just_one_more_paige's reviews
1494 reviews

 

"Southern white women's roles in upholding and sustaining slavery form part of the much larger history of white supremacy and oppression. And through it all, they were not passive bystanders. They were co-conspirators." 

 

I'm not sure who exactly it was, but I originally saw this in a #bookstagram post. It's been, quite possibly, years since then, so I can't give credit where it's due because my memory is just not that good. But shoutout to them, because I appreciate it coming across my radar, and my finally getting around to reading it myself. 

 

This piece of nonfiction, chock full of incredible historical research, was a perspective on slavery that not only is never really considered or given air time, but actively downplayed in an attempt to protect a certain group: white women. The prevailing understanding is that, due to the patriarchy, white women were mostly passive players in the history and reality of slavery, who had to (and chose to) cede all control of their money and decisions to the men in their life. In this text, Jones-Rogers tears down that understanding. From the role women had in financial and legal decisions about enslaved people they/their family owned, to their roles in directing the work of the enslaved people that were their "property" (including decisions on when/how punishment should be meted out, and meting it themselves), to the active role in slave markets, to their fight to retain ownership and/or receive financial compensation when the outcome of the Civil War hit, this book completely reframes the facade of powerlessness that has protected the reputation of white women in connection to slavery across time. 

 

Jones-Rogers shatters the illusions of the innocence of white (mostly Southern) women, who (whether out of genuine want/gain or due to a lack of interest - or capacity - in changing societal status quo) engaged directly in violence against enslaved people, as well as profited directly (gaining their own power and financial benefit, separate from their fathers/husbands) from the owning of enslaved people and the work they were forced to do. She erases the easy excuse of patriarchy for white women’s lack of action on solidarity with enslaved peoples (and the carryover into today's lack of intersectional feminist solidarity). Working to better yourself within a society that has constraints on you does not absolve you from the shame and judgement that should come from treating others, those that our broken society puts below you, badly in order to make their progress. The lesson that crushing others to get ahead just because that’s the only path that seems available to you is not an excuse/absolution is strong in these pages. (For even further lessons on this same theme - that life is not a zero sum game - but in a more modern context, check out The Sum of Us.) 

 

I do want to note that the writing is very academic. It's a bit like reading a textbook or dissertation (so, a bit dry)... I mean, it's definitely more narratively inclined than that, but not by too much. That being said, I was very glad to also have the audiobook to help me through it. 

 

To close, the overall picture Jones-Rogers presents within isn't new, but this new perspective she delves into was deeply researched, well presented, educational and eye-opening (in a reframing-what-you-thought-you-knew sort of way).The blurb about this book ends with "By examining the economically entangled lives of enslaved people and slave-owning women, Jones-Rogers presents a narrative that forces us to rethink the economics and social conventions of slaveholding America." and I really couldn't give a better summary, nor a better reason to recommend reading it. 

 

My first Baldwin (yes, I know, I'm late). That's it, that's the intro. 

 

Tish and Fonny are young and in love. They're planning to get married and have just found a place to live together. They're excited to move in, and even more so when Tish finds out she's pregnant. But Fonny is falsely accused of a horrific crime and arrested. As both their families set out to clear his name, the narrative follows the wide range of emotions experienced by all - Tish and Fonny, their parents/families, and friends - in the face of a now uncertain (at best) future. 

 

This was very much a scene/ambience and character focused novel. The plot, as it were, is basically what I wrote in the blurb...and very little more. The magic of this novel came from the picture of the characters within this setting and situation that Bladwin painted. The writing, and the narrative was told primarily from Tish's perspective and in her voice, has a unique flow that is a mix of stream of consciousness, colloquial conversation, and some philosophical reflection. It's like a meandering sort of storytelling (we all know that person who goes on many side quests and tangents when telling a story), but one that is quite insightful both to Tish's internal self and the external circumstances of her and Fonny's lives. I was quite specifically compelled by the ruminations on what it means to be a man and a woman in the world, and specifically a Black man and woman in this world, in what is truth versus what is believed/accepted as truth. Anyways, it's a very poetic sort of jumping around. 

 

The interpersonal dynamics also really shine. The nuances of these family relations, both within the family and with each other, are so intricate and authentic. These characters just felt so real - like they were my neighbors and I was hearing about their real life situations, not reading a piece of fiction. Which, really, says two things to me. One, that Baldwin is a very impressive writer. And two, that this situation could be (has often been) real - which likely informed both Bladwin's telling of it and my buy-in to its possibility IRL - and that is, as always, quite upsetting. It makes the heartbreak hit that much harder. 

 

Speaking of, oh my goodness this gets right to the breaking human hearts of the broken “justice” and incarceration system that we have in the US (that has changed very little since the publication of this novel in 50 years since this was published). The fear and grief and sorrow and loneliness, for truly all our characters in different ways (the complexities of which Baldwin does a great job portraying), hurts so much. It’s heartbreaking, to want and hope for a happier ending for Fonny and Tish and to pretty much know they won’t get it. And then, when the novel closes, and you don’t know for sure if the ending is real or a dream (and maybe what’s the difference really?) there's a moorless, hopeful, sadness that I almost cannot describe. Damn. 

 

I mean, there's not much more I can add to the lore of Baldwin's body of work, but I will at least lend my voice to the chorus of praise. The way he intertwines love and passion with grief and frustration in the face of injustice/powerlessness is phenomenal. 

 

“Being in trouble can have a funny effect on the mind. I don't know if I can explain this. you go through some days and you seem to be hearing people and you seem to be talking to them and you seem to be doing your work, or, at least, your work gets done; but you haven't seen or heard a soul and if someone asked you what you have done that day you'd have to think awhile before you could answer. But, at the same time, and even on the self-same day - and this is what is hard to explain - you see people like you never saw them before. They shine as bright as a razor. Maybe it's because you see people differently than you saw them before your trouble started. Maybe you wonder about them more, but in a different way, and this makes them very strange to you. Maybe you get scared and numb, because you don't know if you can depend on people for anything, anymore.” 

 

“I guess it can’t be too often that two people can laugh and make love, too, make love because they are laughing, laugh because they're making love. The love and the laughter come from the same place: but not many people go there.” 

 

“It’s funny what you hold on to to get through terror when terror surrounds you.” 

 

“Though the death took many forms, though people died early in many different ways, the death itself was very simple and the cause was simple, too: as simple as a plague: the kids had been told that they weren't worth shit and everything they saw around them proved it. They struggled, they struggled, but they fell, like flies, and they congregated on the garbage heaps of their lives, like flies.” 

 

“It doesn’t do to look too hard into this mystery, which is as far from being simple as it is from being safe. We don't know enough about ourselves. I think it's better to know that you don't know, that way you can grow with the mystery as the mystery grows in you. But, these days, of course, everybody knows everything, that's why so many people are so lost.” 

 

“They were so free that they believed in nothing; and didn't realize that this illusion was their only truth and that they were doing exactly as they had been told.” 

 

“Time could not be bought. The only coin time accepted was life.” 

 

“Neither love nor terror makes one blind, indifference makes one blind.” 

 

“Each of these men would gladly go to jail, blow away a pig, or blow up a city, to save their progeny from the jaws of this democratic hell.” (damn, and who wouldn’t, and why should they have to/why are they even forced into this position in the first place) 

 

“Despair can make one monstrous, but it can also make one noble.” 

 

“The mind is like an object that picks up dust. The object desn't know, any more than the mind does, why what clings to it clings. But once whatever it is lights on you, it doesn’t go away…” 

 

“He’s beautiful. They beat him up, but they didn't beat him - if you see what I mean. He's beautiful.” 

 

Look, I will read literally anything that Bardugo writes. And I am thrilled to say that her writing is only getting better (plus, this move into adult novels, and away from YA, really does line up with my own age-level reading interest changes, so that's nothing if not convenient). But beyond all that, this book is perfect for me: dark, magical, a bit of historical fiction, Spanish, and deals with the/a devil. Plus, a small (unexpected) romance with a satisfying and darkly (on point for the vibes) happily ever after. 

 

Luzia Cortado is barely making it through her days as a scullion maid, eased only by the bits of magic passed down from her mother that make certain daily chores a bit easier. When her mistress notices her magic, she forces Luzia to use them to better the family's social position. Which puts a dangerous spolight on Luzia, living as they do in the time of the Spanish Inquisition, where any hint of devil-worship or blasphemy (so, not being Catholic) means imprisonment, torture and probably death. Almost immediately, Luzia is noticed by Antonio Pérez, looking to regain his place at the side of Spain's king by any means necessary...including setting up a magical tournament to find the King a champion to help regain his own international position (the defeat at the hand of the British Armada having damaged his standing deeply). With the "help" of her aunt, her aunt's patron, and - most importantly - Guillén Santangel, the immortal familiar of her aunt's patron, Luzia prepares to compete. As Santangel teaches her how to wield her magic, he realizes how powerful Luzia actually is, and despite the incredibly tenuous position this puts them both in, also realizes his feelings for her are growing into something he hasn't experienced in a long, long time. With the eyes of a kingdom on them, and the lines between real magic, fraud, and religious conviction unclear and fraught with danger, they'll have to fight with all the wit and sorcery they've got to make it out alive and together and...just maybe...free. 

 

Yup, Bardugo really brought it with the atmospheric aspects of this novel. She brought this version of the Spanish Inquisition to life. The realistic aspects, like the razor thin line upon which everyone walked, the "on tenterhooks" aspects of daily life, because anything and everything could get you accused of heresy, had me feeling the tension on almost every page. And it was enhanced further by Luzia's day-to-day life situation - no connections to money/influence, having actual magic (that definitely was not gifted from "God"), being of Jewish ancestry, directly in the eye of the Crown - all of which were dangerous on their own, much less put together. The court and social intrigue, and political machinations, were also written with a nuance and complexity that made them feel tangible. Obviously some of the historical characters/details are true, but some are definitely fabricated, and I wasn't ever totally sure which was which (past the big things, like the defeat of the Spanish Armada, of course) and that felt like great historical fiction writing to me. 

 

Naturally, Bardugo shines with the infusion of magical elements into the setting and plot. The mix of ancient and forbidden language as the lingual aspect to Luzia's magic, plue the tunes that "feel" right to her that bring it fully to life, was really cool. There was a mysticality to it that, when read alongside the other magical styles (like prophetic dreams and focusing stones) and magical philosophy and research (courtesy of Santangel), was a more subtle practice that one might sometimes see, but that fit the vibe of the novel just right. Plus, I have always had a soft spot for "deals with a devil" style stories, so I am biased towards that magic here as well. 

 

Luzia herself was an interesting and refreshingly unassuming MC. She was full of spirit and resolve and, as a character, balanced the "naive" to society with the "knowledge" of harder life experience (aging out of youth too quickly) very well. Santangel was also a really interesting foil – the opposite of Luzia in age and experience (his youth was too lighthearted and his present is resigned and bitter, no fight left in him). It’s opposites attract in a very unique way. Speaking of. I was super unsure about the romance aspect to start. And while I objectively am still not sold, I totally get why, subjectively – in the context, the pull between them happened. They are a perfectly imperfect pairing of second chances and reframed “wants” from life, balancing each other out (both emotionally and with the power/knowledge they bring to the other). And their ending, as I mentioned earlier, left the right sort of bittersweet, sort of darkish and creepy but weirdly sweet, taste in my mouth. 

 

The plot was mostly background for me, honestly. Like, it was an interesting spin on magical competition, what with the courtly intrigue and threats of the Inquisition. But it wasn’t so unique that it stood out. But, it was robustly developed (the why and how of it, etc.) and acted as a solid framework for the rest of what Bardugo brought to the tale though, and for that, I was happy with it and the role it played. And credit where it’s due, there were a few twists and turns of will and magic that took the story in directions I wasn’t expecting. 

 

One final word about the writing. This novel unfolded with a slower pace that leant itself to the subdued, but ever-present fire of the story, like smoldering coals. There was a quiet, smooth cleverness in the writing that provided for fantastic sinister undertones (layers and multiple meanings) threaded throughout, under all conversations and interactions. It was all so deliciously tense and, as I’ve already mentioned, wonderfully atmospheric. 

 

Overall, what a story! Transporting and enchanting in a darkly mystical homage to ancient magics and fairytale storytelling. It managed a somehow newer, more modern, voice while maintaining that mystical quality. I simply lovely getting swept up in this. 

 

“Better to live in fear than in grinding discontent. Better to dare this new path than continue her slow, grim march down the road that had been chosen for her. At least the scenery would be different.” 

 

“Later Luzia would understand that when it came to anything worth having, there was no end to more.” 

 

“Wishes granted were rarely the gifts they seemed. Any goose who believed otherwise hadn’t listened to a story all the way to its end.”; “Money was a wonderful tonic for fear.” 

 

“Language creates possibility.  Sometimes by being used. Sometimes by being kept secret.” 

 

“Fear men, Luzia. […] Fear their ambition and the crimes they commit in its service. But don’t fear magic or what you may do with it.” 

 

“All empires are the same empire to the poor and the conquered. But not all empires are the same.” 

 

“Faith could be won. Curses could be broken.” 

 

“Did it matter who held the power? […] What difference did it make if the person with the power wasn’t you?” 

 

“A life lived hungry could lead you to eat from anyone’s hand.” 

 

“Was there anything more dangerous than a man full of hope?” 

 

“They did not age. They did not change. They traveled the world a thousand times over. They may be traveling still.” 

And here we are, for real this time, the fifth and final installation of this witchy romance series. It's been a wonderful, lovely, spicy little journey. And I'm sad it's over, but I have to say, this closed it out well for me. Also, that cover is GORgeous.

Our last time in Thistle Grove focuses on Dasha (an Avramov-Harlow daughter, though heavily leaning the former in affinity) and Ivy (a clear and classic Thorn). They've had a rocky history, with some of Dasha's personal challenges getting in the way of the more lasting connection that they both want. Dasha's ability - she's a devil eater - means she crosses the veil quite a bit while banishing demons. And despite what one might think, it feels good to be there; after both her parents' deaths, Dasha struggled to find reasons to stay in the real world. She made it through that, barely, and her ability and will are about to be put to the test because the biggest celebration in Thistle Grove, one that comes only every 20 years, is invaded by the shade of a dark, chaotic god...and Dasha may be the only one who can save the town. Oh, and her connection with Ivy might be the only thing that is strong enough to help her survive thit, so thank goodness their time spent together planning the festival has rekindled some of the sparks between them.  

 Ok if I'm being honest, this romance wasn't necessarily my favorite of the bunch. It was solid, and Dasha and Ivy seem like they are a good fit for each other, but the fact of their on-again/off-again past means that some of the on-page development of their relationship felt lacking. It was easy for Harper to fall into "they fit together so well" and "they knew each other already," with only a few new confessions/vulnerabilities, so it did feel a bit shallower than it otherwise might have. However, that meant the spicy scenes were very smooth, no awkward newness, which is sometimes nice. I enjoyed it here. And to be transparent, the connection between Dasha and Ivy was clear, and solid. So there wasn't anything wrong with the romantic aspects here, they just felt less robust/more background to the plot, than in some of the previous books. 

Speaking of the plot...it was eventful! There was possession and visitations from gods (beneficent and otherwise) and mysteries and festival events and all the classic Thistle Grove magics. And it culminated with a really well written coming together of all those magics, a cooperation and communication that was a (literally and figuratively) enchanting way to leave these families, who had been quite a bit more antagonistic towards each other when we first met them. The way this story really centered on the clashing of primordial godlike forces - creation and destruction - fit right, as a finale. It explained some of the mysteries about town, and sources of magic there, that hadn't been covered yet. And it increased the drama to an extreme that made for both an entertaining big finish and a satisfying place to stop (there's really nowhere to grow the story from here, tbh). I also enjoyed, as a thematic element, the look at oppositional gods/forces created to be pulled toward each other, but never able to actually meet the needs of the other. It’s a fascinating and humanizing look at a divine mythology that’s captivated the entire world since its birth and, conceptually, I found it really interesting. All that power and no capacity to change, it’s surprisingly static/flat while humanity gets all the dimensionality. What a reframe. 

And because those plot elements were so larger-than-life, it was nice that the romance was a bit...smaller. It provided some space for the small things to shine, and I loved that. There was a sweet and tender highlighting of the power of the precious small parts of life - a favorite breakfast, a perfectly green leaf and wind in your hair, the smell of a fall candle - those fragile and easily overlooked, but comforting parts of life. The way they can stand up to the ostentatious and extravagant and gluttonous and overheating feelings of life, and provide a safe harbor from that, bringing solace, was a bit like reading a contented sigh. Which was a great balance to bring as a foil to the big emotions, reactions and events of the rest of the story.

As I mentioned at the start, this was a very satisfying series finale to this series. I’ve loved being in Thistle Grove throughout it all, and I’m sad to see it end, but I’m also content leaving it here. And that’s really all I could have asked for in a closing book. I tip my hat (as it were) to Lana Harper. Thanks for this journey. 

 

Y'all - I knew what I was getting into, picked this up for that reason, and got what I wanted. These are definitely cringe, as all the novels in this erotic unhealthy possessive contemporary darkish mainstream romance genre that’s blooming right now are. But I cannot help it, they're escapist. And I'm in my smut era. But I do have to say, props to Huang because the writing is solid (as opposed to many in this genre). Like the words and sentences and dialogue are written intelligently...and have been edited. I deeply appreciate that. Some of the character points/experiences are a bit over the top for dramatic effect - of course - butttt overall I was entertained. And this outward-badass but softie-for-his-lady situation is a bit more my speed than the last one (Alex was actually actively a bit scary, and didn't grovel quite enough IMO...though nothing can really touch the last one for drama). It's unhealthy, and I do kinda think the spicy scenes here were more for effect than they actually should have been, based on how the relationship developed, but again, Huang is giving the people what they came for - while giving it a plot framework - and I can't fault that. Long story short, I sped through this, enjoyed the cameos and setups for the rest of the series (as I'm used to, and look forward to, with these kinds of interconnected-series-but-still-standalone romances), and will definitely be reading the rest.    

“But people were people, no matter their title, and some desires were universal. Unfortunately, the ability to fulfill them was not.”

“There’s no such thing as *just* a story. Every story is important.”

“Even when you’re not there, you’re everywhere. In my head, in my lungs, in my fucking soul.” 

 

Alright look, I read My Lady Jane so long ago that the details are fuzzy, but I remember laughing and enjoying it a lot. (And I liked My Plain Jane even more, I think.) So, when I saw a tv adaptation coming to Prime, I was hype. And THEN I watched it and it's the literal best thing I have ever seen on television. It had it all: laugh out loud humor, hot AF romance (the tension, the verbal sparring, the eye-gazing, the consent-getting!), magic, drama, one of my fav periods of history (and the outfits!), and a soundtrack that rocked. So, I'll have you know, I was devastated to learn we aren't getting any more. How is that even possible?! I mean, yes, it's very niche. But also, it was everything. So, here I am, drowning my sorrows by finding my way back into this world in the only way I can, reading the (tangential) sequel. 

One can't tell the story of Tudor England without Mary, Queen of Scots. In My Contrary Mary, we meet her as a young woman in the French Court, betrothed to Francis, the dauphin. And in this version, she has a very big secret: she is an Eðian (shapeshifter) - able to turn into a mouse - in a kingdom where Verities rule. It's a secret that could cost her (any everyone who knows) their life. And in a court that is full of plots and treason and power plays and conspiracies and magic potions and other secret Eðians, there is danger everywhere. Even more so now that the king of France has suddenly died. But with her four trusted ladies (all also named Mary, naturally), a confidant like Francis as her future husband, and a new ally in the court seer's daughter, Ari, maybe Mary can not just survive, but also, actually take her rightful throne(s). 

Alrightttttt this was fun. I am grudgingly happy I read it, because I truly enjoyed it, but that also means I am now fully and completely done with all media from this world. Massive *sad face.* But for real though, this really was about as diverting as a book could be. Quite tongue in cheek, though perhaps less laugh out loud than previous books (My Plain Jane, especially). The observational interjections from the author(s), both as foreshadowing and a present-day commentary on historical practices/concepts, were silly-smart, as befit the vibes. And the “visions” Ari has that are all famous movie scenes were funny. I enjoyed recognizing what they came from, and it was a nice touch when some of them come back in as actual plot points/lines of dialogue later. 

The reworking of history to rewrite the tragedies into something more uplifting/happy-ending-like, while retaining the bones of historical accuracy, is a creative concept that this author team continues to manage well. The interjection of magic is just a great bonus. I do always love magic. And the adventures these characters have when it all gets put together is ridiculous and entertaining in all the best ways. Plus, a final highlight for me, as this is a sort of sequel, was th cameos we got from our My Lady Jane favorites. Seeing what Jane, Gifford, and Edward are all up to now, at least a bit (and having them aid Francis and Ari in saving both Elizabeth, and, in turn, Queen Mary) was a small balm for my grieving heart. Haha.    

Honestly this is just great fun. Nothing intense or reflective or high brow, but still smart and dryly humorous and totally amusing. Delightful literary escapism, at its finest. 

 

No real story to intro for this novel. It sounded interesting and worth checking out as a debut author. So, here we are. 

 

Burb courtesy of Goodreads: "It’s the summer of 1987 in Swift River, and Diamond Newberry is learning how to drive. Ever since her Pop disappeared seven years ago, she and her mother hitchhike everywhere. But that’s not the only reason Diamond stands out: She’s teased relentlessly about her weight, and the fact that since Pop’s been gone, she is the only Black person in all of Swift River. This summer, Ma is determined to declare Pop legally dead so they can collect his life insurance money, get their house back from the bank, and finally move on. But when Diamond receives a letter from a relative she’s never met, key elements of Pop’s life are uncovered. She is introduced to two generations of African American Newberry women, spanning the 20th century and revealing a much larger picture of prejudice and abandonment, of love and devotion. As pieces of their shared past become clearer, Diamond gains a sense of her place in the world and in her family. But how will what she’s learned of the past change her future?" 

 

I'm glad I decided to pick this one up. It was not a fast moving story, despite there actually being quite a bit that happened on page, so I was glad to have the audiobook to move me through. But the slower pace fit the story so well. This is a slice of life novel of a very specific life I’ve never read before, and you know I always appreciate reading for the different things it opens my eyes to.This one was interesting because the setting, that kind of lost in the middle small but not rural town, is honestly a bit like where I live now. And there were many parts that were familiar as a result. Then, there was the fact that this took place in the North, and addressed sundown towns (a situation/reality that I had not heard of specifically, and yet, upsettingly, was not at all surprised by), and was centered on the experiences of an MC whose life looks nothing like my own. And so, the "new" far outweighed the "familiar," though the small details that rang true for me, too, did make the story that much more grounded and affecting. 

 

Sort of related, there is a homeyness to this novel that came very unexpected. There was comfort, even though Diamond's life is nothing like what many would dream for themselves, because the author finds a way to communicate the small sweetnesses in the everyday mundanity and the importance of family connection (even when complicated) when the love behind it is real. One of my favorite aspects of this reading experience was those exact connections. There were so many times that it would have been easy for our characters, Diamond especially, to lean into the hurt and loss and frustration and anger and cut off familial attachments entirely. And she at least does consider it, while some others (her parents, for example) both consider and take some steps in that direction. But there is also a deep well of grace, understanding, and forgiveness - a level of maturity that often we can but aspire to IRL - that allows Diamond, at least, to move forwards with her life (to do and be more) while also maintaining those relationships. That's not to say she has no frustrations, griefs, angers, unfulfilled needs - as we all do - but she never lets that be all of her. And that is something to aspire to. Plus, it makes it that much more satisfying when she gets a fuller ending, one with more promise and opportunity than she ever expected. It feels so deserved; if only real life were more like that. 

 

Look, I get that reading messy stories and characters is entertaining (I enjoy those too), but the occasional novel like this, with its quiet strength, is comforting. Keep in mind though, that I say that this had a comforting vibe, I must also mention that the themes within the story are not at all soft and easy. There is quite a bit of childhood and ongoing trauma (loss of a parent, lack of closure, grief, uncomfortable age/power-differential relationships, poverty/instability, bullying, racism and more). Chambers does a phenomenal job showing the immediate and accumulating effects of all that trauma, but never hits you over the head with it. And she uses some epistolary formatting for historical familial/locational context and to mix up narration in a not-overwhelming way, as well as a little mystery (one with no clear conclusion, but that functions as a coming of age as Diamond comes to terms with not knowing - similar to What Happened to Ruthy Ramirez), to ferry the novel to its conclusion and Diamond towards her future. 

 

I am just so impressed that this novel managed to walk the line of cozy and claustrophobic, as a small town setting, so well. It's such a confusing and human reality, to both love and hate the place and people that made you, and Chambers captures it all here. An impressive debut. 

   

“When you have a terrible thing happen that everyone knows about, you can be laid out flat by anyone.” 

 

“I guess we’re all guilty of looking the other way when something is too sad or shameful to speak on.” 

 

“Your hometown makes you and breaks you and makes you again.” 

 

“She had that specific kind of rootlessness that comes when you're orphaned by two living parents. Where you flit and float, and there is an invisible pull to the earth, but you are jilted by gravity.” 

 

"Aunt Tilly says that our instincts, our deepest intuitions, are really our ancestral memory; our people speaking through us.” 

 

Look, I have been delaying writing this review - it's been over a week since I finished it - because I am so unconfident in my ability to do it, and my feelings about it, justice. Immediately after finishing, I waxed poetic about it enough that my partner now has it on his bedside table, planning to read it (which rarely happens...this novel is an example of a perfectly placed slice of our overlapping interests). And I wish someone had recorded what I said in that monologue, becasue I am struggling to (re)find the right words (or even those long-winded, but at least remotely representative, words) now. But, as I'm me, I'm going to try anyways. 

 

Calling on Goodreads for the assist with this blurb: "All her life Kyr has trained for the day she can avenge the murder of planet Earth. Raised in the bowels of Gaea Station alongside the last scraps of humanity, she readies herself to face the Wisdom, the all-powerful, reality-shaping weapon that gave the Majoda their victory over humanity. They are what’s left. They are what must survive. Kyr is one of the best warriors of her generation, the sword of a dead planet. But when Command assigns her brother to certain death and relegates her to the nursery to bear sons until she dies trying, she knows she must take humanity’s revenge into her own hands. Alongside her brother’s brilliant but seditious friend and a lonely, captive alien, she escapes from everything she’s ever known into a universe far more complicated than she was taught and far more wondrous than she could have imagined." 

 

This novel is one of the most absolutely fantastic things I've ever read. It is so unique and creative and nuanced, not in a general sense (this story of Earth and its people entering into a larger “space” community/governmental system has been told many times, it captures all imaginations), but in the details. The details, the path the story takes (and takes again, and then takes one more time), is completely its own. It took so many unexpected turns! Like, every time-bending jump involved both the obvious *and* twists that caught me unawares. There were so many subversions of what I expect from sci-fi (Tesh never shied away from making the hardest/ugliest calls) and yet it was also so clearly and recognizably what makes the genre a classic. I purposefully slowed down my reading of this to savor every moment.  

 

And through it all there were a few themes that just hit, over and over and over. The cycle of violence is strong and present. And, of course and as always (because it's too unrealistic to not have a dystopian-tyle situation that doesn't highlight this), no matter what the situation and setting and time period, a woman's worth is always brought down to her ability to reproduce which is then (of course) never taken as seriously as other societal contributions, *despite( all supposed argument to the contrary. My god it’s depressing. Is a people/future worth the full loss of reproductive self/determination? Is anything worth that? Also, the trauma is...a lot. But I enjoyed the exploration of the way that everyone responds differently to it, made manifest on a scale so grand it’s honestly unimaginable (the destruction of Earth). 

 

I loved Tesh's choice to make our MC, Kyr, mostly deeply unlikable...without excuse. And yes, as the story goes, she develops and learns and gets angry and decides to make herself different...and yet she never does dwell much in regret for who she was or the place that made her. It was pragmatic and unapologetic AF. That POV is not a popular one - not quite a hero, not quite a villian, just a product of an environment and a harsh coming of age - and the nuances with which Tesh wrote it were spectacular. By the end, I was both cheering for Kyr and still hesitant to trust her new presentation. What literary finesse. Many of the side characters get their own complex journeys and growth. I particularly loved-to-dislike, similar to Kyr herself, Ari and Cleo. And I appreciated what Max and Yisa brought to the development of the plot and Kyr herself, though they were less compelling to me, individually. This was definitely a novel carried by the less likable characters - the space they took up was large and loud - and I have always loved reading that style of character. And I really liked the way that, in every possible iteration of a life, Tesh made the core of a person that shines through - perseverance and evil/power-hungry will find their ways, no matter the individual circumstances or difference. A nice touch. 

 

Let's see... I took a lot of random notes while reading and want to way all the things, but some don't really fit with anything else. So, I'm going to lump a bunch here. First, I had some real Ender's Game vibes, from the militaristic society of Gaea and the VR game-style training (and then the ways it's used later/beyond that). Though the brainwashing/cultishness in this book definitely takes the cake for "worse." Ooff. Gaea is what I imagine the world would be like if all the “math/science are all that matter” people won and there was no more space/funding for arts and literature - cold and heartless and uninspired. The world needs a bit of it all, to be full and meaningful. I am always here for sci-fi that is quality but not based on “real” science - that’s my sweet spot, I can just sink in and it’s not trying to hard to be believable, it just is (like great fantasy, which is my original comfort genre). The world-building was solid, even without Tesh burying the readers in all the specs on how the science worked, thankfully. (And actually, as she writes in the Acknowledgements/Afterwards, the shadowspace "science" is pretty much made-up, so no specs even exist. Lovely.) The way that the meaning of “we’re Earth’s children and while we live, the enemy will fear us” evolves over the course of the novel is super well done. 

 

This felt, to me like the in-between of Martine's A Memory Called Empire and A Desolation Called Peace (which have similar intensity/seriousness vibes, with higher levels of technicality and world-building, but possibly less creative twists and more distant character development) and The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (which is softer/homier, and less intense on storyline, but similar space opera and science/world vibes). Oh, with a splash of the different world iterations from The Space Between Worlds and some similar vibes, though I can't quite put my finger on how, to The Vanished Birds.  Along with Ender's Game, I would say they are not necessarily readalikes, but I'd recommend each to others who have enjoyed one of them already. Does that make any sense? Anyways... 

 

I appreciate a view of humanity from the external like this, distilling things we think make us unique and special into elements that are hard to be proud of, heartbreaking truths that you don’t want to believe and would be easier to turn away from and ignore cognitive dissonance from, but are necessary to face head on, in order to recognize where we can/should work to be better. I’m always impressed with authors who can step outside and be observational like that and Tesh is exemplary on that front here. Overall, this was just an epic in three parts, spectacular and mind-bending and absolutely stellar (pun intended). I highly recommend this one. 

 

While we live, the enemy shall fear us. 

 

“Proving you were capable of saving the world didn’t mean you could, or that anyone would let you.” 

 

“It is perhaps best to understand honor as operating optionally and on the individual level, while the authoritative driving forces of human military design work perpetually on the most ruthless calculus of cost and benefit.” 

 

“A peace brought about with the threat of violence is only a war in waiting.” 

 

“Kyr felt suddenly and forcefully the weight of legacy. [...] she owed her duty not to some abstract unknown planet but to the women who'd come before her.” 

 

“What a waste it was, what a terrible waste, to take a person who dreamed cities and gardens and enormous shining skies and teach him that the only answer to an unanswerable suffering was slaughter.” 

 

 

 

Oh this series...*sigh.* Even the ones like this, that I don't personally have as deep of a connection with (I have never been a horse person - in fact, I find them quite terrifying), still have a certain ring of truth and insight and childlike hope mixed with the bittersweetness of growing up, all wrapped in a magical fairy tale framework, that I just cannot help but love. 

 

A quick blurb courtesy of Goodreads: "Regan loves, and is loved, though her school-friend situation has become complicated, of late. When she suddenly finds herself thrust through a doorway that asks her to "Be Sure" before swallowing her whole, Regan must learn to live in a world filled with centaurs, kelpies, and other magical equines―a world that expects its human visitors to step up and be heroes. But after embracing her time with the herd, Regan discovers that not all forms of heroism are equal, and not all quests are as they seem…"  

 

Well, I already said in my little intro blurb, but this had everything that I love about the Every Heart a Doorway series. Even though I'm not into horses, I did love the breadth of horse-related and hooved mythological creatures that make appearances in these pages. Mythology is definitely the way to win me over. The classic fairy tale storytelling vibes and narrative voice are transporting AF, as I've come to expect and love from these books. And McGuire remains spectacular in her queer/LGBTQ+ representation. It's a bit less all-encompassing here, as this is the first novella in awhile that does not take place, at least in part, at Eleanor West's...so there was really only one MC, as opposed to a group. But our narrator here, Regan, begins her journey through her door and into the Hooflands after learning that she is intersex, and her adolescent experience with puberty will, therefore, look a bit different than her friends' more "typical" ones. I so rarely see intersex people represented in literature, and even more rarely as children/youth, so this is beautiful. 

 

Outside of the normal coming-of-age themes that each of these stories centers, Across the Green Grass Fields tackles the nuances of childhood friendships, the social structures that frame what girls and/or boys should or should not do/enjoy, and how flouting those structures can be socially devastating. To that end, there are some difficult messages about friendship, the tough lessons about how siding with those whose friendship is conditional (against someone else) will eventually come around when you don't meet their conditions. My heart broke for Regan in that moment - despite it being a lesson she perhaps needed to learn, it doesn't make watching it happen any easier. As an opposing perspective, I loved seeing how being raised in a place without external expectations of what you “should” be (as a girl, as a human) is so liberating, and safe, and allows someone to become who they are based only on who they want to be. *deep sigh* How lovely. And again, for Regan, it was something she needed to learn through living it, but it was such a more uplifting sort of lesson to watch her learn. This lesson was bolstered by the way the hoofed peoples saw themselves and each other, highlighting the advantages and accepting the limitations of every type of horse. What a way to show how it could be that way for humans too. We are all different, but those differences make us strong in unique ways and joining them together (so each benefits from what the others bring to the table that they don’t have) is better for everyone, as opposed to silo-ing apart from each other based on said differences. Just, as always, phenomenal, necessary, and heart-filling messages. 

 

The other primary theme was that of destiny: whether one's biology is one's destiny (IRL) and whether one must fulfill an expected "heroic" destiny (the Hooflands). Watching Regan realize that you can only hide for so long, that you eventually have to face your fear/secrets/nerves, is inspiring. it doesn't mean you have to face it the way people expect you to, but you do have to figure out how to face it for yourself. It was a simple, but lovely meditation on destiny - and breaking from it or living up to it in an unexpected way - and it played out with a twist that was small, but that I didn't see coming. It was a creative look at breaking cycles and coming to terms with oneself (and breaking from the “norm” as a result), with all the promise for the future mixed with the bittersweetness that is a hallmark of growing up (and of this series).     

 

“…because some things spin from generation to generation, and never really change, no matter how much we wish they would.” 

 

“Girlhood wasn’t destiny unless you wanted it to be.” 

 

“Because it was tame, Regan could walk safely, without fear of meeting anything larger than a raccoon or deer. Because it had been wild, she still caught her breath when she heard something passing in the brush, when a branch snapped for no apparent reason. Such is the dichotomy of forests. Even the smallest remembers what it was to cover nations, and the shadows they contain will whisper that knowledge to anyone who listens.” 

 

“I can be beautiful and limited at the same time. […] There’s nothing wrong with being limited, as long as you have people around to make sure those limitations don't get you hurt.” 

 

“...both of them laughing with delight at the simple joy of being alive, and young, and together in a world that was better when not experienced in isolation.” 

 

“The hills are heavy with the bones of would-be heroes.” 

 

“Destiny wasn’t real. Destiny was for people like [...], who could pin everything they had to an idea that the world was supposed to work in a certain way, and refuse to let it change.” 

 

“…an exception was always easier to grasp than a category…” 

 

“She didn’t feel like a hero. She didn't feel like much of anything beyond an exhausted teenager. She still felt like she was saving the world.” 

 

The blurb for this one promised telenovela levels of drama with a super-unique narrative style (a one-sided phone conversation). I mean, what more could a reader want? So, thanks to NetGalley for approving my request for the eArc. 

 

Luciana is the baby of her Colombian American family. Her mother is always on her about her weight and planning for her future. Her sister (Mari) is away at college and, as it seems to Luciana, is leaving her family behind. Her grandmother (Abue), it turns out, is quite ill and has been either downplaying or hiding it. Oh, and she came out recently, but it seems like everyone is just going to be pretending that never happened. So, basically, Luciana is feeling alone, and overwhelmed, and as her grandmother gets worse and her sister get more distant and her mother's "help" isn't what she actually needs...she's facing down oncoming adulthood in formidable fashion. 

 

Well, the little blurb that promised drama and originality was right. I have never read anything at all like this one-sided phone conversation narration and it was so incredibly creative and unique and compelling AF. It’s moving with speed and interest and it sucked me in so strongly, I couldn't have pulled out of the stream if I'd wanted to. Luciana’s voice - a sort of hypochondriac, low-key-out-but-not-really queer, second sibling with overbearing mother, senior year of high school and unsure of the future, Colombiana living in Florida vibes - is marvelously frantic. I loved the random connections/remembrances/stories, narrated in a stream of consciousness way on phone calls to fill her sister in on everything that's going on (in the recognizable way conversations between boisterous family members can be). It's like a Mrs. Dalloway for the modern day and I was totally here for it.  

 

Thematically, this was such a fantastic view of the nuances of female family relationships - intergenerational and international and all dealing with complicated situations and emotions in such dramatically different ways. The sister dynamic is gorgeously authentic, flawed but still tender at heart. And the grandmother-granddaughter relationship (Luciana and Abue) was just spectacular. An absolute jewel of complexity and humanity and it did some very real things to my heart. And in all cases, as we do in real life, each woman does not always seeing how each other is handling it as “legitimate” or "correct," especially our narrator, whose perspective we have the most insight into, as she is drowning in fear and grief and confusion, over her sisters distance and mother's overbearance and grandmother's illness and her own future and identity (and inability to openly acknowledge it), and feels so alone with it all. Luciana's voice is one that will resonate will many readers; it certainly did with me. 

 

Finally, the plot was absolutely hella telenovela-y. The twists and turns of Abue's story about her youth/family were so melodramatic, so good. And it self-recognized the melodrama, which I extra appreciate. Just, incredibly entertaining. Overall, this was just a phenomenal coming of age. For a narrative style choice like this, the nuance of character development for all these women is stunningly full. And it was truly great as an audiobook (shoutout to the passionate voice acting).