bisexualbookshelf's reviews
679 reviews

Thank you to Algonquin Books for the gifted ARC! This book was released in the US on November 12, 2024.

Nayantara Roy’s The Magnificent Ruins is a lush and evocative exploration of family, identity, and the weight of inherited legacies. The novel follows Lila, a conflicted and compelling protagonist, as she returns to India after her grandfather’s death to claim an ancestral home brimming with secrets and tensions. The narrative is steeped in sensory detail and rich cultural commentary, weaving Lila’s personal quest for belonging with broader examinations of colonial history, gender roles, and generational trauma. With its lyrical prose and intricate emotional landscapes, Roy’s writing invites readers to linger on the unspoken and the unresolved.

At its heart, the story examines the fractures within a family shaped by dysfunction and unaddressed pain. Lila’s relationship with her estranged mother—defined by silence, resentment, and cultural constraints—is central to the novel’s exploration of maternal legacies and the complexities of mental health in a context that discourages open dialogue. The ancestral house, decaying yet steeped in history, becomes a vivid metaphor for the family’s unresolved past and the struggle to rebuild amidst entrenched conflict. Themes of belonging and identity are woven throughout, as Lila grapples with her dual cultural heritage and the tension between modern independence and traditional expectations. Roy also engages deeply with systemic issues like colorism and patriarchy, adding layers of complexity to Lila’s journey.

While the novel’s themes are impactful, its execution stumbles in places. The inclusion of a love triangle feels tangential, detracting from the central narrative’s emotional weight. The multiplicity of conflicts—family disputes, social critique, and a rushed exploration of abuse—creates a sprawling narrative that struggles to maintain focus. The perspective shift in the novel’s conclusion feels abrupt and disjointed, leaving the resolution of key storylines unsatisfying.

Roy’s prose is undeniably lovely, and the characters are fully realized, making their struggles and desires deeply resonant. However, the novel’s pacing issues, an overly ambitious narrative scope, and a jarring use of the R-slur at its conclusion mar an otherwise poignant reading experience. While The Magnificent Ruins offers a thought-provoking meditation on identity and inheritance, these flaws ultimately lowered my rating to 3 out of 5 stars.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy introspective and lyrical prose, those interested in generational family dynamics and cultural heritage, anyone drawn to stories of belonging and identity, fans of Jhumpa Lahiri or Arundhati Roy.

🔑 Key Themes: Belonging and Dual Identity, Generational Trauma, Colorism and Patriarchy, Family Loyalty and Conflict, Cultural Heritage and Legacy.

Thank you so much to North Atlantic Books for the gifted ARC! Being (Sick) Enough will be released in the US on January 14, 2025.

Jessica Graham’s Being (Sick) Enough is a raw and evocative exploration of the intersections between chronic illness, trauma, queerness, and neurodivergence. Through vivid prose and unflinching honesty, Graham invites readers into their deeply personal journey, reflecting on the emotional, physical, and systemic barriers they’ve faced. The book shines in its ability to balance vulnerability with pragmatic insights, offering both a love letter to the body and a critique of social expectations and norms that often disregard the complexities of being human.

The themes Graham navigates are expansive and impactful. The book traces the long shadows of childhood abuse, parentification, and enmeshment, showing how these experiences ripple into adult relationships and bodily autonomy. Graham’s exploration of neurodivergent burnout, particularly for those navigating trauma within a neurotypical world, is especially poignant. The emphasis on listening to the body as a form of healing—despite the stigma surrounding chronic illness and mental health—is a powerful call for self-acceptance. Graham also critiques toxic positivity and ableist rhetoric, weaving Buddhist principles of mindfulness and acceptance throughout their narrative.

While the book’s themes resonated deeply, certain elements detracted from my reading experience. Graham’s intensely descriptive style, while often a strength, occasionally veered into oversharing that felt unnecessary—particularly regarding personal health details. Additionally, as a trauma therapist in training, I found Graham’s framing of mindfulness overly tied to a cognitive behavioral perspective, which felt at odds with my somatic understanding of PTSD treatment. The prescriptive tone in some parts, where Graham seemed to suggest that their methods for healing were universally applicable, felt limiting in a narrative otherwise rich with nuance.

Despite these critiques, Being (Sick) Enough is a heartfelt and necessary contribution to the conversation around living with trauma and chronic illness. Graham’s willingness to share their vulnerabilities and their incisive critique of ableism, sanism, and capitalism make this a meaningful read, particularly for those navigating similar challenges.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who value raw and introspective memoirs, those navigating the intersections of chronic illness, trauma, and neurodivergence, and anyone interested in critiques of ableism and toxic positivity.

🔑 Key Themes: Chronic Illness and Acceptance, Childhood Trauma and Healing, Neurodivergent Burnout, Queer Identity and Resilience, Self-Compassion and Mindfulness.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book released from Fiction2Collective in the US on November 12th, 2024. 

Vanessa Saunders’ The Flat Woman is a piercing, experimental novella that explores a speculative world where women are scapegoated for the climate crisis. In this surreal yet unsettlingly familiar dystopia, the unnamed narrator’s life is upended when her mother is imprisoned as a "gull terrorist," leaving her to navigate a hostile world defined by systemic blame, abandonment, and absurdity. Saunders crafts a story that is equal parts poignant and bizarre, merging poetic language with vivid imagery to create a haunting meditation on justice, autonomy, and interdependence.

From the moment the narrator wakes up with bird feathers sprouting from her skin, the novella immerses the reader in a world where nature and humanity are inextricably intertwined yet violently fractured. The symbolism of birds, both as victims and saviors, weaves through the narrative like an unspoken language, amplifying the story's ecological and feminist themes. Saunders’ prose is enigmatic and lyrical, compact yet resonant, balancing stark truths with moments of surreal beauty. 

At its heart, The Flat Woman is a searing critique of societal scapegoating and the ways power structures shift blame onto oppressed communities—in this case, women—while shirking accountability for global crises. The story interrogates the impossible burdens placed on women, whether through the narrator’s struggles with financial and emotional survival or her fraught relationship with her abusive boyfriend. Yet, even amid this bleakness, Saunders introduces moments of solidarity and care, often from unexpected places, such as the crows who save the narrator, creating a sense of righteous ferality and liberation.

While the novella’s experimental style and abstract symbolism may not appeal to every reader, fans of feminist speculative fiction will find much to savor. Saunders deftly walks the line between absurdity and sincerity, crafting a world that feels both eerily familiar and achingly strange. The Flat Woman is an evocative, thought-provoking exploration of blame, survival, and the possibility of forging care in a fractured world.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of experimental and feminist literature, readers drawn to surreal and symbolic narratives, and anyone who enjoys exploring ecological and political critique.

🔑 Key Themes: Systemic Blame and Scapegoating, Resilience and Autonomy, Care and Interdependence, Environmental Collapse, Feminism.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This one was released from Tin House Books in the US on November 12th, 2024.

In The Burrow, Melanie Cheng crafts an evocative exploration of grief, family, and the quiet, often unseen struggles that accompany deep loss. Set four years after the tragic death of Jin and Amy's six-month-old daughter, Ruby, the novella delves into the aftermath of this unspeakable tragedy through the eyes of four family members—Jin, Amy, Lucie, and Pauline—as they navigate the delicate and painful process of healing. The arrival of a pet rabbit into their home, initially sought as a distraction for Lucie, becomes a poignant symbol of the complex web of emotions that each character grapples with. In alternating perspectives, Cheng masterfully paints a picture of each character’s inner turmoil, from Lucie’s resistance to naming the rabbit, to Amy’s struggles with writing and reconciling with her estranged mother, to Jin’s chest pains, a manifestation of unresolved grief.

Cheng’s writing is beautifully introspective and emotionally charged, with each sentence carrying the weight of unspoken sorrow. She uses vivid metaphors and sensory details to immerse the reader in the characters' experiences, creating a sense of both internal and external tension. Describing grief as something that gnaws at the body—comparable to a necrotic wound—Cheng brings physicality to the emotions her characters feel, making their pain palpable and raw. The language is often contemplative, allowing the characters’ internal reflections to slowly unfurl as they navigate their unspoken truths. It’s a style that invites the reader to sit with the complexity of loss, to feel the deep ache that lingers long after a loved one is gone.

At its heart, The Burrow is about the quiet perseverance of a family trying to rebuild itself in the wake of unthinkable loss. The presence of the rabbit, though small and seemingly insignificant, serves as a catalyst for connection and healing, a gentle reminder that care, even in the smallest forms, can offer a measure of solace. However, the novel also examines how grief remains an enduring presence, often unspoken, as characters adjust to new roles and relationships. The tension between independence and interdependence plays out throughout, as Jin and Amy struggle not only with their grief but also with each other, revealing the often fragile nature of family bonds.

In a broader sense, The Burrow reflects on the difficulty of finding meaning in the aftermath of trauma, particularly when the pain is both internal and external. The pandemic backdrop adds an additional layer of isolation, intensifying the characters' struggles and further complicating their path toward healing. Cheng’s deft handling of these themes—grief, isolation, family dynamics, and the search for healing—makes The Burrow a beautifully poignant meditation on how we survive loss, not by forgetting, but by finding ways to keep going, even when it feels impossible.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who appreciate introspective and emotionally charged prose, those interested in exploring the complexities of grief and healing, fans of literary fiction that delves into family dynamics and loss, and readers who enjoy meditative, character-driven narratives.

🔑 Key Themes: Grief and Loss, Family Dynamics, Healing and Reconnection, Finding Meaning in Trauma, Hope Amidst Despair.

Dori Lumpkin’s Antenora is a chilling, intimate exploration of girlhood, queerness, and the oppressive weight of religious fanaticism. Through Abby’s confessional narration, we’re drawn into the suffocating town of Bethel, Alabama—a place where church and community are indistinguishable, and both are intent on rooting out anything they fear or misunderstand.

At its heart is the bond between Abby and Nora, whose childhood friendship—full of forests, dirt, and whispered secrets—blooms into something tender and forbidden. As their relationship deepens, so too does Bethel’s scrutiny of Nora, a girl whose defiance and strange gifts challenge the town’s fragile order. Lumpkin’s prose masterfully captures the dread of living under constant judgment, with Bethel’s “Christian concern” masking a voyeuristic cruelty.

The novella’s horror is visceral and layered, weaving supernatural elements—snakes that may come back to life, whispers of possession—with the all-too-human horrors of homophobia, misogyny, and communal betrayal. The religious rituals and exorcisms are terrifying not just for their violence, but for how they magnify the town’s paranoia and Abby’s helplessness.

Despite the heaviness, Antenora finds space for moments of small joy and queer defiance. Abby and Nora’s love, though fragile, is a quiet rebellion against a community that would erase them. Lumpkin’s ability to evoke both tenderness and terror within such a compact story is remarkable - Nora and Abby will be living in my heart for a long time to come.

Dark, witchy, and unapologetically sapphic, Antenora is a powerful meditation on betrayal, survival, and the bittersweet strangeness of girlhood. It’s a story that lingers like a ghost. Thank you, Dori, for this magically strange story. 

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the eARC. This book will release from CLASH Books on February 25, 2025 in the US. However, I stopped reading at 17% due to concerns about the author, a white writer, voicing a Korean American character. 

In All Our Tomorrows, Amy DeBellis dissects millennial and Gen Z culture through the lives of three young women navigating the complex realities of New York City in a near-future, hyper-capitalist world. Janet, an overworked online therapist; Anna, a retail worker and sugar baby seeking financial survival; and Gemma, a college student turned aspiring influencer, each confront their struggles with nihilism, isolation, and climate anxiety. DeBellis employs sharp critiques and dark humor to explore the intimate challenges of identity, privilege, and resilience in an era defined by economic instability and digital culture.

I stopped reading All Our Tomorrows at 17% because Amy DeBellis’s portrayal of Janet, a Korean American character, felt misaligned with my values around racial justice and representation. As a white author, DeBellis’s decision to voice a character with a specific racialized experience raised concerns about appropriation, particularly because Janet’s ethnicity seemed incidental to the story rather than thoughtfully integrated.  

Janet’s ethnicity is revealed in a scene where her date, a tone-deaf white man, exotifies her background by asking where she’s *really* from, “like ancestrally.” While DeBellis’s critique of white privilege and microaggressions is evident, the scene risks reducing Janet’s racial identity to a narrative device for advancing this critique. If her ethnicity plays no significant role beyond this scene, it feels tokenizing and exploitative. If it reappears later, the risk grows that it could be mishandled in ways that amplify the problematic nature of this choice.  

While I appreciate DeBellis’s incisive commentary on millennial struggles, her approach to Janet’s character felt at odds with my values. I’m not comfortable supporting a narrative that might perpetuate the very erasure or commodification of marginalized voices it aims to critique, particularly when those voices could be more authentically written by someone with lived experience.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC. This book will release from Atria Books on January 28, 2025 in the US. I felt this review needed to be public for other readers' awareness, but please be aware that I only read the first few sentences of this book.

I know Emily is a celebrated, beloved author in our community, and I’ve been a fan of some of her work in the past. While I struggled with her second novel, Interesting Facts About Space, due to triggering content related to stalking and what I felt was a mishandling of PTSD treatment, I was still eager to read her upcoming novel.

However, upon opening my ARC copy, I found an author's note that explained the story “deals with suicide” from the perspective of someone who treats their death “as trivial.” Suicide and mental illness are not mentioned in the book’s blurb or marketing materials, so this note took me by surprise. I flipped to the table of contents and saw that the first chapter is is a suicide note, followed by 21 chapters titled “Attempt One,” “Attempt Two,” and so on. Initially, I interpreted this to mean the book chronicled 21 suicide attempts, which was alarming and triggering for me.

In my search for clarification, I came across reviews explaining that these chapters detail the narrator’s attempts to write a suicide note, not suicide attempts themselves. However, reviewers also mentioned unsettling elements, including a narrative that oscillates between humor and distortion when discussing suicide, mental illness, and psychosis. One review shared how the narrator fabricates stories, walks back serious claims like experiencing hallucinations, and justifies these fabrications as attempts to make her suicide “more comprehensible.”

Given my past concerns with Emily Austin’s handling of sensitive topics and the deeply personal nature of this subject matter, I’ve decided not to read We Could Be Rats. While I respect the nuanced and complex ways writers approach mental health, I feel strongly about prioritizing my own mental well-being and only engaging with stories that handle these issues with care and clarity.

To my fellow readers: if you choose to read this book, please tread gently. I encourage us all to remain mindful of how storytelling impacts both ourselves and others, especially on topics as sensitive as this. 

Coming Out Like a Porn Star, edited by Jiz Lee, is a vital and thought-provoking anthology that amplifies the voices of porn performers navigating the uniquely challenging process of "coming out" as sex workers. Through a collection of deeply personal essays, contributors shed light on the profound stigma surrounding porn work and the precarious balance performers must strike between asserting their identity and protecting their safety. This anthology unpacks the ways in which sex work intersects with privacy, familial relationships, self-determination, and societal notions of morality, insisting that sex workers deserve the same dignity, respect, and privacy as anyone else.

Many of the essays reveal the paradoxical nature of performing in porn—a profession simultaneously fetishized and demonized. Contributors share how societal shame impacts their ability to feel proud of their accomplishments, forcing them to keep secrets or distance themselves from loved ones to protect their own safety and others' comfort. Others view coming out as a defiant act of reclamation, rejecting harmful stereotypes and demanding respect for their work. Pieces like Cyd Nova’s exploration of self-authorship in both gender and labor and Cinnamon Maxine’s fierce refusal to conform to familial expectations stand out as powerful declarations of agency.

What sets this anthology apart is its nuanced depiction of porn as a space for both constraint and liberation. For some, the industry becomes a place of self-discovery and sexual exploration, where clear communication and boundaries allow for authentic expression. Conner Habib’s essay illustrates this duality beautifully, portraying porn as a tool for self-transformation and a space for reclaiming autonomy in a society that often seeks to strip it away.

Particularly compelling are the essays that expose the structural barriers porn performers face, such as Kitty Stryker’s piece on financial institutions that discriminate against sex workers, underscoring the systemic nature of their marginalization. These accounts reveal the far-reaching consequences of society's inability to accept sex work as legitimate labor, from limited job prospects to fractured family relationships.

By sharing their stories, the contributors in Coming Out Like a Porn Star challenge readers to confront their own biases and cultural taboos. This anthology doesn’t just humanize sex workers—it positions them as central to broader conversations about agency, authenticity, and the right to live without shame. It is an essential read for anyone seeking a deeper understanding of sex work and the courage it takes to live authentically in a judgmental world.

📖 Recommended For: Readers interested in nuanced discussions about sex work and societal stigma, those passionate about dismantling cultural taboos, advocates for sex workers' rights, fans of anthologies that amplify marginalized voices, and anyone who values stories of resilience and self-determination.

🔑 Key Themes: Stigma and Privacy, Identity and Autonomy, Family and Relationships, Reclamation and Activism, Cultural Immaturity Around Sex.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Homophobia (minor), Transphobia (minor), Drug Use (minor), Mental Illness (minor), Suicidal Thoughts (minor), Suicide Attempt (minor), Sexual Content (minor), Sexual Assault (minor), Cancer (minor), Eating Disorder (minor), Racism (minor), Dementia (minor), Child Abuse (minor). 

Tyler Wetherall’s Amphibian is a haunting, lyrical exploration of girlhood—its desires, betrayals, and transformations. Through the eyes of Sissy, a young girl navigating a turbulent coming-of-age, Wetherall crafts a narrative that is both raw and dreamlike, blending visceral realism with fantastical elements.  

Sissy is a deeply introspective character, drawn to water and its transformative power. Her fixation on her body—its budding sexuality and strange metamorphoses—anchors the story in the liminal space between childhood innocence and adult desire. As she moves with her emotionally fragile mother, Mou, to a new town in England’s West Country, Sissy’s world is shaped by longing: for stability, understanding, and the magnetic pull of her classmate, Tegan. Their friendship, marked by both tenderness and turbulence, propels Sissy toward self-discovery while exposing the precariousness of girlhood friendships.  

Wetherall’s writing brims with poetic cadence and evocative imagery. Sissy’s voice oscillates between sharp clarity and dreamlike musing, mirroring the fragmented, chaotic nature of adolescence. The story is layered with symbolic transformations, from Sissy’s webbed toes and growing tail to the mythic parallels she draws with mermaids and Eve. These symbols underscore the fragility and inevitability of change, often intertwined with pain, societal expectation, and desire.  

Sexuality lies at the heart of Amphibian, exploring the hypersexualization of girls in a world that denies them the safety to navigate their own desires. Sissy’s fear of being labeled or shamed, even as she craves power and connection, captures the dissonance many young girls face. Wetherall deftly unpacks how girls are often taught that their worth is tied to the sexual desire they elicit, pushing them toward dangerous territory in search of agency.  

The novel’s darker threads unravel through the presence of Tegan’s sister, Haley, whose world of parties, drugs, and predators exposes Sissy and Tegan to adult dangers too soon. The trauma Sissy witnesses—her complicity in silence, her mother’s neglect, and her friendship’s unraveling—converges in a climax that feels both inevitable and devastating.  

Through Amphibian, Wetherall crafts a powerful meditation on girlhood’s contradictions: its beauty and violence, its vulnerability and strength. Sissy’s transformation—both physical and emotional—remains etched in the mind, a reminder of the messy, magical metamorphoses that define growing up.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of lyrical and introspective prose, readers captivated by the turbulence of girlhood friendships, anyone drawn to coming-of-age stories with a touch of magical realism, and admirers of Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield or Chlorine by Jade Song.

🔑 Key Themes: The Complexities of Girlhood, Sexuality and Shame, Transformation and Identity, Betrayal and Intimacy, Power Dynamics in Female Relationships.

Tiffany Yu’s The Anti-Ableist Manifesto is a powerful, transformative collection of essays that challenges readers to rethink everything they think they know about disability. Grounded in Yu’s personal narrative as a disabled woman of color and enriched by thorough research, the book explores disability justice, intersectionality, and actionable steps toward dismantling ableism. Yu’s empathetic yet assertive voice invites readers into a world where disability is not a deficit but a source of creativity, resilience, and pride.  

Opening with her own story—a car accident that left her disabled at age nine—Yu critiques the societal expectation for disabled individuals to justify their identities with trauma. From this vulnerable starting point, she frames disability as a deeply individual and collective experience, exposing the systemic ableism that compels disabled people to "prove" their needs and existence. With clear, accessible prose, Yu dives into the complexities of dynamic and non-apparent disabilities, illustrating how they remain misunderstood and often invalidated. The inclusion of striking statistics—like the fact that 70–80% of disabilities are non-apparent—underscores her argument for greater awareness and empathy. 

Yu’s discussion of language is particularly impactful, offering a nuanced take on person-first versus identity-first language while advocating for terms like “non-disabled” or “pre-disabled” over “able-bodied.” Her exploration of ableist microaggressions and euphemisms is a call to action for nondisabled readers to reconsider their words and attitudes. This reframing continues in her detailed breakdown of seven models of disability, which she urges readers to view as tools rather than rigid categories, encouraging a blend of the social, human rights, and affirmative models.  

One of the book’s most empowering themes is the adaptability and creativity of disabled individuals. Yu celebrates the “life hacks” that disabled people invent to navigate an inaccessible world and emphasizes how inclusive design benefits everyone. She critiques the limitations of social media while also recognizing its potential to foster community and amplify disabled voices, offering practical tips for curating a disability-inclusive feed.  

Yu does not shy away from the intersections of oppression, examining how ableism compounds with racism, sexism, and classism. She introduces concepts like non-disabled privilege and non-disabled guilt, encouraging readers to move beyond discomfort toward meaningful allyship. Her call for an accessibility-first culture and disabled leadership in shaping accessibility is a revolutionary vision of justice and equity.  

Thoughtful, clear, and empowering, The Anti-Ableist Manifesto is a must-read for anyone committed to social justice. Yu’s incisive analysis and tangible strategies offer both disabled and non-disabled readers a roadmap for collective liberation. This collection doesn’t just invite readers to rethink disability—it demands it.

📖 Recommended For: Readers passionate about social justice, anyone eager to learn about disability rights and justice, advocates for inclusive design, those seeking actionable allyship strategies, and fans of Sonya Renee Taylor or Alice Wong.

🔑 Key Themes: Disability Pride, Intersectionality, Anti-Ableist Allyship, Inclusive Language and Design, Creativity and Adaptability, Social Justice and Equity.