jayisreading's reviews
514 reviews

I'm really struggling to get into this novel, which might be a "wrong time" situation. May go back to this one in the future.

Thammavongsa took “short” in short stories quite seriously, as a handful of them only took a few minutes to read. However, she packed so much into each story while using sparse prose, much of which focused on what it meant to be part of an immigrant family in Canada. One could almost think of these stories as short reels of day-to-day life for different Lao families, since these stories magnified the seemingly more mundane moments. While each story is self-contained, I immediately understood Thammavongsa’s intention to present a deeply complex and vibrant community of Lao immigrants and refugees, and I especially appreciated that many of these characters deeply reflected on their identity. 

This was an incredibly smart and powerful debut collection. I wasn’t expecting many of these poems to be so spiritual, but it was lovely seeing a recognition of Blackness and queerness as being sacred. I think it’s safe to say that Alabi’s poems may have been a little too clever for me, as I didn’t fully grasp the meaning of everything. On another note (and somewhat related), there is no other way to describe how incredible it was that Alabi included not one but several golden shovel poems (and some being double golden shovels). The use of golden shovels alone demonstrated their control over language, though this was evident in many of their other poems. I found that I drifted especially towards the more experimental ones, for example. Really, I was completely enthralled with the way they played with form in their poems.

Even if I had some trouble following the meaning behind some of these poems, I really do look forward to whatever Alabi publishes next.

Some favorites: “Love Letter from Pompeii,” “The Virus,” “The Lonely Dream in Fevers,” “you must believe in spring,” “Against Heaven” (double golden shovel with Sade and Belinda Carlisle), and “A Wedding, or What We Unlearned from Descartes”

I was pleasantly surprised by this novel and its quietly intense world. The novel follows the relatively mundane life of William Stoner, though Williams reveals how complicated things can get for his protagonist through a masterful demonstration of “show, don’t tell.” It was fascinating to see the ripple effects of Stoner’s choices in his personal life as well as professional, and how the two are not easily separable. Williams also presented a more accurate depiction of academia than I expected, particularly the intensity of departmental politics and the love/hate relationship that comes with being an academic.

The protagonist isn’t a likable character, in my opinion, though he isn’t the absolute worst either. If anything, Stoner is a very honest reflection of what it means to be human and contend with one’s imperfections (some more egregious than others). Relatedly, the other characters in this novel, particularly his wife, Edith, demonstrate similar levels of introspection on the complexities of being human.

Stoner is a bittersweet novel, leaning far more towards the bitter rather than sweet. It really helped set the novel up to capture an existential solitude that will potentially leave the reader thinking about their own life. I should note that this is by no means a perfect novel, and there were certainly moments when I raised my eyebrows (such as the early stages of the Stoners’ marriage), but overall, I found it to be a compelling read.

I really wanted to like Counterweight. Unfortunately, I found that there was a lot left to be desired, despite the novel having a lot of promise in contributing to Korean science fiction, particularly cyberpunk. I did learn that Counterweight was first conceived to be a low-budget science fiction film, and the novel certainly read like the beginning stages of one. I did find the setting interesting, as well as the question Djuna posed about the presence of artificial intelligence in society, but neither were fully developed to sate my curiosity.

I had high hopes for this one, especially as someone who is fascinated by cyberpunk, so the disappointment is real. I wish Djuna had made their novel much longer than the just over 150 pages it ended up being.

A feminist retelling of the Korean folktale, “The Tale of Shim Cheong,” The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea has a lot of heart, and it’s clear that Oh poured a lot of love into her characters and the worldbuilding. Being familiar with the original folktale, I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t about Shim Cheong specifically (though she appears as a side character), but, rather, a rather headstrong and earnest sixteen-year-old named Mina. Alongside Mina is a cast of relatively memorable characters, perhaps one of the more notable ones being Shin, who ends up being Mina’s love interest. (I should note that this is definitely a slow burn romance, which won’t be for everyone—) I did find Oh’s characters somewhat weak, especially compared to her worldbuilding, but they certainly weren’t one-dimensional either. I think it was just wanting a bit more character development and time to sit with the cast. I also found the novel’s pacing a bit uneven at the start, but it really came together as it continued.

All-in-all, I enjoyed this YA novel more than I thought I would. I think I was especially taken to the emphasis on storytelling, and I really appreciated how Oh seamlessly wove in other Korean folktales into the novel through Mina.

Greta & Valdin is a novel that felt like a warm embrace from various members of the Vladislavljevic family, a Russian–Maori family, particularly from the two queer siblings who narrate the story, Greta and Valdin. They’re a messy and imperfect bunch, especially Greta and Valdin (really living up to be disaster queers in their own ways, ahaha), but they all carry so much love. I really appreciated how Reilly navigated race and class dynamics in this novel through her characters, making playful jabs at these issues in New Zealand society.

There isn’t much of a plot, which may frustrate some, as most of this book focuses on the characters and their relationships with one another, and, really, the joys and frustrations of being human. There was something so genuine about these characters, so much that I found myself laughing out loud a number of times. (I will also say the humor is reminiscent of television shows such as Fleabag and Chewing Gum, so if you’re not a fan of this sort of humor, perhaps avoid this novel.)

I did feel the ending was a little hastily put together, but overall, I greatly enjoyed the ride that was this book. Reilly wrote some of the most sincere and endearing characters I’ve read in some time. On an unrelated note, it was also quite fun to learn more about New Zealand society and culture, including slang.

A provocative collection of poems that explores a number of topics, most of them focused on immigrant experiences, as well as life as a Palestinian American woman. Hindi does not pull any punches, using razor sharp words to critically engage with issues in the United States today in many of her poems.

With that said, I did feel that the collection was somewhat unbalanced. There were some standout poems that were exemplary, but then others were somewhat unmemorable. All-in-all, though, this is a great addition to Palestinian poetry, as well as an accessible one for poetry beginners.

Some favorites: “Thirst,” “Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying,” “Palestine,” “Grief Symphony,” “A Quick Study of the Word Existence,” “A Home,” and “Ode”

This was a well-written story that, unfortunately, wasn’t for me. I can recognize the great prose and themes in this novel, which I thought Bennett crafted with great care. I think it’s safe to say that I just wasn’t the target audience. I didn’t find the book dull—the main characters really spoke for themselves and had a lot going for them—but I wasn’t especially invested in what was happening either.

Something that I’ve also been trying to parse out but don’t have the words for was the discourse around abortion in this novel. I could have misinterpreted something, but I got the impression that Bennett was taking a rather critical approach to abortion that seemed to weigh down on one of the protagonists, Nadia, significantly. I don’t know if this is a result of the setting (a Black community with strong Christian affiliations), but I really wasn’t sure what to make of it.

All-in-all, an interesting enough book that I think will resonate with some (especially for those interested in books engaging with motherhood and relationships); I just wasn’t one of those people.

This surprisingly large collection of short stories really showcased Jemisin’s talent in storytelling and her control in crafting stories from different genres and timelines. Many of these stories aren’t particularly long, yet she managed to breathe so much life into them that made me want to read more about some of these worlds. (I’m also aware that a few of these stories were prototypes—of sorts—for actual novels, which I need to check out!) I was really taken to the pervasive Afrofuturist elements in many of these stories, the way they dreamed for something more.

Like most short story collections, I found some to be more compelling than others, but all-in-all, I know any fan of science fiction/fantasy will be able to find at least two stories that will stick with them.