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illustrated_librarian's reviews
425 reviews
Dogs of Summer by Andrea Abreu
dark
reflective
medium-paced
3.5
In the sticky humidity of a working class neighbourhood in Tenerife, boring summer holiday weeks of nothing stretch ahead of our unnamed tween narrator - the beach is far, far away and her parents work too much to take her. But she has a best friend, Isora, who makes everything okay. She loves everything about Isora, but Isora is changing. As the summer wears on, their claustrophobic friendship morphs into something more obsessive.
'I dreamed of healing Isora's sadness, I wanted to be her dog and I wanted her to be my saint with scraped knees.'
This is a strange, often uncomfortable story. Not quite a coming of age narrative, it nonetheless treads the borderlands between childhood and adolescence as Abreu slowly, slowly peels away layers of innocence.
The narrator has her first brushes with the divide between her and the wealthy tourists who visit the island, knowing without yet understanding that the invisible barrier is class. Meanwhile make-believe games with barbies are used to explore unnameable adult urges, menstrual cramps, bleeding, and other bodily functions are discussed with a still-childish glee but the first hints of shame, and the girls begin to understand the way boys and men will look at them.
Our narrator is insecure, very naïve, and willing to wholly give herself over to Isora's whims. Abreu navigates the breakdown of this blind loyalty in the wake of an awful experience well, with overwhelming feelings suddenly testing a childish friendship never meant to hold them. Lots remains unsaid which feels frustrating as a reader, but true to the girls' emotional immaturity.
I think a lot about this will put people off; it's uncomfortable (check content warnings), there's a LOT of talk about bowel movements, and it's sad. And yet, it strikes a gloomy chord. If you too were a timid kid - desperate to be accepted, terrified to be exposed for the unremarkable thing you suspected yourself to be, eager to grow up but uncomfortable with it - the narrator's shoes may fit a little too well.
'I dreamed of healing Isora's sadness, I wanted to be her dog and I wanted her to be my saint with scraped knees.'
This is a strange, often uncomfortable story. Not quite a coming of age narrative, it nonetheless treads the borderlands between childhood and adolescence as Abreu slowly, slowly peels away layers of innocence.
The narrator has her first brushes with the divide between her and the wealthy tourists who visit the island, knowing without yet understanding that the invisible barrier is class. Meanwhile make-believe games with barbies are used to explore unnameable adult urges, menstrual cramps, bleeding, and other bodily functions are discussed with a still-childish glee but the first hints of shame, and the girls begin to understand the way boys and men will look at them.
Our narrator is insecure, very naïve, and willing to wholly give herself over to Isora's whims. Abreu navigates the breakdown of this blind loyalty in the wake of an awful experience well, with overwhelming feelings suddenly testing a childish friendship never meant to hold them. Lots remains unsaid which feels frustrating as a reader, but true to the girls' emotional immaturity.
I think a lot about this will put people off; it's uncomfortable (check content warnings), there's a LOT of talk about bowel movements, and it's sad. And yet, it strikes a gloomy chord. If you too were a timid kid - desperate to be accepted, terrified to be exposed for the unremarkable thing you suspected yourself to be, eager to grow up but uncomfortable with it - the narrator's shoes may fit a little too well.
Mrs Jekyll by Emma Glass
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
5.0
Thank you to Cheerio Press for sending me a review copy of Mrs Jekyll!
Rosy Winter is dying. As she contends her terminal diagnosis a force begins to rise within her - something dark, feminine and feverish. Refracting Robert Louis Stevenson's classic tale of duality through the prism of modern womanhood, Emma Glass has returned with a tale as visceral and compelling as Rest and Be Thankful.
Rosy Winter is dying. As she contends her terminal diagnosis a force begins to rise within her - something dark, feminine and feverish. Refracting Robert Louis Stevenson's classic tale of duality through the prism of modern womanhood, Emma Glass has returned with a tale as visceral and compelling as Rest and Be Thankful.
This feels like more than a standard 'retelling'; it engages deeply with the original text and yet this feminine reworking brings so much more murkiness to the premise of two states that can't be reconciled within one body. In Mrs Jekyll this fracture isn't simply about violent urges that aren't compatible with polite society, it's sickness vs. glowing health, being gazed upon with desire vs. being looked at in pity, hedonistic sexuality vs. veiled repulsion, sensory pleasures vs. endless sterile grey, the very drive to live and the refusal to carry on.
There is something so rhythmic and immediate to the way Glass writes that makes it impossible to turn away. As the mundane awfulness of work and tense dinner parties and the horrors of bodily dysfunction assail Rosy in every short, sharp chapter, a bubbling rage is building just beneath the surface. This howl of rage embodied steps out of Rosy to fulfil her darkest urges, to plunge its hands into the viscera of life and refuse to be shaken loose. Or does it? As the book progresses there's a fever dream quality to the writing that holds the reader at a slight remove, unable to be quite certain of who's in charge.
Blistering and tragic until the last, Mrs Jekyll sinks its claws in deep. Emma Glass has written something so potent about being at war with yourself, about being pulled in all directions until you break, that I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since finished.
Cinema Love by Jiaming Tang
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
I feel the word 'tender' is too liberally applied to books that treat anything emotional but here, truly, it fits. Jiaming Tang handles a cast of characters who have had hard, complicated lives with the utmost delicacy and nuance. These men and women are caught up in the grinding reality of surviving as immigrants to America while they also try to grapple with their pasts, forbidden and frustrating relationships, and unspoken desires, largely without the space to really process them.
The whole structure of the book reflects this. Central, traumatic events are alluded to but never fully described, as if the characters' minds glance off these dark memories at the last moment. Tang's impressionistic approach instead fills in the events before and after this rupture, leaving the centre a vaguely violent smear.
These pages are filled with grainy nostalgia, history, and memory. A knotty mess of connections and consequences link the characters back to the Workers' Cinema; Tang sweeps this dirt from under the rug not with glee but with grace. His characterisation is quiet, tinged with a deep melancholy, and yet vibrantly real as he explores how longing and belonging look across different lives.
There is no real relief or absolution for anyone, but there is hope. The tentative hope of a connection forming or a longing answered, as delicate as a hesitant brush of hands, asking to be understood.
The whole structure of the book reflects this. Central, traumatic events are alluded to but never fully described, as if the characters' minds glance off these dark memories at the last moment. Tang's impressionistic approach instead fills in the events before and after this rupture, leaving the centre a vaguely violent smear.
These pages are filled with grainy nostalgia, history, and memory. A knotty mess of connections and consequences link the characters back to the Workers' Cinema; Tang sweeps this dirt from under the rug not with glee but with grace. His characterisation is quiet, tinged with a deep melancholy, and yet vibrantly real as he explores how longing and belonging look across different lives.
There is no real relief or absolution for anyone, but there is hope. The tentative hope of a connection forming or a longing answered, as delicate as a hesitant brush of hands, asking to be understood.
Behind You Is the Sea by Susan Muaddi Darraj
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
3.75
Thank you to Swift Press for sending me a lovely finished copy of this! 🍉🫒
This collection of interlocking stories fit together to form a snapshot of the lives of Christian Palestinian Americans living in Baltimore. We're invited into the imperfect, passionate, complicated homes and lives of several families as Muaddi Darraj creates a human portrait of a community.
She tenderly explores the pains of being unable to return home, needing to find a new place to belong, and the fear of losing your identity and culture. But there is also joy to be had: siblings support each other, women find their voices, children care for elderly parents and there are second chances for love.
The blurb states this aims to challenge stereotypes of Palestinians, which it sometimes does, but more often I'd say it peers behind the 2D stereotype and asks: what trauma are these strict parents hiding? What do the older generation fear from integration? Why do our girls rebel? Why do our sons distance themselves?
I found the portrayal of the interplay of class and race in the tight-knit Palestinian community and the complex intergenerational relationships throughout the stories were the strongest parts. The title story encapsulates how socioeconomic divides create thorny power dynamics between people outsiders see as 'the same' by virtue of the colour of their skin. In Washing Lentils a young woman stays with her grandparents after a traumatising incident and they help her gently come back to herself through sharing food and stories. My favourite, though, was Worry Beads which shows the tender reconnection of a daughter, shunned by the rest of her family, with her rapidly declining father, while she navigates a new relationship in the shadow of her previous marriage.
All the stories I liked, and some of them I loved. The style is undemanding and easy to get into but truly moving in places, and the gradual widening of the web of connections across the community as we dip into their was well done. I'd have loved some longer stories with these characters, but this was a such a solid debut and an important one too.
This collection of interlocking stories fit together to form a snapshot of the lives of Christian Palestinian Americans living in Baltimore. We're invited into the imperfect, passionate, complicated homes and lives of several families as Muaddi Darraj creates a human portrait of a community.
She tenderly explores the pains of being unable to return home, needing to find a new place to belong, and the fear of losing your identity and culture. But there is also joy to be had: siblings support each other, women find their voices, children care for elderly parents and there are second chances for love.
The blurb states this aims to challenge stereotypes of Palestinians, which it sometimes does, but more often I'd say it peers behind the 2D stereotype and asks: what trauma are these strict parents hiding? What do the older generation fear from integration? Why do our girls rebel? Why do our sons distance themselves?
I found the portrayal of the interplay of class and race in the tight-knit Palestinian community and the complex intergenerational relationships throughout the stories were the strongest parts. The title story encapsulates how socioeconomic divides create thorny power dynamics between people outsiders see as 'the same' by virtue of the colour of their skin. In Washing Lentils a young woman stays with her grandparents after a traumatising incident and they help her gently come back to herself through sharing food and stories. My favourite, though, was Worry Beads which shows the tender reconnection of a daughter, shunned by the rest of her family, with her rapidly declining father, while she navigates a new relationship in the shadow of her previous marriage.
All the stories I liked, and some of them I loved. The style is undemanding and easy to get into but truly moving in places, and the gradual widening of the web of connections across the community as we dip into their was well done. I'd have loved some longer stories with these characters, but this was a such a solid debut and an important one too.
Napalm in the Heart by Pol Guasch
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
Thanks to @faberbooks for sending this my way. It'll be out on 4th July!
In a near future devastated by unspecified disaster, society has become disconnected and militarised. A young man and his mother cling to life at the edge of a forest, in the shadow of a mountain and the ominous Factory. The unnamed narrator exchanges intense letters with his lover Boris filled with a desire that's forbidden in his small rural community. Eventually the pair flee across the blighted landscape, forced to reckon with the increasing violence necessary for their survival.
In a near future devastated by unspecified disaster, society has become disconnected and militarised. A young man and his mother cling to life at the edge of a forest, in the shadow of a mountain and the ominous Factory. The unnamed narrator exchanges intense letters with his lover Boris filled with a desire that's forbidden in his small rural community. Eventually the pair flee across the blighted landscape, forced to reckon with the increasing violence necessary for their survival.
This jagged, disorienting novel explores language and identity in a broken world. The narrative is presented as short fragments which jump from topic to topic and around in time, providing little context. I liked trying to decipher the world through his eyes and make sense of the information, but I guess the point is that ultimately you can't, and neither can the characters.
The language is both muscular and beautiful, deliberately blurring the distinctions between human and animal. Guasch moves between describing blight and brutality to a tender moment of intimacy or natural beauty, and often it all coexists. It's definitely distinctive and stylish which I think will be a dream for those into experimental literary fiction, but some may find it too oblique.
The only thing I can think to compare this to is The Doloriad - in both books the world is inhospitable, survival is violent, existence is gruelling, and the very rationale for clinging to life is called into question. If you're a reader who loves raw, strange stories that fuel questions without willingly giving answers, this is for you.
A Fire Endless by Rebecca Ross
adventurous
emotional
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.5
The Isle of Cadence has been divided into east and west for two centuries, knowing nothing but strife and disharmony. Following the events of A River Enchanted Bane, king of the spirit realm, has pushed too far in his claim for dominion and tipped the isle into chaos. Now humans and spirits, east and west, must try to join hands and save the land they love together through fire, song, and sacrifice.
'And I would tell you to sing up a hundred storms, if only to hear such beauty and truth again. To feel it settle in my bones and warm my blood. To know it is mine and mine alone to claim.'
At once a mystery and a love story, this was full of folklore, mossy hillsides, and magic. This felt harsher in some ways than book one, due to the conflict both between the sides of the isle and the inward struggles for the characters escalating. There's also less cosy setting up of Cadence's mythology, though I was glad to unravel more of the lore that's alluded to in the first book and spend time in the spirit realm. Despite often approaching difficult subjects like grief, illness, and the pressures of duty, there's still an undeniable warmth radiating from this tale, like it's being read from a tome of folklore by a fireside.
The themes of community and family play crucial roles in this duology. Without giving spoilers, I loved how Jack and Adaira's relationship developed and deepened, even as they both grew as characters individually as well. Sidra remains my favourite and I was glad to see more of her tender relationship with Torin while she also discovers a strong, powerful side to herself. Ross develops a beautiful symmetry across east and west as the book goes on, gradually nudging the characters towards seeing their former enemies as people, as complex and difficult but essentially good as themselves.
The duology format felt perfect for this story. This book moved at a faster clip than the first but there wasn't a chapter wasted, the ending was satisfying and felt authentic to the characters and if some things were a little less explained, isn't that just like a folk tale?
'And I would tell you to sing up a hundred storms, if only to hear such beauty and truth again. To feel it settle in my bones and warm my blood. To know it is mine and mine alone to claim.'
At once a mystery and a love story, this was full of folklore, mossy hillsides, and magic. This felt harsher in some ways than book one, due to the conflict both between the sides of the isle and the inward struggles for the characters escalating. There's also less cosy setting up of Cadence's mythology, though I was glad to unravel more of the lore that's alluded to in the first book and spend time in the spirit realm. Despite often approaching difficult subjects like grief, illness, and the pressures of duty, there's still an undeniable warmth radiating from this tale, like it's being read from a tome of folklore by a fireside.
The themes of community and family play crucial roles in this duology. Without giving spoilers, I loved how Jack and Adaira's relationship developed and deepened, even as they both grew as characters individually as well. Sidra remains my favourite and I was glad to see more of her tender relationship with Torin while she also discovers a strong, powerful side to herself. Ross develops a beautiful symmetry across east and west as the book goes on, gradually nudging the characters towards seeing their former enemies as people, as complex and difficult but essentially good as themselves.
The duology format felt perfect for this story. This book moved at a faster clip than the first but there wasn't a chapter wasted, the ending was satisfying and felt authentic to the characters and if some things were a little less explained, isn't that just like a folk tale?
Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Loveable characters? No
2.0