bisexualbookshelf's reviews
672 reviews

Death of the Author by Nnedi Okorafor

Go to review page

adventurous mysterious reflective tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.5

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book was released on January 14th, 2025 by William Morrow in the US. 

Nnedi Okorafor’s Death of the Author is a breathtaking exploration of identity, autonomy, and the power of storytelling. At its heart is Zelu, a Nigerian American, paraplegic author grappling with the intersections of her disability, creative ambition, and cultural identity. Interwoven with chapters from her bestselling debut Rusted Robots and interviews with her family, Zelu’s journey reflects an intimate yet universal struggle for self-determination amidst societal and familial pressures.

Zelu’s character is richly drawn, capturing her frustrations, vulnerabilities, and triumphs with poignant realism. Her decision to pivot from literary fiction and academia to science fiction after a cascade of personal and professional setbacks feels both inevitable and revolutionary. Rusted Robots—a story of self-aware machines rebuilding a post-human Earth—is a perfect metaphor for Zelu’s life, filled with echoes of her quest to reconstruct and define herself after the life-altering trauma of the childhood accident that left her paralyzed. The narrative deftly explores how Zelu’s paraplegia shapes her sense of independence and identity, particularly through her relationship with her wheelchair, autonomous vehicles, and the exoskeleton study she participates in.

The novel’s nuanced approach to disability is deeply resonant. Okorafor parallels the empowering and dehumanizing aspects of assistive technology, crafting a story that acknowledges the layered complexity of navigating the world as a disabled person. Zelu’s swimming scenes, where she feels free and untethered, are especially striking, offering a reprieve from her struggles and underscoring her profound resilience.

While Zelu’s personal arc is captivating, the chapters from Rusted Robots add a rich meta-textual layer. Ankara’s journey from isolation to leadership as a Hume robot mirrors Zelu’s quest for recognition and autonomy, emphasizing the transformative potential of community and storytelling. The novel’s exploration of identity—be it racial, cultural, or technological—is seamlessly integrated into a larger conversation about belonging and self-expression.

That said, the novel’s ambition occasionally works against it. The sprawling scope, particularly in the final third, leaves some plot threads unresolved and could have benefited from tighter editing. Still, these minor issues do little to detract from the book’s emotional and intellectual impact.

Okorafor’s prose is as introspective and emotive as ever, blending sharp social critique with poetic reflections on identity, family, and resilience. Death of the Author is an extraordinary achievement—a layered, deeply human story that cements Okorafor as a master storyteller and a beacon of contemporary speculative fiction. This is a book to savor, ponder, and revisit.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of introspective speculative fiction, disability justice narratives, and multi-layered storytelling; readers interested in the intersections of technology and identity; N.K. Jemisin, Octavia Butler, and Rivers Solomons readers.

🔑 Key Themes: Identity and Autonomy, Cultural Heritage and Family, The Power of Storytelling, Humanity and Technology.

Expand filter menu Content Warnings
The Membranes by Chi Ta-wei

Go to review page

mysterious reflective tense fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

“In the end, who had the right to decide what happened to a person’s body? To their life?”

Cracking open The Membranes by Chi Ta-Wei is like stepping into a lucid dream—immediately strange, unsettling, and utterly transformative. At just over 100 pages, this novella packs a breathtaking amount of critique into a story that can easily be devoured in a single sitting. It’s astonishing to consider that this prescient work, grappling with themes of climate collapse, capitalism, queerness, and the ethics of technology, was written in 1996. The future it imagines, however, feels disturbingly close.

At the heart of the story is Momo, a dermal care technician living in an underwater dystopia called T City. Momo’s life is defined by layers—of skin, of identity, of memory—all of which are called into question as her 30th birthday approaches. From her fraught relationship with her mother to the revelations about her existence, Momo’s journey is as much about peeling back the literal and metaphorical membranes that confine her as it is about reconciling with the world’s horrors.

I loved The Membranes's refusal to tether itself to traditional apocalyptic narratives. There’s no glorification of heterosexual reproduction or insistence on humanity’s survival as the ultimate goal. Instead, Chi Ta-Wei offers an unflinching critique of the human race, which continues to destroy itself even in the face of its own extinction. The novel’s queer futurism is radically defiant, challenging assumptions about identity, intimacy, and what it means to be human.

Momo is a fascinating protagonist, isolated both physically and emotionally. Her longing for connection is palpable, whether she’s tending to clients or reflecting on her lost childhood friendship with Andy, an android designed to save her life. But as the plot twists reveal, Momo’s reality is mediated by corporate control, reducing her to a literal piece of intellectual property. The implications of this are chilling, a stark reminder of how capitalism commodifies even the most intimate aspects of our existence.

Saying I “loved” this book feels inadequate. It’s a fever dream of a story—dense, disorienting, and deeply affecting. While not everything is fully explained, the novella’s speculative brilliance lies in its ability to provoke more questions than answers. I picked this up on a whim, and the impact it had on me was massive. I can’t recommend this enough to fans of translated, speculative, or science fiction books. 

📖 Recommended For:  Fans of speculative sci-fi, queer futurism, and thought-provoking storytelling; anyone intrigued by critiques of capitalism and climate dystopias. 

🔑 Key Themes: Queer Futurism, Climate Collapse, Capitalism and Corporatization, Identity and Memory, Technology and Intimacy, Autonomy and Connection.

Expand filter menu Content Warnings
We Grow the World Together: Parenting Toward Abolition by Maya Schenwar, Kim Wilson

Go to review page

challenging emotional informative reflective medium-paced

5.0

“If we care about kids, then we must destroy the bars and walls and chains that forcibly separate people who love each other. And we must also dedicate ourselves to abolition’s central commitment, which dovetails profoundly with caregiving: the creation and growth of practices, resources, and ways of being that are life-affirming and generative instead of death-dealing and violent.”

Thank you to NetGalley and Haymarket Books for the eARC! This collection was released in the US in November 2024. 

We Grow the World Together: Parenting Toward Abolition, edited by Maya Schenwar and Kim Wilson, is a luminous and crucial collection of essays interrogating the intersections of parenting and abolition. This anthology does not simply advocate for a world without prisons—it insists on the creative, imaginative, constructive, and generative potential of abolition, showing how parenting itself can be a radical act of world-building.

What makes this collection so compelling is its commitment to interdependence as a guiding principle. Many of the contributors are directly impacted by incarceration, whether they are currently or formerly incarcerated or have loved ones trapped in the carceral system. Their essays expose the cruelty of state-imposed family separation, raising essential questions: Who benefits from the destruction of families? What does it mean to parent from behind bars? How do we extend our care beyond our own children and into the wider world?

One of the strongest throughlines in this collection is the assertion that children naturally embody abolitionist conflict resolution strategies. Several essays reflect on the ways children instinctively seek repair, how they model care, and how they offer blueprints for futures rooted in justice rather than punishment. The authors explore how to respect and honor children's autonomy, suggesting that learning to defer to children can be a crucial exercise in dismantling power imbalances. This challenges deeply ingrained hierarchies within families, positioning parenting not as an authoritarian role but as a practice of solidarity, reciprocity, and communal care.

The book is unflinching in its critique of the family policing system—what is often referred to as the “child welfare system”—and its entanglement with carceral logic. Many essays explicitly confront the racism inherent in these institutions, exposing how they disproportionately harm Black and brown families. Parenting toward abolition, these writers argue, is not just about raising individual children with abolitionist values; it is about resisting the state’s relentless attempts to surveil, control, and destroy marginalized families.

Perhaps one of the most moving aspects of this collection is its insistence that abolition is fundamentally about love. Several authors explore parental love as an act of resistance, a force that refuses disposability and insists on the dignity of all children. Others highlight the role of solidarity in parenting—solidarity with incarcerated parents, with Palestinian mothers, with all caregivers resisting state violence. This expansive definition of love is not sentimental; it is rigorous, urgent, and revolutionary.

Ultimately, We Grow the World Together is a testament to the transformative potential of caregiving as a political practice. It calls on us to reject carcerality in all its forms—not just in the prisons we recognize but in the punitive, hierarchical relationships we enact daily. It reminds us that abolition is not only about dismantling the systems that harm—it is about growing new ways of being, loving, and caring. It is about making mistakes, learning, and trying again. For our children, and for ourselves.

📖 Recommended For: Readers invested in abolitionist thought, caregivers and parents reimagining justice, those drawn to lyrical and urgent prose, anyone seeking radical visions of care and interdependence, fans of Mariame Kaba and Adrienne Maree Brown.

🔑 Key Themes: Abolitionist Parenting, Interdependence and Mutual Aid, Anti-Carceral Justice, Family Policing and State Violence, Child Autonomy and Power, Love as Resistance.

Expand filter menu Content Warnings
Trans and Disabled: An Anthology of Identities and Experiences by Alex Iantaffi

Go to review page

emotional informative reflective medium-paced

5.0

Personhood is conditional; monstrosity is a bed you sleep in for eternity.”

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This collection releases on January 21st, 2025 in the US from Jessica Kingsley Publishers. 

There is a raw, undeniable power in Trans and Disabled: An Anthology of Identities and Experiences, edited by Alex Iantaffi. This collection of essays offers a deeply personal and politically urgent exploration of what it means to exist at the intersection of transness and disability, a space where visibility is both necessary and dangerous, where care is often conditional, and where survival itself is an act of defiance. Through lyrical prose, philosophical musings, and candid reflections, the contributors dismantle binaries, reject imposed hierarchies, and carve out space for identities that refuse to be neatly categorized.

One of the most striking themes of the anthology is the pervasive sense of unbelonging—both in medical settings and within broader social structures. Many of the authors grapple with the ways cisgenderism and ableism work in tandem to deny them adequate care, understanding, and legitimacy. The essays expose the exhausting reality of having to “prove” one’s gender and disability to systems that fundamentally distrust lived experience. Impostor syndrome, the burden of masking, and the relentless pressure to conform to normative expectations weave through the narratives, illustrating how trans disabled people are often made to feel as though they are fabricating their own realities.

Yet, amidst this struggle, there is also a profound celebration of fluidity. These essays embrace the shapeshifting nature of identity—of gender, of ability, of self-perception. The authors resist the pathologization of their existence, instead offering a vision of transness and disability as sites of expansive possibility rather than limitation. Through metaphors of galaxies, bending light, and the tension between structure and movement, they articulate the beauty of liminality, of being in constant conversation with oneself and the world.

H Howitt’s essay stood out to me in particular, offering a deeply resonant meditation on the relationship between queerness, neurodivergence, and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS). As someone who shares those intersections, I found their exploration of hypermobility as both a physical and existential state profoundly moving. The way they frame EDS as a neuro(queer) identity—one that resists rigidity while still yearning for stability—perfectly encapsulates the paradox of existing in a bodymind that is simultaneously boundless and fragile. 

Trans and Disabled is not just an anthology—it is an offering, an act of defiance, and a testament to the resilience of those who live at the crossroads of transness and disability. It is a necessary read for anyone seeking to understand, and more importantly, to affirm and uplift these voices. In a world that so often insists on erasure, this collection insists on presence. And that, in itself, is revolutionary.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who appreciate introspective, lyrical prose; those interested in the intersection of transness and disability; anyone who values personal narratives on identity, community, and resilience; fans of Eli Clare and Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha.

🔑 Key Themes: Medical Neglect and Institutional Barriers, Masking and Impostor Syndrome, Fluidity of Identity, Community and Mutual Aid, Resistance to Binaries and Hierarchies.

Expand filter menu Content Warnings
Esperance by Adam Oyebanji

Go to review page

adventurous mysterious tense fast-paced

4.0

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! Esperance releases in the US from DAW Books in May 2025.

Adam Oyebanji’s Esperance weaves together a detective mystery and a speculative exploration of history’s darkest legacies. Opening with a chilling homicide in Chicago—a father and son drowned in saltwater, the mother left comatose by an unexplained neurotoxin—the novel immediately grabs your attention. Detective Ethan Krol’s investigation pulls readers into a web of unsettling murders across continents, intricately tied to a centuries-old slave ship and the horrifying fate of its passengers.

Parallel to Ethan’s narrative is the story of Abidemi, a futuristic human navigating a contemporary Earth that feels alien to her. Abi’s mission to track down descendants of the Esperance’s captain adds a layer of sci-fi intrigue, seamlessly integrating elements of advanced technology and alternate worlds. Abi’s strange electronic devices feel almost mythic, blending her connection to the past with the high-tech future she represents. As her path converges with Ethan’s, the narrative builds to a tense crescendo that spans Chicago, Rhode Island, and Edinburgh, ultimately culminating in revelations about a planet called Ibi Aabo—a home to the descendants of those the Esperance’s captain so cruelly discarded.

What struck me most was the ambition of Oyebanji’s world-building. The concept of Ibi Aabo and the hauntingly poetic notion of a planet populated by the descendants of enslaved people resonates deeply. It’s a premise that could easily become heavy-handed, but Oyebanji balances the speculative with the personal, grounding the narrative in Abi’s and Ethan’s dogged pursuits.

However, I found some aspects lacking the depth they deserved. The racial and historical themes—so central to the novel’s core—felt underexplored at times, almost overshadowed by the fast-paced plot. Ethan’s character, too, left me wanting more; his personality seemed serviceable to the mystery but lacked the complexity to make him truly memorable.

That said, the novel’s brisk pacing and binge-worthy intrigue more than compensated. Oyebanji keeps the reader hooked with sharp twists, compelling stakes, and the unrelenting question of how history’s ghosts manifest in the present. While not a lyrical read, the writing is crisp and functional, serving the plot’s intricacies without distraction.

Ultimately, Esperance is a thrilling exploration of intergenerational trauma, justice, and the lengths to which vengeance can stretch across time and space. For readers who enjoy genre-blending stories with high stakes and deep ethical questions, this book will not disappoint.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of genre-blending mysteries, readers intrigued by speculative fiction tied to historical trauma, and lovers of high-stakes, fast-paced narratives with a touch of sci-fi.

🔑 Key Themes: Historical Reckoning, Intergenerational Trauma, Justice and Vengeance, Racial Identity, Futuristic Technology, and the Legacy of Slavery.

Expand filter menu Content Warnings
Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches by Audre Lorde

Go to review page

challenging emotional reflective medium-paced

5.0

Audre Lorde’s Sister Outsider is a masterclass in weaving the personal and the political, urging readers to confront systemic oppression while embracing the liberatory power of difference. From the opening essay, “Notes from a Trip to Russia,” Lorde sets the tone for her incisive reflections on power, freedom, and interdependence. Her exploration of how racial and gender dynamics differ between Russia and the United States invites a nuanced consideration of how systemic oppression manifests globally. The essay’s commentary on "civilized" standards as an American export is particularly thought-provoking, linking cultural imperialism to anti-Black racism in the U.S.

The collection is anchored by Lorde’s insistent call for intersectionality and solidarity, as she dismantles the myth of scarcity in freedom. In “Sexism: An American Disease in Blackface,” Lorde critiques how racism and sexism fracture solidarity between Black men and women, underscoring the need for collective liberation. Her sharp critique of white feminism in “An Open Letter” demands that white women confront their privilege and align themselves with Black women, no matter the discomfort or cost.

Lorde’s reflections on self-definition are among the most poignant in the collection. By insisting on the importance of verbalizing one’s identity, she highlights how reclaiming the narrative of self is a powerful resistance to oppression. Her essay “The Uses of Anger” remains a rallying cry for listening to Black women’s voices, even when their words are laced with anger—especially then. Anger, Lorde argues, is transformative, a tool for illuminating injustice and building solidarity.

Lorde’s prose is at once poetic and rigorously intellectual, merging personal anecdotes with a broader critique of systems like racism, sexism, and heterosexism. Her reflections on the transformative potential of emotions—anger, vulnerability, joy—are beautifully encapsulated in her assertion that feelings can serve as sanctuaries for radical ideas. Her definition of the erotic as a means of living fully and acutely resonates as a profound reimagining of empowerment and connection.

The collection is unflinching in its critique of the forces that divide us. Lorde dismantles the false notion that freedom is finite, urging oppressed peoples to abandon internalized hierarchies in favor of unity. Her reflections on collective care, particularly in relation to children, struck a deeply personal chord. As someone passionate about valuing and empowering children, I found her commentary on non-normative parenthood deeply affirming.

Ultimately, Sister Outsider is a call to action: to embrace difference as a dynamic force for liberation and to work collectively toward a world where no one is free until all of us are free. This timeless work is an essential read for anyone committed to social justice, intersectionality, and building a better, more equitable world.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who appreciate incisive and poetic prose, those committed to intersectional feminism, anyone passionate about social justice and collective liberation, fans of bell hooks and Angela Y. Davis.

🔑 Key Themes: Intersectionality and Solidarity, The Power of Anger, Self-Definition and Expression, Embracing Difference, Collective Care and Liberation.

Expand filter menu Content Warnings
How We Get Free: Black Feminism and the Combahee River Collective by Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor

Go to review page

emotional informative reflective fast-paced

4.0

Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor’s How We Get Free: Black Feminism and the Combahee River Collective is an engaging and incisive exploration of the legacy of Black feminism and its radical contributions to liberation movements. While not my first exposure to Black feminism, this was my first introduction to the Combahee River Collective (CRC), and I was immediately struck by the depth and clarity of their analysis. Their insistence on addressing the interlocking oppressions of race, class, and gender provides a powerful framework for understanding systemic oppression—and how it persists under capitalism.

One of the most compelling aspects of the book is its articulation of solidarity. As the CRC poignantly states, “Solidarity did not mean subsuming your struggles to help someone else; it was intended to strengthen the political commitments from other groups by getting them to recognize how the different struggles were related to each other and connected under capitalism.” This redefinition of solidarity as relational and mutually reinforcing, rather than hierarchical, offers a roadmap for coalition-building today. The interviews with Barbara and Beverly Smith amplify this ethos, as the sisters reflect on the power of community as both a source of resilience and a catalyst for organizing. Beverly’s words, “I didn’t give up political work because I didn’t want to be an activist. I gave it up because I didn’t have anybody to do it with,” emphasize the necessity of collective care and connection in sustaining activism.

Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor’s editing masterfully weaves historical reflection with contemporary relevance, connecting Black feminism to anti-colonial struggles, such as the movement to free Palestine. The interviews’ raw honesty and nuanced critiques—especially Alicia Garza’s assertion that “Police are...the most visible part of the state”—challenge readers to go beyond surface-level activism. This book is not just an intellectual exercise but a call to action, reminding us that abolition must aim to dismantle the entire system, not just its “most visible” manifestations.

Ultimately, How We Get Free is a testament to the enduring relevance of the Combahee River Collective’s work. Their vision—that “If Black women were free, it would mean that everyone else would have to be free”—remains a radical and necessary guidepost for movements today. This is a must-read for anyone committed to understanding and engaging in transformative social justice work.

📖 Recommended For: Readers drawn to accessible yet thought-provoking sociopolitical critiques, those interested in Black feminism's history and impact, and activists seeking insights into solidarity and intersectionality.

🔑 Key Themes: Interlocking Systems of Oppression, Solidarity Across Movements, Black Feminist Leadership, Anti-Capitalism and Anti-Colonialism, Community as Resistance.

Expand filter menu Content Warnings
Lonely Castle in the Mirror by Mizuki Tsujimura

Go to review page

adventurous hopeful mysterious medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

I mostly listened to this book - part of it was read to me from a physical copy by my lovely girlfriend, and then we finished listening to it on audio together. To be honest, I didn't find much to like here. It reminded me of the film Blair Witch Project, where the majority of it is a bunch of young people bickering in the way that young people do, and it doesn't actually get engaging until the very end. By the time the world-building plot kicked in, I was so confused on why we'd spent so long on random interpersonal dynamics between the characters. There were some whimsy and cozy fantasy aspects, but they felt lost in the school bullying dynamic to me. There are definitely things here that some readers will enjoy - I just am not one of them. Big rec for people who are still in school/university!
The Gene: An Intimate History by Siddhartha Mukherjee

Go to review page

Did not finish book. Stopped at 55%.
I'm sorry, guys. I just couldn't do it. There's nothing wrong with this book. I just don't care enough about genetics. I got through 300 of the 500 pages and that was just the best I could do! Thanks to Jillian for the rec, anyways <3
Perfume and Pain by Anna Dorn

Go to review page

emotional funny reflective medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

While I disagree with Astrid’s obsession with categories and labels, especially where it crossed over into biphobia, this was fucking hilarious. Big rec for fans of Miranda July!

Expand filter menu Content Warnings