The queer, feminist Western I didn’t know I needed: A review of Outlawed by Anna North

So in case it isn’t evident already, I tend to be drawn toward books that are dark, intense, satirically funny, mysterious, or pretty much bound to make me an emotional wreck. But I try to pick a book outside of my norm at least once a month, whether that is through tone or topic. In January/early February, I decided to go with Outlawed, as I have never read a book with a Western setting before! This one was a short, fun trip outside my norm that provided a great escape into the wild West, full of adventure. Overall, this book had awesome feminist vibes and positive LGBTQIA+ representation, and I. Am. Here. For. It!!!

Quick synopsis: In a town where barren women are thought to be witches and blamed for everything that goes wrong, Ada finds herself on the run as an outlaw when she fails to provide her husband with a child. A talented doctor, she joins up with the Hole in the Wall gang, a band of other outcasts led by the Kid, their enigmatic and charismatic leader.

This book was overall such a fun-filled ride. I loved Ada’s fighting spirit and appreciated how she had to really battle her own internal struggles of craving both motherhood and acceptance, but also recognizing and wanting to fight her society’s hatred toward barren women and groups experiencing “otherness,” such POC, queer-identifying people, and more. While this setting — “In the year of our Lord, 1894” (pg. 1) — seems so far from today’s time, it definitely helped me recognize the ways our society has advanced and become more accepting, but also the ways we’re often still stuck in the past when it comes to stigmas surrounding motherhood, sexual freedom, and queer identity especially.

Additionally, I loved the wide range of characters, such as the Kid, Lark, Cassie, Agnes, and many more. For a short book that was largely plot-driven and not as focused on character development, I still greatly enjoyed getting to know these characters, their personalities, their triumphs, and their struggles. I wish the book had perhaps dived a bit deeper into who each character is since I tend to gravitate toward character development over plot, but with Ada, Lark, and the Kid in particular, North did a great job building back stories for them that were both tragic yet uplifting and made me just want to totally cheer for them until the very end! It was also awesome to see such a diverse, inclusive cast in terms of sexual and gender identity and race. When I think “Western,” I typically think White and ultra-masculine, so it was cool to see this genre totally flipped on its head in terms of inclusivity.

While I probably won’t pick this book up again, I’ll definitely recommend it to any readers looking for a flat-out fun, high-stakes adventure filled with friendship and the search for acceptance — of others and of oneself. And I’ll certainly be looking forward to seeing how it translates to the small screen with Amy Adams at the helm.

My monthly reading wrap-up — January 2021

Wow, everyone — this month was chock full of amazing reads! I think one of the things this month that I am most proud of is the wide variety of books that I selected, including a personal development, short story collection, satire, thrillers, contemporary fiction, romance, and family drama. I was very fortunate to have a month where nothing I read fell flat. Each read was at least a 3-star read with several good things to say about them. Below are some mini reviews and synopses.

In Five Years by Rebecca Serle. This book was a Christmas gift from one of my closest friends, which meant so much to me. Serle’s debut, The Dinner List, was one of the books that really got me back into reading while I was in graduate school at Syracuse. Like her first one, In Five Years was filled with warmth and emotion as it follows meticulous and detail-oriented Dannie, whose life is turned upside down when she wakes up fives years in the future to experience one hour of a life very different than the one she originally envisions for herself. Upon returning to the present, she is unable to shake that hour, which transforms the many plans she had made for herself. This was a beautiful story to read coming out of a challenging year, full of transformation, hope, self discovery, and healing in the face of great tragedy for Dannie. It is story that brought me to tears but also provided great hope. A great first read of 2021!

The Office of Historical Corrections: A Novella and Stories by Danielle Evans. This collection was absolutely stellar — you can read my full review of the titular novella here. Overall, each story was challenging and thought-provoking, taking me back to my undergrad days as an English major. Some were more satirical, while others were dark or optimistic, but each dealt with topics of race, gender, and history in powerful ways. If you enjoy short stories that make you think hard, I definitely recommend this latest collection from author Evans.

The Wife Upstairs by Rachel Hawkins. This modern-day retelling of the classic Jane Eyre was such a fresh take on the original. While this story definitely strayed from the original, there were so many wonderful and creative nods to the Bronte classic that I couldn’t help but fall in love with the care and creativity that Hawkins put into her story. Just like the classic, Jane was my favorite character — while she wasn’t always likable in this retelling, she was resourceful, intelligent, and brave. After this story, I’m not sure I’ll ever look at the original story the same way, which is a good thing! If anything, this thriller gave me an even greater appreciation for the original and reminded me why this classic deserves its spot in the literary canon.

Black Buck my Mateo Askaripour. This one was definitely the absolute stand-out novel of January. It was so sharp and fresh, laugh-out-loud funny, yet so indicting in its criticism of race, ambition, and otherness in America’s workforce. You can read my full review here. This book had me entertained from start to finish, while simultaneously had me thinking hard about our society. Without a doubt, I will be recommending this book to anyone who asks my opinion!

Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid. This is a close second for favorite book of January 2021. Like her past novels, Reid managed to create an ambitious, sexy, and glamourous tale that was simultaneously warm and tender, this time with a family drama that takes place over the course of 24 hours but with several flashbacks. I feel so fortunate to have received an eARC thanks to NetGalley and Penguin Random House in exchange for an honest review. You can read my full review here.

The Girl With the Louding Voice by Abi Daré. I used my free Book of the Year add-on credit with Book of the Month to get this incredible debut. I’d read the other four finalists, so of course, I needed to know what all the hype was with this one. And, boy, do I regret not getting this when it first came out in January 2020! This was a powerful testament to the power of education in helping young women find their voices. I was truly touched by Adunni’s resiliency, courage, and intelligence, as she fights to find her voice and follow her dreams. It truly deserved a spot as a top read of 2020, as chosen by Book of the Month subscribers. Check out my full review here.

The Happiness Equation: Want Nothing + Do Anything = Have Everything by Neil Pasricha. I don’t read a whole lot of nonfiction or personal development books, but I’m so fortunate to have been gifted this book in a Secret Santa exchange. It was a great book to start a new year, especially coming out of the unprecedented events of 2020. There were so many pieces of advice that resonated with me, and I enjoyed the collection of real-life quotes and anecdotes from a variety of famous people, from celebrities to athletes to philosophers, on how to achieve happiness. It’s a super fun, readable book for anyone wanting to learn some practical, applicable tips. If you’re like me and don’t read much self-help or nonfiction books, this would be a great one to check out.

The Night Swim by Megan Goldin. Disclaimer — as much as I love a good thriller, I sometimes find myself very weary with them. When you’ve read as many as I have, it’s tough to find one that surprises you! But The Night Swim managed to have me guessing until the end. I thought I had the “whodunnit” part figured out, but I managed to be shocked when the ending came. This was one of the best thrillers I’ve picked up in a long time in terms of true suspense. Additionally, it touched on issues of rape and sexual assault and the way female victims are treated in way that felt very validating. I’m shocked this one didn’t make it in Book of the Month’s BOTY finalists! You can read my full review soon.

What books did you read this month, and which one was your favorite? Comment below or reach out via Instagram!

There’s power in a name: A review of The Office of Historical Corrections by Danielle Evans

You know that feeling when a book comes into your life at just the right time? That’s how I felt about this incredible collection of short stories and a novella. Overall, the collection was full of amazing stories that I think are all worthy to be checked out. But for the sake of this review, I’m going to focus on the novella, “The Office of Historical Corrections,” because in my opinion, if you have only time to read one story from this collection, it should be that one.

Quick synopsis: “[I]n the eye-opening title novella, a black scholar from Washington, DC, is drawn into a complex historical mystery that spans generations and puts her job, her love life, and her oldest friendship at risk.”

I read finished this story the day that the Capitol building was stormed by Trump supporters on January 6th. I’m only 25 years old, and I can honestly say this is the first time in my short life I felt truly scared. Scared for our sacred democracy, scared of white supremacy, scared of the consequences of selfish political leaders, and so much more.

The novella’s narrator is Cassie, a worker for the fictional Institute of Public History, more facetiously referred to as “the Office of Historical Corrections.” The job of its employees is to “address a different sort of public health crisis,” says Cassie. “We were the solution for decades of bad information and bad faith use of it. Our work was to protect the historical record, not to pick fights (guideline 1) or correct people’s reading of current news (guideline 2)” (pg. 165).

Warning: the following contains some spoilers. Keep reading at your own risk!

As a reader, I was first struck by how interesting this concept could be if followed perfectly — potentially a solution to people’s distrust of facts by providing an office that is designed to let the public know the truth. But like most things political and governmental, political correctness ends up taking the front seat, which often forces Cassie, who is Black, to choose to either ignore or accept corrections regarding race that don’t really serve to help anyone who it actually matters to, much to the malaise of those close to her, such as her boyfriend, who is also Black.

The plot really picks up when Cassie’s former coworker Genie creates a PR nightmare that requires Cassie — the Office’s token Black employee — to troubleshoot. Genie, also called Genevieve, is following a historical mystery of sorts involving a black man who supposedly was killed in the 1930’s near Milwaukee, but new information suggests he may not have actually been murdered. Genie is there to solve it, and Cassie is there to fix whatever Genie does that reflects poorly on the Office.

Without going into too many details that would severely ruin this story, what I will say is that the ending is truly devastating and unforgettable. But as a reader, I was left with this important message: there is power in naming something and calling a thing what it is. That is the grand lesson that Cassie must learn — whether she actually does so is another question. But the story’s ending in particular reveals not only the incredible freedom and power in revealing the truth and calling something by its proper name, but also the devastating effect it can have when some people choose to ignore it.

So as I read this book and simultaneously watched people storm the Capitol, I was reminded of the importance of putting a name to something and not sugarcoating it. I looked on Facebook and saw “friends” referring to those people as protesters, participating in their constitutional right to peacefully protest what they considered an unfair election. Some people suggested it was fully within the rights of Trump as President to encourage his supporters to simply protest.

But if we are to agree with the premise of “The Office of Historical Corrections,” then it is vital that we call a thing by its name. I am immensely thankful for the hosts of people who voiced what the events of January 6th actually were: insurrection caused by sedition, anarchy, domestic terrorism, white supremacy, an attack on democracy and free elections, and so much more.

I obviously wrote this review in retrospect of the Capitol storming, but it truly took me this much time to both process the events of that day and Evans’ stunning novella. If you’ve made it this far, I hope you found something thought-provoking in this review and are encouraged to read her novella (or hopefully the entire collection) if you haven’t already. I can see this whole short story collection being taught one day in a literature or critical race theory course. It’s just that good. This story is definitely the reason I will always love stories — for the way fiction can express truth and reveal knowledge in a way that transcends the pages and intertwines with reality.

Resiliency and womanhood: A review of The Girl With the Louding Voice by Abi Daré

When Book of the Month released their top five reader-voted Book of the Year finalists, I was in a bit of a sweat. I’m one of those subscribers that has two boxes, so I realized there was a good shot that I would have read them all! But luckily, there was one novel that I hadn’t picked up: The Girl With the Louding Voice. It’s one of those stories I have heard nothing but praise for, and it was certainly one of those “wish-I-had-chosen-that” books. I was fortunate to be able to use my free add-on to get this novel and read it along with one of my closest friends, Maggie!

Quick synopsis: This story follows Adunni, a bright 14-year-old Nigerian girl who dreams of completing her education. Despite the many obstacles she faces, she never loses sight of her dream to go to school, escape her poverty, and help other girls do the same, ultimately seeking the strength to find her own “louding” voice along the way.

This story was simultaneously heartwarming and heartbreaking. Told in broken English from Adunni’s perspective, it was a slower read as I digested each word of Adunni’s story. More than anything, I was so touched by her spirit and resiliency. And reading her story in first-person made it feel so much more personal and real. It felt like she was sitting next to me, just having a conversation about her life and experiences.

I think one of the most original things that this book included were fun facts about Nigeria that started each chapter toward the second half of the novel. As Adunni begins to work her way through a book full of facts on Nigeria, the author weaves them into each chapter, in ways that are either subtly or obviously related to that particular chapter.

I think we as readers need to really put emphasis on Own Voices storytelling — that is, diverse stories written by authors who have lived or are living the experiences of the characters they are writing about. Reading these facts was a way to show that Nigeria is a thriving, beautiful, powerhouse country, not the stereotype that many Western readers (myself included!) may view or have viewed Africa as. While Adunni’s story certainly illustrated some of the backward ways that Nigeria works when it comes to girls’ and women’s roles and values in society, these facts along with many multi-faceted female characters truly painted a view of Nigeria that was new to me and helped me recognize and shake the backward stereotypes I had in my head. This is why Own Voices stories are so vital!

Warning: the following contains some spoilers. Keep reading at your own risk!

I think my favorite part of this story were all of the strong, multifaceted female characters. Adunni, as the narrator and protagonist, was an obvious favorite, as the whole story hinges on her story. From the start, you want to root for her. She is sharp-tongued, opinionated, and brave, even in a man’s world that keeps beating her down (metaphorically and literally), from her father to her husband to her employer’s husband.

First, I loved Khadija, the second wife of Morufu, who really becomes a mother/older sister figure to Adunni. Even in that horrific time for Adunni, away from home and the third wife to a man she doesn’t love, Khadija shows Adunni such tender love and grace.

I also adored Tia, who becomes her mentor and teacher. She was just so easy to like — she definitely contrasted with the other neighborhood women who still followed the much stricter cultural values for women, such as marriage and children. I think her introduction just really aided Adunni in showing her what a life as a modern Nigerian woman can look like, but I was also deeply touched by Adunni’s role in helping Tia grow as a person and learn more about herself, even as a grown woman.

Big Madam was easily the most complex of all of the female characters — and 99% of the time, she was deeply unlikable. I hated the way she treated Adunni, from the physical and emotional abuse to the downright hatred and bullying. But Big Madam also was the perfect mirror of how the values placed on women in Nigeria can create this toxic attitude. While she does some downright horrific things, she also is subject to a culture that forces her to believe that marriage and children are more important than anything else, forcing her to settle for a husband that cheats on her, hurts and sexually abuses young women, and abuses her. Even while I strongly disliked her, there were moments between Adunni and her that really showed Big Madam’s human, vulnerable side.

But most importantly, perhaps, I most adored Adunni’s mother. While she was never present in the novel, having passed before Adunni’s story begins, she was such a fully present character. It is clear that she deeply shapes Adunni’s hopes, dreams, and veracity for life, and Adunni never forgets her mother’s dream that Adunni continue her education and forge a better life for herself.

Ambition, identity, and otherness: A review of Black Buck by Mateo Askaripour

So disclaimer: this was my first FIVE STAR read of 2020. Now, I used to throw 5 stars around like they were candy. But the more I read, the more I realized I needed to reserve that rating for the far and few — the ones that touched my heart, made me think differently about a topic, or stuck with me for whatever reason. Black Buck is certainly one of those stories.

The first thing that caught my eye (beyond the colorful, striking cover) was Mateo Askaripour’s very personal dedication — “To all of those who have ever been made to feel less than / I see you.” I love to see who authors dedicate their stories, something so personal to them, to, and I found it very powerful that Askaripour aimed it at basically everyone. After all, who hasn’t been made to feel less than before? And after reading this witty, pointed, and sharp critique of race, ambition, and otherness in America’s workforce, I couldn’t help but think back to his dedication.

Quick synopsis: Darren, a young and unambitious Black man living in NYC, is suddenly swooped up from his job at Starbucks into a sales role at a hot, new startup after a chance encounter with the company’s enigmatic leader. There, he finds himself the token POC in an office that is very, very white. As the story progresses and Darren learns to master the art of sales, he remakes himself into the titular Buck and makes it his mission to help other BIPOC infiltrate the workforce by teaching them to be masterful salespeople.

While Askaripour may not have intended for his debut to be read as a satire, I found it to be one of the freshest, sharpest satires I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. The story was laugh-out-loud funny as it tackled startup culture, racism in the workforce, the intensity of sales, and more. But it was also incredibly cringe-inducing, as I watched Darren face a variety of of microaggressions in the workplace, from being told he looks like basically every Black celebrity, and even more outright and stomach-churning acts of racism.

At times, I remember thinking, there’s no way stuff like this could actually happen — but then again, doesn’t it? As an BIPOC person, I could relate to the feelings of inadequacy or otherness that Darren felt, along with this intense desire to live up to and even succeed the expectations laid out in front of him, both his own and of those around him. While the story certainly felt over the top, the feelings those scenes inspired were real, whether that was relatability, discomfort, even fear or sadness. And that’s exactly what makes a good satire — using these extreme, almost cartoonish scenarios to evoke feelings in the readers that are real and tangible.

Overall, this story was a profound examination of how race plays a role in business and beyond, but I think what it did best was address otherness and create a sense of community and belonging, especially for BIPOC and perhaps other marginalized groups. While I’m no skilled salesman in a NYC high rise, I certainly understand many of Darren’s feelings of needing to fit in and prove himself worthy. And while everyone has arguably experienced feeling like a “less than,” I think any BIPOC can attest that that feeling is sometimes deeply ingrained in us as a result of the system. And while I think many BIPOC readers especially be able to relate to, laugh with, and ache alongside, I definitely think this is a story that anyone can read and gain a whole new perspective.

What makes up an identity? A review of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V. E. Schwab

For my first-ever review on this blog, I wanted to highlight one of my top reads of 2020 — The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab. This one was all over bookstagram, so when it became available as Book of the Month’s October pick, I absolutely knew I had to grab it! Plus as a former English major, I love finding stories that take classic literary tropes — in the case of Addie LaRue, a Faustian bargain — and twist and mold them into something razor sharp and fresh. Schwab 100% accomplished that with her 442-page masterpiece, and what screams fall-ish, spookier vibes than a deal with the devil?! Plus, if it’s any testament to my love for this fantasy-driven, historical fiction-laced, and romance-tinged story, my rescue pup is named is even named Addie after the book!

Quick synopsis: After Addie ignores the advice of a village elder “to never pray to the gods that answer after dark,” she strikes a deal with a dark, alluring, yet dangerous stranger that forces her to walk invisible across time, history, and geography. Determined to make peace with what it means to be forever alone and forever forgotten, Addie finds adventure in the world around her for the next 300 years. All that changes, however, when she meets a stranger in a bookstore later who finally remembers her face.

The first thing that grabbed my attention as a reader, even in the slow burn of a start, was Schwab’s mastery of language. Her prose is gorgeous, perfectly balancing detailed character development and a winding, provocative plot, both of which sucked me in. I’m usually a fast reader, but this one had me slowing down in order to savor each sentence down to the letter. It had me deeply thinking about my own choices, regrets, would-be’s, and future opportunities.

But where this story really captured my heart was Addie herself. She is exactly the type of character whom, as a reader, I adore deeply. She is courageous, intelligent, independent, resourceful, and clever, yet so achingly human in all of her imperfections. Despite the limitations of her curse — never being remembered by anyone — she manages to live her immortality to the fullest, attempting to find adventure in each new day while still experiencing the hardships that all humans face: that is, heartbreak, pain (physical, psychological, and emotional), loss, fear, etc. Addie is the sort of character I wish I could be friends with in real life, which for me, is the true mark of an amazing, well-developed character. Her story is an incredible testament to the importance of living life to the fullest, loving deeply, and staying true to yourself. 

But the most important facet of this story, for me at least, was its exploration of what makes up one’s identify. Is is a face, a name, an idea, or something else entirely? Addie’s experience of living forever, yet never being remembered, takes the idea of identity — or lack thereof — to a new level. And while I can almost assuredly say that none of us will experience anything exactly like it, don’t many of us at least understand her struggle to find herself?

As a 25-year-old woman, identity is one of those themes that is close to my heart. It feels like every action I take, every choice I pursue is in constant pursuit of finding my own identity. I related so much to Addie’s search for herself, even when it seemed nearly impossible. Her journey reminded me of the importance of living life fully, loving deeply, and staying true to yourself — all ingredients that lead to recognizing and understanding one’s identity.