jayisreading's reviews
517 reviews

I’m not particularly enjoying anything about this novel, which could be an issue of not being in the right mood.

I kept seeing Samantha Irby's books pop up in various reading feeds. Admittedly, the bunny on the cover was what really made me decide to pick up the essay collection, along with just being curious to understand the appeal of Irby's writing. After finishing Wow, No Thank You., I think it's safe to say that her writing works really well for certain readers… I'm definitely not one of them.

Irby is funny, for the most part, though some of her humor didn't always land for me. I think what really didn't work for me, though, was not an issue of how she delivered her stories and thoughts; it was that I simply didn't care very much for the topics she wrote about. I felt a bit disconnected from this essay collection, as a result.

I will say that I really liked how frank she was about more serious issues, while never veering too far off from her humorous style.

This was a tough short story collection for me to get through. Nothing was wrong with it; it was more a "it's not you, it's me" situation that I couldn't quite get into any of the short stories. Despite this, though, I fully recognize the brilliance in Makhene's writing. The imagery in these stories is vivid and startling, with distinct descriptions that fluidly move between languages, including varieties of the English language. There was an interesting exploration of primarily Black life in South Africa (mostly Soweto) under and post-apartheid, particularly the not-so-pretty aspects of it. As the title suggests, there's a grimy and gritty feel to these stories that is felt across time. In many ways, this is exactly what Makhene is highlighting about apartheid, which is to come to terms with the ugliness of its lasting ramifications.

I think there's far more to be said about this collection than I'm able to describe, especially when it comes to motifs. I just think a lot of it flew over my head due to my woefully limited knowledge of South African history and politics.

I believe Makhene is a voice to pay attention to, and while this collection didn't quite work for me, I'd be eager to read more of her writing in the future.

I love a good poetry collection where the poet has a clear command of the language. Rankine writes beautifully and paints such vivid imagery that I found incredibly immersive. However, I can't deny that this was also a tough collection to get through. I admit that I couldn't quite figure out what the main themes or intentions were, which made these poems—beautiful as they were—come together a bit randomly. With that said, I do think this is a collection that asks to be reread and looked at from different angles, which is something I may have to do in the near future.

Some favorites: “Tender,” “Fireblight,” “On the Motion of Animals,” “Symptoms of Optimism,” “Wilt,” “Matter in Retreat,” “Instructions for the Forest,” and “We”

I might return to this one later, but I'm really not feeling the pacing and story at the moment.

Fahrenheit 451 seems to be one of those novels that is regularly assigned in classrooms in the United States. I was never assigned the novel, so it was interesting to approach it without forced analyses coloring my reading experience. I can see why it's such a popular novel to assign though: it's loaded with symbolism and the messages are graspable concepts to dissect.

That being said, like many dystopian novels written by white authors, I found myself a bit dissatisfied with the world Bradbury presented. Put simply, Bradbury presents a dystopian world that has always been a reality for those who have been colonized and, relatedly, in the context of the United States, people of color. Considering this, I don't think it's entirely correct to say that Bradbury predicted the future (other than wireless earphones and flatscreen televisions), which I'm sure people have stated since the exponential rise of book banning in the United States. Knowledge suppression and censorship have always been present. It's just that it wasn't impacting the demographic Bradbury feared would be targeted.

I also found other things disappointing about this novel. I felt the worldbuilding and character development lacked, which could have been addressed pretty easily if the novel was longer. (That being said, I imagine not many people would be thrilled by that idea, considering the polarizing opinions on Bradbury's prose, ahaha.) I had too many questions that went unanswered. I wanted to know more about Clarisse (who I thought was one of the most one-dimensional characters I've come across in a while). Captain Beatty fascinated me because he was clearly well-read, yet stood on the side of burning books. I wanted a better understanding of why. I wanted to learn more about these wars that were happening, the rise of other forms of media and their last impact, among other things. I suppose I could always look at what's happening in the world to get some idea, but I wanted to learn more about the world Bradbury constructed.

I think I'm glad to have read this novel, just for the sake of knowing why it's part of the Western (specifically US) literary canon. I clearly got something out of it, but I don't think it's a novel I'd revisit.

This is a rather short collection of poems in which Jackie Kay explores transracial adoption and identity. This seems to be loosely based on Kay’s own life, having also been adopted by a white family in Scotland. The first part of the collection is told through three perspectives, each one following a particular typeface: the biracial daughter, the birth mother, and the adoptive mother. All three voices come together to reflect on how adoption impacted each of them, which inevitably reveals the complexities of familial relationships. I thought Kay approached all of this with incredible empathy.

I felt that the second part was a little weaker, only because it seemed less connected to the collection to, instead, focus a bit more broadly on Scottish life as a queer biracial woman. It was a little harder to parse out who was narrating and what the intentions were for most poems. I still found many of them thought-provoking, but again, I couldn’t quite figure out how any of it connected to the first part of the collection, which had a clearer message.

This short story collection was a bit of a let down for me. I wasn't entirely invested in any of the stories, nor did I find the writing especially riveting. That being said, it could have been that I was in a bit of a reading slump, because I normally enjoy stories that focus on relationships and everyday life. I can definitely appreciate Ali's reflections on the human condition in each story though, as well as the particular care and focus to reveal the worlds of these characters in modern Pakistan (primarily Karachi).

This was a deeply introspective poetry collection that focused on a lot of themes, though they were primarily through the lens of being a queer Black person. Blain scrutinizes the legacy of colonialism and systemic racism in their poems and how this impacts those in a similar position as them, while also making the words across these pages deeply personal.

I was really taken to the way Blain structured this collection into three sections. The first section, Place, draws attention to locations that had particular meaning to the poet. The second section, "Art," is a reflection on the art world and Blain's relationship with it. The last section, "Child," is perhaps the most abstract, with contemplations on identity and positionality throughout their life. Blain moves deftly through political and social issues across time, which especially shine in their letters to various Black folks and are interspersed throughout this collection.

Despite the intensity and density of the themes in this collection, Blain's poems are incredibly accessible, so much that I think they are a great entry point for readers who are new to poetry and want to explore the mentioned themes above.

Some favorites: "Burning Sugar," "Dear Philando Castile," "Oakland," "Lézignan-Corbières," "Toronto," "I Hate White People in Art Galleries," "Dear Archibald Motley Jr.," "Dear Diaspora Child," "Everything on Earth," and "Spiritual Dysphoria"

I want to first praise the fascinating premise, especially considering that it was clearly based on colonial Korea in a fantasy setting. Lee also brought to attention the importance of art in life and society, turning it into a literal weapon to signify its value even during war. He also reimagined really interesting politics that clearly drew from historical figures and events of the Korean peninsula while under Japanese rule.

And, with that said, I was underwhelmed by the novel and wanted more. Lee was working with a fascinating setting and powerful themes that all felt underdeveloped. I wanted to learn more about the politics of what was happening; a better understanding of the magic system and mechanical dragons; as well as a stronger idea of characters' motives and desires. Regarding the last point, Jebi (the protagonist) was clearest in what they wanted, even if what they wanted wasn't particularly revolutionary. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, but in a fantasy novel that demanded action, it conflicted with Jebi's interests and made the overarching story less interesting.

I think there's still a lot to take from this novel, and I know many readers would love the incredible queer representation (and seamlessly woven into the world) that is present. The novel had a lot of potential across the board and, unfortunately, they weren't fully realized.