In the same niche as Camp Damascus, the conversion-therapy-as-horror genre. Similarities abound, even down to the senior class quarry jumps, which doeIn the same niche as Camp Damascus, the conversion-therapy-as-horror genre. Similarities abound, even down to the senior class quarry jumps, which doesn’t indicate any co-opting of plot points but simply how ubiquitous this experience is, the same script across rural America, where any deviation from the script means there will be Consequences. A key plot point involves a gender-swapped/gender-neutral production of Grease, which is both fun and thematically relevant. Chuck Tingle nails the horror bits more effectively, but Parker nails the family/friends emotional dynamics very well. I’m glad that both exist.
ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review....more
Cleric Chih accompanies the bridal party of Pham Nhung to the estate of her potential husband, a man with monstrous secrets. For the first two acts, tCleric Chih accompanies the bridal party of Pham Nhung to the estate of her potential husband, a man with monstrous secrets. For the first two acts, there are no stories-within-a-story, and no Almost Brilliant, in a way that indicates they’re connected—Chih keeps requesting to hear stories, but people refuse or prevaricate, until we miss the niexin as keenly as Chih does. Chih, however, falls helplessly into a crush on Pham Nhung, as do I, which makes the swift and brilliant third act twist all the more effective. One story is swapped for another, with a literal take on stories save lives. Dare I say this one ranks with Riverlands as my favorite entries in the series thus far?...more
We need more books by Palestinian and Arab authors. I intend to read more by Etaf Rum. But it pains me to say… I think this could have been a (powerfuWe need more books by Palestinian and Arab authors. I intend to read more by Etaf Rum. But it pains me to say… I think this could have been a (powerful) short story. The structure and even dialogue is very repetitive, in a way that I’m sure is meant to illustrate the cyclical and generational cycle of abuse, but instead means you could skim chapters and not miss anything. The dialogue is simultaneously wooden and histrionic, and the mystery of Deya’s parents is clear from the start. More complexity, a tighter edit, and this would shine....more
I had to wait until I was in a good headspace to handle this. Ruth, an autistic devout Christian on the cusp of adulthood, begins to realize everythinI had to wait until I was in a good headspace to handle this. Ruth, an autistic devout Christian on the cusp of adulthood, begins to realize everything in her life is not as it seems, not even herself. Cue the horror of religious trauma and conversion therapy camps, right at home with the traditional trappings of the horror genre. It gets genuinely creepy as hell as all hell is unleashed, quite literally in the case of demons run amok. (I could see where some readers would take issue that Chuck chose to make the demons real, and hell real, but that worked for me in the context of this book. Especially with the revelation of who the real monsters are, and that the demons are unwilling accomplices, ready to turn on their masters for what they’ve been forced to do.)
I wish I didn’t have such a long list of conversion therapy survival books, but this is a worthy addition. It’s the flavor of extreme and homophobic evangelicalism that I grew up in, with all the trauma that accompanies it. And of course it’s Chuck Tingle, so we get the happy ending. LOVE IS REAL....more
You could put trigger warnings on this book for child abuse, incest, and cannibalism(!!), and still the anguish of being forced to conform to society—You could put trigger warnings on this book for child abuse, incest, and cannibalism(!!), and still the anguish of being forced to conform to society—“The Factory”—at the expense of all well-being forms the core of the horror. Particularly how women are reduced to wombs like mechanical components. Speculative fiction? Magical realism? Straight-up psychological horror? Yes. It’s harrowing and weird as fuck, and I liked it immensely, but maybe I’m Not Like Other Girls too....more
After witnessing the accidental death of her frenemy Athena Liu, failed author June Hayward refashions herself as Juniper Song and steals Athena’s posAfter witnessing the accidental death of her frenemy Athena Liu, failed author June Hayward refashions herself as Juniper Song and steals Athena’s posthumous masterpiece to pass it off as her own. Cue white woman tears, as she’s victimized and vilified by the consequences of her own egregious actions. It’s compulsively readable, as dishy as a Buzzfeed scoop, a horror-thriller of The Discourse™ and the chronically online.
True to RF Kuang form, though, it repeatedly goes after the lowest hanging fruit in frustrating fashion, and, not unlike Babel, seemingly condemns the status quo while actually reinforcing it. (Do not drink a shot every time you read the word Yale.) There are times where there’s not enough framing to tell what is the author’s voice or the narrator’s, which is crucial in satire. Once she discovers the intersectionality of race and class, watch out. RFK will be a force to be reckoned with. Right now, she’s almost there, just missing an elephant in the room. ...more
If I had to comp this title, it’s like when I discovered Matt Dean, a talented writer self-publishing better litfic than 80% of the market, yet in a wIf I had to comp this title, it’s like when I discovered Matt Dean, a talented writer self-publishing better litfic than 80% of the market, yet in a way that would earn rejections from most if not all of the big 5 and their imprints, as it’s not easily marketable as one thing or another. I’m glad this one found an indie publisher, although in my dreams it’s one with enough in the budget (ha!) to bring the comic book chapters to life. Akin to Blackouts, it’s a collage of a novel, interspersed with letters and academic journals and emails and interviews, not to mention the entire comic book that Peter and Tai create as they go. Capturing that visually would make a compelling book.
But oh yes—the story. Peter, a social worker in 1990’s NYC, comes of age in his late 20’s, dealing with childhood abuse while navigating a relationship with his boyfriend Julian, who’s escaping family demons of his own, widowed by the loss of his first love to HIV. Collaborating with Tai (/Tyler), a kickass genderfluid teen, Peter starts to write his way back through his memories, exorcising the most painful parts of his past in comic book form. There’s a whole chorus of characters who all get a voice: an HIV-positive teacher who’s trying to adopt a child with his husband; a Christian bodybuilder/political bodyman who’s the “successful” product of conversion therapy; a model-turned-mystical-guru of the self-help set; Peter’s marvelous and plain-speaking half-sister Prue… and on and on. Steeped in nerd culture, and a celebration of queer culture in the midst of the AIDS apocalypse, there’s more joy and kink and friendship and healing than the heavier description of trauma would imply.
One thorny part is that various people on page ascribe Peter’s kinkiness to the childhood incest, much like homosexuality would have been ascribed to that a generation before. That’s pretty faithful to the characters and the time period, especially with the specter of AIDS and unsafe sex, but while in every other way I appreciated the 1990’s verisimilitude of it all—not 1990’s through the lens and vocabulary of 2024—I still yearned for a little glimpse of authorial pushback on that assumption. Thankfully though, it’s indicated near the end that it’s not really Peter “healing” from his kink so much as it is Julian meeting him halfway and embracing his own kinkiness, safely. There’s also a smidge of Zionism, which feels true to the Ashkenazi Jewish character(s) it comes from, but sticks out painfully with the current genocide in Palestine.
All in all, a complex book of messy characters that was worth the read. Well done, Jendi Reiter.
ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review....more
Sometimes you’re just in the mood for moody, queer af British novels with all the fraught gender politics and literary melodrama of the 1970’s. What cSometimes you’re just in the mood for moody, queer af British novels with all the fraught gender politics and literary melodrama of the 1970’s. What can I say! So odd and compelling, like a fever dream.
No regrets for picking up this pretty little McNally Edition either, which, apart from the banging cover, is a tactile pleasure to hold. It’s my favorite trim size, more tall than wide, with generous line-height and margins, but not so much that it pads out the page count and makes you feel cheated. Graphic design is my day job, but if I were a publisher, these are the specs I would choose. ...more
Our beloved cleric Chih returns home to the Singing Hills Abbey, only to find (spoiler alert) mammoths at the gates, an imperial delegation come to coOur beloved cleric Chih returns home to the Singing Hills Abbey, only to find (spoiler alert) mammoths at the gates, an imperial delegation come to collect one of their own. A lovely mediation on grief, change, and love, through a plot revealed as always in the layers and sediment of myth. Almost Brilliant gets a daughter, and an uncle, and a vast network of kin, and at long last we see more of the inner workings of the neixin (talking hoopoes who serve as the generational memory of the monastery). Nghi Vo continues to crush every single novella in this series, creating an ongoing rich tapestry. I’m so glad there’s going to be at least eight in total. (I’d try to bargain for twenty.)...more
I love mythology turned feminist, but something about this was so on the nose that it didn’t quite pull me in. I will revisit in a different mood to sI love mythology turned feminist, but something about this was so on the nose that it didn’t quite pull me in. I will revisit in a different mood to see if I feel differently, but alas, being an ARC, a review is due now. Solid three stars it is.
ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review....more
Lives up to the hype. Could not put it down. So many thoughts that will take me a while to sort out. The art is such a powerful component of the storyLives up to the hype. Could not put it down. So many thoughts that will take me a while to sort out. The art is such a powerful component of the story—experience the book in text form if at all possible....more
Too YA for me for right now, even with the intriguing worldbuilding. The middle-aged Amina was much more to my tastes. May try again later.Too YA for me for right now, even with the intriguing worldbuilding. The middle-aged Amina was much more to my tastes. May try again later....more
Right after Nghi Vo writes all the queer Jazz Age fanfic for me, she can write all the wuxia for me too. Right after Nghi Vo writes all the queer Jazz Age fanfic for me, she can write all the wuxia for me too. ...more
All the court politicking a girl could want! Plus it needs baaaaarely an edit to make Idaan the (anti-)hero, and I would follow her through four more All the court politicking a girl could want! Plus it needs baaaaarely an edit to make Idaan the (anti-)hero, and I would follow her through four more books of her own....more
When I grabbed the ARC of this, I figured I’d skim to get the gist on a subject I find interesting, guided by either a jaded skeptic or true believer.When I grabbed the ARC of this, I figured I’d skim to get the gist on a subject I find interesting, guided by either a jaded skeptic or true believer.
Instead, I got neither. Or both. Both, and so much more. I read it cover to cover, and while it’s ostensibly about the wild world of psychedelics and the medicinal application thereof, it’s really about trauma and healing and faith and abuse and the universal need for belonging. Londoño is by turn both the skeptic and believer, sometimes within the same page. A skepticism full of empathy; a belief full of nuance and doubt.
It struck me how much all these individual experiences of psychedelics reflect the individual experiences of religion. On one hand, you can have powerful transformation and deep healing; on the other, it’s a field rife with abusive and predatory behavior, full of quacks and craven capitalism, exploiting the most vulnerable. A tool that’s neutral in itself, but wielded for great good or great harm.
Londoño keeps himself on the page, an active participant in the story as he peels back the layers of damage in his own life. Everything from childhood trauma and violence (growing up in war-torn Colombia in the 80’s and 90’s; coming out as a gay man), to mental illness and depression (inherited and otherwise), to battlefield PTSD (a war correspondent on the ground in Baghdad during the height of the invasion).
In fact, he’s uniquely positioned to question the ethics of the “silver bullet” fix, such as the grotesque moral equation of DARPA funding research to “cure” PTSD and depression just so it can basically have soldiers immune to it, able to march off and wreak more destruction and trauma on the world. Is this really the goal we want? How can that ever bring true healing and hope?
Those are the best parts of the book, where he wrestles with the conundrums, refusing to fall prey to easy answers. That, and the slow path of healing, watching Londoño forgive and embrace his younger self. His compassion for the war vets, for the queer kids, for the abuse victims, for the weirdos, for the lost and seeking, finally has to also extend to himself. It’s not egocentric, nor does it pull focus from the journalism. Rather, it’s powerful to watch him choose to be vulnerable through the pain and the joy.
Because I don’t think the magic fix is ever going to be any one thing, be it psychedelics or religion or medication or therapy. What works is whatever makes you face your unmet needs, and meet them. Whatever brings you radical compassion and acceptance. That’s the recurring theme here, between the lines—whatever makes you stop running, whatever brings you connection, whatever blows the doors wide open, whatever bears witness to the pain, whatever makes you experience the transcendent kind of love.
ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review....more
Historical (fan)fiction of Katarina Kepler, Johannes Kepler’s mother, famously tried as a witch. It’s fantastic, the character work, the structure, thHistorical (fan)fiction of Katarina Kepler, Johannes Kepler’s mother, famously tried as a witch. It’s fantastic, the character work, the structure, the narrative voice(s), the exuberant black humor that becomes blacker and blacker as it follows the warp of history. An impressive example of what the genre can do, no boring litfic pretentiousness here.
I am astonished at all the expense and effort given to the useless work of books. Each party forbids the books of the other party. It’s a vanity. Hans tells me his books can be bought even in Rome, he says it proudly, and, sure, I see that. He also says the bookseller has to hide the books under the counter and offer them only to those who know to ask—the books are mistresses. The men brag about them. Another realm for snobbery. And recklessness. I suspect the only thing I would be interested in reading would be a history. But I’m told histories are hated, which is not surprising. People prefer to make it up themselves.
I could stare at the art all day, and the story is worthy of it. A provisional five stars once I get to read the last one hundred pages that weren’t iI could stare at the art all day, and the story is worthy of it. A provisional five stars once I get to read the last one hundred pages that weren’t included in the ARC. And I’m not even mad about that, that’s how good the first two hundred pages are.
ARC kindly provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review....more
Whoa. Masterful use of dialect and structure to deconstruct the traditional bounds of genre and narrative. The way the characters code-switch their waWhoa. Masterful use of dialect and structure to deconstruct the traditional bounds of genre and narrative. The way the characters code-switch their way through multiple registers and languages—well-known and invented—is reflected in the way the novella flips through genres like a catalog, exposing the expectations and limitations of each.
My own expectations were high due to this essay by the author on linguistics, dialect and race, but the reality impressed me even more.
Linguistically and mythologically it’s a marvel. ...more
I’m here all day long for T. Kingfisher’s aging, aching protagonists, with bad knees and big hearts and a well-honed sense of doom. The plot is a veryI’m here all day long for T. Kingfisher’s aging, aching protagonists, with bad knees and big hearts and a well-honed sense of doom. The plot is a very loose retelling of The Goose Girl, minus princesses and kings and plus a conniving, murderous, sorceress mother. Evangeline, aka Doom, is determined to marry herself and her trapped, obedient daughter to the highest bidders in proper Regency-esque fashion, plans thwarted when she encounters a squire’s spinster sister who sees her for exactly who she is. There’s a coterie of women to the rescue: the no-nonsense Hester, the ruthless Imogene, the enchanting Penelope, and eventually Doom’s daughter Cordelia herself.
It’s not rah-rah feminism so much as it is changing the terms for who we deem worthy of consideration, agency, and power in these stories. In T. Kingfisher fashion, that includes the animal world as well. I’d happily read a whole series of Hester and her geese and her friends (including Richard) living their best life and thwarting the monsters in whatever form they take. ...more
This is a mash-up of so many other stories I’ve read (and liked!) that it weirdly feels like I’ve read it a dozen times before—not even counting the wThis is a mash-up of so many other stories I’ve read (and liked!) that it weirdly feels like I’ve read it a dozen times before—not even counting the way the narrative repeats itself within 30 short pages. It’s satisfying, if not surprising, to know exactly how it would end. A poignant and beautifully-written tale.
Spear is still my current gold standard for Arthurian retellings, and appropriately enough, there’s a review from Alix Harrow about the sheer sensory joy of that gender-bent, linguistic feast—no wonder she wanted to try her own hand at it....more
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