Yet another “teenagers battle to the death at school” story, except this time they’re battling for the chance to bond with dragons. Nerdy teen Violet always wanted to be a scribe (read: lawyer/historian), but her mother commands her to go to dragonrider school where the chance of death is not only possible but statistically likely; although much is made of her weak frame, Violet can apparently hit whatever she wants to with a thrown dagger and also manages to training-montage her way to awesomeness while still retaining vast mental tomes of history and battle tactics. She also, of course, finds herself in a love corner (it’s not a triangle if it’s not a three-way!) with two hot guys, one of whom is named Xaden. (It’s an exotic analogue of Jayden, Braden, or Kaden.) No prizes for guessing whether or not she bonds one of the coveted dragons. Although I rolled my eyes hard through much of this novel, it was also undeniably a fun ride, full of teen drama, romance, action, and snappy comebacks. Extremely formulaic, but the formula works.
Month: June 2023
The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School, by Sonora Reyes
I loved this book so much. Yamilet Flores follows her brother Cesar to a very rich, very white Catholic school, where she already stands out for being Mexican-American and would rather not also stand out for being queer. (Also her mom would likely kick her out if she knew.) It gets very hard to keep pretending to be straight, however, when her new friend Bo is the prettiest, smartest, friendliest, and bravest girl she’s ever met. Yami deals with very typical teen drama, from mean girls at school to problems caused by race, class, and sexuality, along with complicated family dynamics and the burden of juggling secrets. I loved how the adults in the book were each doing what they thought best for the kids, and how the kids find their way through to their own truths by the end. Great cast of well-formed characters; great commentary on existing social structures.
The Good Immigrants, by Madeline Y. Hsu
Note: this is a textbook, not an entertaining nonfiction piece; each chapter lays out its thesis and then proceeds to buttress it with a straightforward recitation of facts and sources. Occasionally a person of historical interest appears whose story falls in line with the theme of the chapter, but no effort is made to carry any particular character through the narrative. That said, I found the book direct and focused, and the topic was of particular interest to me as I feel I have likely benefited greatly from the privilege of being seen as a “model minority,” and my own parents’ entry to the US on student visas fell perfectly in line with the path created to admit only the most useful, productive, and assimible immigrants. As Hsu demonstrates, the model minority stereotype was generated purposely by both Chinese governments and their American allies to sell a favorable impression of a certain type of immigrant (read: open to Western-education, non-“coolie”). The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 was popular for quite some time, reflecting the “yellow peril” fear that gripped much of America; however, a loose coalition of missionaries, academics, and diplomats banded together to open narrow avenues were opened to the the “right” kind of Chinese immigrant. The avenues had to be narrow, so that quotas and other limitations could remain in place to reassure the racist majority that Chinese would never be admitted in large numbers. Gradually, over decades, the determined PR of the coalition of American allies, as well as shifting political landscapes, successfully sold the favorable stereotype of the hardworking, nonthreatening Chinese immigrant. On the one hand it’s a remarkable success story of the power of patient, relentless PR over reflexive racism; on the other hand it’s enraging to see the knots in which people had to twist themselves in order to appear the right mixture of harmless and desirable, in order to be so grudgingly accepted.
A Day of Fallen Night, by Samantha Shannon
Prequel to the Priory of the Orange Tree, this book sets up a lot of the world and structures that we see later on. (It’s been a few years since I read Priory, so I only recognized a few elements, but enough to keep me reading.) The main characters are Sabran and her daughter Glorian, bound to carry the legacy of their ancestor and protect their kingdom; Dumai, secret heir to magic and empire; and Tunuva, warrior sworn to a greater cause. Each of the women finds herself fighting a separate part of the battle against a world-ending threat. Although there’s a lot going on with dragons, plague, and political tensions, Shannon still finds a way to develop each woman’s story. Things I loved: Sabran and Glorian’s complicated dedication to their birthright, and Tunuva’s characterization as a capable warrior and a sexual being even as an older woman. The entire book verged on being almost too long and complicated, but then I remember Priory being the same way.
Heartstopper, by Alice Osman
Simple, sweet boy’s school romance. Charlie Spring was outed last year and is now openly gay, despite occasional bullying and shunning; his new seat partner Nick Nelson is a pure-hearted, friendly rugby player who wouldn’t understand subtext even if it was patiently pointed out to him. Meet-cute scenes ensue. Nothing complicated about this graphic novel, which is adorable from start to finish; the characters are weirdly (but refreshingly!) open and communicative with one another, which tends to stave off angst and drama.
Children of Memory, by Adrian Tchaikovsky
Radically different from other books in the series, this book is basically an extended meditation on Descartes’ “brain in a vat” thought experiment, but it’s Tchaikovsky, so of course there are aliens involved, as well as humans fighting desperately to survive. One interesting aspect of this is the inclusion of the entities previously established in the series: sentient spiders and octopi, as well as a very opinionated and extremely old AI. The book starts out straightforward, but then seems to jump in time and branch into various scenarios, which starts to clue the reader into the fact that something is obviously going awry. I liked it quite a lot as a standalone thought experiment, but I don’t think it actually moved the series forward as much, in the long run, as the previous books did.
Junior High, by Tegan and Sara
Super cute graphic novel of Tegan and Sara’s experiences in junior high, with each girl’s thoughts rendered in different colors to make it easy for the reader to follow along. The girls’ experiences are very relatable and smoothly rendered, with the problems of friend drama, puberty, crushes, and family expectations all clearly and sympathetically presented. The only hiccup for me was knowing that Tegan and Sara went to junior high around when I did, so I knew that their experience had been updated with cell phones and social media; it makes their story more relatable to the young but also reminds me of how different my own junior high experience was without these modern additions.
Ledge, by Stacey McEwan
The people of the Ledge eke out a miserable existence in a barren, icy land, their population ritually reduced through sacrifices to the winged Glacians. Grim, ax-wielding Dawsyn (I could not read her name without rolling my eyes, sorry), last of her household, is finally snatched up and learns the tragic background of of her existence. With the help of an enigmatic handsome (of course) half-Glacian named Ryon (eyeroll again), she escapes only to discover that the truth is even more grim than she had imagined. The book started out sharp and simple but then both plot and writing got muddled as Dawsyn kept uncovering more and more layers to her country’s past. It seemed like things were being pulled together at the end, but then a completely unnecessary cliffhanger plot twist threw everything into a jumble again. Unlikely to pick up the next book in the series.
The Language of Flowers, by Vanessa Diffenbaugh
Victoria Jones, a bitter foster child who loves only plants, is finally “graduated” out of care and into adulthood. She manages to get a job with a local flower shop, and finds that her knowledge of the Victorian flower language gives her an edge when designing flower products for clients. However, her buried trauma does not let her pivot so easily to adult responsibility, especially when she meets a man from her past and must face her issues head-on. The story unfolds extremely patiently, gradually walking us through Victoria’s formative years while also giving the secondary characters depth and personality. Although things do come together a little too smoothly at the end, there’s no denying that Victoria had to fight for that to happen. I thought the flower language bits were a little overdone, but the personal dynamics between characters were spot on.
On the Merits of Unnaturalness, by Samantha Shannon
Companion work to Shannon’s Bone Season series, and likely incomprehensible (even boring) to those who haven’t read it. This is the full version of the pamphlet published by one of the characters in the series, in defiance of the authoritarian government, classifying and defining forbidden voyant (psychic) talents. Obviously does not stand alone well but would be a good reference point for anyone wanting to return to the Bone Season series after a long break (that would be me).