Book Tour Stop — Made in Korea by Sarah Suk

Thanks to TBR & Beyond Tours for the opportunity to participate in their book tour for Made in Korea (click here for the full book tour schedule), an awesome debut YA contemporary novel from Sarah Suk, which was released this past Tuesday, May 18th! When I first read its description — “Frankly in Love meets Shark Tank” — I knew I would be absolutely hooked. I devoured this book in just a few short sittings and totally fell in love with Valerie and Wes, both as a couple and as individuals. While I loved getting to learn more about Korean culture such as K-Pop, K-Beauty, and haenyeo (female divers in Jeju), I mostly loved seeing how Valerie and Wes come to term with their own identities, passions, challenges, and more.

Full synopsis:

Frankly in Love meets Shark Tank in this feel-good romantic comedy about two entrepreneurial Korean American teens who butt heads—and maybe fall in love—while running competing Korean beauty businesses at their high school.

There’s nothing Valerie Kwon loves more than making a good sale. Together with her cousin Charlie, they run V&C K-BEAUTY, their school’s most successful student-run enterprise. With each sale, Valerie gets closer to taking her beloved and adventurous halmeoni to her dream city, Paris.

Enter the new kid in class, Wes Jung, who is determined to pursue music after graduation despite his parents’ major disapproval. When his classmates clamor to buy the K-pop branded beauty products his mom gave him to “make new friends,” he sees an opportunity—one that may be the key to help him pay for the music school tuition he knows his parents won’t cover…

What he doesn’t realize, though, is that he is now V&C K-BEAUTY’s biggest competitor.

Stakes are high as Valerie and Wes try to outsell each other, make the most money, and take the throne for the best business in school—all while trying to resist the undeniable spark that’s crackling between them. From hiring spies to all-or-nothing bets, the competition is much more than either of them bargained for.

But one thing is clear: only one Korean business can come out on top.

I always love stories that portray the Asian American experience as diverse, beautiful, and joyous, rather than as a monolith. For example, Wes wants to explore his passion for music, while Valerie is in love with running her K-Beauty business. Her cousin Charlie is a bit of a class clown who loves sports, while his crush Pauline has a passion for sea life. I loved how diverse their interests were. As a young person, and especially as a young Asian person, I used to really internalize a lot of stereotypes and racist thinking in terms of the model minority myth. For example, I’d often choose my activities or interests based on what I thought others viewed me as, versus what I was actually passionate about, which looking back, seems silly but was definitely a thing. This book was such a wonderful example of young Asian people really finding joy in their passions, whatever those things may be. And as an adult reading it, it brought me a lot of joy!

I also loved that while this book was a fun romance with an awesome enemies-to-lovers trope, juxtaposed with the two Korean businesses battling it out for the top spot, it also dealt with identity in really powerful ways. I loved reading the conversations between Wes and Valerie as they discuss their own identities as Koreans and dissect how their individual family experiences play into how they view themselves. I think it’s such a powerful, important discussion to have and as an adult who is just now coming to accept who I am and recognize my own unique identity as an Asian American woman, I wish I had read a conversation like this back in high school or middle school. I know it would’ve resonated deeply with me and maybe helped me learn to accept myself earlier. However, better late than never! This book handled these discussions with grace, compassion, and dignity, along with a dose of romance, friendship, humor, and love.

I give this wonderful debut a 4 out of 5, and I would recommend it to any fans of young adult or YA romance written by Own Voices writers.

Here are some quotes that really resonated with me that I wanted to share — I hope that if you decide to read this book, you find lots of joy with it as well!

“But Korean culture is more than just K-pop and K-dramas. Maybe there’s a way for you to connect with your heritage in other ways, especially if you feel like it’s important to you and you just don’t know how to bridge the gap.”

Made in Korea

“You can’t always be nice to get what you want. Sometimes you have to be ambitious and fight to prove that you’re worth what you think you are.” ….

“Yeah, that’s true, but sometimes you have to recognize that people are people and not just customers you do business with. There isn’t always a price tag or black-and-white answer for why people do what they do.”

Made in Korea

“There are just moments, you know, little things like strangers asking me where I’m from or why my English is so good or yelling ‘ni hao’ to me on the streets. Or going to the movie theater in the city I grew up in but not seeing anyone on the screen who looks like me.”

Made in Korea

“Was it worth it to give up on someone who saw something in me just to try to prove something to someone who didn’t?”

Made in Korea

“Yeah, but it never is just about one conversation, is it? It’s about being brave enough to start it, wise enough to choose the right words, and self-aware enough to know what’s going on inside your brain.”

Made in Korea

Purchase links:

• Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53141483-made-in-korea
• Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Made-Korea-Sarah-Suk/dp/1534474374/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Made+in+Korea+by+Sarah+Suk&qid=1615752839&sr=8-1
• Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/made-in-korea-sarah-suk/1137941907
• Book Depository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Made-Korea-Sarah-Suk/9781534474376?ref=grid-view&qid=1615752846689&sr=1-1
• Indigo: https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/made-in-korea/9781534474376-item.html?ikwid=Made+in+Korea+by+Sarah+Suk&ikwsec=Home&ikwidx=0#algoliaQueryId=7bde4a04f6ad4431d17461508ad58dd0 IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781534474376

About the author:

Sarah Suk (pronounced like soup with a K) lives in Vancouver, Canada where she writes stories and admires mountains. When she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the water, taking film photos, or eating a bowl of bingsu. You can visit her on Twitter and Instagram @sarahaelisuk.

Sarah is represented by Linda Epstein at Emerald City Literary Agency.

Author links:

• Website: https://www.sarahsuk.com/
• Twitter: https://twitter.com/sarahaelisuk/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sarahaelisuk/
• Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19557168.Sarah_Suk

Giveaway (US/Canada Only):

One winner will receive a finished copy of Made in Korea. The giveaway will end on May 24^th. Click here to enter the giveaway.

My monthly wrap-up — April 2021

Hi, friends! April really got away from me — I posted here way less than I like to, which was a bit disappointing on a personal note. But when I looked back at why, I realized it was because April was so full of wonderful things. My family had a big Easter celebration with our first pool day of the season, and then celebrated my niece’s third birthday the following weekend. Two weekends ago I went to Toledo, Ohio, to visit some friends I hadn’t seen in ages (two of them I hadn’t seen in over two years!). And last weekend, my husband and I went to the North Georgia Mountains for a family reunion — last time we saw them was in January 2020, before we hit quarantine. And in the midst of all of that, I still managed to squeeze in 14 books, which is an all-time record for me, and received my second COVID vaccine — as of today, I’m fully inoculated, which is a great feeling. So while I took a break from blogging, I had so many wonderful things to fill my time with 🙂

Here are the books I got to read this month. There were some great ones, good ones, and also my least favorite read of this year (and maybe ever!). In order, I read:

The Babysitter by Liza Rodman and Jennifer Jordan. Thank you to Atria and Mystery Book Club (courtesy of Jordy’s Book Club and Boston Book Fanatic on IG) for the free finished copy and the chance to participate in MBC. This is a thrilling, slow burn memoir about a woman who discovers later in life that her kind childhood babysitter was one of the most prolific serial killers of the 60s.

Boy Erased by Garrard Conley. I got to read this memoir with one of my book clubs. It tells the heartbreaking story of Conley being outed to his family and his time at a church-sponsored conversion therapy program.

Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo. I read this one through the recommendation of one of my closest friends, Lauren, in anticipation of the upcoming Netflix series based on the series! I absolutely loved the book, and — no surprise — think it’s better than the show!

The Last Exiles by Ann Shin. Thank you to NetGalley and Park Row Books for the free eARC in exchange for an honest review. This was a heartbreaking tale of a young couple living in North Korea who become separated and go against all odds to be reunited. It’s a sad tale but still full of a sense of hope that really resonated with me. Full review to come.

Anna K Away by Jenny Lee. Thanks to NetGalley and Flatiron Books for providing a free eARC — as you may know, Anna K was one of my favorite novels of 2020, so I couldn’t wait to get my hands on this book. This one sucked me in just as much, and while I thought it lacked some of the charm of the first book, it still was a great read that really explored how teenagers deal with grief and heartbreak.

We Are Watching Eliza Bright by A. E. Osworth. Thank you to Grand Central Pub and Novel Suspects for the free ARC in exchange for an honest review. I posted my full review of this one on its pub day, which you can view here. But this was a hell of a debut that covered misogyny and gender violence in the gaming industry, based on the real-life Gamergate. I highly recommend to those who love suspenseful novels and interesting and unreliable narrators.

The Legend of Korra: Turf Wars by Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. This was my first ever comic series that I read! I adore Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra, so no surprise I loved the follow up story.

Arsenic and Adobo by Mia P. Manansala. This was a fun, easy read that totally flipped how I view the genre “cozy mystery,” bringing with it excellent representation and diversity, while still providing a more lighthearted take on the usual darker or gruesome mysteries/thrillers I tend to go for. I look forward to more in this collection! I’ll be posting a full review soon.

The Beautiful Ones by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. Thank you to NetGalley and Tor Books for the free eARC — I love SMG and honestly will read anything she writes. This one felt like I was reading a Jane Austen book, but with an added element of telekinesis and magic. I’ll be writing a full review soon!

The Legend of Korra: Ruins of the Empire by Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. After reading the first set, I couldn’t wait too long to read this one! The story was equally as great with gorgeous illustrations.

Love in Color: Mythical Tales from Around the World, Retold by Bolu Babalola. I’m currently working on writing up this review, but it’s so hard because there’s SO many good things to say about it! Usually with a short story collection,, I struggle to connect with at least a few of the stories. All of these were great and stunningly beautiful.

The Maidens by Alex Michaelides. Thank you to Celadon (partner) for the free ARC in exchange for an honest review. I have lots of thoughts on this one, but I am truly struggling to organize them into something coherent! I read this book so quickly, but there are some parts that just felt… off for me? Especially compared to his first one. At some point, I hope to get a review up when I can figure out my thoughts more.

Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid. This was my first audiobook I checked out this year! I listened to it on my drive to and from Toledo and was so impressed. It’s definitely a character-focused book and I loved how nuanced each character was while addressing some difficult topics revolving around race, privilege, and more.

The Last Letter from Your Lover by Jojo Moyes. And this, sadly, ended my month on a low point. This is by far my least favorite book of the year, and maybe one of my least favorites ever. It just didn’t do it for me. It was for a book club, so it was good to discuss with friends, but this definitely won’t be one I’ll recommend or revisit in the future.

What books did you get to in April? Any standouts or ones that fell flat? Let me know in the comments or on IG!

What makes a home a home? A review of Infinite Country by Patricia Engel

This book is so different than any book I’ve ever read! Infinite Country an amazing Own Voices book from writer Patricia Engel, who is the daughter of Columbian immigrants. The story centers around a Columbian family torn apart by their mixed immigration status, which gave me a really cool opportunity to learn a new perspective and read a powerful account of what it means to be undocumented in this country.

Quick synopsis: Seeped in Andean mythology, Infinite Country follows a Colombian family between continents, as parents Elena and Mauro fall in love as teens in Colombia, seek a home and expand their family in the U.S., watch their family being torn apart due to their mixed status, and ultimately seek refuge and home together again.

Although this book was less than 200 pages, it still managed to read like a 500+ page epic. While it was a quick read (not something typically associated with an epic), it was so full of detail, both in terms of character development and plot. Engel’s writing was lyrical and evocative, making me feel each emotion that the characters were experiencing and immersing me as a reader in settings both beautiful and brutal. Additionally, Engel’s writing managed to capture all five senses in each word she wrote in a way that didn’t feel overdone or flashy, but rather familial and pure, which fit the book’s themes of family and home so well.

I loved how she showed both the good and ugly sides of each country — as an American reader, it was an important reminder of how my home is far from perfect when it comes to the way it treats its immigrants, documented and undocumented. This story was full of ugly examples of xenophobia, racism, and other acts of violence or hatred toward the focal family. It really broke my heart seeing such terrible acts in a place that was literally founded by immigrants, reminding me of how many have endured and continue to endure this in order to achieve their American Dream.

And while it certainly didn’t shy away from some of the tragic things happening in Colombia (many of which drove Elena and Mauro to start their lives in the U.S. and risk being undocumented immigrants), this story was full of wonderful urban Bogota folklore and Andean myth, showing the truly beautiful sides of a country that I was unfamiliar with. I feel like in America, politicians and media often point to Colombia as an example of a “bad place,” citing examples of drug cartels and violence. But this Own Voices story totally transformed that narrative, showing what the experience of every day life is like for this Colombian family. If anything, it was a powerful reminder that our country has its fair share of meanness and pure ugliness in how it treats those that are different.

This book had the power to break my heart and heal it all up again, with tragedy and hope in a well-maintained balance. If you’re looking for a short, emotional, yet hopeful immigration story that is sure to show you a new perspective, then I definitely recommend this one for your TBR.

Content Warnings: xenophobia, sexual assault, racism, violence.

Publisher: Avid Reader Press / Simon & Schuster

The burden and blessing of memory: A review of Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi

Last year, I read Transcendent Kingdom, and it instantly became a favorite of 2020 due to its incredible character development and exploration of tough topics such as religion, racism, addiction, and mental health. So of course I went into Homegoing with HIGH expectations. Through powerful storytelling that discusses the collective power of memory and the meaning of home, I fell in love with this book even more than Transcendent Kingdom and think this one needs to be read by everyone ASAP! It was just that incredible, thought-provoking, heartbreaking, and so much more.

Quick synopsis: Two half sisters in 18th century Ghana — unknown to each other — find themselves on two very different paths: one, the wife of a wealthy Englishman who lives in the Cape Coast Castle, the other imprisoned in the castle’s basement and destined for slavery in the U.S. The book proceeds to tell the parallel storylines of these two half sisters through multiple generations, across continents.

This book’s format is unlike any other I have read before. The first two chapters tell the stories of half sisters Effia and Esi, while chapter three focuses on Effia’s son Quey, and chapter four discusses Esi’s daughter Ness, chapter five is Quey’s son James, chapter six is Ness’s son Kojo, etc., etc. While each chapter reads like a standalone story, it is clear that they both build off of the previous generation’s experience, while paralleling with that of their generational counterpart over the course of eight total generations. This may be a tad confusing to explain and is a bit complicated to read at first, but Gyasi provides readers with a family tree at the start of the book — I had this page dog-eared and flipped back pretty much every chapter to make sure I had my characters straight! It was a huge help. But this complicated, multigenerational story was so worth every word.

What was most incredible about each chapter was how invested I became in the individual character. Each chapter was perhaps 20 or 25 pages in length, yet by the end of each one, it felt like I had known these characters as deeply as if I had read a full-length novel about them. Each chapter often takes place over a number of years and dives deeply into not only the character’s experiences but also their emotions, livelihoods, and innermost thoughts. Each character was so well-developed in such a short amount of space, that I wished I could have had an entire book on each of them! And over the course of these eight generations, I got to the end of this novel feeling as if I had read an entire epic — yet over the course of only 300 pages. The character development and generational storylines felt as expansive as if had a bird’s eye view of this family tree, yet as intimate as if I knew each family member personally.

Most importantly, I loved how the book addresses the role of shared, generational memory. As each half sister’s family line parallels the other’s, it is clear the role of generational memory. Each character carries the weight of the love, trauma, pain, hope, livelihood, and much more of the generation(s) before them. It is a heavy weight, sometimes a burden, other times a blessing. But it is a powerful idea, nonetheless, and an important one.

Additionally, I loved the exploration of what home means. As each generation either builds upon the parents’ or grandparents’ choices or decides to forge a new path for him or herself, home took on many meanings. It made me ponder — is home a place? An idea? The people we call family? Or something greater or far more intangible?

As we begin this wonderful month of celebrating Black History Month, this book reminded me of the importance of reading own voices stories. I am so thankful for own voices writers like Gyasi who are willing to share stories like this one that can help us as readers continue to learn from and empathize with characters whose experiences are different then our own. Just another of the countless reasons I love fiction!

If you haven’t checked Homegoing out, I highly recommend it, as it is short, sure to get you thinking, and full of incredible character development and writing quality from Gyasi. If you have, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Comment below or reach out to me 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.

My top 10 favorite books of 2020

What a year 2020 was! I don’t know about you, but it’s certainly not one I’ll be forgetting anytime soon. Aside from all the craziness of pandemic living, one good thing it gave me was time — which lead to reading 81 books from a wide variety of writers and across a range of genres and topics. And while I know it’s almost the end of January, I wanted to officially put forth my top 10 favorite books of 2020!

10 – The Star-Crossed Sisters of Tuscany by Lori Nelson Spielman

This book was one of the biggest delights of 2021! When the book popped up as one of the November Book of the Month choices, I picked it purely because Italy (where the story takes place) sounded like such a wonderful escape during a time in my life that was rather difficult. But I ended up falling in love with the second-born Fontana sisters (Poppy, Emilia, and Lucy), cursed never to find love. This book, while funny and oftentimes light-hearted, was far from fluffy, diving into serious topics, as the Fontana women not only discover more about each other, but also learn more about themselves as individuals. Overall, it was a wonderful tale of family forgiveness, self-discovery, and learning how not to let others’ opinion (or even you own self cloud of judgment) define who you are.

9 – These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong

If you didn’t know, I am a major Shakespeare fan girl (my college capstone was actually about feminism in his plays, but we can talk about that a different time!). But surprisingly, my least favorite play of his is actually Romeo and Juliet. Maybe it’s the countless poor re-imaginings of it out there or the tired old star-crossed lovers trope — or least that’s what I’m going to blame, because Gong’s debut novel completely transformed my view. It was such a fresh take on an old classic, namely through its setting of 1920s Shanghai and its diverse cast. I mostly adored Juliette Cai — underneath a hard exterior was a character who cared deeply for her family, friends, and city and is willing to do whatever it takes to protect them. She is the heroine I wish I had growing up: someone who looks like me, experiences some of the same feelings I do as an Asian woman, and isn’t delegated to some basic, uninteresting, or stereotyped side character.

8 – Anna K by Jenny Lee

So confession — I just told you how much I adore a good reimagining. But I actually haven’t read Anna Karenina! It just seemed like one of those really intimidating classics, so alas, it has been left untouched on my shelf. Regardless, I adored Lee’s retelling. It read like a television show, giving off massive Gossip Girl vibes, but it was diverse — and actually diverse, not just “here’s some characters of color to please readers.” Anna K herself was smart, brave, and kind, and she was another character I wish I had read about as a teen trying to come to terms with my identity as an Asian American woman.

7 – Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi

This book was a bit of slow burn for me, told from the point of view of Gifty, a PhD student studying the role of addiction on rats’ brains. Through this heavily character-driven story, I found myself sucked into Gifty’s narrative and she addresses her experience growing up in a Ghanian immigrant family in the Deep South and watching her brother and mom struggle with addiction and mental health, often in retrospect of her current role as a scientist. Her voice is so honest as she grapples with coming to terms as a scientist, daughter, sister, lover, and friend. For me, the most powerful part of Gyasi’s novel was her exploration of Gifty’s personal, sometimes contradictory, and oftentimes intertwining relationship between science and religion. Gyasi is a talented writer with artful control of language — I’m so glad to have discovered her this year.

6 – The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett

Sometimes a novel seems to just show up when the world needs it most — which is why this book became one of my favorite books of 2020. This story deals powerfully with race in a way I hadn’t discovered yet in fiction, and this year perhaps more than ever showed us that we need books that can do this and do it well. Each character was well-developed, making me feel like I knew them intimately, especially the twins: stubborn, vibrant Desiree, and intelligent, secretive Stella. This book is tenderly written and equal parts imaginative and grounded. It made me both escape inside the story and think hard about my world. And while it made me think about how much we as a society have to grow when it comes to how we deal with racism, it also gave me hope. It definitelyd deserved to be named Book of the Month’s Book of the Year!

5 – Anxious People by Fredrick Backman

So this was my first book by Fredrick Backman! I know he’s a fan favorite of many readers, and after this one, I can completely see why. For the first 100 pages or so, I honestly had no clue what I was reading — the plot was so weird, albeit funny, with a cast of oddball, off-kilter strangers. Yet through this charming story of a hostage situation gone wrong, Backman created a story that managed to touch my heart, make me both laugh and cry, and remind me of why stories done right about mental health are so important, as the story explores the lengths each character is willing to go for love, family, friendship, and forgiveness. There’s no surprise to me that this was a finalist for Book of the Month’s Book of the Year award.

4 – Interior Chinatown by Charles Yu

In 2019, after finally finishing up school, I made a promise to myself to work hard to explore writers of Asian, Asian American, and Pacific Islander descent. As an adopted Chinese American, I realized how powerful fiction was in allowing me to better explore my own culture and identity. Of all the amazing writers I have discovered, this hilarious and ultra-creative satire by Charles Yu really sticks out. For one, it is laugh-out-loud funny, but it also perfectly addresses the ways that Asians in media are portrayed. I think this perspective has been vastly left out of storytelling, so I am so glad that Yu’s story won the National Book Award for Fiction in 2020. This story spoke to my soul as an Asian American woman, and I was so touched by its beckoning to “be more” than any stereotype dictates of us or the world sees us as.

3 – The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

I recently revisited this book for the second time with a book club and a friend described it as a “warm hug of a book.” He could not have been more correct! I recently received my The StoryGraph results, which showed that I tend to read books that are emotional, mysterious, and reflective. So I love that a more lighthearted yet simultaneously thoughtful and touching love story cracked my top three. In a year that was full of collective challenges — isolation and fear from a pandemic, decisive politics, continued police brutality and reminders of the systemic racism still present in our society — this book was a breath of fresh air, as it followed case worker Linus Baker, enigmatic children’s home director Arthur Parnassus, and six magical, powerful children capable of bringing the world to its knees. It was not only lovely, heartwarming, and whimsical, but it was also a powerful reminder to embrace empathy, understanding, and acceptance of both self and others.

2 – The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab

If you didn’t know, Addie LaRue is a special book to me — so special, that I named my new puppy in honor of the titular character! But as Addie walks forgotten and invisible across time, history, and geography, I found her story to be a powerful testament to the importance of living life to the fullest, loving deeply, and staying true to yourself. Simultaneously, it did a great job pondering the question of what makes up an identity: a name, a face, an idea, or something else? By the time I hit the end of Addie’s story, I wanted more. She is the type of character who I wish I could be friends with in real life. She’s brave, resourceful, intelligent, and brimming with curiosity and adventuresome spirit. Despite immortality, she is so achingly human — and because of Addie alone, this book deserves its spot as my No. 2 favorite read of the year. Check out my full review here.

1 – The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

And for spot No. 1 — The Midnight Library! This wonderful story will probably always hold a special space in my heart. I remember finishing this book in a hotel room in Westchester County, N.Y., while my husband was on a virtual meeting. I attempted to hold in sobs as I reached the end — Erik thought some terrible tragedy had occurred, when really, I was just experiencing the power of fiction at its finest. Relatable-as-hell Nora Seed feels as if life has passed her by. Ultimately her choices — or lack thereof — bring her to titular Midnight Library, granting her the opportunity to pursue decisions she decided to bypass in her root life. What I love most about Haig is how he powerfully transforms his own experiences dealing with depression and suicide into a work of fiction that was so raw and relatable. Of all the books this year, this one really touched my soul the deepest, made me think the hardest, and has been most difficult to forget — so of course, it fully deserves spot No. 1.

Honorable mentions and books not published in 2020: This Tender Land by William Kent Kreuger, The Space Between Worlds by Macaiah Johnson, Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Three Souls by Janie Chang, Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid, Circe by Madeline Miller, and Dear Edward by Ann Napolitano.

What were your favorite books in 2020? Post a comment or reach out to me via Instagram!