, that her father is dead and her mother has run off, Paul knows he has to go and figure out what's going on. Angie, of course, wants to go too -- it's a perfect opportunity for her to not only support Paul in a time of need, but also get to know Ruby better. And, perhaps, discover some new things about her husband's family. Things she might not like.

It isn't every day that one stumbles across an exquisitely done slow-burn mystery. This is a novel I've run across several times, and always found intriguing, but never picked up. I decided that it was time to finally give it a chance, particularly since I adore historical mysteries and this one is set in an oft-ignored time period. Let me say this: I am so, so glad I did.

Told from three perspectives, each of them equally powerful, Swanson slowly begins to reveal a plethora of ever darker family secrets. It's an almost-contemporary Gothic, replete with a house full to the brim with sinister atmosphere, although this one isn't quite the crumbling Victorian mansion we're used to. Instead, it's ultramodern, with huge panes of glass staring out into the dark forest that surrounds it. I think the house is just as important to the story as its cast of characters, with its heavy tension and the way it tells Angie so much about its inhabitants. 

The three main characters -- Ruby, her mother Silja, and Angie -- were all fascinating in their own right, but it's Ruby who really pulls everything together. She's a force of nature, truly unforgettable in her quiet intelligence. One of the things that really pulled this together for me was that none of the twists in the plot felt out of the blue, but instead the result of Swanson slowly putting this puzzle together for us, piece by piece by piece.

The only reason I didn't give this novel the full five stars is simply because I think that sometimes it had a tendency to meander. While it's meant to be slow, and the last act in particular is wonderfully satisfying, there were moments where I thought that we would've benefitted from it all being a bit sped up.

In the end, though, this book is perfect for fans of Gothics, and it's one I highly recommend, especially if you like complex female characters. When people say a book is unputdownable, this is what they mean!

Book Review: The Voyage of Freydis by Tamara Goranson

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Harper Collins UK & One More Chapter for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: death, murder, violence, domestic abuse (physical, sexual, verbal and emotional), stillbirth, miscarriage, rape, sexual assault, racism, misogyny, animal death, gaslighting.

Freydis Eiriksdottir, sister of the famed Leif Erikson, has gone down in history as a traitor, thief and murderess. This story, however, is Freydis's -- told from her perspective, instead of by men who doubtlessly are biased against her due to her gender and the fact that she does not act as a woman "should." One of the first people to ever travel to North America, Freydis endures abuse at the hands of her husband, Thorvard, and fights for her freedom and the ability to choose her own life. 

This concept and premise immediately captured my attention. Viking history fascinates many of us, including myself; I found the idea of reading a book not about one of the famous men of this era, but one of its most stigmatized women, very exciting. The basic idea is that we're following Freydis on this great journey not only across the Atlantic Ocean, but also on a personal mission for freedom. As someone who loves a character-driven story, I thought this would turn out to be a perfect fit for me.

Unfortunately, though, that wasn't quite what happened. Even the very first pages are filled with details of the brutality Freydis suffers at her husband's hands, and while I am by no means a squeamish reader, the graphic quality of these scenes is hard to stomach. I could handle this fine, I thought, if this is a novel about surviving and overcoming -- and in a sense, well, yes, it is. But rather than Freydis ever actively taking the reins, it seems as if everything is just happening to and around her; she's almost more like a mannequin that has been inserted into these situations. 

It doesn't help that the writing -- first-person, present tense, not my favorite at the best of times -- feels slightly bland and unexpressive. She's telling us how she feels, rather than showing it through actions, telling us what's going on and all the details without any of the emotion behind it. Freydis suffers from being unlikable, so stubborn that, at times, she lashes out at people who are obviously trying to help or look after her. It doesn't make her seem strong, but rather naïve and sometimes downright unkind. 

Those issues aside, I do want to say that there are interesting parts in this book, particularly when either the Norse culture is being discussed, or the culture of the Beothuk, the Indigenous peoples that the Greenlanders encounter upon arriving in Vinland. There are quite a few instances of racism, so please be aware of that, but I think the relationship that eventually unfolds between Freydis and the Beothuk was beautiful and wonderfully sweet. 

All in all, this wasn't terrible by any means, just confused. What it could benefit from is perhaps some editing and a bit more focus. It felt slightly lost, more of a compilation of events in Freydis's life rather than a composed set of chapters with a purpose or goal. Many other problems I had with this book can't be discussed without spoiling too much. All I'll say is that while this book is dedicated to those who have suffered under the darkness of spousal abuse, I would not recommend this to people currently in abusive relationships or just out of them. It's just too depressing.

Book Review: Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

 

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Content Warning: death, violence, torture, homophobia, transphobia, references to parental abuse.

Yadriel wants to prove to his family that he's a brujo. Although he's been born into a family full of magic, his loved ones struggle to accept the fact that he's transgender, leaving him on the outside looking in. When one of his cousins, Miguel, is murdered, Yadriel attempts to summon his spirit -- and gets stuck with bad boy Julian Diaz instead. With time running out, can Yadriel help Julian figure out what happened to him, and show his family who he truly is in the process?

Before I delve into this review, I want to clarify a few things. First, I'm not a huge fan of YA -- it simply isn't my cup of tea. This last year I've opened myself up to it more, though, and found a few I enjoy. I thought that Cemetery Boys sounded not only fun, but like it would also tug on my heart strings, exactly what I look for in a book. So, what happened? Why only two stars?

Well, to begin with, let's discuss the good things here. I'm personally not transgender, but I thought that the representation (and it is written by a trans man, which is awesome!) was wonderful in that regard, and I also found the discussion of Latin culture very exciting and beautiful. I loved learning about Yadriel's family's celebration of Día de Muertos -- how marigolds are the traditional flower of the dead, the connections to Aztec, Mayan and Incan beliefs, and an exploration of Xibalba, the Mayan underworld. 

One of the biggest issues here, though, is the lack of any plot. While it's pitched as being a sort of fantasy-mystery, as well as a story about Yadriel trying to find acceptance in his family, most of these points are treated as nothing but dressing on the cake. The cake being romance. The most developed aspect of the book is the relationship between Yadriel and the love interest, Julian, and even that was not properly fleshed out. Instead of them naturally beginning to fall for one another, it seems forced, happening only within a matter of essentially three days. Julian is called a bad boy, but there's nothing textually that actually shows him being anything other than a kind, slightly short-tempered rebel. 

Yadriel, too, was similarly without depth. We were constantly being told of his character traits, rather than actually witnessing them occurring. He ends up being not only boring, but sometimes unsympathetic in the way he jumps to conclusions and judges other characters for pretty much anything and everything. Maritza is a shining light, the only one who managed to get a smile out of me and who comes across as authentically interesting. 

But before this already lengthy reviews becomes way, way too long, let's discuss what really ended up making me dislike this story: sexism. This book is, weirdly enough, rife with misogyny -- for example, brujos (the men of the family) get special magic knives, care for the cemetery and the spirits, and take active part in investigating the presumed death of Yadriel's cousin. What do the women do? They get rosaries or necklaces (basically any piece of jewelry) to do their magic with, have to stay home and take care of the family, cook, clean up after others, and while men are allowed to summon and free spirits, women's magic is limited to healing. Stereotypical, much?

While some of these probably have to do with traditions, and it is addressed in text that Yadriel's family is traditional, it left me confused and a little angry. This is already too long, so I'll end it here, but something that really summed up the sexism in this novel for me is when Yadriel basically says -- pretty much verbatim -- that his grandmother has nothing better to do than clean up after the boys' and organize their rooms. 

Come on.

Book Review: The Book of Night Women by Marlon James

 

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Content Warning: death, murder, violence, racism, slavery, misogynoir, torture,

Lilith is born on a sugar plantation, raised by a woman who is not her mother and a man who is not her father. Even as a child she radiates an energy, a power, that those around her don't quite understand. It isn't until Lilith does something unforgivable that she is taken in by Homer, an enslaved woman who is a part of the Night Women, a group of women who are plotting a slave revolt. Homer thinks Lilith is the key to the rebellion's success, but as Lilith grows older and starts to question everything around her, things become more and more complicated.

Written entirely in Jamaican Patois, this startling and unrelenting novel is both an homage to the many who suffered in slavery and a powerful tale of revenge. It's impossible not to root for Lilith, to care for her and be fearful for her and wonder what can possibly become of her as she struggles to keep her head up throughout the many indignities and atrocities of slavery. There are several other characters who also captured my heart and imagination, particularly Homer; I could've read an entire book written only about her. James's prose is striking in its unflinching depiction of life on the plantation, by turns arrestingly beautiful and horrifying.

I don't think I can say that I "enjoyed" this book. Was it shocking, compelling, and gorgeously written?  Yes. And while it's an easy five stars from me, this is not the type of book that you can pick up casually and read in any mindset. There were several moments where I would put the book aside, forced to take a breather. In my opinion, other white people should put this on their list. There is no "happy slave" and "kind master" narrative here. 

Lilith is fully fleshed-out, full of complexities, just like every other character that populated this book. James is one of the few male authors I've read that is able to capture women's feelings and thoughts with such accuracy and authenticity. In 2019 he published an African-inspired fantasy which I now can't wait to pick up. 

If you are interested in historical fiction that doesn't shy away from harsh realities, please purchase this book. Brutal, unforgiving, and outstanding, I cannot recommend it highly enough -- especially to those of us who seek a deeper understanding of racism, its history and its lasting impact upon our society today.

Book Review: The Death of Vivek Oji by Akwaeke Emezi

 

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Content Warning: homophobia (including slurs), transphobia, death, murder, incest.

In southeastern Nigeria, a woman hears something on her front porch. When she steps out, she finds a body wrapped in a colorful cloth. It's her child, Vivek. But as she begs Vivek's friends to tell her the truth about how her son really died, she discovers that the Vivek she knows is only a tiny portion of who he truly is.

Heart-wrenching in its portrayal of family secrets and how sometimes those who love us best know us the least, The Death of Vivek Oji stands out both as a story full of love and full of hatred. Although Vivek is perhaps the protagonist, bringing together all of the many people surrounding them, it is just as much about their lives and identities. There's Osita, Vivek's cousin and by turns best friend, enemy, brother, and so much more; Kavita and Chika, Vivek's parents; and several others who make an impact on Vivek's life and, subsequently, death.

It's probably made rather clear just by the summary, but this book is full of heavy topics. I consumed it very quickly, as it's not long, but had to take several breaks throughout my bursts of reading. It left me feeling slightly overwhelmed, wondering why it is that the world hates people who want nothing more than to express themselves freely. In amongst those passages of dark, heavy feelings, there's also brightness and joy and light. 

So, why only three and a half stars? The main issues I had with this was that Vivek felt almost a background character. The glimpses we have of them are wonderful and they often made me laugh or smile or sometimes even force back tears, but their actual character, their personality and feeling, was made surprisingly hard to connect with due to the method of storytelling. We'd get only the briefest moment inside their head, and then we would be back to looking at them through the lenses of all the other characters. The writing itself is beautiful, evocative, but I feel that we were a bit robbed of understanding Vivek through Vivek's eyes.

I think that the subject matter was perhaps a little too close to home for me at the moment. That could be one of the reasons I found it so difficult to stomach. But with all that being said, I would certainly recommend this to those interested. The ending is one of the most beautiful conclusions to a book I've ever read, and I think this could make many people feel not quite so alone. 

Book Review: Peony in Love by Lisa See

 

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Content Warning: suicide, eating disorders (specifically anorexia), misogyny, rape, murder. This book also contains a graphic scene of foot binding. 

During the tumultuous beginnings of the Qing Dynasty, Peony lives hidden away in her home, preparing for her upcoming marriage. The daughter of a wealthy scholar, like all women of her class, she is not allowed to leave the confines of their familial compound. When her father decides to celebrate her sixteenth birthday by putting on a performance of her favorite opera in their own front garden, none of them realize the devastating consequences this choice will have...

This novel explores an interesting phenomena amongst mostly upper-class girls in seventeenth-century China, what was at the time called "lovesickness." Although during the period it was trivialized as something that took place when girls became "overeducated," when they were allowed to read books and poetry and study romantic classics, it's now something that we know probably happened because these young women wanted to exert some form of control over their own lives. And, like many women still to this day, the one tool they had was choosing to let their own bodies waste away.

I've previously read two other books by See, both which I loved, and Peony in Love was no different for me. Her first-person writing is descriptive not only of the surroundings and historical details which make Peony's life so real, but also of the feelings which she's experiencing that are causing her so much conflict in her life. There's a clever concept at play here, which I actually wasn't aware of until I started reading (I won't spoil it here, as I think it's best to let it surprise you), and See pulls it off with great finesse.

Perhaps my favorite part of this book was the family dynamic. It was heartwarming to watch the development of Peony's relationship with her mother, where they both are able to come to each other as women and understand one another's trauma, the shared pains of womanhood, and how it shapes their lives. With all of the historical aspects here, I could probably write pages and pages about this book, but I'll try to stop here!

If you love historical fiction, do yourself a favor and pick up this beautiful book. Touching, riveting, full of a clear love for Chinese culture and an outstanding depiction of Chinese Buddhist afterlife, it wasn't difficult at all to give this one five stars.