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Content Warning: violence, death (including that of a child), murder, torture, rape, slavery, misogyny, racism, sexual assault, sexual harassment.

In 19th-century Puerto Rico, Keera from Yorubaland is abducted by the Spanish, renamed Pola as she is forced to work on a plantation. Spiritual and kind, Pola has always been a dedicated follower of Yemayá, the Mother Goddess, but as she is subjected to hardship after hardship, she slowly begins to lose her faith. Forced to bear child after child in the hopes of raising more slaves, each one taken from her mercilessly, Pola begins to build up a shell around herself, refusing to let anyone in. When she tries to escape and is sold to another plantation, however, Pola's journey to healing begins unexpectedly. Discovering a community of fellow black women who help to support and uplift her, Pola tries to come to terms with the inhuman sadism she has witnessed and experienced, and tries once more to open up her heart and let others in.

This is a hard book to summarize, as it is so expansive, following so many different characters over so many years. Personally, I love stories like that -- it helps us to truly get a feeling for the entire ensemble and also allows us to grow and overcome with our heroine. In spite of the fact that this was easily one of my most anticipated novels of 2022, I was a little hesitant to pick it up, owing mostly to the subject matter. I think it's important, however, that as a white woman, I force myself to feel uncomfortable, to read these things and remember the legacy of slavery in all its horror. Regardless of the very disturbing nature of what takes place in these pages (and is a part of history, whether we are comfortable acknowledging it or not), there's also so much beauty here, and a journey that will shred your heart to pieces.

The cast of characters is large, which I greatly enjoyed, as I thought it helped us to understand all the different ways life on a plantation erodes any sense of self-worth. Before Pola's life at her new plantation, she worked the fields, and she keenly feels the difference between being one of her new patrona's seamstresses and the daily terror of cutting cane. But although she understands that there are certain "privileges" (if they can be called that) of her new position, we are never made to forget that there is no good or ethical slave-master, no "cushy" or "happy" life of an enslaved person. I loved the women she got a chance to bond with, most particularly Rufina and Tía Josefa, who care so deeply for Pola and help her on the way to rebuilding her life as best she can.

I must also mention Simón, the man who loves Pola from afar. I found his character, as well as his relationship with Pola, deeply touching and moving; he is the only man she has ever met who does not take from her what is not freely given. His admiration for her strength, for her ability to survive through such unbelievable barbarism, is beautiful; he respects her for who she is, and although she views herself as broken, damaged, no longer a whole but a piece, he sees only a woman who is powerful, who is strong, who is a warrior with the gentle heart of a mother.

There are only two reasons why this did not get a full five stars. At first, I struggled to become immersed in the writing style, and there were occasions throughout the book that where I still found myself unsure about it. We sometimes would be squarely in Pola's head throughout a chapter, and then in the middle of the scene, we would leap to what Rufina is thinking, or get an insight into Tía Josefa's thoughts. This head-hopping was a bit jolting, and sometimes, a little confusing. Some of the similes also didn't work for me, but that's not necessarily a big deal, and I think many people will probably enjoy them.

The second reason concerns the character of Celestina. She is the head of the housemaids, and characterized as being unrepentantly evil. She also has albinism. I'm not well-versed in this subject, so I won't go on at length, but people with albinism are often maligned as being "evil," "strange," or "different." It left a bad taste in my mouth.

In the end, though, I'm so, so glad I picked up this book, and I very much recommend it, especially to those who are not as familiar with the horrors of the Puerto Rican Atlantic Slave Trade. A beautiful, moving novel that deserves much praise.

Book Review: The First Actress by C.W. Gortner

 

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Content Warning: violence, death, rape, sexual harassment, anti-Semitism, misogyny, racism, animal death, animal cruelty, war.

Born to a courtesan who wants nothing to do with her, Sarah Bernhardt starts her early years running wild on a farm in Brittany. When her mother comes to take her back to Paris, Sarah gets her first taste of the hardships that will plague her for the rest of her life. Forced to choose between a life on the stage, which she disdains as a little better than her mother's career, and marrying a man who she neither knows nor loves, she gambles on the theater -- and finds, unexpectedly, that she loves it. Sarah is ready to take on the world, but the question is: is the world prepared for her?

Sarah Bernhardt is someone I have known of for a long time. I've always admired her ambition, her bravery, and above all, the way that she stood up for herself and others. Despite the fact that she had quite the reputation for a temper, it's obvious now that she was fighting constantly against the odds -- she was a Jewish woman in a profession that, at the time, was considered improper. I think that this novel captures her spirit, and gives her a fresh voice in a generation that is no longer familiar with her or her accomplishments.

Gortner's prose immediately caught me. It's vivid, rather lush, with a dry humor that suits Sarah perfectly. It's crushing to read the neglect and abuse she experiences at the hands of her mother, the relationship she craves with an absent father, and the many obstacles she's forced to overcome even as a young girl. Sarah is written with complexity, and it's the duality of her character that makes her come to life with such clarity. Gortner does an excellent job of making her likable without ever sacrificing her occasionally difficult personality.

I loved reading about Sarah's life behind-the-scenes, and I also longed to be there in the wings, watching her perform. Despite the fact that this is a book, Gortner makes you feel as if you are there, listening to her so-called "golden voice," watching her rend the hearts of her audience. It's moving to go through her life as she fights not only for her own future, but for the future of acting as we now know it. 

I did expect there to be a portion that detailed her first and only marriage, and so I was a bit surprised that Gortner skipped over it. At first, I was a bit confused as to why, when he so fastidiously covers the rest of her life, but by the end, I actually found that it made sense. This, ultimately, is Sarah's story, and I liked that after seeing her struggle for so long, it is her eventual triumph that Gortner focuses on.

Highly recommended!

Book Review: Death on Gokumon Island by Seishi Yokomizo

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Pushkin Vertigo for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: death, violence, murder, misogyny, alcoholism, rape apologism.

During the war, the famed private detective Kosuke Kindaichi finds himself befriending a young man from a strange, isolated island called Gokumon-to -- Hell's Gate. When this man, Chimata Kito, sadly dies on their repatriation ship, he makes Kosuke vow that he will go to Gokumon and protect the lives of his three young sisters. Although there are rumors of the island's strangeness, Kosuke is surprised by how insular the community is, relying primarily on Chimata's family for their livelihoods. Welcomed by the island's Buddhist priest, Ryonen, Kosuke quickly discovers that this mysterious place holds many secrets -- and no one is eager to let them go...

Upon my initial request for this book, I didn't realize that it was actually the second in a series, and I was a bit concerned about how this might impact my reading. I didn't have the chance to fit the first in before I read this one, but I'm happy to report that while it certainly would make you more familiar with the characters, it doesn't seem to be necessary at all to understand or enjoy this installment! 

Yokomizo is considered one of the finest Japanese mystery writers, one of many who thrived and, indeed, created Japan's Golden Age of detective fiction. This book is referred to as a "locked room mystery," but I think that's a bit misleading. This is heavily influenced by Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None, something I also saw in another revered Japanese classic, The Decagon House Murders. In spite of the fact that it's obviously inspired by Christie's work, this novel is decidedly its own, and its uniqueness is what made it work for me.

I'm afraid I have to admit that Yokomizo's famous detective, Kosuke, is not all that interesting (at least not in this book). He's a bit milquetoast, a kind of springboard for the brilliance of the criminals, but I was pleased that he's not so magnificently-minded that he never makes any mistakes. I warmed up to him over the course of the novel, but its true strength lies in the many side characters, full of eccentricities and described shrewdly and cleverly. The female characters in particular interested me, but they are, naturally, put on the backburner (and there's some rather aggravating misogyny to boot). This was written somewhere around 1947/1948, I believe, so it's not exactly surprising, but disappointing nonetheless. 

The mystery itself kept me engaged, and while the writing style is dry, it has that classic Japanese feel that lends itself to both introspection and readability. It's only because of some very convoluted explanations that this doesn't quite get the full four stars, but readers of classic mysteries will find a lot to be pleased with in this intriguing story. 

Recommended. It's entertaining and full of fascinating insights into Japanese culture, and I will definitely be looking into Yokomizo's other books! 

Book Review: The Final Strife by Saara El-Arifi

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Random House/Ballantine for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: violence, death (including that of a child), murder, torture, racism, colonization, child abuse (physical, mental and emotional), fatphobia, addiction.

Sylah has been raised as a weapon against the Empire since childhood. In the world that Sylah knows, the red-blooded -- called Embers -- rule with an iron fist, subjugating Dusters, with blue blood, and Ghostings, with clear, under the belief that they are superior to all others. Sylah's mission of rebellion and revolution has been thrown off-course, though, when she watched her family murdered before her eyes six years ago. Across the city, Anoor lives a life of luxury as the daughter of a high-ranking Ember, but not all is as it seems. When Sylah and Anoor have no choice but to join forces, they both start to realize that everything they think they know is not the whole truth, and with the help of Hassa, a whip-smart Ghosting spy, they are ready to strike down the old order and start the new. 

You may recall that this was on my list of most anticipated for 2022. It sounded like a fresh spin on some old, tired fantasy tropes, and what excited me the most was that the entire cast is primarily Black (and brown as well) and on the LGBTQ spectrum. The first few pages were interesting, but I had a sinking feeling that, perhaps, this was not going to be the book for me. Sadly, this turned out to be the case, although the last 30% was actually rather brilliant.

The amount of information we're given just over the first handful of chapters is simply staggering, and unfortunately, not done in a way that feels cohesive or natural. The first character we're introduced to is Sylah. She's one of the Stolen, a group of Ember children who were taken by the Sandstorm, a revolutionary group of Dusters who are hoping to seize control of the empire. By background alone she's interesting, but added into the mix is the fact that she's a drug addict who has stumbled off her "chosen one" path after tragedy. By all rights, Sylah should've been a fantastic character, but strangely enough, I actually found her a little irritating at first. She comes off as selfish (and not in the way that makes a character interesting, but in the way that makes them aggravating), and in spite of the flaws she's given, some aspects of her are almost too perfect. 

My misgivings started with Sylah's first chapters. Even though we're told time and time again that she is an Ember, and therefore has red blood, she competes in fighting matches while she's living in the Duster quarter. I was baffled -- what would happen if she bled? But don't worry, guys. Sylah is so amazing, so talented, that she never loses a match, and miraculously avoids ever bleeding, too. This irritated me. The entire concept of El-Arifi's world is hinged on the differences between blood. If it's so easy for Sylah to overcome these restrictions, then what's the point? This trend continues throughout the entirety of the novel, not only with Sylah, but also with Anoor. This left me feeling a bit confused, and also prevented me from fully immersing myself into the novel. These oversights seem, frankly, incredibly hard to overlook.

There are other things similar to this problem that plague this book. Sometimes, things are so convenient that the entire struggle to get to them seems totally irrelevant. I also must comment on the fact that this novel is pitched as sapphic enemies-to-lovers, and like some other readers, I was sorely disappointed by what the novel actually contained. For the majority of the book, Sylah is caught up in a romance with a man (I won't say who, though it is rather obvious as soon as he's introduced), and while this in and of itself is not a problem, the fact that this relationship is centered above the sapphic one basically for the first half of book is. It would've been more honest to describe this as a love triangle (which, for fairness' sake, I pretty much always dislike), and I think it would've helped my expectations here. The enemies-to-lovers aspect is also lacking. It's more like... rivals to lovers, if that. Sylah is a bit of a bully, weirdly enough, to this woman she supposedly loves so much, and not in the cute, ribbing type of way.

So, let's discuss Anoor's character. Everyone who encounters her pretty much makes a first comment on her weight, and I guess we're meant to be reminded of her loser status by the fact that she's fat. As someone who is plus-size/fat/whatever you want to call it, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at this exhausting, worn-out narrative. Anoor loses weight through training (kind of a long story), but it's okay, she still "keeps her curves." I'm not sure what the point of Anoor being fat/plus-size really was. Again, maybe to remind us that she's down-on-her-luck, and not as fit and cool as Sylah? The romance between the two of them is lackluster, and feels a bit shoehorned, especially in the latter half of the book. Somehow, they move both super slowly and incredibly quickly. 

I have to wrap this review up or it'll be miles long, but I do want to reiterate what I said earlier, that the last bits of this novel are actually pretty good. It's ending bits that shot this up to three stars, and because I definitely think I'll be picking up the second book in this trilogy, but with the hopes that it'll have gone through some much needed growth. I actually grew to like Sylah at the end, and I will be interested to see where her journey takes her. At the end of the day, this book suffered mostly from being way, way too long, and slightly bloated.

Not sure I'd recommend it, but again, I will be picking up the next installment, so... 

Book Review: The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

 

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Content Warning: violence, murder, death, torture, animal cruelty, animal death, forced institutionalization, alcoholism, outdated/offensive racial terms.

It's spring when Satan arrives in Moscow. Fascinated by the Soviet Union and its avowed atheism, his companions -- including a strange man wearing a cracked pince-nez and a huge, talking black cat -- take it upon themselves to inject a little black magic into the lives of Russians. Two of the Muscovites caught up in Satan's games include the beautiful Margarita, unhappily married, and her lover, known only as the Master, who has sadly ended up in a mental institution after attempting to publish a novel about Pontius Pilate. Brought together once more by the strange forces plaguing their city, Margarita and her literary Master will find themselves embroiled in questions that have haunted man since the dawn of time, and might end up finding an unexpected peace in the midst of it all, too. 

It's hard to categorize a novel as deep, layered, and complex as The Master and Margarita. I'm not new to Russian classics, but reading this one felt like its own unique experience, totally devoid of the familiarities I'm used to when I'm reading Tolstoy or Dostoevsky. While many of the questions posed here are similar to works by those authors (and many, many others), there's something totally and completely fresh about Bulgakov's satiric take on the existence of God and Jesus, the black history of Russia, and the nuances between good and evil.

This is a truly beautiful story, in all ways. Despite the fact that it's told with a sense of lovely black humor (that never fails to hit its mark), there's also a quietness and seriousness that help us to understand the gravity of what Bulgakov is trying to tell us. He addresses the crushing Soviet regime, which, in his own life, caused him so much pain, depression, and also tried to keep him from his creative pursuits (which, thankfully, he kept pursuing nonetheless). It's mirrored in the Master's narrative, but also in the many other narratives that populate this novel. All of Bulgakov's Soviet Muscovites operate under the same veil of fear and paranoia, as well as the secret hope that the future may be brighter.

Alongside the chapters that take place in 1930s Russia, there is also the story of Pontius Pilate, the passages taken from the Master's book as a sort of narrative foil to what's going on in Moscow. These elements, despite their seeming disparateness, come together flawlessly, and although I do think that the portions containing the story of Pilate, Yeshua and other Biblical figures are perhaps my favorite, I was never bored while reading the others. Bulgakov vividly brings to life Jerusalem, with lines so arresting I often paused just to drink them in. The characterizations are brilliant, filled with the idiosyncrasies of real people, bringing a balancing realism to this fantastical tale.

The question of good and evil is raised in this book, as, of course, it must be, when the novel is so influenced by religion and existentialism. I greatly enjoy Bulgakov's take on it, the idea that one cannot exist without the other, and also loses its meaning in the absence of its opposite. His views feel just as poignant as, for example, Dostoevsky's, but in my humble opinion, not quite as ham-fisted. 

A gorgeous, must-read classic, that will never stop being relevant. Highly recommended, especially to lovers of Russian literature who might not have gotten to his works yet. 

Book Review: Robbergirl by S.T. Gibson

 

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Content Warning: violence, death (including that of a child), homophobia (internalized and external), animal death, kidnapping, misogyny.

Raised in a den of thieves, Helvig has grown up strong and assertive, unafraid to take any prize that she desires. When she and her men try to rob a pale, strange girl on the road, Helvig is immediately drawn to her, not quite sure what exactly is it she finds so captivating. Her men suspect the girl, Gerda, of being a witch, and Helvig uses their assumption to bag herself a treasure like no other to take back home to her father, the Robber King. As Gerda and Helvig slowly befriend one another back at the Robber King's camp, Helvig learns that she's on a mission that, initially, she laughs off as a silly story. Gerda is travelling to Samiland, hoping to find the Snow Queen there, who she says stole her little brother years ago. But as Christmas draws nearer and the veil between the living and the dead grows thinner, Helvig begins to wonder if there might be some truth in Gerda's tale, and has to ask herself: to what lengths will she go for this girl who is slowly enchanting her?

When A Dowry of Blood came out, S.T. Gibson became quite the hot topic, and ever since then, I've been meaning to pick up one of her books. I decided to ease in with this rather short story based off Hans Christian Andersen's original fairytale. Gibson intrigues from the very first page, introducing us both to the brash, hotheaded Helvig and to her opposite, the cool, composed Gerda, immediately thrusting us into the middle of the story. Her beautiful prose, neither too overdone nor too dry, goes so perfectly with the relating of a fairytale that it seems almost too good to be true.

Our heroines are both interesting, girls who come from separate backgrounds but find a connection between them that sparks something they both try, at turns, to hide from and to bring into the light. Helvig is particularly lovable, a combination of ill-manners and a longing to be accepted that will make your heart ache. Gerda is lovely, just distant enough to make you wonder what it is that she's keeping to herself, and it's obvious why they feel drawn to one another. Gibson expands a little on the feeling of loneliness particular to girls who are without female companionship of any kind, and she does a fantastic job of making you understand why Helvig and Gerda become so quickly attached without cheapening the depth of their relationship whatsoever.

I was worried that because this story is on the short side, clocking in at only around 200 pages, there would perhaps be a dearth of character development, or the plot might suffer. Miraculously, Gibson achieves what few are able, and despite the brief length, Gerda and Helvig (as well as the side characters) all emerge as three-dimensional, rounded-out people. I also liked that Gibson does pause the action of Gerda's mission for a little, allowing us time to fall in love with our protagonists, but it resumes without us ever getting to the point of boredom.

It's truly the relationship between Gerda and Helvig that creates the centerpiece of this story. It's so beautifully written, with such real, deep feeling, that by the end of the tale, I found myself close to tears. This doesn't happen all that often, and I typically read books that are on the more emotional, darker side of things, so I suppose the reaction it got from me says something! The familial relationships are also expertly done, and speaking with frankness, there's really nothing about this gorgeous tale that I would change.

Highly recommended, especially for those of you who love fairytales and will appreciate the little details that Gibson includes to reference the original! 

Book Review: The Sniper's Kiss by Justine Saracen

 

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Content Warning: death, violence, murder, suicide, war, misogyny, sexual harassment.

It's 1944, and as the war rages on, Mia Kramer is fleeing her dark past. Ending up in Washington, with good recommendations to her name, she ends up working in the White House as a Russian interpreter and accountant for the Lend-Lease Program. On the other side of the world, Alexia Vasilievna Mazarova is fighting through her religious past, trying to decide if she should take the leap and join the army -- or if killing will damn her forever. By chance, Mia and Alexia meet, and there's an instant connection between them... but how can their two disparate worlds ever come together?

Although this is pitched as a historical lesbian romance, I'd venture to say that this is primarily a beautiful homage to Russian culture and the women who fought on Russia's fronts during WWII. Saracen's dedication to historical accuracy lends itself to a fascinating read, though not quite the one I expected -- I'd initially believed that the focus of this story would be on the romance between Mia and Alexia, but ended up finding out that the majority of the tale revolves around their personal lives at the White House and at the front as a sniper, respectively. 

If you're picking this up imagining it to be full of romance, sweet moments and kisses, then you'll have to adjust your expectations (like I did). On this point, I was slightly disappointed; I think that Alexia and Mia are both interesting characters, but their development together as a couple is slightly lackluster. We're told, rather than shown, the process of Alexia and Mia falling in love. Considering the fact that for most of this book, Mia and Alexia are apart, I was extremely excited once they were finally reunited, but even when they are together, the focus point is on practical details associated with the war rather than on the relationship between the two women. 

Saracen's admiration of Russian culture and its women warriors is obvious, but she doesn't shy away from criticizing the Soviet system that destroyed so many lives, and later on in the novel, this becomes a major element of Alexia's journey. The moments where Alexia is bonding with her fellow women on the front are beautiful, full of a real, touching depth that warms you to them all immediately. In a strange way, the underwhelming romance almost takes away from the otherwise dry, tense atmosphere that Saracen builds; this book could almost read as nonfiction because the prose is so straightforward and unvarnished. 

Overall, this is worth the read if you're a history buff like me, and I think if you have a prior interest in the female snipers of the Soviet Union, you'll enjoy the incredible detail Saracen describes during the training period and also during the actual fieldwork. If you're looking for a romance, this won't satisfy you, but I do think that many will enjoy the centering of lesbian lives without necessarily having to include romance! 

If you're interested in any of the things I mentioned above, give this a shot. And Happy Pride Month to all!