Tag / novel

by booksoverlookedblog

BIDP: Magic Lessons by Alice Hoffman

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

It’s time for another round of Books I Didn’t Pick, and we’ll be taking a step into a world of witchcraft with Magic Lessons by Alice Hoffman. Watching the movie Practical Magic has become a Halloween tradition for my sister and me. It’s a really fun movie, and we both like the strong bond between the two main characters, who are also sisters. My own sister gifted me Magic Lessons, the first book chronologically (but not the first written) in the Practical Magic series. 

I think I need to add a disclaimer here: I haven’t read the other books in the series, so my interpretation of things may not be accurate to the series as a whole. But as long as you’re not looking for deep lore analysis, pour yourself a cup of Courage Tea and get comfy.

Magic Lessons is the story of Maria Owens, powerful witch and matriarch of the Owens family. Centuries ago, Maria was scorned by a man, and cast a powerful curse: any man that loved an Owens woman was doomed to die. But who was Maria Owens outside of her curse? Who was the man who spurned Maria? And what happened to Maria after she was nearly hanged as a witch? 

The writing is beautiful. It goes into great depths to describe the details of life in the 1600s, and at times it feels downright cozy. Hoffman has done an incredible amount of research on the time period, and it shows. However, that research at times also gets in the way of the storytelling. The pages are full of history lessons, some relevant to the story, some not. Too much of this history is also given to the reader divorced from the story itself. For example, in the first chapter, the omniscient narrator tells the reader that 90% of women in Maria’s time were illiterate. The book gives us this actual percentage, rather than weaving it into the rest of the narrative. Several chapters start with the history of an area, but don’t add much to the story otherwise. The only “research dump” like this that was really relevant to the story was information about the Salem witch trials, though the characters had left Salem years ago by that point.

While the writing is lovely, the book can be achingly slow. This was because, in part, I had very few characters to cheer for. I liked Maria’s foster mother, Hannah, and Maria’s love interest, Samuel. However, Maria was a hard sell for me. Maria starts  as a perfect, precocious child who becomes a talented and powerful witch. The first three chapters dedicate a lot of time telling the re about how cool and special Maria is. I understood why, as Hoffman needs to establish Maria’s talents and skills, but it got tiresome quickly. I reached my breaking point in chapter three after Maria helps two of her friends deal with abusive husbands. Both of her friends go on to name their first daughters Maria “so that they said that name a hundred times a day with love and devotion.” 

The novel also uses real historical figures as characters, most notably John Hathorne, a magistrate of the Massachusetts Bay Colony and prominent judge in the Salem Witch Trials. In real life, Hathorne would ultimately sentence 19 innocent people to death for the crime of witchcraft. Presenting fictionalized versions of real people can be a delicate thing. Hathorne is given nuance, especially when he and Maria first meet early in the book. I liked that he was shown to be repressed by Puritan society. At that point in time, we typically think of women being repressed, not men. I appreciated seeing how such a strict religious society affected men as well. 

If you were looking for subtlety in the characters, you’ll be disappointed. The omniscient narrator tells you every aspect of their outer and inner lives, without leaving room for interpretation. While Maria and Hathorne have layers, they’re not gradually peeled back as the story progresses. Too often, we learn the characters’ thoughts and feelings through the narration, rather than their words and actions. When this happens, I feel like I’m reading a detailed outline of a story, but not really experiencing it alongside the characters. And, because I could rarely connect with the characters, Magic Lessons committed the greatest sin that any novel can commit.

I was bored. 

Since I didn’t feel invested in the characters, I needed a strong plot to make the book more interesting to read. As I mentioned before, though, the plot is very slow-paced. It was kind of like going fishing: the scenery was pretty, nothing would happen for a long time, and then you’d get a few minutes of frantic action. After the halfway mark, the plot became circular, with the main conflicts repeating themselves twice over. The climax was fantastic, but for the most part, getting there was a slog.

The novel suffers from prequelitis as well. Maria lays her curse because she has to, since it’s an important part of the books in the rest of the series. But the timing of it was terrible, because she fell in love just before the curse was laid. Towards the end of the book, Maria buys a house and sets up a trust so it will always remain in the family. That would be nice, except she buys the house in Salem. The place where she was scorned, nearly killed,  and full of people who want to kill her loved ones. So why does she want to buy a house in Salem? Because the other books in the series take place in Salem.1 Things happen because they have to, not because they make sense for the characters or the plot.

Obviously this wasn’t a great book for me. So it might surprise you to read that I’ve actually recommended it to a few other people. Well, to people who loved Where the Crawdads Sing. Much like Crawdads, the beautiful writing is what makes Magic Lessons shine. 

I’ve seen mostly positive reviews for Magic Lessons, which often cite the prose, the mother-daughter relationship, and Hoffman’s depiction of women as some of the strongest points in the book. I honestly don’t think that Magic Lessons is a bad book, so much as it is a bad book for me. It’s “no thoughts, just vibes,” and that’s not really the kind of story I go for. If that’s something you enjoy, and you like historical fiction (especially with a touch of magic), check this one out. I recommend reading on a rainy Sunday afternoon with a cup of tea.

Because I enjoy doing this, I have my chapter-by-chapter review below. I tried to not get too spoilery in the main review, but everything in the chapter breakdown is a big spoiler party.

  • Chapter 1: I like Hannah and the last scene was very good, but so much of this chapter feels like a research dump.
  • Chapter 2: I don’t really like omniscient narrators, but it’s not driving me crazy, even if it means there’s not a lot of dialogue.
  • Chapter 3: The book has started getting better, since it’s no longer all about how special Maria is.
  • Chapter 4: I’m really curious how the book will handle Hathorne going forward. I think it’s interesting that the author depicts Hathorne as repressed by Puritan society, not just repressed women.
  • Chapter 5: Faith continues the Owens tradition of “precocious child wise beyond her years.”
  • Chapter 6: Shit finally got real. Also, why are all but two men in the book utter scum? Martha’s husband could have been kind and died, and it wouldn’t quell her desire for a daughter of her own.
  • Chapter 7: This is a problem with prequels: Maria lays the curse because she has to, because it’s dealt with in the later books. But she lays the curse after she realizes she’s in love with Sam, so now the whole chapter is about how she can’t be with him, and it’s frustrating as all hell.
  • Chapter 8: The first two pages of this chapter are just history lessons that have nothing to do with Faith. Faith is a lot like her mom, which goes back to her being the “perfect child” trope. Also, Hathorne – real guy who sent real innocent people to their real deaths – has been given much more sympathy than the fictional Martha.
  • Chapter 9: Another frustrating chapter of Sam wanting to be with Maria, and her telling him no, then they sleep together anyway.
  • Chapter 10: Maria’s story is just more of the same; Faith’s the one I’m invested in now.
  • Chapter 11: …is Hoffman implying that Katherine Parr was not only a witch, but an evil one? Curious to see where the story will go now, as the biggest plot line so far has been wrapped up and there’s still 100 pages left.
  • Chapter 12: So much of this book has been about Maria looking for Faith, but we barely see them together once they’re reunited. Talk about a lot of buildup with little emotional payoff.
  • Chapter 13: I don’t like Faith, but I am 100% here for her seeking revenge on Hathorne. However, this circular plot is getting even more circular. We’ve had the will they-won’t they with Sam and Maria three times now, and now Faith and her mother are separated again.
  • Chapter 14: This is fine. At least the plot’s moving forward, and of course Maria is just the best writer ever. The Fall Out of Love Tea is a bit manipulative, though, if you ask me.
  • Chapter 15: Of course it’s Faith that ensures Hathorne will be remembered as a bad man, not just society in general thinking that killing innocent people is bad.
  • Chapter 16: Maria’s house is perfect, just like Maria. The epilogue still doesn’t tell us why Maria chose to settle in Salem, but it tells us every herb in her pantry and the outfit she wore when she sat for a portrait. Why. 
  1. The Salem thing bugged me so much I had to stop reading for a couple days. No, it’s never explained why Maria settled in Salem.  ↩︎
by booksoverlookedblog

Dusty List: Into the Sublime

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

I read a lot of YA books. I like them, and I’m also in charge of the YA section at my library. That means a lot of weeding, and a lot of ordering new books. 

I wrote a post all about how librarians decide what items to get rid of, but didn’t really talk about how materials get added to the collection. That’s because each library will handle it a bit differently, but there is one thing they all rely on: reviews.

I don’t mean reviews from Amazon or Goodreads, but professional reviews from sources like Kirkus or Library Journal are hugely important. Professional book reviews give a synopsis of the book, a sentence or two about the writing, and often a note about whether or not it’s worth purchasing. After reading the reviews for Into the Sublime, I ordered it, and put it on my TBR list. Thrillers and horrors circulate very well among teens at my library, and with the creepy cover art, I thought this one would be a hit. 

Two years later, it landed on an inventory list as a “dusty book” – that is, it’s been sitting at the library for two years and hasn’t been checked out. That usually means it’s time to “send it to a nice library upstate” ….aka discard it. No one wanted to read this book. 

No one, that is, but me. 

Welcome to the first edition of the Dusty List, reading the YAs that everyone else has overlooked. Let’s start the descent with Into the Sublime, a survival horror by Kate A. Boorman.

Amelie’s best friend was her cousin, Sasha. They were both part of Dissent, a group of teenage thrill-seekers who took on death-defying challenges. The group broke up after Sasha suffered a terrible accident at a Dissent challenge, but Amelie’s not ready to let it go. She wants to keep the promise she made to Sasha, and go on the adventure they never got to do together: finding a legendary subterranean lake, the Sublime. The legends say that the lake has the power to change things, and there’s a lot that Amelie wants to change. She and three other girls, Gia, H, and Devon, set out on a day trip to find the Sublime. Days later, Amelie and two other girls emerge from the cave, covered in blood. 

Only they know what happened in the dark. And Amelie is ready to talk. 

Into the Sublime is a framed narrative that starts with an email sent from Amelie to an unknown recipient, then the story jumps back to three months prior. Amelie is found in the Colorado wilderness, covered in blood, and the two girls who were found with her are being transported to the hospital. Two police officers watch over Amelie while they wait for her parents to arrive, and Amelie starts telling them the story of what happened. But how much of it is the truth? How much is manipulation? And what happened to the fourth girl? 

Using this framing device was a brilliant move for a number of reasons. First, it and the prologue email sucked me into the novel right away. Most of the story is told from Amelie’s first person perspective of her time in the cave. Between each section there are interludes written from the perspective of Officer Vargas, who treats Amelie with sympathy and suspicion in equal amounts. Vargas’s investigation reveals new information that Amelie hasn’t given us, which adds a few twists and ramps up the mysteries. It also serves as a break from Amelie’s story. The bulk of the novel takes place in the cave, and there are a lot of intense scenes. Cutting to the present with the cops gives readers a breather, and Vargas’s narration offers us another interpretation of all that Amelie’s said.

There’s another reason this works well for adult readers. For the first few chapters, you’re going to need to hit your willing suspension of disbelief button pretty hard. As with a lot of horror fiction, the characters make bad choices that lead them into dangerous situations. Yet knowing that trope wasn’t enough for me to overlook all the mistakes the girls made before they even reached the cave. Most of them were wildly unprepared to do a day hike, let alone any kind of caving. They fail to follow even the most basic safety rules when it comes to hiking, and even leave behind necessary supplies, like extra water and flashlights. 

I had to dust off my old psychology degree to get past that. Let’s take a quick peek into the teenage mind. There are two mindsets adolescents have that contribute to risk-taking. Of course, adults can also have these mental constructs, though typically not as strongly as a teenager would. First is the “personal fable.” The personal fable is, in TikTok speak, “main character syndrome.” Part of this is believing that bad things won’t happen to them. So, sure, just because Amelie’s cousin broke her neck during a Dissent stunt doesn’t mean that Amelie will. After all, she’s the one who came up with the plan. She’s got directions to the lake. She’s immune. 

The other mindset is called the “imaginary audience.” This is where you feel like the spotlight’s always on you. No matter what you’re doing, someone is watching. The “imaginary audience” doesn’t seem to have as much influence on Amelie’s and the other girls’ behavior at first, especially given the small number of characters in the story. But as the story unfolds, the reader can see how much Amelie’s perception of the other girls and their perception of her shifts the dynamics between the characters. 

I’ve said time and time again that the thing that draws me into a is the characters. Into the Sublime is an exception to that rule. Amelie and her companions Gia, H, and Devon are all interesting in their own ways, especially as they each have different motives for wanting to find the Sublime. But by the end of the book I didn’t like most of the characters, with the exception of H. At first I thought Devon, with her unique outlook, would be my favorite, but that changed by the end of the novel. 

Even if the characters were people I’d never want to be friends with in real life, I kept reading, because I just had to know how it all ended. The girls’ changing loyalties and motivations throughout the book ratchets up the tension until the very end, and keeps the reader guessing. 

I also really liked the setting. Most of the book, aside from the intervals with the police officers, takes place in the cave. Caving is challenging and often dangerous, even when you know what you’re doing. Getting lost, losing your light, bottomless pits, and squeezes could all end in disaster. The environment by itself is frightening enough, especially considering how unprepared the girls are. The scares only intensify with eerie encounters and dangerous changes in the cave. 

I do have a couple minor nit-picks1 other than what I’ve mentioned here, but overall I liked this book a lot. I think there is a bit of a high barrier for entry, especially for adult readers, but it’s a well-written, thrilling adventure. If you’re into survival stories with a bit of horror, check this one out. 

Literally check it out. It’s on the dusty list. 

  1. Very minor. Like, “why does so much of Gia’s dialogue end in a question mark when she’s making a statement?” nit-picks. ↩︎
by booksoverlookedblog

Nov. 2024 Recs: Native American Heritage Month

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

November is Native American Heritage Month! 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 and learn about the original inhabitants of your area. 

Nonfiction

Project 562: Changing the Way We See Native America by Matika Wilbur

“Representation without us is representation done to us.” With these words, Matika Wilbur introduces Project 562, a photojournalism project that shares the lives of Indigenous People across the United States. Traveling thousands of miles, Wilbur set out to interview and photograph someone from each Indigenous nation. (Note: when the project began in 2012, there were 562 federally recognized Indigenous Nations; there are now 574.) Wilbur’s portrait photography is gorgeous, each accompanied by the subject’s story: an Ojibwe man harvesting wild rice; Two Spirit powwow dancers; a woman recounting how boarding school has shaped her family for generations; the teen beauty queen who entered the pageant because everyone told her she wouldn’t win. This work captures the diversity of contemporary Indigenous people while honoring tradition and heritage. Wilbur’s beautiful work is not to be missed, and serves as a reminder that  “Indigenous existence is all around us. It is up to us to listen.”

Fiction

A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger

Nina, a Lipan Apache teen living in Texas, has family mysteries to solve. Specifically, the last story her great-great grandmother Rosita would ever tell her. There’s one big problem: Rosita told the story in Spanish and Lipan Apache, and Nina has no idea what she was trying to say. As she painstakingly works on translating the story, she discovers more mysteries. Did Rosita really see a fish-girl in her seemingly bottomless well? Why does Grandma get sick when she leaves the land that’s been in her family for generations? And are those mysterious people who come to her father’s bookstore really animal-people from the Reflecting World? 

Meanwhile, in the Reflecting World, Oli is a timid cottonmouth snake reluctantly forced into adulthood. After a rough start, Oli makes a life for himself. It’s not always easy, though he tries to steer clear of the catfish cultists and bear bounty hunters. When his best friend, a toad named Ami, falls ill, Oli is terrified that Ami’s species is facing extinction – a death sentence for the animal-people in this world. If he can get to the human world, maybe he can find out what’s happening to Ami’s species and fix it. With a pair of rambunctious coyote sisters and a red-tailed hawk at his side, Oli is ready to go to the ends of the earth (or fall to it) to save his friend. 

by booksoverlookedblog

October 2024 Recs: Spooky Season

It’s spooky season! While I am not a huge fan of horror, I can appreciate how the genre can work on multiple levels. Scary stories are excellent ways to examine human nature and society…and perfect for keeping you up on dark and stormy nights. 

Nonfiction

The Poisoner’s Handbook:  Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York by Deborah Blum

Prohibition-era New York City was a hotbed of political corruption, organized crime, and poison. Poison was a deadly fact of life, found in the bootlegged liquor of speakeasies, beauty tonics, and in the hands of impatient heirs and jealous spouses. New York City’s chief medical examiner, Charles Norris, set out to change things. With his assistant Alexander Gettler, the NYC medical examiner’s office became the birthplace of forensic medicine. Working long hours, they examined corpses, exhumed bodies, and invented groundbreaking new tests to identify poisons, and put poisoners behind bars. Each chapter is centered on a different poison: chloroform and cyanide to kill, methyl alcohol served in speakeasies, industrial poisons such as tetraethyl lead and radium, and more. The Poisoner’s Handbook is a perfect for lovers of true crime and science history, though there are moments where a strong stomach is helpful.

Lakewood by Megan Giddings

After the death of her grandmother, college student Lena Johnson takes over the role of head of household. Her mother, Deziree, suffers from a mysterious serious illness (or possibly illnesses)  which has racked up more medical debt than the Johnson family can afford. Sometimes, it’s a choice between paying for water or paying for medicine. When Lena gets invited to take part in a research study that pays beyond well and offers amazing health insurance for Deziree, she thinks she’s found her way out. Lena moves to the sleepy town of Lakewood to become a test subject in a secretive government research project. She knows that what she’s doing is risky, but she is willing to endure everything for her mother’s sake. When will the risks become too big, and what will the consequences be when they do? Drawing from the historical medical exploitation of BIPOC individuals (Lena is Black; the experimenters are all White), Lakewood is a slow burn horror that will get under your skin…in more ways than one.

by booksoverlookedblog

Indie Review: OMG UR a Teenager!

I’m a Reedsy Discovery reviewer! I received a free ARC of OMG UR a Teenager! by Leslie Young for this review.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Twelve-year-old Kat Cruz can’t wait for her next birthday. Before she can become a teenager, though, she’ll have to make it through seventh grade. The year starts off rough when her parents buy the most run-down house in the neighborhood, and a bully snaps a picture of Kat in front of her new house. She’s constantly stuck babysitting her younger brother, who thinks he’s a superhero. Kat’s editorials in the school newspaper make a splash, but not always in a good way. She’s also crushing on her new neighbor, Will, despite the fact that his mom doesn’t seem to like her. With new challenges every day, will Kat make it to her thirteenth birthday in one piece? 

OMG UR a Teenager by Leslie Young is a contemporary slice-of-life novel full of clear, crisp writing that makes it easy for young readers to get into the story. The relatability will keep them invested throughout the book. Kat experiences things that many kids going through pre-adolescence face: bullying, the excitement and mortification of buying your first bra, and changing family dynamics. Most of all, she wants to be seen as the mature nearly-teen she is, not a child and permanent babysitter for her little brother, Max. Tween readers will understand exactly how she feels, and adults will easily recall both the joys and pains of middle school.

Kat’s family dynamic is true to life as well, with well-intentioned parents who don’t understand their daughter’s point of view, an annoying little brother that Kat loves (even if she wants to kill him sometimes), and her vivacious grandmother whose Alzheimer’s puts extra strain on the family. Kat’s and Max’s relationship is developed particularly well, showing their closeness (especially in the climax), even if they don’t always get along. However, Gran’s storyline wasn’t as well-developed, making her inclusion in the book feel unnecessary.

At times the story can feel disjointed, such as an abrupt cut from summer to Halloween. Like Gran’s story, some plot points are dropped without a conclusion. Kat’s narration is also, at times, too mature to be realistic for a twelve-year-old. While adult readers might have to stretch their suspension of disbelief at some of Kat’s inner monologues, tween readers may find her insights useful in their own lives.

Overall, OMG UR a Teenager is a warm-hearted, relatable story for tweens, and anyone who’s ever been one.

by booksoverlookedblog

May Book Recs: Asian-American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

May is Asian American and Pacific Island Heritage Month in the U.S.! AAPI Month began as Asian/Pacific Heritage Week in 1978, and was extended to the entire month of May in 1990. In 2009, the obserservance’s name was changed to Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. Asia and the Pacific island are both huge places with numerous cultures, and a short list like this can’t possibly cover every country. I’ve decided to showcase four books for this month, with one book focusing on Asia, and one on the Pacific Islands for each category. 

As a reminder: I don’t distinguish YA from adult books on these lists. This is a deliberate choice, for several different reasons I might get into on another post. However, if you are dead-set on not reading any books outside your demographic age, here’s a simple guide: if the main character is a teenager, it’s probably a YA book; if the main character is an adult, it’s probably an adult book. This isn’t always the case, and I do try to note when books featuring teen characters would be better suited for older audiences.

Without further ado, here’s some books to celebrate AAPI month!

Nonfiction

No Country for Eight-Spot Butterflies: A Lyric Essay by Julian Aguon

Julian Aguon is a Chamorro human rights lawyer and the founder of Blue Ocean Law, which specializes in Indigenous rights and environmental justice. He’s also a passionate and talented writer, as exemplified in No Country for Eight-Spot Butterflies. This book is a collection of his essays, speeches, and poems, but it’s also a love letter to the young people of Guam. “The Ocean Within” encourages high school graduates to imagine, dream big, and “get quiet” when they search for their destiny. Other essays discuss threats to the natural world, through climate change and increased militarization of Guam, despite its residents’ protests. Loss and grief are also central themes, shown in deeply personal writing. Though some entries are painful (“Fighting Words” is particularly difficult to read), overall, the book encourages its readers to make changes in the world, even if it’s only in a small way. My favorite essay was “Nikki and Me,” which resonated so strongly with me I had to read it twice. 

Family Style by Thien Pham

Thien’s first memory is “the saltiness of fish…and the sweetness of rice” when he was a young child on a refugee boat traveling from Vietnam to Thailand. Food is the prominent framing device in this graphic novel memoir, which shows Thien’s life first as a refugee, then as a Vietnamese immigrant, and finally as a U.S. citizen. Each period of his life is marked by an important food, from the bánh cuốn his mother cooked in a refugee camp in Thailand to the ham and cheese croissants that signify the Pham family gaining financial independence in the United States. Thien chronicles his family’s story of starting a new life in America with help from other Vietnamese refugees. Challenges included learning English, financial hardships, and strange cafeteria food. At times Thien questions his cultural identity, trying to understand what it means to be Vietnamese and American. While parts of Thien’s story are harrowing, particularly his journey to Thailand, the graphic novel is well-balanced with humorous and touching memories as well. 

Fiction

The Lies We Tell by Kate Zhao

When someone asks Anna Xu why she wants to go to Brookings for college, she tells them that it’s a prestigious school, and the in-state tuition will save her a lot of money. What she doesn’t say is that she wants to solve the murder of Melissa Hong, a Brookings student and Anna’s former babysitter. College life isn’t want Anna thought it would be, with a roommate who loves to party, and her old academic rival, Chris Lu, keeps popping up in unexpected places. At least she has Jane on Friend Me, the school’s friend-finding app. Anna’s investigation is derailed when Chris’s family’s bakery is vandalized with a racial slur, and strange things start happening to her and other Asian students on campus. Is Melissa Hong’s killer still out there? Anna needs to find out what happened to Melissa fast…before the same thing happens to her. 

Dragonfruit by Makiia Lucier

In the Nominomi sea, “dragonfruit” – seadragon eggs – are said to be able to undo a person’s greatest sorrow, though at a price. Hanalei knows this is true: after she and Princess Oliana were poisoned, Hanalei’s father stole dragonfruit intended for the princess to save his young daughter. Hanalei survived, though her father did not, and the princess remains in a coma. Hanalei spent the next ten years of her life in exile, but the sight of a pregnant seadragon gives her hope. After an encounter with dangerous dragon hunters, Hanalei arrives back in her home kingdom of Tamarind. There, she reunites with her childhood friend, Prince Samahitamahenele. She and Sam finally have a chance to save Princess Oliana, but they are not the only ones seeking the dragonfruit. Dangers await them across the waves, and even if they reach the dragonfruit first, what price will they pay? Dragonfruit is a lush and imaginative fantasy steeped in Pacific Islander mythology and imagery. 

by booksoverlookedblog

April Book Recs: Let There (Not) Be Light

At a restaurant, a sommelier might recommend the perfect red wine to go with your steak. I aspire to be a book sommelier who finds nonfiction and fiction that complement each other, bringing out the best flavors in each text to enhance your reading experience. For April, I would like to offer two books that pair well together for a little bit of “light” reading.

Nonfiction

The End of Night: Searching for Natural Darkness in the Age of Artificial Light by Paul Bogard

Have you ever seen the Milky Way with your naked eye? When was the last time you saw a truly starry sky? Earth is brighter than ever, but does that mean that it’s better for its residents? Starting with the brightest light on the planet – The Luxor Sky Beam in Las Vegas –  and ending with the darkest skies in the United States, Bogard examines the multitude of ways that widespread artificial lighting has changed our world. He interviews engineers, astronomers, ecologists, third-shift workers, and even clergy members about what the loss of darkness means for humans and the natural world. Starlight is not the only thing we risk losing when dark skies disappear: Bogard also investigates the health and safety risks associated with artificial lighting, and the disconnect between ourselves and nature. This is a thought-provoking book that will make you see your world – both in day and night – a little differently. 

Fiction

The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau

Twelve-year-olds Lina and Doon have lived in the city of Ember their entire lives, where nothing is more important than light. Without the electric lights, the city would be in complete darkness all the time. With no known way to make portable light, blackouts are frightening for all the city’s residents. When Assignment Day arrives, Lina is disappointed that she’s been assigned to be a laborer at the Pipeworks. Much to her surprise, Doon trades assignments with her. Now Lina can spend her days running through Ember as a messenger, while Doon descends into the bowels of the city. With blackouts increasing at an alarming rate, Doon knows that something is wrong in Ember. If he can get close to the generator that powers the city, maybe he can learn why the blackouts are happening. Meanwhile, Lina discovers a two-hundred-year-old message from the founders of the city. Parts of it have been destroyed, but whatever it contains could be the key to saving Ember. She and Doon must work together to discover the forgotten secrets of Ember, and maybe even bring its citizens into the light. 

by booksoverlookedblog

March Book Recs: The Troubles

March is Women’s History Month, and it’s also Irish Heritage Month! I’ve decided to combine both of those things for this list. Media often show stereotypical depictions of the Irish, flattening an entire culture into a few jokes about alcoholism and leprechauns. Like millions of Americans, I have Irish heritage, and these depictions have always irked me. 

One part of Irish history that has long been close to my heart is The Troubles. The Troubles were 30 year period of political and sectarian violence between Unionists and loyalists (mostly Ulster Protestants) who wanted Northern Ireland to remain part of the U.K., and Irish nationalists and republicans (mostly Irish Catholic) who wanted Northern Ireland to join the Republic of Ireland. The Troubles officially came to an end with the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, which ended much of the violence in Northern Ireland. But my personal connection with The Troubles isn’t just from my Irish-Catholic heritage or watching the show Derry Girls. In the early 2000s, my family hosted a girl from Derry for three summers. Those were the best summer vacations I’d ever have. My mom described them as “a six-week sleepover.” While our guest did talk about some of the violence she and her family experienced, my memories of her and our summers together are full of laughter, dares, and the filthiest jokes I’d ever heard. 

For the March recommendation list, I’ve chosen two books where The Troubles play a central role in the lives of women. These are both great as audiobooks. Other than the readers’ lovely Irish accents, you’ll also be able to hear the correct pronunciation of Irish words.

Nonfiction

Thin Places: A Natural History of Healing and Home by Kerri ní Dochartaigh

Kerri ní Dochartaigh was born in Derry halfway through The Troubles to a Protestant father and Catholic mother. She lost two homes in the span of one year, once due to a petrol bomb, and once due to harassment. To escape the violence in Derry, she found solace in the natural world, in her cement-filled backyard and “thin places” where the Veil between this world and the spiritual one is thin. ní Dochartaigh’s memoir is one of great sadness as she writes about the emotional scars that have shaped her entire life. Yet there is great beauty to be found in it as well, as she tenderly writes about her beloved thin places, the endangered Irish language, the resiliency of moths, and what it means to be an Irish woman. She also discusses violence in Northern Ireland following Brexit, and what she fears and hopes for Derry, the city she loves and hates. Often heartbreaking, Thin Places is a gorgeously written meditation on loss, trauma, and healing. 

Fiction

Factory Girls by Michelle Gallen

It’s 1994, and smart-mouthed Maeve cannot wait to get out of her small town in Northern Ireland and start studying journalism in London. She and her friends Caroline and Aoife must first get their exam results to confirm their places in their chosen universities. To save up for their futures, the three young women get jobs in the local shirt factory for the summer. The job brings new challenges Maeve has never faced before: ironing 100 shirts a day, working alongside Protestants for the first time, and avoiding the advances of the factory’s lecherous English owner, Andy Strawbridge. Tensions rise between the Catholic and Protestant workers whenever there’s a bombing or murder, which occurs all too frequently. As the summer goes on, Maeve starts to realize that there is something going on behind the scenes at the factory, but standing up for herself and her friends could cost her dearly. Flashbacks show Maeve’s experiences growing up during The Troubles, including the death of her elder sister and bombings that were called “lucky” because everyone survived. As a slice-of-life novel, the plot can feel thin at times. However, Maeve’s narration and snappy dialogue is laugh-out-loud funny, and watching her and her friends find their path to adulthood is satisfying. Though the main characters are teenagers, frequent sexual references make this a book better suited to an adult audience.

by booksoverlookedblog

Banned Books 3: Other

This is the final entry of our banned books triptych. I’d wanted to talk about this in my previous post, but I got a little carried away and couldn’t find a good place for it. (tl;dr: “This is America. You want to live in North Korea, you can live in North Korea. I don’t want to. I want to live in America.” – Ron Swanson)

Now we come to the most common reason books have been challenged or banned: that strange, nebulous category of “other.” 

And let me tell you: “other” is wild. Some of my favorite reasons given include a book using the phrase “poo poo head” (Super Diaper Baby by Dav Pilkey) and the Harry Potter books for having real curses and spells.

The curses and spells used in the books are actual curses and spells; which when read by a human being risk conjuring evil spirits into the presence of the person reading the text.

Rev. Dan Reehill

I am extremely disappointed. In the many years I’ve been reading Harry Potter,  I have never once summoned an evil spirit. Not even by accident. And if those are real spells in the book, there must be a hell of a delay effect on them. There’s a few people that have overdue Avada Kedavras coming for them.

But most of the “other” reasons given are way less amusing. You can read my list here, or check out the ALA’s list of most challenged books to see reasons why books were challenged. There’s a lot to go through, so I’m only going to discuss a few here. Specifically, the ones that really grind my gears.

Think of the children! 

Books that will, somehow, damage children if they read it. This is the justification that book challengers use all the time. Some of the books whose challenges fall under this broad category are: 

Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out by Susan Kuklin (2015, 2019, 2021) for the effect it would have on young people
A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo by Jill Twiss (2018, 2019) – “designed to pollute the morals of its readers”
Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James (2013, 2015) – concerns that “teenagers will want to try it”
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck (2020) – negative effect of slurs on students
Prince and Knight by Daniel Haack (2019) – would lead to confusion, curiosity, and gender dysphoria

Some of these are valid concerns. I wouldn’t want teenagers reading Fifty Shades of Grey. Classics like Of Mice and Men, Huckleberry Finn, and To Kill a Mockingbird have all come under fire for racial slurs and stereotyping, and those are fair criticisms. When I read Huckleberry Finn and To Kill a Mockingbird for English class in high school, my teacher addressed the issue head-on. He told the class that these books had slurs in them, and we were going to discuss the language in the book. He also made it clear that we were not to use those words outside of book discussions. Whether this had any impact on the language the students used outside of class I couldn’t say; I didn’t hear many racial slurs being thrown around before or after we read those books. But my high school was also pretty homogeneous, with White Catholic kids as far as the eye could see. In a more diverse school, I can see how books with slurs could be a problem. 

I still love To Kill a Mockingbird, though it’s important to acknowledge its failings: White savior, slurs, and false accusations of rape. When I encountered these criticisms, it forced me to re-evaluate the novel and think about it from different perspectives. Yes, it is problematic. Does that mean it belongs in a classroom? At this point, I think there’s enough literature available by people of color telling their own stories that it can be reasonably replaced with something more relevant and less patronizing to students of color. 

Does that mean it should be removed from schools or public libraries? 

My answer should be pretty obvious. I say no. With each (worthy) critique I found of Mockingbird, it made me understand the text in a new way and look at it with a more critical eye. It’s important to revisit the classics and look over what made them great, what makes them not-so-great today, and what value they still have in the modern day. Turn those not-so-great things into discussions and teachable moments, and use them as an opportunity to practice critical thinking on something that is pertinent to today’s reality. 

Most of the other cries to “think of the children” are not so well-intentioned. As you can see in the examples given here, would-be book banners fear that kids will be exposed to anything that isn’t heterosexual and cisgendered. It’s anti-LGBTQIA+ fear mongering coming from deeply misinformed individuals at best and outright bigots at worst. Reading a book where two men fall in love is not going to make anyone gay  any more than reading a book where a man and a woman fall in love will make them straight. It’s so obvious that I shouldn’t even need to say that, but here we are. That fear alone is homophobic and transphobic, as it implies that being queer or nonbinary is lesser or undesirable.

Even without that baseless fear, these “concerned parents” don’t want kids to see LGBTQIA+ content because…well, because. Because their religion tells them it’s wrong, or because the subject makes them uncomfortable, or because they’re simply afraid of stories that introduce experiences that are different from their own. 

Censoring, challenging, and banning books with LGBTQIA+ content hurts kids. It hurts queer, questioning, and nonbinary kids who need to see themselves in media, to know that they aren’t alone. For straight, cisgender kids, they can learn empathy and become allies. Many who want LGBTQIA+ books out of school libraries cite “parental rights,” saying that parents should be able to decide what books kids can and can’t read. But what a few parents want can’t speak for every parent. Parents – especially those who have LGBTQIA+ kids – may want their kids to read books that others are fighting so hard to take away. A few parents cannot and should not speak for an entire community. 

Instead of “think of the children,” let the children think for themselves. 

This book is indoctrination! 

Of the books that I looked at, there were only two books that were explicitly accused of indoctrinating their readers: The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, and Prince and Knight by Daniel Haack and Stevie Lewis. But books are frequently challenged because they are perceived as promoting some kind of agenda, be it religious, political, or something else. The word “indoctrination” might not be in a book challenge itself, but the fear of it is there. 

Some of the books that this would apply to:

And Tango Makes Three by Peter Parnell, Justin Richardson, and Henry Cole (2012. 2014, 2017, 2019) – “promotes the homosexual agenda”
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon (2015) – atheism
The Kite Runner by Khalid Hosseini (2012, 2014, 2017) – promotes Islam; would “lead to terrorism”
Melissa by Alex Gino (2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020) – encouraged children to change their bodies with hormones
Stamped: Racism, Anti-Racism, and You by Ibram X. Kendi and Jason Reynolds (2020) – using “selective storytelling incidents” 

Sigh. 

I once knew a man who disparaged public schools and universities, saying that all they did was brainwash students. He was homeschooled in a very Christian household, but never stopped to think that what he had learned could also be considered “brainwashing.”* His education was also based on an agenda, but one created by his family rather than the state. He was still being taught what someone else deemed to be important. The things we learn when we’re young stick with us, whether or not they’re explicitly taught. 

When you pick up a book that contains information or ideas outside your realm of experience, you can analyze it critically, you can learn from it, you can forget about it, you can close yourself off and reject it. Encountering new ideas and perspectives can be challenging. I’ve certainly experienced that.  When I read How to Be Anti-Racist by Ibram X. Kendi, I found myself bristling at some of the content. I had to remind myself that I was reading this book to learn, even if it meant reading things where my knee-jerk reaction was to reject the information. 

Books with diverse perspectives are important tools to understand the world and things outside of our experiences. Opening the world up to new ideas and helping readers to think critically about new information is the opposite of indoctrination. 

By taking books away from would-be readers (who, in terms of banned books, are mostly youth), you limit the amount and type of information they can receive. If those readers can’t have access to a wide variety of material and are limited to only reading things that are “approved” by one authority or another…

Well, that is what I call indoctrination. 

To avoid controversy/Controversial issues

Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out by Susan Kuklin (2015, 2019, 2021) – to “ward off complaints”
Melissa by Alex Gino (2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020) – to avoid controversy
All American Boys by Jason Reynolds and Brandon Kiely (2020) – “too much of a sensitive issue right now” 

Let me say this first: I get it. I’ve only had one real complaint about a book (so far) and it was a little scary. A woman was furious about a Sesame Street board book which showed the character wearing masks and social distancing. Thankfully, she didn’t make a request to remove the book from the library. I only listened to what she had to say and helped her find books for her kids (who, incidentally, were much too old for board books). It shocked me a little bit, but thankfully nothing more came of it. 

When it comes to books with controversial topics, I understand taking caution. As I mentioned in my last post, recently libraries have lost funding and even faced threats of violence for materials that they have on the shelf. 

Removing materials over challenges that may never happen is a form of self-censorship. I refer back to the ALA Library Bill of Rights, which states, in part:

II. Libraries should provide materials and information presenting all points of view on current and historical issues. Materials should not be proscribed or removed because of partisan or doctrinal disapproval.

III. Libraries should challenge censorship in the fulfillment of their responsibility to provide information and enlightenment.

I understand the fear of having “controversial” books on the shelves. But I’m also disappointed. Removing or restricting access to these books feels like capitulating to bullies. Granted, maybe there was a real fear of violence in these cases, but it’s frustrating to see. You can’t challenge censorship by removing materials for a “just in case” scenario.

And, finally, the most bonkers reason given to challenge or ban a book comes from Melissa by Alex Geno:

Because schools and libraries should not “put books in a child’s hand that require discussion”

Then what are schools and libraries for? 

What are books for, if not to inform and entertain? To introduce new ideas and new ways of seeing the world, even if it’s a view you’re not familiar with? To maybe even learn something new about yourself?

Schools and libraries absolutely should put books in children’s hands that require critical thinking. Books that feed curious brains and answer questions, either with facts or through the lens of fiction. This is the whole point of intellectual freedom. 

Intellectual freedom is a fundamental human right, the basis of democracy and free speech. 

And anyone who tries to abridge that freedom is a poo poo head.

*Disclaimer: This is just one example of a person I knew who was homeschooled. There are lots of good reasons to homeschool kids, and just because kids are homeschooled doesn’t mean that they’ll be closed off to new experiences.

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.