Post-apocalyptic (though you don’t know it at the beginning) thriller, documenting the experience of a small Anishinaabe community in a reservation in northern Ontario. As the community is already pretty isolated, even more so as winter approaches, their awareness that civilization is collapsing comes slowly; first the power is cut off, then their fuel shipment never arrives. As the tribe attempts to maintain order and community safety, intruders escaping the crumbling south arrive and throw things into disarray. The narrator, a quiet, solid hunter named Evan Whitesky, quietly maintains family and community ties even as he begins to suspect the new arrivals of more sinister intentions. Well-paced, smoothly written.
Category: quick reaction
Still Life, by Sarah Winman
A slow, patient journey following Ulysses Temper through four decades (with occasional interludes with Evelyn Skinner, art historian). In 1944 Florence, British soldier Ulysses makes unexpected connections with the people that follow him back to his home in London, and eventually draw him back to Italy. Though Ulysses is the main character, it is the ensemble cast around him, and their connections to one another, that provide the warm heart that centers the story. I love how each of them is allowed space to grow, learn, and change, and how they each do their best to support one another. The writing is just gorgeous and both London and Florence are beautifully and wistfully rendered.
The Impossible Us, by Sarah Lotz
Epistolary alternate-universe romp. After struggling author Nick and sassy dressmaker Bee make accidental contact through a misdirected email, they continue to correspond, finding in each other kindred spirits. They eventually make plans to meet… which is when they figure out that they actually live in different universes. Their respective actions after this discovery really do take this book into a new level. Even though things get super weird, the chemistry between Nick and Bee, and their snappy email conversations, keep the book going. Enjoyable plot and shenanigans, though if you start thinking too hard about the ramifications there are some iffy consent issues.
The Scapegracers, by H.A. Clarke
The narrator of The Scapegracers, a teenage lesbian witch named Sideways Pike, has never been cool; however, when a trinity of confident, popular girls hires her to perform a showy spell for their Halloween party, she finds in them both a coven for her magic and an unexpected gift of friendship. The other girls are the opposite of insecure: they are brimming with righteousness and rage, ready to rain down curses on anyone who mistreats them or makes them feel lesser (mostly self-centered teenage boys). There are some threats from scary witchfinders and some weird gatekeeping from the occult establishment going on in the background, but mostly this book is a ferocious celebration of loyalty and magic. I love the defiant rejection of the “mean girls clique” trope, and also the diverse cast. First in a series.
Fourth Wing, by Rebecca Yarros
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.
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.