jayisreading's reviews
517 reviews

This is a short poetry collection that you can read in one sitting, but it’s one that asks you to take your time to digest the two-act story that unfolds across the pages. Deaf Republic is set in the fictional town of Vasenka, where deafness becomes a powerful form of dissent against a violent military force, particularly after one soldier kills a deaf boy. To hearing people, they may conflate deafness with silence, but as Kalinsky makes clear in the notes at the end of the collection: “The deaf don’t believe in silence. Silence is the invention of the hearing.” The collection is, in fact, buzzing with sound through choice words and illustrations of an invented sign language; it’s just not the kind of sound that hearing people automatically assume. 

There are so many ways to approach this collection, which I think makes it such a fascinating one. You can read these poems through the lens of disability or nationalism (thinking specifically of Ukraine). You can read these poems to consider everyday living during political unrest or explore the violence of war itself. Really, you’re reading this collection with all of these in mind, which allows you to fully experience the joys and tragedies of this deaf republic.

Lubchansky nailed what it’s like to be in cis spaces as a trans person, particularly for those who don’t fall on the gender binary and/or are transitioning. Boys Weekend is such a poignant reflection on how difficult it can be to be your true self today, and what it’s like to return to a space with people from your past—who you love(d)—and knew you as a particular person. Lubchansky does a wonderful job exploring what it means to hold onto or let go of that past and its people, and the emotions that come with that decision. 

In addition to this focus on trans identity and being in/finding community, Lubchansky provides biting commentary about capitalism and masculinity in the form of a bachelor’s party and a cult gathering taking place in the more-lawless-and-hedonistic-than-Vegas hotel, El Campo. Admittedly, I’m still trying to make sense of this part of the graphic novel, specifically the gore and eldritch horrors that make an appearance and their underlying meaning. (It made sense but also not, ahaha.) Everything was humorously over-the-top to really drive home the point that this is all absurd. 

Overall, this graphic novel was surprisingly moving. As bleak as things got—especially with the constant misgendering and deadnaming—Lubchansky makes clear that there’s still something for us on the horizon. As the protagonist, Sammie, wonderfully states, “If a world doesn’t hold anything for you? You can leave it behind. We can expect better for ourselves.”
 

Note: I would like to thank the publisher for sending me a finished copy.

I found this novel really monotonous. There wasn’t anything gripping about what was happening, despite the very real political tensions in Venezuela impacting citizens. Unfortunately, the story lacked substance and, to me, I got the impression that Sainz Borgo was relying heavily on the reader to be fixated on the turbulence of the country to make up for the cluttered organization of the book and its lackluster protagonist, Adelaida. On that note, I can’t help but feel that this novel was not telling the full story. The ramifications of US imperialism in Venezuela (and Latin America, more broadly) was never mentioned, for one. While my understanding of modern Venezuelan history is limited, I know enough to be wary of media that doesn’t highlight this fact. I also felt there was something voyeuristic about the everyday violence that people were facing in the novel. Perhaps this is a result of the author’s journalist background, but whatever the reason may be, it didn’t sit well with me.

For fans of Toshikazu Kawaguchi’s Before the Coffee Gets Cold and its sequels, you’re going to find great joy in reading What You Are Looking for Is in the Library. As opposed to a café, though, Aoyama transports the reader into the lives of five characters at different life stages who are loosely connected to one another. These protagonists all encounter a mysterious librarian who recommends offbeat books that end up being profoundly impactful in their respective lives. Ultimately, these stories are filled with compassion and optimism, especially to encourage these characters to pursue their passions and find inspiration in unexpected places.

I found the novel to be a bit twee and reductive at times, but more than that, I thought it was incredibly repetitive. I was rather bored by the novel by the time it reached the fourth story. I felt that something was missing from this novel to make it more engaging (though I couldn’t tell you what that might be). A bit of a disappointing read, overall, but I didn’t hate it either.

This was an interesting collection of translated poems— I was especially taken to the focus on the environment, which is described as “ecopoetry” in the foreword by Melissa Kwasny. More importantly, though, Kwasny writes about these poems that “there is indeed a sense of contemporary unease between the speaker and the nonhuman forces of nature, as well as a sense of peril” that results in “an emphasis both on our current state of ecological crisis and our complicated history and relationship to nature.” To be honest, I didn’t really grasp the tensions that Kwansy speaks of, though that might be because these poems were delivered so subtly. It could also be an issue of translation—more specifically, things getting lost in translation—that this collection didn’t have the nuances that seem to exist in the original texts. I don’t think this is entirely the fault of the translator, who seems to have done what she can to be as faithful to Yi’s elegant writing, as well as providing some context about the poet and her intentions. It’s just the reality of text in translation—

In terms of enjoyment, I admit that I didn’t totally love it. I found some of the poems to be rather repetitive. I did think the final poem (“May You See the Splendor of Stars in This World”) was a beautiful way to conclude this collection though.

This was such a visceral collection of poems that was beautifully translated by Soje (I actually picked this collection up because I'm a fan of their translations). The poems felt ephemeral and were quite surreal in nature. In addition, with distinct descriptions of the queer woman's body as well as imagery from nature to support them, these poems were incredibly intimate and sensual—erotic, even.

As beautiful as these poems were, I found that a handful of them were a bit lackluster, with some being a little too abstract to fully grasp Lee's intentions. I also felt that the poems lacked cohesion, which might be why I felt that these poems didn't resonate as strongly as I had hoped.

Some favorites: "Personal Rain," "Half the Blood," "Summer, When I Dreamt of Vines," "Star, Sick," and "Crossing the Black Page of Sleep"

This is an interconnected short story collection that puts a feminist spin on different Japanese folktales and ghost stories. Revolving almost completely around women, Matsuda takes a deep dive to question how women are perceived and upheld to particular standards in Japanese society, often using wit and humor. I do think that this collection will be far more enjoyable for those who are already familiar with the original stories. Even with the brief explanations provided though, I still felt fairly disconnected from (and, thus, not entirely engaged with) most of these stories because I couldn't entirely follow the references being made.

Overall, a quirky collection to read, though a bit hard to work with if you're not familiar with the original material.

This was a heartfelt and heartbreaking collection of poems, in which Abu Toha primarily reflected on his life in Palestine. This collection also drew as much attention to the pain and trauma that Palestinians have gone through as much as it did to the love and hope they have for their history and culture. The first poem, "Palestine A–Z," was an especially thought-provoking way to start the collection and prepare the reader for the themes that would appear. In addition to these poems, there is an interview with Abu Toha at the end of this collection that really brought everything together poignantly that is well worth reading.

While I didn't think there was anything revolutionary or interesting happening when it came to form and structure, I thought the delivery of these poems were powerful, with many of them remaining with you pages after you finish reading them. (Somewhat of an aside, but I think this is a fantastic collection for novice readers of poetry.)

As Abu Toha beautifully writes in the interlude, "Through it all, the strawberries have never stopped growing." In spite of everything, the heart of Palestine continues beating.

Some favorites: "Palestine A–Z," "What Is Home?," "My Grandfather Was a Terrorist," "Sobbing Without Sound," "A Litany for 'One Land'," "Desert and Exile," "Edward Said, Noam Chomsky, and Theodor Adorno in Gaza," "Displaced," "To My Visa Interviewer," and "Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear"

Note: I would like to thank the publisher for making this collection free for readers to download.

Smart, dark, and humorous, this was a really fascinating collection of short stories that had me snickering one moment, followed by a heartbroken sigh. Thompson-Spires has a vibrant cast of characters, some making reappearances, that reveals the struggles of modern Black Americans in various spaces. I was really drawn to the the decisions Thompson-Spires seems to have made to create Black characters taking part in activities and be in careers that so frequently exclude them. Whether it be anime or academia, it was wonderful that she never failed to assert the presence of Black people.

A very light read, there isn't too much that happens in this short book, but you'll feel a warmth blossom in you as you read. The protagonist, Dr. Morayo, is a bit of an eccentric elderly woman living in San Francisco. And… that's kind of it; you just follow her through her day-to-day life and occasional flashbacks to the past. All-in-all, though, there's such an earnest way she goes about living that was captured beautifully by Manyika. It was a kind and gentle read that was more of a character study than anything, but one that I appreciated.

As always, the issue with novellas is that in many cases, I just wish it could be developed into something lengthier. I'm on the fence for this novella, which I think served its purpose in its brevity, but I was fond of the characters and wanted to get to know them more that resulted in me selfishly wanting more.

If you're looking for something that is lighthearted, overall, this one is worth picking up.