This book wrecked me in the best possible way. In Here After, Amy Lin writes about her husband’s death at the tragic age of 32, their relationship befThis book wrecked me in the best possible way. In Here After, Amy Lin writes about her husband’s death at the tragic age of 32, their relationship before and her journey into grief afterward. She captures scenes and emotions so well, writing about the moments she and Kurtis shared together throughout their relationship, to when she learned about his death, to the pain-ridden moments that comprised her existence following his passing. By page 29 I already felt sucker punched in the stomach and a couple of passages had already made me tear up. She writes in a short vignette style and her ability to render specific memories of their relationship, like little slices of conversation, tore my heart up. Some may describe her writing as choppy though I think it worked in this memoir and represented the consciousness of someone going through an awful, raw, real tragedy. She depicted Kurtis’s loving and larger-than-life personality so well; I felt like I got a real sense of him as a person.
One of my favorite elements of this memoir was how Lin asserted her right to be sad. With grief, sometimes the aftermath is just horrible and painful and morose. You don’t need to try to make it happy or put a positive spin on it. A tragedy can be a tragedy and it’s important to make space for those feelings.
I also appreciated Lin’s honesty throughout Here After. I liked her candid self-characterization as the more prickly or “petty” romantic partner compared to Kurtis. She writes about her own insecurities in their relationship and how she feared him leaving her, which I think takes guts to put on the page. She’s real about many parts of the grieving process, such as how after Kurtis’s death she spent time with one of his closest friends, and then this friend ghosted her with no explanation.
In sum, I absolutely loved this. Reading Here After, I felt immersed in Lin’s emotional landscape while also feeling compassion for the tragedies and losses I’ve experienced in my own life. Great representation of an Asian couple though of course it's so freaking tragic. A stunner of a debut....more
Oh wow, I loved this book. My Last Innocent Year takes place in the winter of 1998 and follows Isabel Rosen, a senior at the prestigious, wea4.5 stars
Oh wow, I loved this book. My Last Innocent Year takes place in the winter of 1998 and follows Isabel Rosen, a senior at the prestigious, wealthy, and elite Wilder College located in New Hampshire. Isabel comes from a working-class Jewish family that owns a Lower East Side appetizing store. Her senior year starts out tumultuously when Isabel is sexually assaulted by Zev, one of the only other Jewish students on campus. The emotional upheaval in Isabel’s life escalates when she meets R.H. Connelly, a once-famous poet and non-tenure-track professor who’s teaching Isabel’s competitive writing seminar this semester. Their affair sets the shaky foundation for a series of events that transcends Isabel’s individual life and speaks to the broader landscape of gender and power of that era – and I’d venture to say, our current era as well.
I first want to applaud the writing in this book. Daisy Alpert Florin’s prose was so, so good, and so readable. I feel like she captured the atmosphere of a wealthy liberal arts college so well, as well as that period in your early 20’s where everything feels so intense and important. I found myself immersed in Isabel’s perspective in a way I haven’t felt since I read Ghosts by Dolly Alderton in February (though the two books are very different.) I was enraptured; I stayed up last night finishing the book and only got three hours of quality sleep, though it was worth it (the sleep thing may have also had to do with me drinking a Sprite right before going to bed but, whatever.) The scenes, the dialogue, Isabel’s internal reflection and the retrospective narration – I loved it.
I also appreciated the subtle yet prominent commentary about men’s mistreatment of women and the (white) feminism of the late 90’s. I thought Florin captured Isabel’s initial reactions and timidity around men so well, even when we as readers may be screaming and sighing in disdain as we witness what unfolds. Thanks to Florin’s high quality prose, the messages didn’t come across in a heavy-handed or distracting way. I also liked how Florin captured the shades of grey in certain relationships and situations, though of course not in a way that condones sexual assault or patriarchal violence. There were some elements related to female friendship that I liked and wished could have been more developed, but I didn’t feel annoyed about this enough to rate this book lower.
Finally, I loved Isabel’s growth arc. I appreciated the subtleness of it, how we see her develop some confidence though not in a particularly easy or linear fashion. This style of characterization felt keenly realistic to me, like how many of us learn about ourselves little by little as life unfolds, in a journey that doesn’t stop.
I’m rounding this one up to five stars because it’s one of the best books I’ve read this year. I also liked the very implicit, maybe-not-even-there-but-I-read-it-as critique of Zionism/those who support it. Ugh, I want more people to read this book so I can discuss it with folks, especially Isabel’s relationship with Connelly which was wild (also he turned out to be such a… well… I’ll let you read it and draw your own conclusion.) I’m hoping for more books of this quality in 2024!...more
Wow, what an absolute stunner of a novel that could not be more relevant to our times. Evil Eye follows Yara, a Palestinian American woman who grew upWow, what an absolute stunner of a novel that could not be more relevant to our times. Evil Eye follows Yara, a Palestinian American woman who grew up in a conservative and emotionally tumultuous family in Brooklyn, New York. Flash forward and she’s working at a local university teaching art, while at the same time raising her two school-aged daughters and doing the majority of the household chores while her husband focuses on his job. Yara is discontent with the makeup of her life, however, it’s not until she responds to a racist comment made by one of her coworkers that her emotions of disappointment and despair start to fester to a boiling point. Yara begins seeing a therapist and the difficult journey of unpacking her memories that are so dreadfully shaking her to her core.
I loved this book. Loved it. First, Etaf Rum’s writing is immaculate. Not flashy, and so compulsively readable and so clear and concise. The prose didn’t get in the way of the story and in fact conveyed Yara’s emotional state with immense clarity and heart – her post-traumatic stress disorder, her depression and anxiety, and all the intergenerational and present-day racism and sexism that contributed to her mental health. I flew through about 200 pages of this novel last night because I felt so invested in Yara, and Rum’s writing, similar to her debut A Woman is No Man, was enthralling in its simple effectiveness.
The depiction of mental health in this novel got me floored. I was shaking, and by the end I was in near tears too! The way Rum described intergenerational trauma and how Yara’s mother was both a victim of and perpetrator of abuse, whew I was emotional. And Yara’s long, arduous journey of learning how to stop blaming herself for other people’s mistreatment of her, of opening up to her friend Silas and her therapist(s), and of starting to actually sit with the physical sensations of her body and self-regulate all made me both devastated and proud of her. Even writing this review makes tears come to my eyes because as a PTSD survivor Yara’s fight for her life is relatable to me, though of course we come from different backgrounds even though we share immigrant parents displaced by war.
All in all, one of my top books of this year and that I’ve read in my life. Rum does such a fantastic job of portraying the micro and macroaggression Yara experiences, as well as her use of journaling and coming into her own voice to heal. Yara’s friendship with Silas and how friendship acts as a conduit for Yara’s healing, increased self-compassion, and learning to open up to other people had me near tears. Also, the portrayals of therapy were excellent, top-notch, so thoughtfully written without sacrificing either the momentum of the plot or what therapy actually looks like. Etaf Rum, you have my whole heart!
Also, this book came out in March of this year (2023), and unfortunately is so relevant. In the novel Yara’s grandparents were displaced from Palestine by Israel’s colonial oppression, which is literally what is happening right now. Here are some actions you can take to advocate for a ceasefire. While it’s already way too late for thousands of people, we need to take action to *prevent* intergenerational trauma, not just provide care for people after the trauma happens. You can also read The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine by Jewish historian Ilan Pappe if you want to educate yourself on the matter. I’m appreciative of Rum for speaking out about this on her café’s Instagram. FYI, if you leave an oppressive remark about my pro-Palestine, anti-genocide stance in the comments, that’s whatever, I probably just won’t reply. Anyway, this book was spectacular and I don’t want to divert from that, I just felt it’d be disingenuous not to comment on the genocide happening in Palestine now....more
Oh I loved this book about a messy Indian American family. Lata and Suresh Raman divorce after 36 years of marriage, with both wanting new starts in lOh I loved this book about a messy Indian American family. Lata and Suresh Raman divorce after 36 years of marriage, with both wanting new starts in life. Suresh tries his hand at internet dating while Lata enjoys her new independence until she’s caught off guard by a professor in his early sixties who expresses an interest in her. Meanwhile, Lata and Suresh’s daughter Priya finds her father’s internet trysts distasteful even when she herself is embroiled in a clandestine affair with a married man. Finally, Lata and Suresh’s son Nikesh, their more affable child, struggles to adjust to life with a newborn child and a “marriage” with a woman that may not live up to Lata and Suresh’s expectations. The novel follows each of these four as they try to find happiness both in their own lives and with one another.
I think Late Bloomers did such an excellent job of conveying the theme of new beginnings and how we can form and repair relationships at any stage of life. Deepa Varadarajan shows this theme through her masterful writing. Her prose felt so effortless and smooth; the novel’s tone is relaxed and casual, though I found myself immersed in each of the four character’s unique perspectives and flipping the pages to see what would happen next. Varadarjan really shows instead of tells with her writing and each scene entertained me while giving me more insight into each of the character’s fears and hopes. I appreciated that this novel centered fully-developed Indian American characters and that the plot didn’t focus on racism, whiteness, or anything too out of the ordinary – it was about four family members navigating their own lives with a lot of heart and humanity.
I liked that Varadarajan made each of her four characters’ so well-developed. It can be difficult to juggle even two points of view in a novel, though she somehow created four narrators who each felt distinct. By the end of the novel, I could clearly see how each of them had grown. Late Bloomers ends on a realistically hopeful note, not with all the conflicts perfectly resolved though with enough movement that I felt satisfied with the plot’s progression. I was feeling a strong 4.5 for this book until some of the passages at the end brought tears to my eyes. And, by the last 75 pages, I was already processing my sadness about the novel ending. I wanted to keep learning about these characters and seeing how their lives played out, which always indicates a high quality read.
I hope Varadarajan writes more books because I already know I’m definitely reading what she puts out next! I’m thankful to give this book five stars after several months without a five-star read....more
A stunner of a novel! In All That’s Left Unsaid, we follow Ky Tran, a young Vietnamese American woman who returns to her hometown of Cabramat4.5 stars
A stunner of a novel! In All That’s Left Unsaid, we follow Ky Tran, a young Vietnamese American woman who returns to her hometown of Cabramatta after her younger brother is brutally murdered. After attending his funeral and learning about the ineptness of the police who handled his case, Ky takes matters into her own hands and seeks out the people who witnessed her brother’s death. Through this pursuit Ky realizes truths about herself, her brother, and others from her past that shakes her foundation of right and wrong, as well as the expectations she placed both on her family and the people around her.
One strength of this novel that stood out to me from the start was Tracey Lien’s ability to write from multiple perspectives effectively. Usually books that include more than two or so points of view do so in awkward or stilted way where the multiple voices detract from the story instead of adding to it. However, Lien does an excellent job of giving each perspective a distinct voice, and she focuses each one so that they all ultimately add to the suspenseful and thrilling elements of All That’s Left Unsaid. Thanks to the multiple perspectives, we also get to see how the heroin epidemic of the 90’s in Australia affected various Vietnamese community members, furthering our empathy and understanding. This is a novel about race, class, and injustice, though Lien foregrounds her characters so it feels more like we’re learning about and developing concern for them, instead of solely ingesting lessons about social justice.
I could tell that I was going to give this book at least four stars from early on in my reading experience, though some plot and character events that occurred in the second half bumped it closer to a five star for me. Namely, I love how Lien developed Ky and Minnie’s friendship and showed where both characters were right and where they messed up. I love when an author creates a situation where characters are messy and human and there’s a conflict that feels well-earned with both parties doing their best and still failing, instead of a conflict that comes across as cheap (e.g., characters fighting primarily because of repetitive miscommunication). I felt that the dynamic between Ky and Minnie served as a powerful vehicle to communicate broader themes about intergenerational trauma in a subtle way. By the end of the novel there’s growth from these characters too, which I deeply enjoyed witnessing.
Overall, a powerful novel I would recommend to fans of contemporary novels focused on family/community drama as well as fans of mysteries/thrillers/books about race and class and immigration. Congrats to Lien for a wonderful debut....more
Omg… for all my fellow sensitive souls with abandonment issues… this one is for us!
Ok, a plot summary before I fanboy/girl further: Ro is stuck. She’sOmg… for all my fellow sensitive souls with abandonment issues… this one is for us!
Ok, a plot summary before I fanboy/girl further: Ro is stuck. She’s a Korean American woman entering her thirties, spending her days in an unfulfilling job at a mall aquarium and drinking herself to sleep at night. People have left her, like her father who went missing on an expedition several years ago and her boyfriend who recently joined a mission to Mars. Ro struggles with the people who haven’t left, too, like her mother, who she doesn’t speak to, and her best friend Yoonhee, whose upcoming marriage has eclipsed their friendship. Ro feels a connection with Dolores, a giant Pacific octopus who’s also Ro’s last link to her father. But when Dolores is sold to a wealthy investor who plans to take her away, Ro is faced with the choice to stay submerged in her unaddressed grief and trauma or to reclaim the parts of her life worth living.
Anyone who’s followed me for any period of time knows that I love a well-developed angsty character arc, and Sea Change blew that out of the park. There’s a lot going on in Ro’s life, including the upcoming sale of Dolores, Ro’s melancholy distant relationship with her mother, her conflict with Yoonhee, and more. Gina Chung does an excellent job of keeping the ball rolling with all of these elements of Ro’s life in the present while also portraying how Ro’s grief about her father’s disappearance and her breakup with Tae have gutted her emotionally. Chung’s use of flashbacks was excellent; her scenes set in the past felt vivid and provided important, heartrending context for Ro’s present circumstances. I’d describe Chung’s writing style as understated yet effective, as I cared deeply for Ro and felt for her across all her relationships.
With that said, I want to highlight that Ro as a character won me over. Unlike her best friend Yoonhee, Ro isn’t flashy. She’s just trying to live her life, and I loved that for her and about her. I felt compelled by her messiness and compassion for her struggle, like her calling Tae in a bout of missing him and her submerging her grief in alcohol. Ro’s growth throughout the novel moved me so much, and her realizations about grief, connection, and attachment had me teary-eyed at least a couple of times toward the end. As someone who’s faced multiple instances of deep grief in my life, I felt so connected to Ro and her journey of recognizing that grief isn’t something you can avoid nor is it something you ever fully get over even when you do address it. Grief can feel better with time though it often has to feel worse, first.
I also enjoyed the Asian American (specifically Korean American) representation in Sea Change. The representation didn’t feel overly in my face, rather, it’s these three-dimensional Korean American characters living their day-to-day nuanced lives, and I loved that. I liked and resonated with the complexity in which Chung portrayed Ro’s parents’ immigration experience and how that went on to affect Ro’s own psyche. Ro’s parents felt like full people and not stereotypical Asian American parents, thank goodness. Also not to be thirsty in a Goodreads review but where can I get a gay or bi version of Tae lolol anyway I’m wholesome.
Overall, highly recommended. In my top two favorite books I’ve read this year so far. Gina Chung is an author to watch and I am highly anticipating her short story collection coming out next year. Also, for those who’ve already read Sea Change, the scene where (view spoiler)[Dolores splashes the white man who’s trying to buy her and Ro starts laughing was SO funny I literally giggled while reading this book at like 10:30pm in my bed (hide spoiler)] made me laugh, I appreciate Chung for including it....more
Oh wow I loved this story about three gay Black men living in Detroit! It reminded me of one of my absolute favorite television shows Insecure. Even tOh wow I loved this story about three gay Black men living in Detroit! It reminded me of one of my absolute favorite television shows Insecure. Even though I miss that show a lot, reading Boys Come First brought so many of the positive Insecure-inspired feelings back. In Boys Come First, we follow three gay friends: Dominick, an advertising copywriter who’s returning to Detroit after his long-term romantic relationship in New York City collapses, Troy, an idealistic high school teacher who comes from a financially privileged background, and Remy, a successful real estate agent who’s struggling to find similar success in his romantic life. When Dominick returns to Detroit, he reignites his long-term friendship with Troy who’s also best friends with Remy, and the three hit it off. However, when one of Remy’s real estate projects morphs into a ploy to enable gentrification in this trio’s hometown, the three men will have to figure out a way to navigate conflict in their friendship or face a more permanent separation.
I enjoyed reading about these three characters so much. It can be hard to pull off with multiple points of view, but Aaron Foley excels at making each of their perspectives unique while still blending together well. One of my best friends and I have talked about how oftentimes it can feel like fiction centering Black characters has to revolve around police brutality or slavery to make it into the mainstream; I loved how Boys Come First instead focuses on how these men navigate their careers, romantic lives, families, friendships, and the changing tides of Detroit. This novel reminded me of Insecure in the best way possible, such that the characters felt so dynamic and three-dimensional and worth paying attention to. Horribly traumatic things did not need to happen for me to feel invested in Dominick, Troy, and Remy, rather, Foley’s quality of prose kept me engaged in their stories and immersed in their day-to-day lives.
At the same time, this novel does address real and important themes, such as the impact of gentrification, coping with emotionally unavailable and/or abusive men, and dealing with aging. Yet, all these themes fold into the characters’ narratives seamlessly. The novel puts its characters and their development at the forefront, not shying away from topics like gentrification though also not putting the social justice issues above and beyond our connection with the characters. As an Asian American person I recognize I’m not the best person to judge this, though Boys Come First felt unapologetically Black to me, like I sensed and appreciated that Foley wrote this with love for the gay Black Detroit community and not to appease white or non-Black people of color.
Overall, I loved this novel. I felt sad for the characters when they faced challenges, happiness for when they found success in various domains of life ((view spoiler)[okay while I loved the friendship between the characters the most I will say I screamed a little at the hint of a happy ending with Remy and Terrell, ah!!! (hide spoiler)]), and laughed at the many humorous moments too. The theme of friendship made me smile and Foley executed the three characters’ friendship dynamics so well. This is the first time I’ve given two books in a row five stars since June 2021, so big thank you to Aaron Foley and Gina Chung for writing two bomb books and bringing me much comfort, solace, and entertainment even when I’m dealing with grief and other life issues. I would highly recommend Boys Come First to anyone who enjoys engaging realistic fiction about people’s day-to-day lives, fans of Insecure, and people who have taste generally!...more
Oh wow, what a great book. Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows follows Nikki, a young Punjabi woman living in West London who takes a job teach4.5 stars
Oh wow, what a great book. Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows follows Nikki, a young Punjabi woman living in West London who takes a job teaching writing to a group of older Punjabi widows. To Nikki’s surprise, the class takes on a life of its own as the women begin to share stories that center erotic fantasies and desire. While this sequence of events may sound funny and naughty, Balli Kaur Jaswal incorporates rich themes of female solidarity and empowerment throughout this novel as well.
I enjoyed this book so much, both its humor and its powerful messages about sexism and women standing up for themselves! Kaur Jaswal sets this novel up so well with a humorous, attention-grabbing premise: older Punjabi widows sharing salacious, sexual stories with one another. She maintains a lightness to her prose that made this book feel readable and suspenseful in a positive way.
At the same time, Kaur Jaswal tackles heavy topics in Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows. One of the most powerful themes that stood out to me is internalized sexism and how women can turn against one another when they come to believe in patriarchal messages about right and wrong. I loved how Kaur Jaswal shows us the process of unlearning internalized sexism through Kulwinder’s character. There were a couple of scenes of feminist solidarity toward the end of the novel that brought tears to my eyes – the female characters’ growth and their bonds with one another made my heart swell. I also liked reading about Nikki’s romance with Jason – yay for a healthy romantic relationship between people of color – and Kulwinder’s journey of grief after the loss of her daughter, Maya.
Overall, a well-written novel that touches on some heavy topics yet stays light enough for a fun time. I’m in the middle of a super intense job application process now so reading this book definitely helped improve my mood, thank you Balli Kaur Jaswal!...more
Oh wow you all, this gusty searing novel has saved 2023 for me. Post-Traumatic follows Vivian, a Black Latinx lawyer who advocates for mentally ill paOh wow you all, this gusty searing novel has saved 2023 for me. Post-Traumatic follows Vivian, a Black Latinx lawyer who advocates for mentally ill patients at a psychiatric hospital in New York City. Even though she seems ambitious and put-together on the outside, in private she struggles with intrusive memories and overwhelming emotions from her dark and difficult childhood. For years Vivian coped with these difficult thoughts and feelings through obsessive infatuations with men, relentless dieting, dark humor, and smoking weed with her best friend Jane. But when Vivian takes a scary, bold step in relation to her family, all the other parts of her life start to crumble, forcing her to decide just how much she wants to try and heal from her past.
This freaking book. So sad, so dark, and yet so funny at the same time. Vivian, our protagonist, makes the wittiest observations. The book’s official blurb accurately describes Chantal Johnson’s prose as “razor-sharp” which makes Vivian’s humor land like that of a lovingly neurotic yet self-aware friend. Vivian is so problematic throughout most of the novel too; she constantly compares herself to other women and critiques other women’s bodies (even while fiercely identifying with feminist politics on an intellectual level) and does everything she can to appeal to the (often white) male gaze. I imagine readers will feel frustrated with her, like with this passage: “Vivian felt rapturous in Matthew’s bed, high on a drug that couldn’t be bought, only earned: oxytocin! His attention gave her permission to exist. She was desperate not to lose it.” And yet, she’s such a compelling character and Johnson’s writing is so precise I couldn’t stop reading. As a reference point, Vivian’s wit is similar to that of the television show character Fleabag.
I marked over ten passages where I either laughed out loud or smiled and giggled to myself. Here’s one from page 14, when Vivian reflects on not receiving male attention:
“Ambiguity, though central to aesthetic greatness, was horrifying in real life. When a man inflicted it upon you in a romantic context, it highlighted his cowardice and your abjection. They did it casually, like flinging a toddler into a body of water and walking away, insisting calmly that it will swim. Huey Lewis was right, man – if loss of interest is inevitable, just get it over with and leave me, already.”
(The “flinging a toddler into a body of water” literally made me lol. So good, and there are so many other examples!)
At the same time, Chantal Johnson does an excellent job of showing how Vivian’s problematic, women-hating and self-hating tendencies stem from her trauma. Through vivid flashbacks and non-sentimentally heart wrenching conversations with the people in her life, we see how Vivian has suffered through her constantly critical mother and her constantly critical mother’s abusive boyfriends, her sibling who died and her currently-living sibling who faces severe mental illness exacerbated by anti-Black racism, and her attempts to set boundaries and how her family tries to trespass them anyway. All of these personal stressors intersect with Vivian’s identity as a Black Latinx woman residing in the United States. Again, Johnson really shows Vivian’s hypervigilance and the dysfunctional ways she tries to protect herself. I felt right there with her, entertained by her wit while also hoping and hoping for her healing.
And the best part: there is hope at the end of this story, and Vivian does grow as a person. She hits her rock bottom and decides to pursue therapy and make amends with her best friend. Also, can I just say as a former recipient and current provider of therapy, the therapy scenes in this book are so freaking well-written! You may think that an author writing about a character talking to another person about her feelings would be boring, but Johnson’s prose is so impressively taut that she makes those scenes feel so alive and gripping. I’m so grateful that Johnson didn’t just portray Vivian’s suffering and that this book can join the slowly growing set of books that describe therapy both accurately and enthrallingly, like the memoirs What My Bones Know and I’m Glad My Mom Died.
Anyway, wow, 2023 really made me wait for over a month for a five-star read and yet it feels so worth it. As a survivor of trauma and PTSD I resonated with Vivian a lot, not all the specifics of course but the planning, perfectionism, and emotion dysregulation – I’ve been there too! Some of those therapy scenes felt lifted right from when I sat on my first long-term therapist’s couch circa 2015-2017, lol. Johnson disclosed about coming from a violent home in an interview and I’m so grateful to her for writing this book. I wouldn’t be surprised if other PTSD survivors feel the same. Vivian has already secured her place as one of my favorite protagonists ever: her sharp wit, her big heart, and her growth. I get teary-eyed and feel warm and hopeful just thinking about her....more
Okay this book destroyed me and I can’t recommend it enough. The novel follows Tanya and Nessa Bloom, two adult sisters who return to their childhood Okay this book destroyed me and I can’t recommend it enough. The novel follows Tanya and Nessa Bloom, two adult sisters who return to their childhood home for a weekend and realize that their mother, Lorraine, is in a violent relationship. Tanya urges Lorraine to get a restraining order while Nessa struggles to reconcile her fondness for their stepfather with his cruelty toward their mother. Seeing Lorraine’s suffering triggers painful memories for both Nessa and Tanya, related to the abuse they faced in their adolescence. As Lorraine’s situation escalates, Tanya and Nessa are forced to grapple with the legacy of trauma and hurt that follows the women in their family.
First, I found Hanna Halperin’s portrayal of domestic abuse so real and so harrowing. I can see that she worked as a domestic violence counselor because she wrote about the cycle of abuse in so vividly and honestly – the violence, the begging for forgiveness and gifts and false promises of change, the lack of accountability, the violence again, and so on. Halperin writes about the issue without sugarcoating it or glamorizing unhealthy relationships. Her descriptions of how Jesse, the sisters’ stepfather, abuses Lorraine are raw, horrifying, and I think ultimately necessary to shed light on this issue of domestic violence.
I also loved Nessa and Tanya as characters. They’re both so well-written, with distinct personalities that come alive on the page. Nessa is more insecure, shy, and patient with their mother, whereas Tanya is more confident and quicker to anger. My heart broke for both of them as they navigated seeing Jesse abuse their mother. I thought Halperin wrote about the complexity of their bond so well and captured the messy care and hurt that can occur between sisters. She highlights how both of their lives are shaped by various struggles such as their parents’ divorce, sexual violence, and patriarchy broadly. There’s not a convenient or easy ending for either of these characters, though Halperin leaves us with just the tiniest sliver of hope that made my chest literally loosen in relief as I read the final pages of this powerful novel.
Overall, I am so impressed with this debut. I read Halperin’s second book, I Could Live Here Forever, and I gave it four stars. With this book though, I couldn’t rate it any less than five. It’s dark, with brutal depictions of physical abuse and sexual assault. At the same time, by the end of the book I felt so much care for the characters, and I wanted to be updated about their whereabouts and their (hopefully healing) journeys. As someone who’s experienced and witnessed abuse both in my personal and professional live, and as someone who’s worked with survivors of trauma and abuse, this book moved me deeply. It exposes an important issue we need to talk about and work to prevent....more
Okay I loved this memoir! It has the same therapy appeal of Maybe You Should Talk to Someone though with more attention paid to how culture and raOkay I loved this memoir! It has the same therapy appeal of Maybe You Should Talk to Someone though with more attention paid to how culture and race affect mental health. In What My Bones Know, accomplished journalist Stephanie Foo writes about receiving a diagnosis of complex posttraumatic stress disorder and the steps she took to heal herself. One of the elements of this book I enjoyed right from the start includes how Foo writes about her trauma with such realness and vulnerability. The physical and emotional abuse her parents put her through felt painful to read though also cathartic as a fellow survivor of child abuse. In addition to destigmatizing child abuse and PTSD, Foo shed lights on her estrangement from her father that occurred later in her life. I imagine this book will feel comforting for folks who have also experienced difficult family dynamics, as Foo does not hold back about her pain even as she persists in her path forward to healing.
I also appreciated the nuance in which Foo wrote about Asian American mental health and intergenerational trauma. She avoids a simplistic and flattening explanation of “tiger parents” and opts to explore the impacts of intergenerational trauma instead. I found it both compassionate and assertive of her to recognize the immense struggles her parents and ancestors faced while at the same time recognizing the not-okayness of how her parents treated her.
What I felt most moved by in this memoir: Foo’s determination to heal. As someone who’s greatly benefited from years of receiving therapy myself and who works as a mental health clinician, I always admire when people are committed to addressing their issues even when it feels painful as heck. In addition to writing about the rewarding parts of help-seeking, Foo also shares the many ugly parts, like the difficulty of finding a therapist who actually felt helpful, the costs associated with therapy and how therapists are often underpaid, and her doubts about herself as someone capable of living a healthy and relationally-satisfying life. Despite these adversities, she somehow kept going, kept trying new and incrementally-helpful approaches like EMDR and gratitude journaling. When she writes about finding the therapist – Dr. Jacob Ham – who really helped her with her complex PTSD toward the end of the book and what her work with him consisted of, I found myself getting teary-eyed because it reminded me of my first long-term therapist who helped me heal from my own PTSD, as well as my own work as a clinician. Without a doubt one of the most genuine and most skillful portrayals of therapy I’ve seen across all forms of media.
Overall I would recommend this book to anyone interested in mental health, race and/or Asian American identity, and well-written stories imbued with self-awareness. Big kudos to Stephanie Foo for writing this book, an amazing accomplishment....more
The best fantasy book I have read in a long time, The Sword of Kaigen blew me away and I loved every second of it. It follows Misaki, a housewife who The best fantasy book I have read in a long time, The Sword of Kaigen blew me away and I loved every second of it. It follows Misaki, a housewife who married into the legendary Matsuda family for a more secure future and later gave birth to four sons with her cold, detached husband Takeru. Unbeknownst to her new family, Misaki left behind her days as a skilled and fearsome fighter, though an impending threat may awaken some of her long-buried combat abilities. We also experience the perspective of fourteen-year-old Mamoru, Misaki and Takeru’s oldest son, who has trained to defend his homeland for all his life. However, Mamoru learns that the empire he was always instructed to venerate may not value its citizens as much as he had been taught. When an invasion looms closer to the Matsuda family’s home base, we see these characters strive to fight for those they love, even at high and painful costs.
I most appreciated the quality of writing in The Sword of Kaigen as well as its well-developed characters. In terms of the writing, I just felt immersed in M.L. Wang’s prose. Sometimes the writing in fantasy and sci-fi books can feel clunky or cumbersome for me to read, though with this book, Wang had such a talent of describing world-building and action sequences in a way that kept me engaged. The book includes several fight scenes where I felt so excited and positively worried about what fate would befall my favorite characters; the violence never felt present for shock-value and Wang inserted her characters’ personalities even in the ways they fought. Wang’s talented writing definitely made this book one where I said “omg omg omg” to myself as I pressed the button on my e-reader to learn who would survive and not.
What elevates the amazingness of Sword of Kaigen even more is its characters. Misaki is such a freaking iconic character, a woman who’s a ferocious fighter, contends with sexist gender roles, and experiences complex emotions about her life and the decisions she’s made. I felt like Wang wrote her with such care and passion, as there were a few points in the book where Misaki stood up for herself that I pretty much was just like “omg Misaki non-monarchial QUEEN please ruin my life with your three-dimensionality and talent for vanquishing your foes.” Not only is Misaki a nuanced character who grows throughout the book, Wang even manages to make her husband, Takeru, a sympathetic and multidimensional character as well. His characterization speaks to how toxic masculinity’s repression of emotion and (view spoiler)[child abuse (hide spoiler)] can harm someone’s psyche and by the end of the book I even felt tender toward him. Wang includes several other side characters too who are distinctly drawn and memorable, even as they get less page time than Misaki, Takeru, and their son Mamoru. The friendship between Misaki, Setsuko, and Hyori also felt so beautiful to read about.
Overall, highly recommended to fantasy fans and folks who want to support an Asian author. This book is self-published and felt so much better-written and riveting than many fantasy books I’ve read that were traditionally published. Props to M.L. Wang for her success with Sword of Kaigen!...more
Oh I loved this one. It’s a slice-of-life, quiet, character-driven novel about Nina Dean, a 32-year-old successful food writer who gets ghosted by an Oh I loved this one. It’s a slice-of-life, quiet, character-driven novel about Nina Dean, a 32-year-old successful food writer who gets ghosted by an attractive man. Even with a great career and loving friends and family, Nina feels despondent by this man’s entrance and exit from her life. Not only does she navigate this ghosting-induced heartache, she also contends with her dad’s worsening illness and conflict with her longtime childhood friend. In Ghosts we follow Nina as she navigates friendship, romance, family, and more.
Before I gush into how freaking relatable I found this book, I’ll start with some of its basic strengths. I found Dolly Alderton’s writing compulsively readable. Her prose felt simple yet consistently enjoyable. Her main characters came across as believable – especially their dialogue – and I found every scene in the novel well-constructed and engaging. I think she does a nice job of fitting in interesting insights about relationships, heteronormativity, and gender in a way that wasn’t distracting from the story or the characters. I also laughed out loud multiple times so I’m grateful to Alderton for the humor she infused into these pages.
I have to admit that my five star rating largely stems from how relatable I found this book to my own life. I’m self-obsessed sometimes I must admit! But, yeah, as a 28-year-old (turning 29 in May wow) genderqueer person who has a thriving career and amazing friends, who’s attracted to men and been romantically single my whole life and hurt by men in dating contexts, I found this novel so relatable. Just the vibe of it honestly – like having your life so together in one context (e.g., Nina and I are rocking our work lives) and then having the worst luck in other contexts (e.g., dating men… though honestly many men aren’t socialized to be date-worthy anyway). I found so many of her subtle observations about friendship, the heteronormative dating game, and relationships spot on and things I’ve thought and felt before, like how a lot of women/femmes are socialized into really wanting marriage and to self-sacrifice and lower our standards for it even if we’re outwardly advocate for social justice in other areas of life. Also, I’m grateful that Alderton captured the atrocious ways men can treat people in dating and relational contexts (and I know people of diverse gender identities can be awful relationally, this just speaks to me as someone who’s been hurt by men). At the same time, Nina takes accountability for her own idealization of the man she meets, which I appreciated.
Anyway, I’m grateful for this novel, my first five-star read of 2024. Reading this book also made me feel grateful for my closest friends, all of whom question the wedding industrial complex and heteronormativity and embody relationship anarchy at least in some way. At the same time, I’m literally the only one in my friend group who hasn’t dated a man (which honestly, I’m probably better off for having not done so lol) so Ghosts spoke to me in that regard. I acknowledge that the concerns faced by both Nina and I are on the privileged end of things given the many atrocities in the world right now. At the same time, it was reassuring and affirming to read about a woman who has a healthy relationship with herself, who knows herself, and who finds comfort both from her community and herself as she navigates life’s ups and downs....more
A gorgeous debut novel, my first five-star read since June of 2021. The Sweetness of Water begins with Prentiss and Landry, two brothers freed from enA gorgeous debut novel, my first five-star read since June of 2021. The Sweetness of Water begins with Prentiss and Landry, two brothers freed from enslavement by the Emancipation Proclamation, who seek refuge on the home of George Walker, a transplanted northerner white man who wants the brothers’ help to farm his remaining acres of land. The novel focuses mostly on George and his wife Isabelle and the escalating tension they face with the white people nearby – consisting of plantation owners who recently lost the Black people they enslaved, as well as returning Confederate soldiers – who do not approve of the Walkers’ more equitable treatment of Prentiss and Landry. Slightly parallel to this conflict runs a forbidden romance between two Confederate soldiers, Caleb, the son of George and Isabelle, and August, a well-connected son of rich parents who’s set to marry a woman.
Nathan Harris writes so beautifully, especially in how he shows instead of tells about his characters’ interior and exterior lives. Though I felt skeptical at first when I realized the book would focus mostly on the white characters instead of Prentiss and Landry, I soon grew to care deeply about all of the characters in The Sweetness of Water. Harris crafts such distinct, well-developed characters with realistic limitations and a relatable desire to do better (excluding the racist white people who were straight garbage, just gonna say it like it is). His writing reminded me of Adam Haslett’s in its emotional depth that felt both direct, understated, yet so moving at the same time. I am always impressed by writers who can craft fiction with important social commentary that still centers the characters’ growth and relationships with one another – Harris accomplishes that with this debut without a doubt.
One of the two themes I loved the most in The Sweetness of Water is: what does it look like for white people to actually be allies/accomplishes for racial justice (and even more broadly what does it mean for any privileged group to try to advocate for oppressed groups)? Harris does a masterful job of showing how George, a well-intentioned progressive-minded white person, actually really messes up in his initial attempts to be an ally which has serious, devastating consequences for Prentiss and Landry. I think this idea of performative allyship and advocacy is increasingly important in a time when some academic institutions, corporations, etc. are embracing “diversity and inclusion” while still perpetuating racism and other forms of bigotry. What does it mean to truly walk the walk and put your life and resources on the line for justice? Though I’m still processing the profound way Harris writes about this question in The Sweetness of Water, I feel pretty certain that Harris avoids any white savior tropes and instead shows the complexities of racial solidarity, including the uncomfortable parts.
I also loved how Harris shows how white queer men can be extremely racist and problematic. Yes, the summary of this book mentions a queer romance between two men, though I think this romance is definitely secondary to the Walkers’ relationship with their own whiteness and the bigotry of their neighboring white townspeople. In fact, the romance, or at least one of the characters within the romance, exemplifies how just because someone is marginalized doesn’t mean they’ll actually support other marginalized people – they may just cling to whatever power they do have to advance in their lives. Reading about this part of the book reminded me of a time when I tweeted about white gay men perpetuating racism and sexism, and a white gay man I used to respect direct messaged me and essentially said that “not all white gay men are like that” and tried to gaslight me. He unfollowed me when I stood my ground and asked him why he isn’t trying to call out/in white gay men who are racist and sexist instead of defending himself to me. While I recognize this little Twitter exchange is by no means comparable to the anti-Black racism experienced by the characters in this book, I share the story because I think pretty much all of us can practice more intensive introspection about the ways we put down other marginalized people intentionally or unintentionally, even if we ourselves are marginalized.
Harris also writes about important themes including softer forms of masculinity and the bonds between mothers and their children. His prose never feels intellectualized or didactic though. He shows us these characters’ desires and their struggles and lets their actions and emotions convey the deeper themes of the novel. Highly recommended and I’m definitely keeping an eye out for whatever Harris writes next, if he does want to write another book....more
I loved this book, another win for the Vietnamese American community! House of Sticks reminded me of Phuc Tran’s Sigh, Gone, though Tran’s story iI loved this book, another win for the Vietnamese American community! House of Sticks reminded me of Phuc Tran’s Sigh, Gone, though Tran’s story is unique and she owns it with her distinct, unsentimental, yet captivating voice. In House of Sticks, she writes about immigrating to Queens, New York with her three older brothers and her parents, her father having served as a former lieutenant in the South Vietnamese army and then almost a decade as a prisoner of war. Her entire family sews ties and cummerbunds on their living room floor to pay for food, rent, and other living necessities. As Tran gets older, she is forced to navigate the clash between her unfamiliar school environment and her parents’ Buddhist faith and their impoverished circumstances. Tensions rise as Tran struggles to see and her father forbids her from getting classes, labeling her diagnosis of poor vision as a government conspiracy. In this memoir, we witness Tran navigate creating her own self-concept amidst cultural mismatches, intergenerational trauma, and mental health concerns that stem from a complicated childhood.
One of the elements I most appreciated about House of Sticks includes how Trans honors the complexity of her family dynamic. While her father behaves in ways that many would consider abusive or at the very least extremely hurtful, Tran acknowledges both the impact of his actions as well as how his trauma from the American War in Vietnam affects his parenting style and how he tries to show concern for her and her siblings. I feel like this level of nuance shows how much internal work Tran has done on herself to write with compassion both for herself and for her father. She also weaves in scenes related to gender roles and burgeoning feminist thinking in relation to her mom, as well as feelings of both camaraderie and slight abandonment with her brothers. Also, two of her brothers Long and Phuc, have left reviews of her book on Goodreads (you can find them on the first page of reviews) and they’re the cutest and most wholesome things ever.
I enjoyed the sheer realness of Tran’s story as well. A lot of people stereotype Asian Americans as economically and educationally successful and upwardly mobile, and while Tran and her siblings achieve these forms of success to a degree, Tran also writes about their family’s setbacks and her struggle with mental health. Given the quality of her writing, I found Tran a trustworthy, self-aware, and relatable narrator who I rooted for throughout this memoir. By the end of the book I felt deeply invested in her wellbeing as well as the wellbeing of her family. I’m still curious about Tran’s experience graduating from Columbia and embarking on a writing career, how her mother and father are faring and if they’re still operating their nail salon, and her brothers’ careers, hairstyles, and overall journeys as well. I think my curiosity highlights Tran’s ability to render her story in a unique and specific way while making it flow smoothly for her readers.
Overall, would highly recommend this memoir to everyone, especially those interested in coming-of-age stories. I had to put the book down a few times because some of Tran’s anecdotes reminded me of my own family in poignant ways, and I’m grateful to Tran for putting House of Sticks into the world so I and other Vietnamese/Vietnamese American folks can reflect on our shared and different experiences. Yay for 2021 ending on a high note with a memoir like this one!...more
What a fantastic memoir. In Tastes Like War, Grace Cho writes about her mother’s experience with schizophrenia through an in-depth sociocultural lens.What a fantastic memoir. In Tastes Like War, Grace Cho writes about her mother’s experience with schizophrenia through an in-depth sociocultural lens. One of my favorite parts of this memoir includes how Cho portrays her mother with such love and thoughtfulness. Her writing itself feels vivid and alive through how she captures both poignant and everyday scenes and situations with her mother. She utilizes language to destigmatize both schizophrenia and sex work. The running theme of food gave this memoir an enhanced emotional weight that made me tear up at the end. It’s clear to me that Cho has processed her relationship with her now deceased mother with much psychological acuity and strength.
I also loved how Cho details how broader systems of oppression such as US imperialism in Korea contributed to her mother’s schizophrenia. She writes both about the gendered racism against Korean girls and women abroad as well as her and her mother’s experiences of racism and sexism growing up in a predominantly white town in Washington State. With great intelligence she captures how sociocultural factors can influence our individual psyches. I found some relief and satisfaction in how Cho turned to her academic work as well as baking and cooking to cultivate agency in understanding her mother’s life, the trials and tribulations she went through and what brought her joy.
This memoir contains so many additional praiseworthy elements: Cho’s coming of age and how she formed empowering friendships with fellow marginalized folks during her undergraduate studies, the sensitivity to which she writes about multiple members of her family, and her seamless integration of historical events with her present day life. One of the best memoirs I have read in a while and one I would highly recommend to everyone. I feel happy to start off 2022 with Tastes Like War and I hope others read and enjoy it too. Would also recommend this alongside The Body Papers by Grace Talusan....more
An excellent book that unpacks common perceptions and stereotypes about Asian Americans’ educational success in the United States. Drs. Jennifer Lee aAn excellent book that unpacks common perceptions and stereotypes about Asian Americans’ educational success in the United States. Drs. Jennifer Lee and Min Zhou use rich survey data and in-depth qualitative interviews with 1.5 and 2nd generation Chinese and Vietnamese adults to explore what sociological and psychological structures influence their academic achievement. I loved this book because it dispels the unnuanced assumption that Asian Americans are successful just because our culture values hard work. Drs. Lee and Zhou show how immigrant parents’ “success frame” influences their children’s achievement, in combination with Asian community resources such as college prep courses and tutoring, conversations with coethnic peers, and teachers and guidance counselors who stereotype Asian students as model minorities in the United States. The authors highlight the various negative consequences of the stereotype of Asian Americans as successful and hardworking, ranging from poor mental health in those who do not meet the success frame as well as Asian Americans being blocked from more senior leadership positions (i.e., the “bamboo ceiling.”)
I further appreciated how the authors humanize immigrant Chinese and Vietnamese parents. Instead of falling into stereotypes about Asian parents being “tiger parents,” this book emphasizes how a lot of Chinese and Vietnamese immigrant parents push their kids to achieve as an attempt to prevent their children from experiencing anti-Asian racism. They even write about how Asian parents who brag about their kids – often to their kids’ detriments – do so to compensate for the loss of status they experienced when they immigrated from their country of origin. Really, it’s just nice to read a complex yet accessibly written book that centers Asian Americans’ experiences given how we’re so often reduced to one-dimensional caricatures within the United States.
There’s so much more I want to read and research and think about after having read this book too. I’m curious to know more about the mental health of 1.5 and 2nd generation Chinese and Vietnamese folks who pursue these “prestigious” careers and if they’re happy. I’m wondering about how much of this upward assimilation is really just buying into white supremacy and if we should really focus on disrupting exploitative economic practices and systems instead of gaining mobility within them. I’m also going to take a lot of time to reflect on how my own upbringing with the success frame has influenced my drive for excellence in my career as well as how in the past I’ve been attracted to men who went to prestigious universities even though these men simultaneously did not have their emotional and internal lives together at all. I don’t blame the authors for keeping their book more focused on their specific research questions because including too much more would have reduced the precision of their analysis. Would highly recommend to those who want to learn more about Asian Americans’ achievement, especially Asians who grew up with a pressure to succeed and who want to unpack that experience more....more
The non-monormative attachment book I have desired for so many years! As someone who is monogamous (and begrudgingly attracted to men), works with polThe non-monormative attachment book I have desired for so many years! As someone who is monogamous (and begrudgingly attracted to men), works with poly clients, and has a few close friendships, I felt like I could trust this book’s wisdom without any heteronormative, monogamy-centric brainwashing. Jessica Fern draws upon her experience as someone who is polyamorous, as well as through her therapy experience with polyamorous clients, to deliver a book I honestly think we could all benefit from reading. If you are someone interested in relationships I would highly recommend Polysecure.
Fern first starts by providing an overview of attachment theory and how trauma affects our relationships. She does a great job of conveying the science surrounding attachment theory while still making the content readable and relatable, such as by avoiding unnecessary jargon. I felt like I could see my own relational patterns reflected in her descriptions, and I think she writes so well about how our past experiences can influence us to pull away or grasp firmly onto people we have relationships with, without judging people for their trauma or their general relational tendencies.
After describing attachment theory and how it relates to trauma, Fern writes about consensual nonmonogamy and how it relates to our attachment styles. I so enjoyed this section because I feel like Fern destigmatizes consensual nonmonogamy and writes about it in such a clear, accessible way. I feel like whether you are polyamorous, monogamous, neither or a combination of both, you could benefit from this book just to deepen your own understanding of how nonmonogamous relationships work, in particular if you are unfamiliar or still hold onto some stigma. Even though I identify as monogamous romantically (though idk if I’ll ever find a man I want to date, lol) I do have three closest friends I care about a lot, friends who I care about just as much as and probably more than I would any male romantic partner, and this book helped me reflect on my secure attachments with them as well as past attachments that were not as healthy.
I most loved how Fern dedicates space to discussing the importance of developing a secure attachment with ourselves. She writes about having a healthy relationship with oneself in a way that emphasizes how we can act as our own warm shelters to weather the storms of life, without framing this self-love in a trite or formulaic way. Fern offers specific strategies and actions we can take to tune into ourselves and enhance our relationships with ourselves, just as she provides tangible steps to strengthen the quality of our relationships with others.
Overall, would highly recommend this one! I am glad she acknowledges the role of various forms of systemic oppression on relationships too. Yay for deconstructing monogamy and creating a society where healthy consensual relationships of all kinds thrive....more
A powerful memoir about a young Black lawyer who dedicates herself to fighting the criminal justice system, in particular the inhumane and racist lifeA powerful memoir about a young Black lawyer who dedicates herself to fighting the criminal justice system, in particular the inhumane and racist life without parole sentences for first time drug offenses. I loved how Brittany Barnett shared her own story about her mom’s incarceration and how that experience, intertwined with an assignment she conducted in law school, motivated her to fight so tirelessly for Black folx who had their lives unjustly cut short by these draconian life sentences. Barnett centers her clients’ life experiences and humanizes their struggles as well as emphasizes their creativity, intelligence, and compassion. While she does not center herself in these stories, I still found myself moved by her dedication to the cause and her focus on making a difference with her skills as a lawyer.
Totally recommend for those who enjoyed Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy or Michelle Alexander’s The New Jim Crow. Ugh, we have so much work to do to dismantle systemic racism and anti-Blackness in the United States. I felt curious about Barnett’s thoughts on prison abolition as the long-term goal. Though, I recognize she has her hands full with her important and necessary work of freeing people who our currently imprisoned and have been failed by the system....more
This book tore my sensitive gay heart to shreds and I loved every freaking second of it. Such a Lonely, Lovely Road follows Kabelo Mosala, a young BlaThis book tore my sensitive gay heart to shreds and I loved every freaking second of it. Such a Lonely, Lovely Road follows Kabelo Mosala, a young Black man living in South Africa whose parents aspire for him to go to medical school and then marry a woman. A few weeks before heading to medical school, however, Kabelo forms an intense connection with Sediba, a childhood friend Kabelo had always avoided, despite his interest in Sediba’s uniqueness. Their relationship confirms Kabelo’s queer sexual orientation, which he struggles to hide from his parent sand his community. We follow Kabelo throughout his life as he tries to make sense of and fully inhabit his relationship with Sediba, a relationship that brings him joy in a society that disparages same-sex love.
Okay y’all, I have to say that I literally screamed in my apartment while reading this book because of how invested I felt in Kabelo and Sediba’s relationship. Kagiso Lesego Molope writes with such straightforward poignancy and captured their bond as well as Kabelo’s emotional experience with well-paced scenes and sharp dialogue. The curiosity and tension between Kabelo and Sediba leading up to their first kiss? I screamed. When Kabelo and Sediba reconnect after their first period of spending several years apart? I screamed. Later on in the book when the angst between them gets real and intersects with Kabelo’s emotions of loneliness and grief and confusion about he wants in life? I screamed while lying on my couch and blasting BlackPink’s “Don’t Know What to Do,” making sure to hydrate to replenish the fluids in my body even as Molope’s beautiful writing drained my soul and lifted it into the literary heavens. The romance between Kabelo and Sediba takes up most of the novel, and a lot of people know I’m not a huge fan of romance-centric stories. However, Molope constructs the connection between Kabelo and Sediba with such tender care, I had no choice but to pause my cynicism toward romance and fanboy.
I also loved Kabelo’s character. Molope did such a fantastic job writing compelling scenes and dialogue while giving us perspective into Kabelo’s emotions, like what made him happy and what fueled his worries and insecurities. I think literally all of the characters in this novel, ranging from Sediba as a more central character to Kabelo’s parents as more on the periphery, received such distinct and consistent characterization. I feel like one sign of a truly talented writer is a writer who can make you empathize and care for a character while simultaneously acknowledging that character’s limitations and flaws. That’s how I felt about Kabelo – even when I wanted him to process his emotions about his parents or Sediba with more clarity, even when I wanted him to explore his past loneliness instead of avoiding it, I felt so compelled to root for him and to show compassion for him and his struggles.
Goodreads friends, I ask you to please read this novel so I have people to scream and freak about it with. I so appreciate Molope’s voice and this deep, stirring portrayal of love between two Black men from South Africa. As a queer Asian American I recognize I am definitely removed from these characters’ experiences and at the same time it’s so rejuvenating to witness a queer love story outside of whiteness and a more western context in general. On a more political level some of my takeaways from this book include that we should all take action to eradicate homophobia, dismantle heteronormativity, and end patriarchy so queer folks everywhere can be happy and men can experience the full range of their emotions. Those are my takeaways and Molope doesn’t really directly say any of that in her novel. Instead, she creates a beautiful love story, one that centers a relationship with struggles yet an ultimately healthy and restorative relationship nonetheless. As someone who hasn’t given a book five stars in about two months, as someone who hasn’t had a crush on a guy for awhile (aside from an odd maybe crush on a straight guy which you can read about on my blog, lol), and as someone who values empathy and compassion and connection and novels that promote those things, I’m so grateful for Such A Lonely, Lovely Road....more
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