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Thank you to NetGalley and Sourcebooks Fire for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: death, murder, violence/gore, homophobia, biphobia, forced outing (mentioned), racism, body horror, anxiety/panic attacks (mentioned).

Ulalume Academy is highly competitive, home to only the country's best of the best. Finch Chamberlin is the newest transfer student, musically-talented and hoping that perhaps she'll be able to start fresh at a new school. Months before school starts, however, Finch gets into a horrible accident -- one that takes the lives of both her parents. Afterwards, Finch isn't the same... and it isn't just PTSD and grief that's the problem. Something brought Finch back from death, deep beneath the mysterious waters of the Peninsula that Ulalume rests on. Something ancient, and hungry. While she's struggling to figure out what exactly happened, she meets Selena St. Clair, a privileged mean girl who has it out for Finch after an unfortunate incident. But when Selena and her friend group get involved with the being Finch awakened, it inadvertently brings Selena and Finch together -- and the rest of them onto a collision course they're desperately trying to escape. 

This beautiful debut, in spite of its rather dark subject matter and sometimes gory content, felt like getting a warm hug. It reminded me of all things I loved growing up, and in many ways, this book is like a dream for a sixteen-year-old version of myself. There's everything you could want: a sapphic romance, an elite boarding school, eldritch monsters, and a storyline that kept me eagerly reading. It's pitched as being a mixture of the Wilder Girls meets The Craft, but I'm not sure either of those comparisons really fit the tone of My Dearest Darkest. Tonally, it's a combination of humor and darkness, and to me, has a hint of lightness in it that keeps you filled with hope throughout the entirety of the novel.

Cottingham's writing style really brought it all together for me. Although it's simplistic, there are some truly beautiful similes peppered throughout, and I was so relieved to see that it was in third-person, past-tense. I'll admit that the young adult genre hasn't been my favorite these last few years, particularly because of the navel-gazing, painfully dry style that's taken over, and so for me, this was like a breath of fresh air. We also get both Finch's POV and Selena's as well, and I found that this helped me to stay engaged with the story (seeing as they are often going through similar, but different circumstances) and to really find myself connecting with both of them. 

Speaking of, I loved both Finch and Selena, and I also loved the way that their relationship played out. It never felt rushed, which I was concerned about -- they start out as enemies, and although I would say they end up becoming friends rather quickly, the rest of their romantic attraction develops in a way that feels totally and completely natural. There was something truly genuine about their interactions, and I particularly liked their discussions that centered around sexuality, emotions and love. This is a book that proudly allows its protagonist to say she is a lesbian, which is often treated as a dirty word, specifically in YA books. Selena, too, is pretty much entirely open about her bisexuality, and I can't emphasize enough how much I enjoyed the representation here!

The side characters did feel a bit more one-dimensional, but I think that probably has something to do with the focus and centering on Finch and Selena. I do wish that they had gotten a bit more character development, but I liked them all -- especially Risa, a Japanese transfer student who is a member of Selena's pretty, talented, bad bitch clique. She was rife with potential, and I would love to see a book dedicated entirely to her! My other favorites were Kyra (who I loved to hate) and Simon, who reminded me a bit of myself with his ADHD hyperfixation on cryptids. All in all, in spite of the fact that I felt they lacked a bit of history beyond their stories on the page, they helped to make the story feel more well-rounded and whole. The inclusivity in the story was wonderful, casual and excellently rendered.

As for the plot, it was engaging, quick, and in my opinion, nicely paced with the rest of the story. The horror aspects were chilling and fascinating, the atmosphere enough to send a shiver down my spine. All in all, it's both simplest and truest to just say that this novel captivated me from the very first page, and it quickly made its way onto my favorites list.

Very, very highly recommended, and I cannot wait to see what Cottingham will come up with next!

Book Review: The Moor's Account by Laila Lalami

 

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Content Warning: death, murder, violence, torture, colonization, rape, slavery, racism, anti-Indigenous racism & violence.

Mustafa grows up in a beautiful city in Morocco, chafing beneath the expectations of his father, who wishes for him to follow in his footsteps and become a notary. Mustafa, however, longs for a life as a merchant, drawn in by the beauty of the bazaar and its travelers and riches. When disaster strikes, forcing Mustafa to become his family's provider, he does the unthinkable and sells himself as a slave. Finding himself in Spain, he becomes a member of the fabled expedition underneath Pánfilo de Narváez, forced to accompany his aristocratic master. Little is known of Mustafa's -- now known under his slave name, Estebanico's -- life, but in this fictionalized biography, he is allowed to tell us his own story, and describe the treacherous journey he undertakes in the New World.

While most of us are familiar with the stories of Hernán Cortés, the Spanish explorer who brutally and bloodily colonized Mexico and its peoples, some of us (like myself) might be less familiar with the expedition that takes place in this novel. It truly happened, starting in 1527, when Narváez undertook a long journey to what was known then as La Florida, and from its very inception was plagued by countless problems. Although I've never read any books or stories set during this period, or during the so-called "conquering" of the New World, I feel now that others would likely pale in comparison -- while those tales often seek to glorify the violent, brutal men who committed terrible acts against the Indigenous populations, this one instead tells us not only the story of an enslaved man, but also his time spent amongst various tribes, learning their ways and customs. 

This book is brilliantly realized, and while the language used feels as if it's appropriate to the period it's supposed to have been written in, it never felt overly clunky -- it seemed nothing more than natural for Mustafa. The main character of this story is its heart and its mind, and indeed, he is the hero, the only one able to understand the plight of the Indigenous tribes as well as their intelligence, culture, and their very status as human. It makes sense, of course, since Mustafa himself is viewed as little more than Dorantes's property. The men who go along on the journey, many of them Spanish soldiers and noblemen, are portrayed both as human in their weaknesses and fears, but also the monsters that they are due to their treatment of the tribes. There is one man that Mustafa befriends, Castillo; he is young, impressionable, and one of the few who speaks up against Narváez as he leads them further and further into danger.

It's one part adventure, one part literary account, and both of these aspects are perfectly balanced. There were a few times when I felt that the story was, perhaps, dragging a bit, but it didn't take long for things to pick back up. By far the best parts are Mustafa's memories of his life back in Azemmur (now known mostly as Azemmour or Azammur) and the vivid descriptions of the many tribes he ends up staying with. His reminisces of Azemmur are beautiful, full of a richness that makes you feel as if you can truly smell the spices, see the people, speak with Mustafa's siblings and parents. The distinct blue door of Mustafa's house becomes a symbol of home, of the journey he has made, and his desire to return. 

There's something very beautiful about the entirety of the story, particularly its conclusion, and I found myself moved by many of the lessons that Mustafa both learns and imparts to the reader. Although it is not entirely factual, since -- like all stories -- Lalami takes liberties with the accounts and with exploring the little-known Mustafa, I highly recommend this in particular to people interested in the Spanish expeditions and "conquistadores." 

Beautiful, touching, and a must-read. 

Book Review: Peach Blossom Spring by Melissa Fu

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Little, Brown and Company for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: death (including that of children), murder, violence, rape, racism, arson, war.

Meilin is a young wife and mother in 1938. With the hopes of a happy future with her husband, Xiaowen, and son, Renshu, she allows herself to imagine the life they might live, once Xiaowen returns from fighting against the Japanese army. Forced to flee their home and antique shop, Meilin brings nothing with her but Renshu, her hope, and an exquisitely illustrated handscroll, full of stories and a symbolic object of what Meilin wants Renhu's future to be: beautiful, happy, and secure. Many years later, Renshu has refashioned himself as Henry, moved to America, gone to a prestigious college, and fallen in love. But though his daughter is desperate for a connection to his past and their shared heritage, Henry refuses to discuss China, his mother, or his family, too traumatized by the pains of his war-torn childhood, and still frightened by the frightening politics of the Nationalist KMT and the Communist PRC. Can Henry accept his past? And in the process, bring himself to share it with Lily?

There is no other way to describe this book except gorgeous. Each page, each chapter, feels crafted with a subtlety and expertise that is not easy to accomplish. I've been looking forward to getting around to this one, as I'd heard that it was beautiful, touching, and finely written, and I can happily say that that is the case. Full of heart, yearning, and a desire both to leave the past behind and hold onto the things that make us who we are, Peach Blossom Spring is a modern-day masterpiece, one that will leave you reflecting on the connections between family, humanity and history. 

All three of our main characters -- Meilin, Henry's brave, remarkable mother; Henry, the gentle son who becomes a distant father; and Lily, the daughter who seeks to understand where she came from -- are entirely authentic, brilliantly written with a genuineness that feels as if you are truly reading about figures who existed in real life. And, in many ways, I suppose they did -- it's easy to imagine a woman just like Meilin in the 1930s, fighting for her life and the lives of her children during the seemingly endless conflict with Japan; a man like Henry, who has a heavy heart when he remembers his home country, a place that, to him, was a combination both of unbelievable suffering and beauty; and Lily, who feels out-of-place both amongst Chinese and white people, who is searching for her identity. They are real people with real problems and issues, as well as their own hopes and aspirations. 

The focus on history's oral and artistic traditions gave us a fascinating exploration of many Chinese folktales, all of them with their own morals and lessons to be learned, and I loved that Meilin kept the beauty of China and Chinese history alive through telling Henry stories from the handscroll throughout the course of the novel. There's an emphasis on the love and connection of telling a story, handed down through generations, to our own loved ones; whether or not they've already heard it, in the same form or another, is beyond the point. It is Meilin's Peach Blossom Spring that keeps the novel constantly moving forward, that encourages our characters to look forward, and eventually, to also be able to reconcile with the horrors of not only our own personal histories, but also the histories that can plague an entire country or people.

I enjoyed all of the characters and their individualities, but I think that Meilin is the heart of the story, the beating pulse that centers everyone and brings them together. She was easily my favorite, with her strength, bravery, whip-sharp intelligence, and her ability to hope and to grow. She is flawed, human, allowed to make mistakes in the course of the narrative in spite of her intellect and savviness. Not only are the characters themselves relatable, but so are the complicated family dynamics. It's an understatement to describe this book as touching; it is heartening, moving, the kind of reading that both brings tears to your eyes and a smile to your face. 

Very, very highly recommended. Truly a literary masterpiece. It is books like these that make us remember why we read in the first place. 

Book Review: Under the Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta

 

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Content Warning: death, murder, violence, marital rape, religious homophobia, homophobic violence (leading to death), hate crimes, parental abuse, domestic abuse, miscarriage, misogyny.

Ijeoma is only eleven years old when the Nigerian Civil war breaks out. In the hopes of keeping her safe, her mother sends her away to live with a grammar school teacher and his wife, not realizing that they will treat her as little more than a house girl. Here, she meets another child, someone who will change the course of her life forever. Amina. They fall in love, despite the fact that Ijeoma is Igbo and Amina is Hausa... and they are both girls. When their love is discovered by others, Ijeoma is forced to come to terms with her sexuality, the homophobia surrounding her, and asks herself a question: is hiding yourself, no matter the cost, truly worth it -- even in a place where the penalty is jailtime or, even worse, death?

From the very first page, Okparanta submerges you into the fearful world that Ijeoma is living in. It's 1967, and the Nigerian Civil war is about to be in full-swing. Dealing with tragedy and grief even at this early age, Ijeoma grows up with a sort of ingrained sense of responsibility and practicality, and the knowledge that life is fleeting. Immediately, I was struck by Okparanta's ability to turn these events into something both heartening and beautiful. The imagery she is able to construct with such effortlessness is striking and brings you fully into the scene.

We spend most of the story embedded deeply within Ijeoma's, our heroine's, thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, novels of this type can make one feel as if you are constantly being pulled away from the action, but Okparanta masterfully weaves both action and thought together, making them one combined element, so that there is never a sense of boredom or of being stuck in the middle of someone's navel-gazing. It also helps that Ijeoma is a fascinating character, fully realized; it feels as if you are in the middle of conversation with her. Although she is tormented at every turn by homophobia, the religious kind in particular, the questions and doubts she has (both about her own sexuality and about religion's bogus terming of her as an "abomination") are always filled with a common-sense reasoning. It's refreshing to read a story about a young woman dealing with homophobia who becomes her own champion, and who dares to ask: just because this is supposedly the way of things, does that mean that other paths and lives do not exist? Are they not valid, merely because we have only been told one half or version of the story?

This is a book that, I think, is essential not only for LGBT+ Christian readers, but openminded Christian readers in general (I won't waste my time saying that homophobes should read this book; clearly, caring for others and love for their neighbor doesn't matter to them). Woven throughout the tale are Nigerian folktales as well as Biblical stories, and I thought that Okparanta's usage of Joseph's story was particularly wonderful and brought this novel full-circle. There's a mixture of Bible passages, of discussions of the reality and meaning of dreams, of what moral tales are meant to represent to us. Ijeoma's voice is clear, distinct, and always rings out with surety, even as she tells us about the darkest times of her life. 

Despite the clear, beautiful, flowing language, the beauty of Ijeoma's character and story, and the message behind this novel, I must also emphasize how hard it is to read. There were several times I was forced to take a break, and I did find myself in tears at some points. The vividness of Okparanta's writing brings the devastation of homophobia and hate crimes fully to life. But despite it all -- or, perhaps, because of it -- this story is nonetheless about love, hope, about how we choose to reveal ourselves to others and what they choose to do with that information. It's a masterpiece of lyrical writing, but also of human emotion, strength, and Okparanta's ability to bring all of those elements together.

Though this story takes place in Nigeria -- with some of the strictest, most severe punishments for same-gender love in the world -- it's not merely a commentary on the homophobia there, but worldwide. This is not an issue singular to Nigeria, nor to Africa as a whole. It isn't an issue singular to America, or to Asia, or to any one place in particular. Instead, this is a worldwide way for people to easily show their hatred and their fear of what is different from themselves. An easy way for people to give into their basest, lowest instincts, to not love thyself and thy neighbor, but instead to take part in acts of hatred and evil.

Highly, highly recommended, though again I must say that please keep the warnings above in mind, and take care of yourself.  

Book Review: Virtuoso by Yelena Moskovich

 

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Content Warning: death (including that of children), violence, child abuse, suicide, lesbophobia, racism, lesbophobic slurs, racist slurs, sexual assault, discussion of child sexual abuse, grooming of a minor, adult/minor "relationship." Please note that my review below does discuss some of these topics in detail.

Jana grew up in the Czech Republic, back when it was still a part of the Eastern Bloc. Her days were gray and dull, ruled over by the fears and problems of the adults around her, and the looming terror of Soviet Communism's repression. Then, something shocking: a new girl moves in, Zorka. Zorka is everything a girl's not supposed to be -- weird, loud, obnoxious and sometimes gross. They become best friends. In the present day, Jana works as a translator in stylish Paris. She hasn't seen Zorka in a decade. Aimée is a Parisian by birth, and she falls in love at sixteen with a shrewd theatre actress. They stay together, getting married, living a (relatively) happy life. After Aimée's wife dies, she ends up meeting Jana, and they fall into a relationship while they try to make sense of their pasts and futures...

The summary for this book sounded just like everything I love. A rumination on Communism and the Eastern Bloc, an insight into the lives of sapphic women from Eastern European countries, complicated relationships, the loss (and return?) of a first love... the first page was so promising, written with both dry wit and an undercurrent of glamor, captivating in its strangeness and beauty. As the title and inspiration behind this blog might suggest, I'm also enamored with the strange: I love oddness, things beyond what we might consider the norm, and a fearlessness when it comes to embracing the strange, sometimes repulsive parts of our lives. It seemed like this book would be a match made in heaven for me. Sadly, though, the longer I read, the more I realized that the strangeness here is purposeless, aimless, and perhaps simply odd for the sake of being odd.

There are many interwoven narratives at play here, but the three main characters and motivators of the story are the aforementioned Zorka, Jana, and Aimée. They're all inadvertently crossing back and forth between each other's circles, eventually meeting and twisting together into one another's lives. Are they likable? Perhaps, but in a strange way, despite the plethora of (oftentimes unnecessary) details about their personal lives, I often felt distant from their emotions and feelings. Jana in particular remains slightly blurry in my head, as if she is just not quite there; to me, she felt more of a springboard for the other character's thoughts, memories and personalities, without possessing much individuality herself. Aimée is a little more interesting in her own right, though I wish that we had gotten more a look into her psyche surrounding Dominique's issues and cruelty. It's Zorka that stands out the most, but if you've read this book, you'll understand why everyone else is overshadowed by her -- she is aggressive, odd, opinionated, and overall, easily the most fascinating person in the entire book.

The characters don't need to be likable for me to love a book, but they do have to be complex, unique, and feel genuine. I didn't really mind the very disjointed way that Moskovich tells this story, but I do feel that it sometimes kept me from being able to fully immerse myself into the various plotlines, relationships, and emotions. Something else I would feel remiss not to mention are the multiple relationships that involve a minor and an adult. Aimée meets her wife when she is sixteen and Dominique is 26; there's another small storyline that involves two women meeting in an online lesbian chatroom, which is perhaps meant to parallel Aimée and Dominique's relationship, and one of them is just a girl of fifteen, while her online "lover" (ugh) is a married woman in her 30s. I understand that in France, where Dominique and Aimée live, the age of consent is fifteen, but regardless, their dynamic always feels predatory and as if Dominique is constantly taking advantage of Aimée. Maybe that's the point, but not once is it ever challenged by anyone in this novel, and I did find it off-putting, especially since the entirety of Virtuoso contemplates womanhood, gender politics, and feminism. 

Now, though, let me expand on my main problem with this book: racism. It's a bit of a long story, so I'll keep it as short and sweet as I can, but at some point Zorka ends up befriending two black girls, Tiff and Deandra, while she's living in America, and the interactions are so stereotypical it left me totally boggled. Ironically enough, Tiff and Deandra challenge some of Zorka's clueless racism, and they all become quite close, but the text itself continues to perpetuate racist stereotypes nonetheless. There's also a scene of challenged racism, where a man in Zorka's friend group laments the "American need" for equality and diversity, but it felt oddly pointless and performative. 

Two other incidents I feel I must mention: there's a weird, disgusting, seemingly pointless, dreamlike-sequence where a character is molested by a group of orphans; and Jana, talking about herself as a child, says that she wanted to be "molestable" and spent her entire childhood wishing to be violated in some way. Absolutely baffling! I think that in the latter case, Moskovich is perhaps attempting to discuss the way that desirability influences women (even as children), but it was done in a way that felt gratuitous and borderline offensive. I think that anyone wanting to pick this book up should be informed of those two instances, as they are not only strange and rather repulsive, but I can only imagine how triggering it might be for someone reading it who might've gone through experiences of sexual abuse or molestation, particularly in their childhood or adolescence. 

Finally, I'll say why I decided to give this two stars instead of just one. It's all down to Moskovich's writing: it's beautiful, full of a dreaminess mixed painfully with the brutalities of life, and her ideas are so clever, but with such poor execution. I've wanted to read some of her other books -- her debut, The Natashas, and her newest book, A Door Behind A Door -- but I'm a bit conflicted now on whether it would be worth my time, personally speaking. I can't recommend this, mostly because of the issues I posited above, but I will tentatively say I might give it another go and try one of her other books, in the hopes that they are perhaps just as clever, but without the insensitivity that plagues this one. 

One more thing, before I end this review. Moskovich was born in the Ukraine, emigrating to the United States in 1991 with her family as Jewish refugees, and I want to honor her heritage here by listing some ways to help the Ukraine.

Links to assist the Ukraine: 

DirectRelief

Save the Children 

Kyiv Independent GoFundMe 

Global Giving 

Voices of Children 

Doctors Without Borders

International Rescue Committee 

Razom 

World Food Programme 

Charity Navigator 

British Red Cross 

Book Review: The Night Shift by Alex Finlay

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: death, murder, violence, sexual assault (off-page, of a minor), child abuse, domestic abuse.

New Year's Eve, 1999. Four high-school girls are working the night shift at a Blockbuster in Linden, New Jersey. Before the night is over, three of them are dead, leaving one of the girls as the sole survivor. Fifteen years later, Ella Monroe has become a therapist, hoping to help others who have suffered like she has. When tragedy strikes again, this time at a local ice cream store, everyone has one question: is it related to the murders in 1999? This event brings three characters together on a collision course: Ella, who is determined to help the only girl who didn't die, forcing her to confront her past; Chris Whitaker, the little brother of the teenage boy who everyone believes murdered the girls at Blockbuster, and who is now a public defender; and Agent Sarah Keller, who works for the FBI and is ready to finally close the case once and for all.

I've been back in the mystery mood this month, returning to the genre that has essentially been my favorite for the last few years. I'm also a huge fan of stories set in the 90s', and although I'm usually not the biggest fan of dual timelines (as usually one is far more interesting than the other), I thought that The Night Shift seemed like a great fit for my reading tastes.

Seemingly inspired by the Austin Yogurt Shop murders that took place in 1991, leaving four young girls brutally murdered, this book starts off with an interesting look into the night of the murders through the eyes of the Blockbuster's manager. Although the writing style was sparse -- and in third-person present-tense, my least favorite way to read a story -- I find that common in thrillers these days, so I wasn't too concerned. As the story progressed, however, and we came to the characters fifteen years later, I found myself a little put off by the run-of-the-mill, slightly cheesy storytelling.

None of the three main characters are particularly likable or interesting. Ella is (perhaps obviously) the one that captured my attention the most, seeing as she is the only survivor of the massacre that killed her friends and manager, but even she comes off slightly dull and underdeveloped. Agent Keller is pleasant, good-natured with a tough side, but I found her chapters teetered on the side of boring. The worst, for me, was Chris. He has good motivation and an interesting background, but he is not only boring, but sanctimonious. The efforts to make him relatable -- especially when it comes to his relationship with his "perfect" fiancée, Clare -- actually made me like him less.

The story itself is fine. Nothing remarkable, but not the worst thing I've ever read, either. It's pretty straightforward, though, and I did predict who the killer was within the first handful of chapters (but that might simply be because I read so many mysteries and thrillers!). The ending was a touch underwhelming, and there's some parts with the culprit that actually almost made me laugh because it seemed so preposterous and like the sort of thing you'd watch in a B-horror movie. 

I think this book could've benefitted from more scenes in the 90s'. For me, those were the best parts of the book, though sadly there were very few. I liked the unique idea here, but unfortunately the execution wasn't up to par. 

Not for me, but I think many people will enjoy this story!