by booksoverlookedblog

Indie Review: Hounds of Gaia

I’m a Reedsy Discovery reviewer! I received a free ARC of Hounds of Gaia by Sean Tirman for this review.

⭐⭐⭐

Home to notorious criminals fleeing justice, the asteroid Deadwood was never a safe place. But something far deadlier lurks just under the surface of the mining colony. Something brutal and merciless, that leaves only death and gore in its wake. The Contractor Foxhound doesn’t know that. She’s only here to catch a human trafficker called Fink, and get back to Earth to collect the bounty on his head. Neither does Sister Penelope, a nurturing and peace-loving woman striving to protect the forgotten children of Deadwood. Foxhound’s, Fink’s, and Penelope’s lives collide with devastating results, but the real danger is closer to them than they think.

Hounds of Gaia starts with a bang, steadily building up the horror of the tunnels underneath Deadwood. The action-packed prologue is sure to keep readers turning pages.

The worldbuilding is extremely detailed, which works well in the first few chapters of the book. It’s interesting and immersive, and makes the reader more interested in the setting. Yet as the story unfolds, the exposition becomes clunky and often unnecessary. These information dumps bring the action of the story to a shrieking halt, and sometimes repeat information that the reader already knows. It also took away some of the mystery about Foxhound’s identity. Most readers will be able to figure out where she comes from long before it’s ever revealed.

The uninterrupted action sequences themselves are excellent. Thrilling chases through seedy neighborhoods, criminals hopped up on elicit drugs, futuristic weapons, and bouts with some truly evil villains will keep readers on the edge of their seats.

While the setting is given great depth, the heroes are not. The three protagonists – Foxhound, Penelope, and a girl with no name – all suffer from thin characterization. Foxhound is a tough woman with a job to do; Penelope is a kind woman who cares deeply about the children in her care; the girl is an innocent child. Those are their character traits, and not much else. As this is the start of a series, however, there is plenty of room for character growth and development in coming books.

On the antagonist side of things, Fink and his criminal associates are utter delights whenever they appear. They revel in their villainy, which is really fun to read. Like the other characters, they aren’t fully fleshed out, but given their role in the story (and how fun they are), they don’t need to be.

Overall, Hounds of Gaia has a lot of potential for a sci-fi series. Sci-fi fans who enjoy plot-driven stories and detailed worldbuilding will enjoy this book, and the ending will keep readers curious for the next volume.

by booksoverlookedblog

Indie Review: Curse of the Terracotta Warriors

I’m a Reedsy Discovery reviewer! I received a free ARC of Curse of the Terracotta Warriors by Mark Douglas for this review.

⭐⭐⭐

When the police come to Maddie Jones’s school, she thinks they’re going to arrest her for one of her many pranks. But the truth is much worse: her archaeologist dad has been kidnapped (Or dadnapped?). Maddie is certain this has something to do with the shipment of Qin dynasty terracotta warriors that just arrived at her dad’s museum from China. With the help of her two younger brothers, Maddie will face untold dangers and unravel ancient secrets to get her dad back. And she thought climbing the rock wall in gym class was tough…

Curse of the Terracotta Warriors is an action-packed book that moves quickly. Almost every chapter ends in a cliffhanger, which keeps the reader tuning pages. Unfortunately, much of the action sequences in Part One can feel repetitive, and the novel would have benefited from tightening up the first third of the book.

Maddie is, far and away, the star of the novel. She’s bold, a natural troublemaker with a snarky personality that will instantly endear her to readers. Told from Maddie’s first-person point of view, her clear voice and colorful narration will leave readers cheering for her through the most dire situations.

There are a few writing pitfalls throughout the book. Capitalization is occasionally inconsistent, with some character’s names or the start of sentences not being capitalized while common nouns are. Another instance sees Maddie “hurtling” over an obstacle rather than “hurdling” it. These aren’t major issues, and nothing that another proofing wouldn’t fix.

The Chinese setting of Xi’an is bland and feels shallow and poorly researched. Characters refer to “Chinese letters” and the “Chinese alphabet” when it’s common knowledge that Mandarin does not have an alphabet. The characters also watch CNN in their hotel room in Xi’an and use Wi-Fi at a Starbucks to do research, despite the fact that Chinese media is heavily censored. The Chinese setting doesn’t pop enough, and these inaccuracies show through.

Even so, Curse of the Terracotta Warriors is a fun, entertaining romp with a vivacious protagonist that’s tough to put down. Its short, action-packed chapters make this a great pick for reluctant readers, and middle-grade kids who love adventures.

by booksoverlookedblog

Dec. Book Recs: The Runners-Up

First off: sorry for only one post in November. I was sick for a couple weeks, and then had family visiting for Thanksgiving. But don’t worry, I’ve still got plenty to say about banned books! But first…

I read a lot of books this year. Not including my Did Not Finishes and picture books, I’ve read 56 books this year. That’s a lot, even for me. The vast majority were books I read for these monthly recommendation lists. I really enjoyed working on them, but each list took a lot of time and effort. That’s why I didn’t have any lists for July or August – I was simply too busy. For 2024, I’m going to do mini-recommendation lists, with only one or two books a month. 

Even though I read a lot, not every book I read made it onto the book recommendation lists. I limited myself to only 5 fiction books and 5 nonfiction books for each list. There were some great books that I really enjoyed that just didn’t make the cut. Even so, I felt like they were still worthy of sharing. So here it is: the final recommendation list of 2023: Books that Didn’t Make the Cut, but Are Still Good.

Nonfiction

Planting Stories: The Life of Librarian and Storyteller Pura Belpré / Sembrando historias: Pura Belpré: bibliotecaria y narradora de cuentos by Anika Aldamuy Denise. Illustrated by Paola Escobar

If there’s such a thing as a legendary librarian, it would be Pura Belpré. Originally from Puerto Rico, Belpré came to New York City for her sister’s wedding, and ended up staying for most of her life. She became the first Puerto Rican to be hired by the New York Public Library. There, she discovered her talent and passion for storytelling, though the library shelves lacked the stories she loved growing up in Puerto Rico. Throughout her life, Belpré wrote many children’s books based on Puerto Rican folklore, becoming one of the first Puerto Ricans to publish works in English in the U.S. Her work helped open up the library to the Latinx residents of New York City, and her stories continue to celebrate the culture she loved. Planting Stories is a picture book biography of Belpré’s life, with beautiful illustrations on each page. 

Why it didn’t make the cut: I really wanted to include something about Pura Belpré for Hispanic Heritage Month. Unfortunately, the only biography I found aimed towards adults (The Stories I Read to the Children by Laura Sánchez-González) isn’t easy to find unless you’re prepared to buy it. I found picture book biographies, but I didn’t want to showcase more than one picture book. I’d already decided on A Land of Books by Duncan Tonatiuh. His work is just so cool. I encourage everyone to learn about Pura Belpré, or at least read some Pura Belpré award winners! 

Signs of Survival: A Memoir of the Holocaust by Renee G. Hartman with Joshua M. Green

Two Jewish sisters – one hearing, one Deaf – recount their struggle to survive during World War II. During the Nazi occupation of what was Czechoslovakia, Renee was the only hearing person in her family. She had to be her family’s ears, listening for the sound of Nazi boots coming to take her family away. Renee and her younger sister, Herta, were eventually separated from their parents and shipped to Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. Using sign language to communicate, Renee and Herta had to rely on each other to survive. Presented as an oral history, both sisters recount their lives before and after the Holocaust in a tragic story of sisterhood and survival. 

Why it didn’t make the cut: I had this book as a potential pick for Disability Pride. After reading it, I realized that it didn’t fit the theme that well. It was more Renee’s story, rather than Herta’s. Regardless, their story is still powerful and important. 

And the Spirit Moved Them: The Lost Radical History of America’s First Feminists by Helen LaKelly Hunt

When did the feminist movement begin in the United States? With Susan B. Anthony and the Seneca Falls Convention in 1848? With Gloria Steinem in the 1960s? Hunt argues that the first feminist movement in the U.S. began with women like Lucretia Mott, Maria Weston Chapman, and Grace and Sarah Doughlass in the 1830s. These women railed against the patriarchal structures that treated them as unequal partners in the abolitionist movement. They bucked tradition and began their own interracial abolitionist movement, which included the Anti-Slavery Convention of American Women in 1837. Most of these women were moved to action by their Christian faith and felt “armed by God” as they denounced pro-slavery religious figures. Including photos and documents, this book is accessible to many readers who are interested in women’s history. 

Why it didn’t make the cut: It’s religious. The women being moved by their Christian faith wasn’t just a side-note, it’s a major point Hunt makes throughout the book. Towards the end, she calls for more faith-based feminism among women (of any faith, not just Christianity). There is nothing wrong with being religious, especially if your faith guides you to help others. I didn’t like how religion-focused it was, but it’s a book that many others would enjoy and even feel inspired by. 

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

In 1951, Henrietta Lacks’s cells were taken from her without her consent or knowledge. These cells continued to grow and divide long after Henrietta’s death. Her “immortal” cell line has contributed to scientific and medical discoveries for decades, from a polio vaccines to studying COVID-19, and even being sent to space. Yet Henrietta’s family never learned about the HeLa cell line until 1975. While her cells have helped so many people, her family lived in poverty and, ironically, could not afford health care. Rebecca Skloot was fascinated by Henrietta Lacks and her cells, and worked with Henrietta’s daughter, Deborah, to tell the story of Henrietta, HeLa cells, and the Lacks family today. This book is impossible to put down, and examines race, class, and ethics in medicine and science.

Why it didn’t make the cut: Even if you haven’t read this book, you’ve at least heard of it. And it is absolutely worth the hype. Though I did put some award-winners and best sellers on the lists, I wanted to highlight less well known books that are still praise-worthy and meaningful. But if you haven’t read this one yet, stop reading this and go read it. Go read it now. 

Fiction

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline 

The planet has been ravaged by climate change, which has resulted in most of the world’s population losing the ability to dream. The Indigenous people of North America can still dream, and are hunted for their bone marrow.  After French loses his parents and his brother is captured and taken to the “schools” – a parallel to the Canadian residential boarding school system – he joins a group of other Indigenous people – old and young alike – who have fled the cities to stay safe. Led by Miigwans, they travel north, living off the land and learning each other’s histories while trying to avoid becoming victims of a genocide. 

Why it didn’t make the cut: It’s a dark story. Really dark. Rape and murder are commonplace in this new world. The ending is ultimately hopeful, but it’s a long, bleak trek to reach that conclusion. The horrors the characters in this book face parallel real world atrocities committed against Indigenous Americans, most saliently with references to residential schools. It’s an important story, but a hard book to read. 

The City Beautiful by Aden Polydoros

While the rest of Chicago is marveling at the 1893 World’s Fair, Altar Rosen is working hard to earn money to bring his mother and sisters to the United States from Romania. After his best friend, Yakov, is murdered at the Fair, Altar is possessed by Yakov’s dybbuk. Unless Altar can find Yakov’s killer and bring him to justice, Yakov’s dybbuk will permanently take over Altar’s body. But there’s no justice to be found for poor Jewish immigrants, even when their bodies start piling up. Altar has no choice but to work with his old “friend” Frankie. Frankie helped Altar survive when he first arrived in America, but he has dark secrets of his own. Together, they need to track down a dangerous serial killer targeting Jewish boys all the while Altar navigates his grief and comes to understand his feelings for Frankie. A queer historical thriller, steeped in Jewish mythology. Includes content warning, glossary, and author’s note.

Why it didn’t make the cut: I really liked this book, and originally planned on using it for Pride Month. But when it comes to Pride, there’s a lot to cover, and I wanted to get as much diversity as I could when it came to the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. But I loved The Darkness Outside Us even more. It destroyed me emotionally was one of my favorite books that I read all year, and I really wanted to showcase it. The City Beautiful was still a great read, and I’m excited to share it here. 

Loving vs. Virginia: A Documentary Novel of the Landmark Civil Rights Case by Patricia Hruby Powell

Based on the true story of Richard Loving and Mildred (Jeter) Loving, this is the story of two people whose love changed U.S. history for the better. Milly, who was Black, and Richard, who was White, lived in the small town of Central Point, Virginia, surrounded by family. While Black and White folks mixed freely in Central Point, the rest of the state still had strict segregation laws, including laws against interracial marriage and “miscengenation.” Milly and Richard were married in Washington D.C. in 1958. Upon returning home, they were both arrested for “cohabitating as man and wife” and faced a year of jail time unless they left Virginia. They moved to Washington D.C., but were virtually exiled from the home they loved, unable to see their families or cross state lines together. After one of their children was hit by a car (he survived, but was injured), Milly and Richard were determined to return home. Thus began the fight of their lives for their right to be married. A novel in verse, the Lovings’ story is told from both Richard and Milly’s perspective, with illustrations throughout that enhance the reading experience. The dual perspectives during their wedding is breath-taking (especially if you listen to it on audio while reading the book, like I did). Facts about Jim Crow and anti-miscegenation laws begin each chapter. 

Why it didn’t make the cut: I loved this book, and I could’ve used it for a few different themes. But every time I’d planned to use it, I discovered another book that I wanted to highlight, and Loving vs. Virginia got pushed to the backburner. This book is one of the big reasons I wanted to share “runners-up” for December! 

Dragonfly Eyes by Cao Wenxuan. Translated by Helen Wang. 

Dragonfly Eyes is a historical fiction novel that tells the story of Ah Mei and her French grandmother, Océane. Océane married into the wealthy Shanghainese Du Meixi family in the 1920s and would eventually move to Shanghai and raise her family there. Océane adores her youngest grandchild (and only granddaughter) Ah Mei. Their close bond carries both of them through the turbulent times: Japan’s invasion of China in the 1930s, famine in the 1950s, and finally the Chinese Cultural Revolution in the 1960s and 70s. An omniscient narrator describes Ah Mei and Océane’s lives with tender details amidst the historical backdrop. Ah Mei and Océane’s loving relationship is the heart of this novel, softening the harsh blows that buffet the family.

Why it didn’t make the cut: I didn’t like it. Omniscient narrators and a thin plot made it hard for me to get into this novel. The book was lovely in its own way, it but wasn’t for me.

by booksoverlookedblog

Nov. Book Recs.: Native American Heritage Month

November is Native American Heritage Month in the United States! Native American Heritage Month was established in 1990 to recognize and celebrate the diverse cultures of Indigenous Americans. There are 574 federally recognized Indigenous nations in the United States. Native Land Digital contains a map which shows the original territories of Indigenous peoples across the globe. I encourage everyone to check it out.

I first became interested in Indigenous American literature when I learned how little there was of it. Moreover, of the literature that does exist, there are many books that rely on stereotypes and myths about Indigenous people. Dr. Debbie Reese (Nambé Pueblo) established the American Indians in Children’s Literature Institute (AICL). Her blog contains book reviews and many resources for learning more about Indigenous Americans. Dr. Reese’s tone can be acerbic and her critiques have not always been well-received but the AICL is still a valuable resource. To find work by more Indigenous Americans, some prominent authors and illustrators to check out are Shonto Begay, Louise Erdrich, Joy Harjo, Michael Lacapa, George Littlechild, Leslie Marmon Silko, Cynthia Leitich Smith, Tim Tingle, and Traci Sorell.

There are many terms used for America’s first peoples: Native American, Indigenous, First Nations, etc. Anton Truer notes that each of these terms are “often ambiguous, and equally problematic” as “Indian.” It is best to use the names that Indigenous people use to refer to themselves and their tribe or nation. As in the October book list, I’ll be using the terms that the authors and characters use to describe themselves.

Fiction

Firekeeper’s Daughter by Angeline Boulley

Daunis Fontain is still trying to adjust to the New Normal. After her grandmother’s stroke and her uncle’s death, Daunis delayed her college plans so she could stay close to home on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. While her brother, Levi, and best friend, Lily, are ecstatic that she’ll be sticking around for another year, some of the elders in her Ojibwe community don’t agree with her decision. Everyone knows how smart Daunis is, and some say she needs to be pursuing her dream of becoming a doctor. Jamie, a striking new arrival in town, catches everyone’s eye, but he seems most interested in Daunis. After she witnesses a shocking murder, he tells her the truth: he’s an undercover agent working for the FBI, investigating a new form of crystal meth, one that’s been mixed with traditional Ojibwe medicines. He and his partner want Daunis to be their new confidential informer. Her knowledge of chemistry, traditional medicines, and the community make her the perfect candidate for this role. Curbing the use of illegal substances would help her community in a major way, but can she really trust the federal government to do the right thing for Indians? And if she does, what dangers will she face? A little slow to start, once the plot gets rolling, you won’t want to put this book down. Dark themes make this book better for older teens and adults.

Give Me Some Truth by Eric Gansworth

Carson has a plan to get off the Tuscarora Reservation: Battle of the Bands 1980. The winning prize is $1000 and a trip to New York City, and Carson’s not letting a little detail like not actually having a band get in his way. He’s pretty sure he can wrangle his Beatles obsessed sort-of-friend Lewis to join him, and soon they’ll be ready to rock. Even his brother getting shot in the ass by a racist restaurant owner isn’t enough to make him lose focus. An old/new arrival to the Rez shakes things up: fifteen-year-old Maggi, who’s moved back after being away for seven years. Her water drum and vocables make her a unique addition to the band, but she wants more than that. Maggi’s tired of making traditional beadwork to sell to tourists, and wants to create conceptual artwork like Andy Warhol and Yoko Ono. But she’s even more tired of being treated like a kid. When Maggi thinks she’s found her first love – and her path to womanhood – she doesn’t see the danger she could be in. There were times I wanted to yell at Carson and Maggi, but their excellent character growth (as well as Lewis’s) lead to a satisfying conclusion in this coming-of-age novel.

The Storyteller by Brandon Hobson

Ziggy has anxiety, possibly because his mom disappeared when he was just a baby. Ziggy holds onto the hope that someday he’ll see her again, though his dad and older sister, Moon, believe otherwise. When he learns that his mom liked to explore caves in the desert, Ziggy thinks there might be a clue in a secret cave, something that the police missed all those years ago. With a little hesitation, he asks his classmate “Weird Alice” to help him find the cave. She agrees, telling Ziggy about the Nunnehi, immortal spirits that can take many forms. If the Nunnehi hid and protected their Cherokee ancestors on the Trail of Tears, maybe they helped Ziggy’s mom, too. Their night trek into the desert begins with a talking coyote (and possible chupacabra) named Rango. Ziggy, Alice, Moon, and Ziggy’s friend Corso have a night replete with supernatural encounters, and some memorable mundane ones as well. Ziggy will see, first hand, the importance of remembering history and the power of stories to connect us to the past.

Harvest House by Cynthia Leitich Smith

After his school’s fall play is canceled, Hughie Wolfe is glad that he’ll still get a chance to participate in local theatre by volunteering at Harvest House, a new haunted house at the crossroads. But Hughie (who is Muscogee) is less thrilled when he learns that the star of the haunt will be the “Indian maiden” whose ghost is said to haunt the town’s crossroads, and that the grand finale will take place on “ancient Indian burial grounds.” And even though Hughie and his friends are tired of “Indian maiden” legends, there is something eerie going on at the crossroads. Someone – or something – is going after Indigenous girls when they’re alone at night. Most locals think it’s a man harassing young women, or the stories are fake publicity for Harvest House. But that doesn’t explain the voices the young women hear, or the strange animal behavior during each of these occurrences. Hughie’s got his work cut out for him. Can he change Harvest House’s proprietor’s mind about using his culture for cheap scares and solve the mystery of the crossroads ghost before Halloween?

Moonshot: The Indigenous Comics Collection

Moonshot: The Indigenous Comics Collection is a folklore comic anthology created entirely by Indigenous American writers and illustrators. Each story has a unique style, and there are several different genres in the book as a whole. “Strike and Bolt” is a sci-fi story of two brothers who represent lightning and thunder on a distant planet, while “Siku” and “The Quallupik” are unsettling tales of horror. My favorite was “Coyote and the Pebbles,” based on the story of how the stars came to be. An important and impressive showcase of talent, there is a second volume which centers around Indigenous spirituality and tradition.

Nonfiction

#NotYourPrincess edited by Lisa Charleyboy and Mary Beth Leatherdale

#NotYourPrincess is a “love letter” to young Indigenous women. This book is a multimedia collection of visual art, poetry, photos, songs, essays, and personal memories that reflect on the experience of being an Indigenous woman in modern America. Each seeks to defy the stereotype of a docile “Indian princess.” Themes of decolonization, overcoming abuse and abandonment, cultural appropriation, heritage, and identity run through this book. #NotYourPrincess shows the complexity of what it means to be an Indigenous woman in modern America, and includes current topics such as Standing Rock and the Rematriation movement. At its core, #NotYourPrincess looks to the future of Indigenous women, in all its complexity.

An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States by Roxanne Dunabar Ortiz

Indigenous peoples lived in the Americas for thousands of years before Christopher Columbus set sail, and yet the history of the United States is so rarely told from the perspective of its original inhabitants. As the title suggests, Dunbar-Ortiz gives an overview of the United States’s history from the perspective of Indigenous Americans. It starts with an overview of life in North America before European settlers, an extensive network of self-sufficient agrarian nations. From there, the book goes on to give the history of treaties made and broken, Indigenous peoples’ roles in American wars, the horrors of residential boarding schools, and the consequences of Manifest Destiny. The history continues beyond Wounded Knee or the Battle of Little Bighorn into the Indigenous Civil Rights movement and activism. The young reader’s edition, published in 2019, includes an extra chapter about Standing Rock and the DAPL pipeline protest. Throughout the book, Dunbar-Ortiz makes the case that the atrocities inflicted on Indigenous people constitutes genocide, and draws parallels between the United States’s dealings with Indigenous peoples in the past and current global conflicts today. By no means is this a “fun” read, but it is a comprehensive and informative one. For those who want to learn more about Indigenous history, this is a good place to start.

Highway of Tears : A True Story of Racism, Indifference, and the Pursuit of Justice for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls by Jessica McDiarmid

Highway 16 stretches between Prince Rupert and Prince George in British Columbia, covering 725 km (450 mi). But it’s known by another name: the Highway of Tears. Estimates vary, but 1,200 to 4,000 Indigenous women and girls have gone missing or been murdered along this route. McDiamrid gives personal accounts of some of the missing and murdered victims, telling their stories and the stories of those that lost them. She also examines the systematic racism that has forced many Indigenous people into poverty, leading to addiction, crime, and violence. She also brings to light the apathy and uncaring attitudes of many members of law enforcement and the Canadian government toward victims who are Indigenous, and the noticeable silence of the press. This problem is not unique to Canada, and Indigenous women and girls in the United States are far more likely to be victims of violence and sexual assault than non-Native women. This exposé is a tragic reminder of the dangers of racism and indifference, and a call for justice for those who have lost their lives along the Highway of Tears.

Living Nations, Living Words: An Anthology of First Peoples Poetry, with forward by Joy Harjo

Joy Harjo is the first Indigenous American to hold the title of Poet Laureate in the United States. During her tenure as Poet Laureate, she created Living Nations, Living Words: A Map of First Peoples Poetry. This poetry collection is based on that work.

A poetry collection by the United States’s First People, wherein each poet contributed a poem “based on the theme of place and displacement, and with four touchpoints in mind: visibility, persistence, resistance, and acknowledgement.” Each poem is preceded by a photo and brief biography of its author. Several poems are bilingual, written in the author’s indigenous language and followed by an English translation. The collection also spans beyond the borders of the continental U.S., showcasing First Nation poets from Hawaii and Guam. The book is uniquely organized by geography and theme: “East” for daybreak, birth and beginnings, “Center” for “the belly and the heart of presence”, – poems crossroads, full of affirmation and anger; and “West” which looks forward to the future. Decolonization, identity, and heritage are all important themes throughout the book. The poets are not exclusively from the continental United States, but also poets from Hawai’i, Alaska, and Guåhan (Guam).

Everything You Wanted to Know About Indians but Were Afraid to Ask by Anton Truer

American Indian culture has long been mythologized, and is often misunderstood, stereotyped, or exploited by non-Indians today. Dr. Anton Truer answers questions that he has received about Indian culture, from the reasonable (“What is a powwow?”) to the ridiculous (“Where are the real Indians?”). The book is divided into several sections, each covering a different topic, like history, politics, religion, and economics. The true story of the first Thanksgiving and Columbus’s arrival in the Americas, as well as the consequences of western expansion are prominent in the history section. He explains policies, laws, and treaties that still affect Indians today, and dispels myths and misunderstandings about Indian culture. Truer answers each question in an informative and conversational way. Throughout the book, he makes it clear to the reader that American Indians are a broad and diverse group, and there is no one-size-fits all answer to these questions. Originally published in 2012, an updated edition from 2021 includes more questions and answers. The backmatter also includes resources for further reading and viewing.

by booksoverlookedblog

Banned Books Week 2: The Reasons

If you want to know what the current moral panic facing America is, check the ALA’s top 10 banned books list. When you think of banned books, you might be thinking of the classics: Brave New World, Huckleberry Finn, To Kill an Mockingbird. And, sure, there are classic books that have been challenged and banned since they were first published. Just ask Toni Morrison. But in recent years, the most common reasons for challenging or banning books are for containing LBGTQIA+ content or critiques of systemic racism. Labeling a book as “sexually explicit” is another common reason, though that’s pretty much always been the case when it comes to book bans.

To show this, I’ve made a couple charts tracking the reasons why books were challenged or banned from 2012 – 2022. If you want a more detailed view, this is the spreadsheet I used to compile everything from the ALA’s lists. 

A little bit about the data here: most books have multiple reasons given for being challenged/banned. For example, Gender Queer by Maia Kobabe was challenged for LGBTQIA+ content and for being sexually explicit, so I marked it as both. “Language” can mean a few different things, depending on the book and who’s complaining about it. It might be curse words, but some books that deal with racial issues were challenged for having “divisive language.” Since one of those was a picture book, I don’t think that divisive language in that particular book was f-bombs. I’ve included racial slurs and derogatory terms in the category “language” as well. Similar to “language,” profanity can mean different things to different people, but it’s generally accepted to mean swearing. I’ve combined “racism” and “racial stereotypes” into one category, since you typically don’t get one without the other. I’ve also combined drugs and alcohol into the same category, though books that are challenged for drug use may not include alcohol use, and vice versa. 

All in all, the reasons given to ban or challenge books in the past 10 years looks a little something like this: 

From 2012 to 2022, the three most common were “other”, “sexually explicit”, and “LGBTQIA+ content.” I’ll talk about “other” in a later post. Right now, I want to go over “sexually explicit.” 

As I’ll talk about in another post, “sexually explicit” can mean a lot of things. It can mean graphic sex scenes, steamy scenes, sexual assault, nudity (both sexual and nonsexual), and anything in between. What I find sexually explicit may not be what you find sexually explicit. 

Books with LGBTQIA+ content also tend to be called “sexually explicit” more frequently than books without it, even if the content is pretty mild. I can’t think of a book where this is more obvious than Drama by Raina Telgemeir. In one scene, two boys kiss. It’s a first kiss, innocent and sweet. If it had been a boy and a girl kissing, no one would bat an eye. 

Are you ready for this? Ready for this borderline pornographic scene?

No one tell the concerned parents how Shakespeare plays were originally cast.

Which brings me to my next point: challenging and banning books with LGBTQIA+ content. You’ve probably heard about this, since it’s becoming scarily common. These aren’t just parents showing up at school board meetings or quietly filling out a “request for reconsideration” form at a library. It’s a school board member filing a criminal complaint against Flagler Schools for having an “obscene” book in the school library.

 Or public libraries losing funding for having LGBTQIA+ materials.

 Or multiple bomb threats made against public libraries for carrying LGBTQIA+ materials.

This scares the shit out of me. To be totally honest, I think it’s a matter of time before a library worker is seriously injured or even killed due to this anti-LGBTQIA+ moral panic. But at least there’s an injunction against the Arkansas law that would prosecute librarians and booksellers for having materials that are “harmful” to minors in their collections, right?

Challenges to books with LGBTQIA+ content are obvious homophobia and transphobia. Censoring these materials attempts to erase already marginalized people and groups who have been unseen for centuries. The same can be said for books that confront systemic racism in America. In both cases, censorship acts to hide away authentic stories and information. Taken to the extreme, it could mean that only material that’s ultimately harmful to marginalized groups could remain on the shelves, further perpetuating homophobia, transphobia, and racism. These books combat this ugliness by exposing it. And if it makes you uncomfortable, good. Homophobia should be uncomfortable. Racism should be uncomfortable. 

And if it makes you feel seen and validated, or comforted to know that there is someone out there who feels like you do, sees the world like you do, or just makes you feel like you’re not alone…even better. 

Accessibility is about power, gatekeeping is founded on the protection of power, and to all of that I say: fuck that, because information that can change lives should never be hoarded.

Prisca Dorcas Mojica Rodriguez, For Brown Girls with Sharp Edges and Tender Hearts

The rash of censorship spreading across school and public libraries, and even private businesses, is appalling on every level. 

You cannot say you are protecting children and at the same time take away the things that validate who they are.

You cannot claim to uphold family values while calling in bomb threats.

You cannot say you value freedom and free speech and actively call for censorship.

by booksoverlookedblog

Oct. Book Recs: Disability Pride

For October, we’re celebrating Disability Pride! I know that Disability Pride Month is in July, but at the time I didn’t have enough time to do a full recommendation list. Here’s the mini-recommendation list. Even better, here’s some extra books to add to it!

 This is an important subject to me, and one that many of us have personal experience with. I have “invisible” disabilities, and the concept of “Disability Pride” is new to me. I’ve rarely felt proud of having disabilities as they have always felt more of a hindrance than a gift. However, I admire those who can embrace their disabilities – even when it’s hard – and celebrate themselves as they are. To steal a phrase from Temple Grandin, we are different, not lesser.

There are a lot of ways you can talk about disabilities and people who have disabilities. The conversation and vocabulary around disabilities and neurodivergence has changed a lot in recent years (like the word “neurodivergence” entering the common parlance) and it will continue to change. For this list, I will be using the terms that the authors/characters use to describe themselves. 

Nonfiction

Not So Different: What You Really Want to Know About Having a Disability by Shane Burcaw

When kids encounter someone with a disability, they may be frightened, and probably have questions they don’t know how to ask. In Not So Different, Shane Burcaw answers some common questions kids have about his life with Spinal Muscular Atrophy. Burcaw demystifies what life with a severe physical disability is like, answering questions about his wheelchair and daily needs that he needs help with. He explains that even though his body is different from most people’s, there’s nothing wrong with him. He may look different, but he still has a full life, doing the same things that all of us enjoy: spending time with family and friends, playing sports and video games, and of course, eating pizza.

Thinking in Pictures: My Life with Autism by Temple Grandin

Temple Grandin is so well known in psychology and animal science circles that the inclusion of Thinking in Pictures almost feels unnecessary, but her work both in the livestock industry and advocating for autism rights have been groundbreaking. Thinking in Pictures is part autobiography, and part primer on autism.  Grandin tells the story of her life as an autistic woman, and how she learned to navigate a world that wasn’t built for someone like her. Grandin’s stunning ability for visual thinking and deep connection with animals changed the livestock industry in the U.S. forever and led to the creation of more humane slaughterhouses (yes, that is a thing). She also describes the challenges and benefits of being autistic, and how it has shaped her life. Grandin writes that she is “different, not lesser” and shows how autism can be a gift. Originally published in 1995, some of the information on diagnosing autism and medications is outdated. Yet Grandin’s life story – born at a time when autistic children were often institutionalized – is compelling and fascinating. If you have any interest in neurodivergence, this is a must-read. 

Vincent and Theo: the Van Gogh Brothers by Deborah Heiligman

Two brothers walk to a windmill and make a pledge that will shape the rest of their lives.

Vincent van Gogh was one of the most remarkable and celebrated painters that ever lived. But the beauty in his paintings was often missing in his own life. The (literal) portrait of a tormented artist, Vincent most likely had bipolar disorder, among other physical and mental ailments. Throughout his troubled life, there was one person he valued above all overs: his younger brother, Theo. Theo supported his brother financially and emotionally throughout both their lives, sending him money and paint, and most importantly, believing in Vincent and his art. Their relationship was often strained, and rarely easy, but the deep bond and love between them carried both brothers through the darkest and brightest times of their lives. Meticulously drawn from the hundreds of letters that the brothers wrote to each other, Heiligman paints a stunning biography of both men. Beautifully written, Vincent and Theo’s life stories are filled with tenderness and tragedy. Much as we celebrate Vincent’s work today, it should be known: there would be no Vincent without Theo. The audiobook is excellent, and the print version has illustrations and a photo insert of some of Vincent’s work.

All Cats are on the Autism Spectrum
All Dogs Have ADHD
All Birds Have Anxiety

By Kathy Hoopmann

I couldn’t pick just one of these books – I had to include all three. Hoopmann describes common traits of autism, ADHD, and anxiety, using cute and funny animal pictures to illustrate each one. The books also list the positive traits as well: “His creativity is legendary!” “[P]eople marvel at their intelligent minds.” Each book ends on a hopeful note, that with love and support, you can achieve anything (and have anxiety-free days!) no matter what kind of brain you have. For parents, it can be hard to explain a child’s diagnosis to them, or find an opening to talk about it. Books like these are a great way to start the conversation, and the photos (apart from being adorable) can help both adults and children understand autism, ADHD, and anxiety better. They’re cute, informative, and I love how Hoopmann incorporates positive traits as well. My brain is wired differently from most people’s, and it has its drawbacks. It’s nice to be reminded that there are good things about that, too. 

Fiction

You’re Welcome, Universe by Whitney Gardner

It’s time for Julia to go public with her art. After a slur against her best friend is spray-painted on the gym at Kingston School for the Deaf, Julia covers it with a mural of her own, covering a nasty message with art. Instead of being grateful, her friend rats on her, and Julia is expelled for vandalizing the school.. Friendless and angry, Julia is forced to attend a mainstream school in the suburbs. Julia turns her focus on her art and makes a splash with her first graffiti mural…until someone tags over it. Then it happens again. And her rival is good. Really good. Julia never thought she’d be in a graffiti war, but she’s determined to win this, and hold tight to the one thing in her life that still makes sense. Illustrations of Julia’s (and her rival’s) artwork are scattered throughout the book. A fun read with insights into Deaf culture and a side of teen drama. 

Get a Grip, Vivy Cohen! By Sarah Kapit

When twelve-year-old Vivy Cohen writes a letter to her favorite baseball player, VJ Capello, for her social skills group, she doesn’t think he’ll actually write back. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to play on a baseball team either, even though she’s got a mean knuckleball. But when Coach K spots her pitching in the park, he doesn’t care that she’s a girl or autistic. He just wants her on his team. After some reluctance on her mom’s part, Vivy joins the team and can finally play the best sport in the world. Even better, VJ Capello starts writing her back! The two strike up a correspondence, with VJ offering advice on not just on pitching, but also friendships, bullying, and being a good team player. VJ understands her love of the game and believes in her…so why can’t Vivy’s mom? But with VJ’s support and a catcher who’s always got her back, Vivy’s determined to earn her place on the pitcher’s mound.

Pieces of Me by Kate McLaughlin

Dylan wakes up in a stranger’s apartment with no memory of how she got there. She’s blacked out before – the main reason she quit drinking – but is shaken to her core when she realizes that she’s been missing for three days. Dylan knows that she’s “crazy” – all the other mental health diagnoses she has don’t explain her losing time as frequently as she does. After a life-threatening event, Dylan is finally diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly known as multiple personalities. The diagnosis is both a relief and a nightmare. Dylan must learn to live, communicate with, and eventually accept her alters as part of herself. To heal, she must also recall the trauma that forced her consciousness to fracture when she was just a child. The book can be dark, but it gives a sympathetic portrayal of DID, which is often misunderstood and stigmatized. Dylan’s story is ultimately hopeful as she learns that she can have a full, meaningful life with DID. Resources and a content warning are included. 

Unbroken: 13 Stories of Disabled Teens edited by Marieke Nijkamp

An autistic girl is cursed to grant wishes to anyone who is kind to her. A young writer comes to a new understanding of the theatre through Faust. A teenager with severe anxiety is the only one who can save her city from an impending attack. Unbroken is a multi-genre short story anthology, with stories ranging from high-stakes sci-fi to rom-com to historical fiction. The protagonists are well-crafted, never reduced to just their disabilities. The protagonists don’t set out to “cure” themselves, but their motivations are things every teen wants: love, security, acceptance. My favorite story is the first one, “The Long Road” by Heidi Heilig, where a traveler on the Silk Road (implied to have bipolar disorder) comes to see herself not as cursed, and accepts herself as she is. 

by booksoverlookedblog

Banned Books Week 1: Intellectual Freedom

I can only remember my reading choices being called into question three times.

First, when I was in elementary school, my aunt saw me reading some sort of business-type book by Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert. I was skipping the text and reading the comic strips that had been inserted on each page. My aunt laughed and asked if I understood what I was reading. I told her I was only reading the comics. She asked if I understood the comics, which I mostly didn’t, and I told her, “Some of them.”

The second time was probably in the summer of 1997, making me eight years old. I was eagerly reading a Newsweek article about the recently-launched Sojourner Mars rover. My mom asked me if I understood what I was reading. I was an above-average reader for my age, but Newsweek was still beyond me. I had no idea what the article was saying. I lied and told her that I understood it all.

The last time came when I was sixteen or seventeen, and reading The House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer. Whenever I set it down, I was very careful to always place it cover side up, lest someone be weirded out by the summary on the back. When I did leave it upside down once, though, my mom read the summary and asked, “What is this book you’re reading?” Considering that the summary talks about opium and a boy being harvested from a cow’s womb, I’m not surprised that it raised a few eyebrows. When I told her it was sci-fi about clones and I also thought it was weird, but good. She just kind of went, “all right then” and didn’t ask again.

But at no point has anyone ever told me, “I don’t like that, so you can’t read it.” No one has ever tried to take a book from me because it was too advanced, or because they were uncomfortable with the subject matter. I got to read whatever I wanted, even if my parents didn’t love all of it. Though my mom might occasionally “check in” if I was reading a book with mature themes, she trusted me to make my own decisions when it came to reading. Some kids aren’t that lucky.

Let’s talk about banned books.

This is the week to do it, after all. Banned Books Week was established in 1982 by the Office of Intellectual Freedom (OIF), a subdivision of the American Library Association (ALA), in response to a sudden uptick in book bans and challenges that year.

Notably, the subject of book bans made it all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court in 1982, in the case Island Tree Schools School District v. Pico. The school district had removed 11 books from the high school and middle school libraries, which the school board decreed were, “anti-American, anti-Christian, anti-Sem[i]tic, and just plain filthy.” A group of five students, led by high school senior Steven Pico, filed suit against the school board. They alleged that removing books from their school violated their First Amendment rights. In a 5-4 decision, the Supreme Court ruled that school boards did not have the right to remove books from the school library “simply because they dislike the ideas contained in those books and seek by their removal to ‘prescribe what shall be orthodox in politics, nationalism, religion, or other matters of opinion.'”

Five kids stood up for their intellectual freedom, and they saved their right to information. But book bans and challenges are still happening today, and at an alarming and unprecedented rate.

So I want to dedicate this and the next few posts to Banned Books Week, taking a look at intellectual freedom, and the threats it faces.

But first: What is intellectual freedom?

Librarians don’t take an oath when we graduate,* but if we did, it would probably look like the Library Bill of Rights. To shrink it down into just three main tenets, the Library Bill of Rights says (in brief)

  1. Everyone has a right to information, regardless of their age, sex, race, religion, orientation, gender identity, etc.
  2. Libraries facilitate these rights by providing information from all points of view, and need to challenge censorship or attempts to restrict anyone’s freedom to read and learn.
  3. Everyone has a right to privacy, and libraries need to safeguard the privacy of everyone who uses them.

I could talk about the right to privacy and libraries for a long time, but for this post, I’ll be sticking to those first two tenets. In a nutshell, this is intellectual freedom. Everyone has a right to information from all points of view, without restriction. And it’s not just me saying that. The U.N. agrees.

Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.

U.N.’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Censorship, book bans, and challenges all restrict our human right to information.

I’m going to pre-empt one of the most common (if not the most common) arguments for book challenges and bans: “Think of the children!”

As a youth librarian, I work with all ages of kids, from babies to teenagers. I obviously wouldn’t hand a three-year-old and a thirteen-year-old the same book. Likewise, two kids of the same age can have entirely different reading and maturity levels. A book that’s perfect for one kid might be totally wrong for another. That’s fine – there is no single book that is perfect for every person. Adults can and should provide guidance for kids when it comes to their media consumption, including books.

What shouldn’t be done is deprive others of the opportunity to access those materials. There are plenty of books that I don’t like, and ones that I disagree vehemently with. I choose not to read those books, or to read them with a critical eye. Just because I don’t like Red, White, and Royal Blue doesn’t mean that I can take it away from everyone else who might want to read it.

One more thing that I haven’t addressed yet: the right to receive information from all points of view.

This can be a hard thing when it comes to selecting materials for libraries. For instance, political pundits espouse plenty of opinions I disagree with. Yet they still have fans who want to hear from them, and who will eagerly dive into any book their favorite commentator puts out. Even if it’s misleading or potentially harmful.

At times, this has been really difficult for me. I mostly deal with juvenile and YA fiction, so I don’t have to decide if a book like Why Women Shouldn’t Vote** by John “Women are Intimidated by How Smart I Am” Smith belongs in a library. But I still have to make choices like:

Is this book where the characters appropriate sacred Indigenous practices something we want in our collection?
This books has strong misogynistic content, but the movie is extremely popular and it’s trending on #BookTok. Do we buy it?
The teens really enjoy rom-coms, but this one starts after a girl is kissed by a stranger in the dark. How would that be interpreted by the teens who read it?
This author is a slimeball and criminal, but his books get checked out a lot. Is it okay for me to buy this book and support him financially? Or is it better for me to order it so fewer people need to go out and buy the book?

I have to take all of these questions on a book-by-book basis. I reject many books because I feel that they would not suit our library patron’s needs, and I purchase others that I would never choose for myself because I know the patrons will like them. These are the times that I need to separate my professional ethics from my personal beliefs.

Everyone still has a right to read these books, no matter what your beliefs are. The library’s role is not to sort out what should and shouldn’t be read, but to provide information to those who seek it. Intellectual freedom is a human right, and Banned Books Week is a challenge to anyone who would take away that right.

So crack open The Bluest Eye, pull your copy of Perks of Being a Wallflower off the shelf, and dare to check out Flamer. Let freedom read.

*We do, however, get a cardigan alongside our diploma.
**Not a real book. I hope.

by booksoverlookedblog

BIDP: Butterflies in November

In 2015, I took a trip to Iceland with my sister, boyfriend (now husband), and a friend. For ten days we traveled the Ring Road that encircles the country. It was an adventure unlike any other I’d been on, not only because of the beautiful and primal landscape we explored. It was also because I spent the second night of our trip in an Icelandic hospital, and got to learn about the Scandinavian health care system first hand. But that’s another story altogether.

I bring this all up because I wanted to explain how the book Butterflies in November landed in my lap. Technically, I did pick this book, just not for myself. I bought it for my sister, who re-gifted it back to me. I got this book specifically for her because it’s about an Icelandic woman making an unexpected trip around the Ring Road, and the people she meets along the way. It had been praised in reviews, and I thought it would be fun to relive our trip through a book where the protagonist takes the same route we did. My sister said that the book was “okay” – not exactly high praise – and passed it on to me.

One unusual thing about Butterflies in November is that very few characters have names, including the main character. For this review, I’ll be referring the her as “Kvenhetja,” the Icelandic word for “heroine.” At least, I think it is. Google Translate is far from perfect.

Here’s the basic plot: Kvenhetja is a linguist and freelance editor and translator. She’s been married for almost five years, but has been having an affair with one of her clients. Shortly after being dumped by both her husband and lover, she becomes the reluctant guardian of her best friend’s child. Tumi is four years old, deaf and largely mute, and Kvenhetja doesn’t have a mothering bone in her body. After Tumi picks the winning numbers for the largest lottery jackpot in Icelandic history, he and Kvenhetja set out on a  journey on the Icelandic Ring Road that encircles the entire country.

The plot isn’t anything we haven’t seen before. Someone unlucky in love who takes in a child (bonus points if they have special needs) and goes on a journey of self-discovery. The main difference between this book and stories like No Reservations, Raising Helen, and this way-too-accurate trailer for every Academy Award-winning movie ever is that it’s set in Iceland. But what really drew me into the book was how similar I was to the protagonist. Scarily so.

‘It’s as if you just don’t want to grow up, behaving like a child, even though you’re thirty-three years old, doing your weird and careless things [. . .] You’re always forgetting things, arriving the last at everything, you don’t wear a watch. And to top it all, you always seem to choose the longest route anywhere. [. . .] Words, words, words, exactly, your entire life revolves around the definition of words. Well here you go, impulsive: abrupt, hasty, headlong and impetuous. [. . .] Having a child might have changed you, smoothed your edges a bit. But still, what kind of mother would behave the way you do?’

It was bound to reach this point, the baby issue. But I’m a realist so I agree with him, I wasn’t made to be a mother, to bring up new humans, I haven’t the faintest clue about children, nor the skills required to rear them. The sight of a small child doesn’t trigger a wave of soft maternal feelings in me.

I have never felt so called out by a book before.

But in that outlining of Kvenhetja’s traits and quirks, there is one thing I am that she’s not. Impatient. I was promised a travelogue, but it took several chapters of set-up to get her and Tumi on the road. Granted, the chapters tend to be short, but it felt like forever to get to. When Kvenhetja and Tuni finally get to their journey on the Ring Road, I kept reading and waiting for…something to happen.

I’ve read some non-fiction travelogues, and they’re often a series of anecdotes as the narrator travels form Point A to Point B. This makes sense. Our lives don’t follow the structured five stages of plot (though sometimes it feels like they do). Telling a true story about your life isn’t going to be like telling a story in a novel.

Once Kvenhetja and Tumi are on the road, the story is mostly composed of anecdotes of people she and Tumi meet along the way. There are definite characters she meets, like a falconer and an Estonian men’s choir. There is a through-line to the plot, at least:  Kvenhetja is on the road to receive a prize she won, and Tumi is along for the ride.

The road trip was the part of the book I was most interested in, because it was a way to re-visit my trip around the Ring Road. All the people on the road that Kvenhetja meets are helpful and friendly, something I probably would have scoffed at if I hadn’t seen the kindness of native Icelanders and tourists firsthand. Iceland is a rugged country, and being stranded on the Ring Road can be dangerous. I think that’s one of the reasons why it feels like everyone has each other’s back.

I also liked to see  things on the page that had enchanted me in real life: black sand deserts, lava fields, hot springs and one-lane bridges. These are landscapes you can get lost in, perfect for resetting your life. The novel makes a lot of use of metaphors reflecting on the Icelandic landscape and travel on the Ring Road.

The reviews promised a quirky and funny story, but most of the time I read it, I was just bored. Despite the similarities between Kvenhetja and me, as the book went on, I just didn’t like her very much. She’s impulsive and makes poor decisions that are potentially dangerous for the child in her care. Granted, Iceland is generally safer than the U.S., but I don’t think that it’s a good idea to have sex with a stranger in a lava field while a four-year-old charge is sleeping in the car. Half the time Tumi may as well not even be in the story, considering how much of the prose is devoted to Kvenhetja’s introspection.

This book also hit on one of my pet peeves when it comes to writing child characters: children who don’t act like children. I don’t mind a precocious character every now and then, and Tumi is meant to be an “introspective oddball.” I liked how he has an interest in words and could read and write a little. It helped bring Kvenhetja and Tumi connect, not just for the purposes of communication. She might not have any inkling of what to do with a child, but their shared interest in words helps build their relatiomship. But for an entire trip, Kvenhetja never had to deal with Tumi wetting his pants, throwing a tantrum, or trying to eat rocks. Tumi isn’t just introspective; he’s the most un-childlike four-year-old I think I’ve seen in fiction.

Overall, I didn’t really care for Butterflies in November. I didn’t seem to get the wry humor that reviews promised. The prose is descriptive and fantastic, but it ultimately wasn’t enough to save the thin plot.

I don’t think it was a bad book. It certainly got plenty of love from critics. It just wasn’t a good book for me. If Butterflies in November sounds like something you’d enjoy, I encourage you to check it out!

by booksoverlookedblog

Sep. Book Recs: Hispanic Heritage Month

September marks the beginning of Hispanic Heritage Month in the U.S.! Hispanic Heritage Month begins on September 15 and goes to October 15. It’s a little unusual for a monthly observation to begin in the middle of the month, but there’s a reason for it. On September 15, 1821, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, and Nicaragua declared independence from Spain. Mexico declared its independence on September 16, 1810, and Chile did so on September 18, 1810. Almost 200 years later, Belize would declare independence from Great Britain on September 21, 1981. 

Hispanic Heritage Month celebrates the achievement, culture, and traditions of Latinx Americans of Mexican, Central American, South American, Caribbean, and Spanish ancestry. 

As always, I can only offer a smidgen of what is out there for books by and about Latinx individuals. If you’re looking for more, Pura Belpré award winners and honorees are a great place to start! There are also many Latinx authors and illustrators doing stellar work. To name a few: Alma Flor Ada, Julia Alvarez, Jorge Argueta, Monica Brown, Isabel Campoy, Joe Cepeda, Angela Cervantes, Veronica Chambers, Sandra Cisneros, Judith Ortiz Cofer, Raul Colón, Carmen Agra Deedy, Lulu Delacre, David Díaz, Angela Dominguez, Margarita Engle, Xavier Garza, Christina Díaz González, Carmen T. Bernier-Grand, Susan Guevara, Francisco Jiménez, René Colato Laínez, Rafael López, Meg Medina, Marisa Montes, Pat Mora, Yuyi Morales, Sara Palacios, John Parra, Celia C. Pérez, Pam Muñoz Ryan, Benjamín Alire Sáenz, Garo Soto, Francisco X. Stork, Carmen Tafolla, Raúl the Third, Duncan Tonatiuh, and Erica Velazquez. 

That’s quite a list! You’ll find some of those writers on this list as well. ¡Vamos a leer!

Nonfiction

Enchanted Air: A Memoir by Margarita Engle

Margarita is a child of two countries: the United States, and Cuba. Her mother’s country, Cuba, is a place of dancing trees, singing vendors, and beautiful forests and farms. Cuba is a place where Margarita can be brave – as brave as a boy. But most of the year she lives in Los Angeles, timid and lonely. Growing up in the 1950s and 60s, she doesn’t understand how two countries she loves so much can hate each other. As relations between Cuba and the United States worsen, Margarita wonders: will her relatives in Cuba hate her? Why is her mother choosing to be “stateless”? When will she visit her beloved Cuba again? In evocative verse, Engle shares her experiences growing up Cuban-American during the Bay of Pigs invasion and Cuban Missile Crisis, her summers in Cuba before the United States embargo against the country, and her deep and abiding love for words and poetry. 

Once I was You: A Memoir / Una vez fui tuí: Memorias by Maria Hinojosa

When Mexican-born Maria Hinojosa came to the United States as a one-year-old in 1962, she was nearly separated from her family. Only her mother refusing to leave her child allowed Maria to move to the U.S. with her family. In this memoir, Hinojosa chronicles her life and they many identities she has: an immigrant, a woman, a survivor of sexual assault, a wife, mother, and award-winning journalist. She started as an intern at NPR, pitching stories by day and waiting tables by night. Throughout her career, she sought to highlight human stories that are often overlooked, and give a voice to the voiceless. Yet this book is about more than one woman’s life. Opening on an encounter with children who were separated from their families while crossing the U.S.-Mexico border, Hinojosa gives a history of changing immigration policies from the 1960s to 2020, when the book was published. She explains the politics behind the end of Immigration Naturalization Services (INS) and the formation of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), and the societal and political changes that brought us to where we are now. Most sobering, Hinojosa describes the horrifying conditions of immigrant detention centers, and the ICE raids that help fill those centers. A powerful memoir of resilience, alongside painful reminders of the U.S.’s broken immigration system today. Published subsequently in Spanish. A young reader’s edition which focuses on Hinojosa’s childhood and adolescence is also available. 

Wild Tongues Can’t Be Tamed: 15 Voices from the Latinx Diaspora, edited by Saraciea J. Fennell

There are as many ways to be Latinx as there are Latinx people in the world. This essay collection gives voice to Latinx and Afro-Latinx writers’ experiences. Each essay has its own style and theme: “Eres Un Pocho” by Mark Oshira, written as second-person letters to a younger self, and “#JulianforSpiderman” by Julian Randall is a reflection of Afro-Latinx identity told alongside the story of Miles Morales. “More than Nervios” by Lilliam Riviera describes challenges Latinx individuals face in receiving treatment for mental health issues, and Jasminne Mendez recounts coming face to face with racism in theatre. Frequently underrepresented Latinx ethnicities are represented as well, like Honduran and Panamania writers. These beautiful, sometimes heartbreaking essays each tell a unique and personal story, often of seeking and discovering identity. Colorism is another prominent theme. Each essay is deeply human, and the struggle to understand yourself and your place in the world is something everyone can relate to, no matter their background. 

Inventing Latinos: A New Story of American Racism by Laura E. Gómez

“Race isn’t real, but racism is.” This is the thesis statement of Inventing Latinos. Published just before the United States’s controversial 2020 Census, Gómez presents a macro-level overview “the how and why of Latinx identity becoming a distinctive racial identity.” She starts with the legacies of Spanish colonization and American imperialism, the effects of which still echo today. She explores the complexity of racial identity with the mestizaje population, racially mixed people with Indigenous, Spanish, and African ancestry. She also discusses discrimination faced by Latinx Americans, particularly in schools, and that Latinx populations are often treated as a “buffer” group between White and Black populations in the United States. Gómez ends an overview of Trump-era policies steeped in anti-Latinx racism, and argues to list Latino/a/x as a race rather than an ethnicity on future censuses. While not everyone agrees with Gómez on this matter, this academic overview of Latinx identity contains important (if dry at times) information. 

A Land of Books: Dreams of Young Mexihcah Word Painters by Duncan Tonatiuh

Before the arrival of Europeans, Mesoamerica was an amoxtlalpan – a “land of books.” A young Mexihcah (Aztec) girl tells her little brother about the process of making books (amoxtin) to her younger brother, starting with their tlahcuilohqueh parents – painters of words. She describes the process, from creating paper pulp from tree bark and dyes from plants and insects to paint the books. The book informs readers about Mexihcah culture, including education, literacy, and religion. Nahuatl words are used throughout the text, with a glossary and pronunciation guide in the back. This picture book has beautiful illustrations, done in the Pre-Columbian style inspired by Indigenous Mesoamerican art. A detailed author’s note talks about the history of Mexihcah codices (of which only 15 remain) and the importance of preserving Indigenous art. 

Fiction

Cuba in my Pocket by Adrianna Cuevas

After the failure of the Bay of Pigs invasion solidifies Fidel Castro’s power in Cuba, twelve-year-old Cumba lives in fear. Fear of executions, fear of whispering neighbors, and fear of the soldier who seems to track his every footstep. In danger of being recruited into Young Rebels, and eventually military service, Cumba’s family decides to send him to the United States. After reaching Miami, Cumba must contend with not knowing English, strange food, and most of all, missing his family. He gradually adjusts to life in the United States, sharing Prima Benita’s house with two other teenage refugees. He deeply misses home, and struggles to hold out hope that his family will join him in the U.S. in the future. 

Woven in Moonlight by Isabel Ibañez

In this Bolivian-inspired fantasy, Ximena was left orphaned after the Llascan revolt leveled her home and forced Illustrians like herself out of La Ciudad. After the revolt, Ximena was plucked out of the rubble due to her resemblance to the last surviving Illustrian royal, the condesa Catalina. For ten years Ximena has acted as Catalina’s decoy, and only Catalina’s inner circle knows the truth. When the Llascan king Atoc demands the condesa’s hand in marriage, it is Ximena’s duty to go to the capital in her place. Yet she has no plans to see herself or Catalina married. Thirsty for revenge, she will spy and search for the Estrella, a mysterious artifact that Atoc used to summon an army of ghosts during the revolt. Using her gift to spin thread from moonlight, Ximena sends messages hidden in tapestries back to Catalina. Yet as she comes to know the Llascans around her – and the mysterious vigilante, El Lobo – she begins to question her mission. Atoc is too dangerous to remain on the throne, but is Catalina really the queen that they need?

Our Shadows Have Claws: 15 Latin American Monster Stories, edited by Yamile Saied Méndez and Amparo Ortiz

A black wolf with red eyes stalks a high school bully. Death welcomes a girl into her home. A girl raised as a vampire hunter prepares for the fight of her life. Our Shadows Have Claws is an anthology of fifteen different monster stories set across Latin America and the Latinx Diaspora. Despite what the title suggests, these are not all horror stories. Some are romance, some are heartwarming, and some will make you shiver when you hear something go “bump” in the night. Themes of racism and colorism are woven throughout; environmentalism, heritage, and finding home are other important themes. All but one of the stories star girls, but each lead character must face their fears to protect their loved ones, themselves, or just to discover who they are. “Beware the Empty Subway Car” by Maika and Maritza Moulite was my favorite, the story of a hidden lougarou who suddenly wants to be seen. If you like supernatural stories, there’s something for everyone in this collection. 

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

The Jazz Age is in full swing, and Casiopea Tun has dreams – dreams of driving an automobile, swimming in the Pacific, and dancing fast in nightclubs. She has no way of chasing those dreams, living as her grandfather’s servant following the death of her Mayan father. She thinks she must simply wait for the old man to die before she can leave her small town on the Yucatán Peninsula…until she opens a mysterious box and accidentally frees a Mayan god of death from imprisonment. Hun-Kamé once reigned over the underworld Xibalba, until his treacherous brother beheaded him and scattered his eye, ear, finger, and jade necklace across Mexico. Hun-Kamé’s and Casiopea’s fates are now tied together, and she must help him retrieve what has been stolen from him. Their time is short – the bond between them drains Casiopea’s life and threatens Hun-Kamé’s godhood. Together, they travel across Mexico and face challenges Casiopea has only read about in books. A gorgeous fairytale, rich with Mayan mythology. 

My Papi Has a Motorcycle / Mi papi tiene una moto by Isabel Quintero. Illustrated by Zeke Peña. 

Daisy loves riding around town with her Papi on his motorcycle. Like a streaking comet, they fly through the neighborhood. Daisy can see how her city is changing: Don Rudy’s Raspados has shut down; new homes are being built where citrus groves once stood. Yet Daisy knows that, no matter how much her city changes, it will always be a part of her, just like her father’s love. With a beautiful palette of sunset colors, this picture book tells the story of a neighborhood gentrifying, but the strong sense of community binding it together. Published concurrently in Spanish and English, Spanish words are sprinkled throughout the English version. 

And for girls with dads with motorcycles, this hits straight home. 

by booksoverlookedblog

BIDP: Partials by Dan Wells

Today’s edition of “Books I Didn’t Pick” is brought to you by Partials, courtesy of a holiday book exchange.

Some books are timeless: stories that ring true from generation to generation, no matter how circumstances change. Other books are timely: it’s no surprise that Hamnet: A Novel of the Plague was a New York Times best seller for weeks in 2020, even if it was set in the 1500s.

Then there’s books that I’ll call “personally timely.” These are the ones that might not have meant as much to you if you’d read them at another point in your life, but they’re meaningful now.

Partials by Dan Wells is one of those for me.

To begin, Partials is set eleven years after the devastating Partials War. The Partials are genetically engineered super-soldiers that turned on their human creators, and then vanished. Before disappearing entirely, the Partials left humanity with a parting gift: the RM virus. The virus all but annihilated the human race, and robbed humanity of its future. Every human baby born since the introduction of the virus has died, succumbing to RM within days, if not hours.

The Defense Grid, one of the last pockets of humanity, requires all women age 18 or older to become pregnant as often as possible, in the hope that one of the babies will be born with an immunity to RM.

Kira Walker is a medical intern whose father was killed by the RM Virus. When her best friend becomes pregnant, Kira will risk her life to find a cure for RM. With every other avenue of research failing to find a cure, she will attempt to do what no one else has done. To save the life of her best friend’s child, she must capture and study one of the brutal and deadly Partials.

That’s a lot to unpack, I know. I’m sure that everyone will have a different reaction to reading a story about a pandemic now than they would have pre-2020. Before COVID, I was even working on a post-apocalyptic short story which had been brought about by a plague. I liked the possibilities that pandemic fiction offered: a reset of the world that you live in, while keeping much of the world’s infrastructure intact. It also felt like a safe, remote end of the world scenario. Nuclear war and devastating natural disasters are threats that felt much more real at the time. But after three years of a pandemic that has killed millions of people, plague-related fiction isn’t nearly as fun as it used to be. COVID-19 wasn’t the end of the world by any means, but living through it has changed the way I engage with media that use a pandemic as a plot or setting element. As for my post-apocalyptic story? I haven’t touched it since 2020, and it’s unlikely that I ever will again.

Other than the fictitious pandemic, there’s something else that triggered a strong reaction in me, which wouldn’t have been as strong if I’d read Partials as a teenager. But for a thritysomething woman who’s been married for just shy of three years now, pregnancy is kind of a huge deal.

I have baggage around pregnancy/childbirth/motherhood. It’s not severe enough that I wouldn’t be able to read a book like Partials, but instead of feeling like a dystopia, the novel felt like a horror story to me. And that’s okay. Sometimes I seek out something that I know will scare me, if only out of some eerie fascination with it. The 1996 Mount Everest disaster, for instance. Horrifying, and yet I’ve read every Wikipedia page related to it, Into Thin Air by John Krakauer (and the made for TV movie), along with watching the movie Everest, and two separate documentaries on the subject. That’s what reading about pregnancy (forced or otherwise), childbirth, and infant mortality is like for me. It’s a nightmare, but when there’s a fourth wall between it and me, it’s easier for me to engage with it. It’s a safe way to interact with something you’re afraid of.

But that’s not what you’re here for, so let’s get back into the book itself.

The writing is fine. There’s nothing stellar about the prose, but it’s not bad, either. It gets the job done, which works for the breakneck pace of the plot. However, the moments with the biggest emotional impacts sometimes feel lackluster because of it.

The plot is pretty dense, and I think the novel suffers from excess. There’s so many characters and factions to keep track of, along with their relationships with one another. Several of Kira’s friends play a role in the story. Alongside Kira, there’s her boyfriend, Marcus; foster-sisters Madison, Ariel, Xochi, and Isolde; Jayden, Madison’s brother; and Madison’s husband, Haru. There are also a plethora of other characters that the audience needs to remember and keep track of: the senators that run the island, various military and medical superiors, and members of the rebel group, the Voice. These people play no small role in the story, but it’s nigh impossible to keep track of all of them.

Then there’s also the factions in the story. Kira and her multitude of friends live in the Defense Grid, on Long Island, possibly the last human city remaining on Earth. The Grid is occasionally attacked by The Voice, a group of rebels seeking to end forced pregnancy. Both the Grid and the Voice hate and fear the superhuman Partials, who have created their own society away from the Grid and the Voice. As the story goes on, we discover that the Partials have also all subdivided into factions of their own.

It’s a lot. Sometimes I felt like I needed a notebook to keep track of what was going on. With so many characters, they can’t possible get all the time they need to be fully developed. This made many of Kira’s friends an indistinct blur, and the villains largely forgettable. They’re evil, but they’re not interesting.

There’s also plenty that I do like about this book, too. It’s exciting with plot reveals that keep you guessing. While it could be overly complicated at times, the story never stagnates. I also liked the reasons why teenagers had to be the protagonists in this book.

In YA fiction, especially dystopian YA, teenagers often get put in dangerous situations that they have no business dealing with, especially if there are adults better able to handle the situation. Partials at least does a good job of addressing this. When sixteen-year-old Kira is placed in charge of research that goes well beyond her training and knowledge, she and her friends question why the senators are allowing her to do this. Their reasons are revealed later and actually make sense.

Even more than that, Kira makes a point about why it had to be teenagers and young people to make a change, and why her generation will the ones who cure R.M. Kira and her generation are called “plague babies,” born before R.M., but too young to remember remember what the world was like before the virus. The adults do remember the old world, as well as the horrific events of the Partials uprising and the spread of R.M. Most of them have given up hope that R.M. can be cured, and refuse to take the drastic measures required to guarantee the future of the human species. Billions of humans are dead, and they’re unwilling to risk any more lives on trying to a cure. They insist on doing the same thing over again, mandating pregnancy, hoping one day a child will be born with an immunity to R.M. This has not produced a single healthy baby, yet the Senate refuses to change tactics and try something new. When the adults have given up on the future of the human race, Kira realizes that only “plague babies” like her have enough will and passion to act and try to fix things.

I remember what it was like to be a kid. I remember feeling unheard, or that no one took me seriously because I was young. Thankfully, I had parents, teachers, and adults in my life who understood that children and teenagers have something worth saying. In the wake of the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School shooting, students rose up and demanded change. I observed many adults criticizing the student activists. One of the common refrains of their detractors were that they were kids, with no real-world experience and no business in telling adults what to do.

It made me think of one of my favorite high school teachers, who gave quizzes on current events and made us watch political debates as homework assignments. In 2006, he took a group of students, including me, to a Save Darfur rally in Washington, D.C. It was incredible to be there with so many like-minded people supporting a cause I cared deeply about. My teacher understood that just because we were young didn’t mean that we couldn’t be passionate about saving human lives, or civil rights, or a million other things outside of typical high school worries.

I didn’t realize how remarkable that was. At this point I’ve spent most of my career working with children and families, and I have a better understanding of how young people need to be heard. And how rare that can be.

In Partials, this is all Kira’s choice. She doesn’t have a special fate or destiny. There’s no prophecy about her. She just knows what she has to do, and she’s willing to risk everything for what she believes in.

I don’t think I’ll be reading the any of the sequels, but I liked Partials as I was reading it, even when it hit a bit too close to home.