Category: Book Reviews

State of the Arc #14: A Rocky Month

I know people like to joke that January and February 2018 were long months, but for me September seems to have lasted forever. I’ve been battling myself this month, so I haven’t been as productive as I would have liked. I managed to get a little bit of reading done, just not as much as I’d hoped. I also didn’t request many ARCs, but I found a super old ARC on my bookshelf while I was rearranging it. I got it back in high school, before I even knew what an ARC was. It’s a “Black Widow” spinoff by the author of Beautiful Creatures (Margaret Stohl). I think it’s just an excerpt, so I’ll probably glance through it some day.

 

Here’s a side by side comparison of my August and September ARC graphs. I switched from Infogram to Canva because I create all my other graphics in Canva anyway. It made sense to put my graphs there.

state of the arc 13 graphic

state of the arc 14 chart

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I gained quite few more ARCs (I suddenly got approved for a bunch of books I forgot I even requested), I also managed to read two. I’ll review both The Library Book (Susan Orlean) and Well-Read Black Girl (Gloria Edim et al. ) in October, a few days prior to their publication dates.

 

I don’t have anymore 2018 ARCs, so now I can focus on reading old ones. My goal this month is to finish two currently-unfinished books, then I’d like to read something on my ever-growing TBR list. I picked up Han Kang’s “Human Acts” and I’ve had Ian Reid’s “I’m Thinking of Ending Things” forever. Both are short, so I’m hoping to finish them. If I have time, I’d like to read some of the chapbooks that have been sitting on my shelf since God knows when.

 

I only managed to get two reviews out this month. One book was awesome (This Burns my Heart, Samuel Park) and the other was awful (My Hijab, My Identity, Sadaf Farooqi). I’m still sitting on a huge pile of high-star reviews. Now I have not only a to-be-read list, but also a to-be-reviewed list, haha.

this burns my heart cover image
Simon & Schuster, 2011. 322 pages
my hijab, my identity cover
Amazon Digital Services, 2018. 44 Pages.

 

Here’s the shortlist of what I read in September:

I don’t plan on reviewing Maisie Dobbs,  but I certainly recommend it. It’s about a female private eye in England in the 1920s. A lot of Goodreads reviewers deem her “too perfect,” but I only see an incredibly intelligent woman who learned quickly and followed her intuition. Dhe’s kind, outgoing, and never forgets where she came from. She is always grateful to those who helped her move up in life. Besides the character herself, the interwoven plots themselves are interesting. There’s the story of how Maisie became a private eye, there’s a story of forbidden love, there are tales of The Great War and there’s case she’s solving, which leads to unexpected ends. I listened to the audiobook, which really helped bring the story to life.

 

My wish for a purple ARC came true, but I haven’t reviewed it yet so I won’t include it in the BINGO until next month. As a result, my BINGO is the same as last month.

State of the ARC BINGO

Writing this post actually made me feel a little better about my “failed” month. I’ve been in a low mood lately, and generally overwhelmed with life. Despite this, I still managed to read three books and post two reviews (as well as a tea tasting). I think I’m actually getting better at becoming a functional human being. T_T

As usual, I’m going to direct you to Avalinah’s Bookspace so you can read her post and see who else linked up with the meme. You can also join in if you’d like!  If you’ve read anything I’ve mentioned today, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Should I give Sadaf Farooqi another chance?

This Burns my Heart: It Hurts so Good

this burns my heart cover image
Simon & Schuster, 2011. 322 pages

 Title: This Burns my Heart

Author: Samuel Park

Synopsis: Simon and Schuster already made a video that sums the novel up perfectly.

 

Book Trigger Warnings: emotional abuse, domestic violence, kidnapping, domestic servitude, dystfunctional family

Rating: 5 stars!!

First Impression upon Finishing:   I am completely and utterly destroyed.

 

The Review:   This Burns my Heart delivers on its promise. The story begins with Soo-Ja wanting to get away from her controlling father. In the 1950s and 1960s, South Korea still followed a Confucian family system. Families favored sons over daughters, and daughters were the property of their fathers before becoming the property of the men in their husband’s family. South Korean society considered women who lost their virginity before marriage to be”spoiled.” Women who could not bear sons meant nothing.

 

Soo-Ja had plan to escape her father, but that plan quickly falls apart (in large part due to her father) and Soo-Ja hastily forms a plan B. Her only chance of being recognized as her own person rested in her ability to marry well. However, she makes a rash decision and jumps into a marriage she really shouldn’t have. The marriage continued to be the source of her agony (through various means) until the end of the book.

 

When the reader first meets Min Lee (the “supporting” character of the novel), we’re deceived into believing he’s a sweet, awkward boy. We see the same side of Min that Soo-Ja sees. Very quickly, though, his problematic behavior and his general incompetency come to light. By the time Soo-Ja was ready to marry him, I was bracing myself for the worst. I knew nothing good could come of them being together.

 

I completely understood Soo-Ja’s motivations. After all, I’m doing the same thing right now. Still, I was angry with her lack of planning and her execution. She claimed to be smart, yet she let her desperation get the best of her and made foolish decisions. She assumed she could mold a “guileless” boy to her will, which is a statement to her arrogance at the time. It didn’t take her long to realize her mistake, but she couldn’t divorce Min Lee without losing a part of herself. After realizing her situation was hopeless, she decides to try to love him, but in the process she tangles the rest of her family into her messy life.

 

I was angry with Soo-Ja until the middle of the book, when my hatred of Min Lee took over. Soo-Ja and Min Lee had a daughter to worry about; Soo-Ja couldn’t afford to make mistakes. By then, she had learned to better control her emotions when making decisions. By then, she’d also been tread upon by every one of her family members except her mother and daughter.

 

Min Lee was weak-willed and manipulative. Part of me understood his attitude towards Soo-Ja and Hana had a lot to do with the way he was raised. Min Lee’s father was even more abusive that Soo Ja’s father. While some people grow up unaware of their abuse and are therefore unable to fully heal from it, Min Lee knew his father was a horrible person. However, he’d been so brainwashed into being the perfect Confucian son that his ability to heal was greatly limited.

 

After the midpoint, my hatred softened to pity, and I wholeheartedly wanted to see Soo-Ja finally start winning, but Park did not yield. She experienced massive character growth, but Park kept dealing blows to my soul. He strung my along until the every end, and even the ending felt… wrong. Yet, but the time I got there, I was so happy Soo-Ja got ~something~.  Park took us through tales of fleeing the war, through abusive alcoholic men, through attempted sexual assault, death and bankruptcy before Soo-Ja finally started to “win.” Even still, after being punched in the gut for 300 pages, the last few leaves are a sigh of relief.

 

I HIGHLY recommend reading This Burns My Heart. It was a brutal read, but I literally couldn’t put it down. I read it almost in a single breath. Samuel Park’s posthumous (semi-autobiographical) novel, The Caregiver hit the shelves yesterday (September 25th). Considering Park’s brilliant knack for storytelling, I’m sure The Caregiver will be just as impactful as This Burns My Heart. 

 

I’ d love to hear from any one who’s read Park’s other work. I’d also like to see your recs for similar books. 🙂

 

This Burns My Heart links: Amazon | Thriftbooks | AbeBooks | Goodreads

The Caregiver links: Amazon | Goodreads

Thriftbooks discount code: Click Here

 

 

Mini Review of a Hijab Manifesto

My Hijab, My Identity by Sadaf Farooqi

Rating: 2 stars

my hijab, my identity cover
Amazon Digital Services, 2018. 44 Pages.

First Impression: Two wrongs don’t make a right.

The Review:  I was very excited to finally be able to read something by Farooqi. I’ve been following her blog for a while and she has written thirteen books. In the beginning of this manifesto of sorts, Farooqi says that her book is for people who are wondering about hijab, either because they want to wear it themselves or because they wonder why others wear it. Personally, I chose to read it to see if I could strengthen my own arguments. I often fail to properly vocalize my reasoning, so I figured I might be able to borrow some of her arguments. Due to the harshness of the book, however, I think My Hijab, My Identity does more to turn people away from hijab than to invite them towards it.

 

All throughout the book, Farooqi claims it is unfair for people to make snap-judgement about hijabis. She says that, contrary to popular belief, hijabis are often educated women with sovereignty over their own bodies. Farooqi does not, however, offer the same generous generalization of non-hijabis. She more or less argues that the more women show skin, the less self-respect they have. She seems to argue that they are blind and cannot see how right hijab is.

 

I also found it problematic how often Farooqi related her hijab to interaction with other men. She mentioned men so frequently you’d think they were the reason she wears hijab rather than God. I’m not saying that’s necessarily a bad reason to wear hijab, but I’m displeased that she generalized that reasoning to hijabis as a whole. All of the problematic arguments, combined with the poor writing style, are enough to keep this list firmly off my recommendation list. To be fair, though, I’m giving the book two stars because it’s largely opinion based and I don’t want to be known for judging opinions. If Farooqi used arguments that could easily be proved or disproved, then I might give stars based on the logic of the argument. As it stands, My Hijab, My Identity  is just a 45 page rant.

If you do want to read it, find it on Amazon.

State of the ARC #13: Productive Procrastination?

This month’s State of the ARC will be more about the state of my TBR. I didn’t read any ARCs, though I did publish two reviews. Unfortunately, I also requested more ARCs so I’m right back to the same number I began with. I’m not mad though, because I managed to grab Leila Aboulela’s Elsewhere Home. Soooo excited to read it. I also nabbed Instructions for a Funeral (David Means), The Library Book (Susan Orlean) and Lies that Bind (Kwame Anthony Appiah). I had some crazy good luck this month.

 

Lies that Bind is already overdude (I requested it super late) but I’ll try to read and review it during September. The Library Book comes out October 16th, so keep an eye out for that one in a couple months. Most of my new acquisitions are going to be published until next year, so I will dedicate the rest of this year mostly to TBR and overdue books.

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I wrote four reviews (click the image to see the review). How to Love a Jamaican earned three stars and was altogether underwhelming. I gave The Namesake five stars and I recommend it to everyone (seriously, read it). The Newcomers was another three-star read for me. The review is on Goodreads for now, but I might actually post it here as well. I finished Persepolis in July, but published the review this month. It was also only a three-star read for me. July was an underwhelming reading month, making August an underwhelming State of the ARC month. September should be much better. The weird layout of the covers is purely accidental, but it looks better than the weirdness I had when trying to get them in a line. I think I really need to learn how to format things on WordPress.

 


the namesake cover

Now for the part I’m most proud of: I read ten whole books this month! I’ll simply list them, because this post is already image heavy. The links lead to Goodreads.

 

Out of these, the only one I loved was The Namesake, but there were a few others on the list that I at least liked and there were two that I absolutely hated. Keep an eye out for reviews here and on Goodreads to find out which ones. I’m definitely reviewing Her Body, The Road, Regiment of Women and Home and Exile here, but I’m not sure about the rest yet.

 

Just looking at that list makes me happy.

 

The last thing I’d like to share today is my State of the ARC BINGO. I’m making progress! I really want to put Song of Blood and Stone  in the “ARC with your favorite color cover” spot, but this is a 2nd-half-the-year BINGO, so I’ll have to find another. SOMEONE GIVE ME PURPLE ARCS PLEASE (or indigo or forest green or spring green).

 

State of the ARC BINGO

 

That’s it for now. If you want to join the meme/ see what it’s about/ read the other State of the ARC posts, stop by Avalinah’s Books!

The Namesake: An Endearing Story of an Indian-American Family

Title: The Namesake

the namesake cover
Mariner books, 2004. 305 pages.

Author: Jhumpa Lahiri

Synopsis: An Indian-American family comes together and discovers their new sense of identity. They create a personal concept of family, and each shapes their lives in and around both Indian and American culture.  Though the story starts off focusing on the parents, it quickly shifts focus to the eldest son.

 

A note:  The Gangulis are culturally Bengali, but I will refer to them as Indian. Bangladesh gained independence from Pakistan in the early 1970s, which means Bangladesh became its own state during the lifetimes of these characters. However, the Gangulis are from Calcutta, meaning they are Indian by nationality. Because I’m writing this review in terms of nationality and citizenship (i.e. American and Indian), I refer to them as either Indian or Indian-American. Some reviews and websites refer to them as Bengali; I believe this is a matter of preference. I failed to find an official reference to the issue. Feel free to comment and let me know if you’ve seen something.

 

Book Trigger Warnings:  train crash and recovery described in detail, PTSD, parent loss, alcohol mentions

Rating: 5 glowing stars

First Impression upon Finishing:   That was so heartwarming!

 

The Review:  The Namesake is a powerful and beautifully written historical fiction novel. Lahiri’s narrative style is easy to read, yet generously (and delicately) decorated. Lahiri provides just the right amount of detail and manages to alter time in such a way that you neither feel rushed nor retarded, despite the obvious quickening and slowing of events in her characters’ lives. Lahiri gracefully switches focus between characters when the situation calls for it, though she mainly writes about Gogol (Nikhil) Ganguli. Gogol eventually changes his “public name” to Nikhil, but Lahiri continues to refer to him as Gogol in the narration, which lends to a sense of familiarity and camaraderie that draws us further into his story.

 

Near the beginning of The Namesake, we see how foreign American culture is to Ashima, and we see her attempts to bridge the gap by cooking (or trying to cook) food she grew up eating. Over time, we see both her and Ashoke (her husband) orienting themselves in American culture, holding fast to their own traditions but in some cases modifying and blending them with new, American habits.  All of this feels organic. Though the elder Gangulis’ integration is sometimes clumsy, it doesn’t come off as a heavy-handed attempt to illustrate immigrant struggles.

 

Gogol and Sonia (the Ganguli children), having been born in America,  are on a quest for assimilation rather than integration. As is often the case with first-generation Americans, Gogol and Sonia reject aspects of their parents’ culture. They speak English between each other and resent their trips “back home” to India. As children they long for french fries and hot dogs more than they crave their mother’s more traditional cooking. Of course, time has a way of changing things.

 

Some people—particularly those who are the first in their families to start a life in a new country—  will find familiarity in Ashoke and Ashima’s story. I, however, found Gogol’s story so relatable it literally hurt. Though my parents and I are all American, we belong to our own southern Black sub-culture. I’m nearly 40 years younger than my parents; I grew up in a very different American than they did. They still retain habits of the Old Days, for better or for worse. Like Gogol, hearing my parents speak anything other than our own vernacular English feels wrong, “off-key.” For Gogol and I, hearing our parents speak our “public names” send shivers down our spine, and it’s impossible not to detect the note of sadness, betrayal and disappointment in their voices whenever they utter them.

 

Having people from outside our cultures meet our parents is another matter entirely. It’s not because we are ashamed, it’s simply because there is usually too much explaining and translating involved. It becomes uncomfortable on our end. By the end of The Namesake, Gogol had progressed further than I have, but he is also about 7 years older than I am.

 

This review is not going in the direction I thought it would.

 

Here’s the thing:  despite the simplicity and straight-forwardness of the plot (Lahiri possesses excellent powers of foreshadowing), The Namesake is an incredibly complicated novel. I can’t recommend it enough because there’s something for everyone. Even if you don’t identify with the characters or the events in their lives, you get to enjoy a heartwarming coming of age story. You get to read an Own Voices novel that doesn’t have much of an agenda. As she has stated in many an interview, Lahiri writes largely as a means to work out some aspect of her own identity. She describes being “culturally displaced… [growing] up in two worlds simultaneously.” While putting this exploration on public display could be interpreted as political action, the politics don’t seem to be at the forefront of her mind.

 

I’d be lying if I said The Namesake will not play with your emotions, but at least it doesn’t leave the reader raw as some stories are wont to do. I felt the ending was a little abrupt, but that’s probably because I really wanted to see Gogol grow further. Nevertheless, the ending satisfied me, and I’m content with this brief but thorough glimpse into his life.

 

I’m not sure whether my review captured both the essence of the novel and my excitement for it, but I highly recommend The Namesake. There’s a movie as well, which I might check out. I loved The Namesake so much that I plan on eventually buying a personal copy so I can access it whenever I like. I’d like to see whether the impact of the novel will change as I myself grow and change.

 

If any of you have read the book, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below. If there’s something I missed, let me know!

—–

Looking for more stories about people coming to America and trying to find their way? Check out my review of We Need New Names (5 stars) or How to Love a Jamaican (3 stars).

 

Find The Namesake on Amazon (Free with Kindle Unlimited)| Thriftbooks | Goodreads

Thriftbooks coupon (15% of first order): Click here and use within 2 weeks

 

 

Persepolis Part 1: The Story of a Childhood

persepolis cover
Pantheon, 2003. 153 pages

Title: Persepolis

Author: Marjane Satrapi

Synopsis:  An adult Satrapi recounts her childhood experiences living in Iran during the Iranian Revolution and resulting turmoil. The story covers roughly four years of her childhood, between 1980 and 1984 (ages 10 to 14).

Rating: 3 stars

The Review:

I finally got around to reading this cult classic.

If I had a dollar for every time a friend of professor recommended this title, I’d have a solid 50 bucks. Persepolis appeals to a wide variety of people. In my media classes, we discussed Persepolis as an “inventive way to tell the story of the Iranian Revolution and its aftermath.” In my writing classes, we fawned over the flow of the narrative, dissected the symbolism in the images and fawned over the writer’s gender. In my political and Islamic circles, people hold Persepolis as the pinnacle of #MuslimahExcellence because she “gives a voice to those who would otherwise be silenced” (problematic, I know).

 

Curiosity eventually drove me to buy the book. I’m interested in the history of the Gulf States and figured this graphic novel would both help me learn a bit about what happened during the Revolution and give me a glimpse into Iranian lives. I suppose you could say the book served its purpose, but it was nothing spectacular. Perhaps I knew more about the Iranian Revolution than I thought I did, but I didn’t really learn anything new from Persepolis. The more interesting parts of the book dealt specifically with Satrapi’s life.

 

It’s impossible to tell whether she’s embellishing her story, but she seems to have had a pretty deep understanding of the situation despite her young age. I’m guessing her analytical skills came from her family’s apparent wealth, her parents’ political leanings and her secular French education. Based on Satrapi’s telling, the less-educated children were more susceptible to believing the propaganda of the “Islamic” regime. Still, her family’s status lead to several uncomfortable moments for me throughout the story.

 

Near the beginning, when Satrapi discusses the nation-wide veiling mandate, she drew an image that equates the veil to oppression, without much context. The protesters on the left are women covered head-to-toe in black garments while shouting, “veil! veil! veil!” The women opposite them have their hair exposed and they’re wearing light clothes while shouting, “freedom! freedom! freedom!” Here the reader is supposed to assume that wearing hijab is something evil, oppressive and wrong, whereas not wearing an outer covering is the “correct” choice.

persepolis, p5 veil
Persepolis, page 5

Seeing as the regime mandated the covering, I can see how Satrapi would conflate covering with oppression, but the lack of nuance in the story telling is precisely what leads Western societies to assume all women who cover are doing so by force. It also leads Western governments to take actions that prevent Muslim women from exercising their choice to cover. Despite being irked by Satrapi’s choice, I appreciate that she later told the audience that both women and men were subject to strict dress codes.

persepolis p 75, dresscode
Persepolis, page 75
persepolis p75, a note on mens dress codes
Persepolis, page 75

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About halfway through Persepolis, Satrapi begins discussing the exodus of her friends and family. The image she uses to illustrate this moment in history implies that the majority left simply by obtaining a passport and flying out of the country.

 

Passports at that time were expensive and increasingly hard to come by. This blatant display of wealth left me cringing and wondering about those who were less fortunate. How did they leave the country? Did they choose to stay or were they forced to? Did they use smugglers to illegally cross borders in hopes of seeking refugee status? This is her story, so I didn’t expect her to go into too much detail about it, but I expected such a smart child to at least consider the question. The only times we hear about people hastily crossing the border are when the people a) have a direct relationship with Satrapi and b) are being pursued by the police.

persepolis p 64, exodus
Persepolis, page 64

 

Perhaps this particular scene bothered me because in a way, I’m also choosing not to live in my own country for political and financial reasons. I chose to work outside of the US because I couldn’t find work that justified the insane amount of tuition I paid for my undergraduate degree. On top of not being able to find a decent-paying job, I’m constantly targeted for my race, gender and religion. Why would I live through that when I can just go find work elsewhere?

 

I’m aware that my choice to leave is an exercise of privilege, and sometimes I feel guilty about not “weathering the storm” but I’ve got health and other issues to worry about, without my environment making it worse. I don’t plan to leave the US permanently, at least not yet, but I’ve chosen to leave in search of a safer, more comfortable life, which is precisely what Satrapi’s friends and family did.

 

Right under the image of people lining up to leave, we see a picture of Satrapi’s family in their car. When her mother suggests they also leave, her father brushes off the idea, suggesting they’d “sink” to the level of taxi drivers and cleaning ladies in the US. This, to me, meant he was attached to his material wealth, and that he thought himself better than people in those service industries. I was raised to treat everyone equally, regardless of where they come from or what they do for a living (assuming they’re not in the business of harming people), so this scene rubbed me the wrong way. Satrapi’s father placed his wealth in higher regard than his family’s safety. This isn’t the only scene where we see his attachment to worldly goods.

persepolis p 64, taxi driver and maid
Persepolis, page 64

While I was reading, Satrapi’s parents’ judgmental attitudes continued to bother me.  Satrapi didn’t illustrate their judgement as a form of criticism. Rather, she illustrated their character in a way that was boldly honest. I’ve witnessed women all over the world criticize/judge anyone and everyone around them. Regardless of whether they were South Asian, Chinese, Black or Arab, they all found fault in the women (and teenage girls) around them. When I think about it, I wasn’t so much bothered by Satrapi’s parents specifically; I was bothered by global trend I’ve noticed. I could understand some level of political judgement during the Iranian Revolution or during other similar times of war and upheaval, but usually the judgement is petty and unnecessary, and it revolves around someone’s appearance.

 

persepolis p 75, judgement
Persepolis, page 75

 

Despite all of my issues with it, Persepolis isn’t a bad book. I can see how it’s important in the cannon of Middle Eastern female writers. Persepolis, however, obviously isn’t meant for people like me. If you know nothing about Iran or the Iranian Revolution, then perhaps you’ll enjoy the novel. If you’ve never met an Iranian person and have no hopes of meeting one, then give Persepolis a go. Since I’ve already learned at least the basic situation and having met several Iranians in my life, Persepolis didn’t add anything to my knowledge base. That said, I kept reading because I wanted to see what happened in Satrapi’s life, and the graphic novel ended on a little cliff hanger. I’m intrigued enough to want to read the second part, but I don’t feel compelled to read it right away.

 

Do I think Persepolis is overrated? Yes, absolutely. Would I still recommend it? Yes, why not? Persepolis gets three dim stars from me while I try to figure out what I missed. If you’ve read it or plan to read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts. If you loved it, please help me understand why Persepolis is so popular.

 

Read more Persepolis reviews on Goodreads.

Buy the book: Amazon | Thriftbooks (click here for 15% off your first order)

“How to Love a Jamaican” (OR “How Much Trauma Can I Fit In”)

Title: How to Love a Jamaican 

how to love a jamaican picture
Ballantine Books, 2018. 256 pages

Author: Alexia Arthurs

Synopsis:  How to Love a Jamaican is a collection of short stories about different Jamaican people living in either the US or on the Island.

Trigger Warnings: Depression, eating disorders, verbal abuse, identity issues, LGBTQ* issues  (coming out, living), death in the family, child loss, absentee fathers, sexual assault, pedophilia, drugs, death, breast cancer

Rating: 3 or 3.5 stars

 

First Impression: What on Earth did I just read?

The Review:

I really wanted to love this book, but I couldn’t. I’ll say outright that the first and last stories are the most poignant, the others are forgettable. Though I love the idea of having Caribbean representation, I feel How to Love a Jamaican  failed to provide a holistic picture. Because Arthurs opted to write a series of short stories, I expected to see multiple different aspects of Jamaican life. Instead, all of the characters are more or less the same, and they’re all victims.

 

Most of the characters have absentee fathers who sleep around, almost all of the mothers are portrayed as overbearing, and all of the children suffer from trauma related to their dysfunctional family. There are several gay and lesbian characters, and none of them are fully accepted by their families. Most of the characters see moving away from the island as the ultimate goal in life. While I was reading, I kept feeling like I’d seen the story before. In fact, one of the stories seemed lifted directly out of the New York Times. I felt like I was reading trauma porn.

 

To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded the trauma porn if there were character growth and if the composition has a bit more artistry. I actually think it would have been better for Arthurs to choose a selection of the stories and drawn them out more. I’d have liked to seen more sides of the characters, rather than the same aspect portrayed in all of them.

 

Besides the structural issues, I found a problematic thread running through the stories. There were both implicit and explicit declarations that fair/yellow skin, wavy hair and “European features” are more beautiful and that those bearing them are more deserving of success. I’m sure Arthurs included these threads simply to illustrate Caribbeans’ unnatural obsession with fair skin, but I would have appreciated more commentary on the subject. As it stands, I’m not sure whether the characters fetishize “biracial beauties” or whether Arthurs herself (who is neither particulary fair nor particularly dark) actually subscribes to this colorist propaganda.

 

But Sarabi, if you hated the book so much, why are you giving it three stars instead or just one or two?

 

Well.

 

Even though the book is not for me, I will still acknowledge that it’s not that bad. I’m not Caribbean, but I still see myself represented in How to Love a Jamaican. I’m sure there are plenty of others will see themselves as well. There are also moments when Arthurs makes a very good point, laying bare the internal struggles PoC face. The relatability is also part of the reason I included so many trigger warnings. I had to stop reading at times to sort myself out before continuing.

 

In the first story, which is my favorite of all of them. Arthurs explores the intersection between race and class. She places two adult children of Jamaican immigrants side my side. One is rich, the other is not. The narrator (the poorer Jamaican) discusses how she feels interacting with the rich Jamaican. There’s a sense of camaraderie because they are both black and both Jamaican, but she’s acutely aware that there is a slight distance between them because they have had very different life experiences, and because they each can’t imagine what the other went through. We experience the narrator feeling slightly uncomfortable, embarrassed even, when introducing the rich girl to her home life. We see her disgust when the rich girl only uses black guys to get back at her white lover. The rich girl’s family wealth allows (or perhaps causes) her to behave similarly to the people who once oppressed both of their families.

 

Later on, we see several versions of sexuality. We see men with men, women with women, men with multiple women and women with multiple men. Each of these stories shows us the Jamaican attitude towards sexuality, and make it clear that while “slack” men are frowned upon, their sexual exploits are much more acceptable than those of “slack” women in the Caribbean community. All of the stories with homosexual characters tell us that Caribbean communities consider homosexuality unacceptable, even if one’s friends claim to tolerate it. None of this information is new, and the stories aren’t particularly good, but the self-acceptance in them is healthy and could possibly help someone still struggling with their identity.

 

Arthurs even touches on the perception of psychiatric medication in the Caribbean community. The mention of the medicine is so brief you might miss it, the one-liner sends the message that depression isn’t supposed to exist in Jamaicans. Having depression and seeking help is something shameful. I know from experience that this is true not only of Caribbean communities, but PoC communities as a whole. Each community handles mental health issues a little differently, but most of them sweep it under the rug one way or another.

 

Frankly speaking, even I’ll admit that three stars is a little harsh for this book, but 3.5 is also too much. It has the potential to be a four star collection but it’s just not there for me yet. Some days I think about the book and I want to give it two stars, then I remember some truly terrible collections (like Her Body and Other Stories, which I plan to review… eventually) get two stars and I want to give How to Love a Jamaican four stars.

 

Ultimately, I decided three stars was a fair compromise, but if I’m feeling generous I’ll call it 3.5. I can see this book winning awards. It ticks all the boxes: it’s a debut collection from a Black female author, it discusses sexuality in detail, it serves trauma for breakfast and it’s full of introspection rather than action. All of the books that have been nominated recently seem to be pretty much the same thing: “innovative” ways to see women’s/minority’s stories. There’s nothing particularly innovative if you belong to that community, but the people making the decisions usually don’t, therefore the novels are praiseworthy.

 

If you made it this far, thanks a ton. ❤ You’re the real MVP.

If you want to read it, you can find it on Amazon or wherever you usually buy books.

If you have recommendations of books by minority authors, please drop them in the comments. I’m always looking for something that’s actually new. (I.E. The Vegetarian  was PHENOMENAL.)

ARCiverssary: State of the ARC #12

This isn’t actually the first time I’ve decided to try the State of the ARC meme, but it’s the first time I’ve organized my ARCs in enough time to write the post. The way it works:

 

My ARCs are spread across three main platforms, and I occasionally receive ARCs in my inbox. NetGalley is by far my preferred platform. Edelweiss basically requires you to write a blog post just to request the ARC and LibraryThing ARCs are usually PDFs, which are more difficult for me to read and manage than a MOBI (kindle) file.

 

Here’s a complete picture of my ARC collection:

 

 

https://e.infogram.com/js/dist/embed.js?olz

I’ll get around to the Edelweiss, LibraryThing and Author ARCs eventually, but clearly NetGalley needs the most attention. Fortunately, I’ve already read two of them: The Newcomers  and How to Love a Jamaican. The reviews should be coming out this Thursday and next Thursday. That means by the next State of the ARC, my list should be at least two books shorter. 😀

Other than those two, August might be a slow ARC reading month. I’d like to read some of the physical books on my shelf instead. I rarely stick to my reading plan though, so we’ll see what happens.

As part of the State of the ARC meme, I’m also participating in the ARC Bingo!

State-of-the-ARC-bingo-sheet

Evelina says we can add the books to the BINGO as soon as we finish reading them, but I know I’ll forget to review them if I do that. Instead, I won’t add to the BINGO until after I’ve published my review. The goal is to get BINGO before the end of the year. We’re coming up on August, which leaves 4 months. I think I can do this. I’ve already crossed off two categories, once they’re reviewed I’ll put em up. This game is actually useful for helping me decide which ARCS so read next. Thanks, Evelina, for your genius, lol.

Look out for a book review on Thursday and a tea tasting next Tuesday! 🙂 If you want to join the meme or see who else is in, head over to Avalinah’s Books.

Song of Blood and Stone Review & Author Q & A!

Hey birdies, long time no see! *nervous laughter*

I came back from the dead to take part in L. Penelope’s Song of Blood and Stone blog tour.  To be honest, I thought I’d snagged a copy of Children of Blood and Bone (by Tomi Adeyemi), but by the time I realized my mistake I’d already signed up for the blog tour. I figured I’d give the book a try; the premise was interesting enough:

 

“Orphaned and alone, Jasminda lives in a land where cold whispers of invasion and war linger on the wind. Jasminda herself is an outcast in her homeland of Elsira, where her gift of Earthsong is feared. When ruthless soldiers seek refuge in her isolated cabin, they bring with them a captive–an injured spy who threatens to steal her heart.

Jack’s mission behind enemy lines to prove that the Mantle between Elsira and Lagamiri is about to fall nearly cost him his life, but he is saved by the healing Song of a mysterious young woman. Now he must do whatever it takes to save Elsira and it’s people from the True Father and he needs Jasminda’s Earthsong to do it. They escape their ruthless captors and together they embark on a perilous journey to save Elsira and to uncover the secrets of The Queen Who Sleeps.”

 

In the end, L. Penelope really delivered with this novel.

 

The Review

When I actually got around to reading Song of Blood and Stone, I’d forgotten the premise. Within the first few pages, it became clear to me that Jasminda, a dark-skinned citizen, is an outcast among her light-skinned peers. She suffers humiliation and discrimination at the hands of countrymen who refuse to believe she belongs there. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? My immediate recognition of Jasminda’s plight drew me into the novel.

 

In the beginning, Jasminda’s ferocity, intelligence and strength of character are the center of focus. She’s determined to keep the rights to her land and make a life for herself, despite the government working against her. She knows how to navigate the mountains and make herbal medicine, and she even stops to heal an Elsiran, despite having no real reason to do so. When the Lagrimari soldiers invade her house and attempt to abuse both her an Jack, she doesn’t hesitate to defend herself with whatever weapons she could find.

 

Later, as Jasminda falls in love with Jack and as she starts to take on more responsibility to saving the country, Jasminda’s original fire seems to die a little (booo ☹️). She fails to connect dots and starts making stupid mistakes that threaten her life more than once. Jack’s thoughts, motivations and emotions take center stage, and his motivations almost always have to do with keeping Jasminda near him.

 

Fortunately, the “save-the-world” storyline isn’t completely lost in the “star-crossed lovers” subplot. Though L. Penelope’s set up leaves no doubt as to how the novel will end, the execution was near-flawless and I found myself literally gasping as all of the threads came together. I was so engrossed in the action I stayed up until 3 AM one night to finish the last 100 pages.

 

Was Song of Blood and Stone perfect? No, not by a long shot. I received an uncorrected advance reader copy, so I’ll leave comments about awkward word choices and sentence fragments out of my assessment. Instead, I’ll focus on the actual content.

 

For one, the main plot was too predictable. Fortunately, there are plenty of subplots and secondary characters to focus on, which make the story all around more interesting. Second, each chapter begins with “collected folktales,” which are L. Penelope’s version of Aesop’s Fables for Song of Blood and Stone. While I commend her for the effort, I often found the folktales confusing and distracting. If I put thought into it, I probably could have figured them out, but as the action in the novel got more intense I was less willing to put my mental energy into decoding the folktales. Lastly, Jack and Jasminda’s characters are both rather flat. They experience very little character growth throughout the novel. Song of Blood and Stone is the first novel in the Earthsinger series, so I sincerely hope they develop more over the course of the saga.

 

All in all I’d give this book 4.5 stars. It had its flaws, but I found it incredibly difficult to put down and I don’t regret reading it. Be forewarned: there are multiple detailed (but not explicit) descriptions of sex throughout the novel. People who are triggered by tales of discrimination, race wars, wartime violence, refugee camps, family death and rape might want to proceed with caution.

 

I recommend Song of Blood and Stone to people who enjoys tales of magic, afro-futurism connection with nature. I’d also recommend it to anyone looking for a strong(ish) black female protagonist. Though St. Martin’s Press classifies the book as YA, the themes are mature and suitable for an older audience as well.

 

Song of Blood and Stone goes on sale today. If you plan on grabbing a copy, I’d be greatly appreciative if you purchase it through my Amazon link. You’re under no obligation to do so, but the few cents I earn on every novel are helpful to me and cost you nothing. 🙂 For more purchasing options, visit the book’s page on the St. Martin’s Press website. Undecided? Check out other people’s reviews on Goodreads.

 

Like most of my books, I received this ARC from St. Martin’s press via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. If you think this review is too positive to be honest, check out some of my other reviews. I promise I’m not always so nice, haha.

 

The Q & A

Penelope, L._CREDIT Valerie BeyDue to the nature of the blog tour, some of these questions and answers may be the same as on other blogs. I’ve included both my questions and the general Q & A put forth in the Song of Blood and Stone press release.

 

1. What inspired you to write this series? What came first: The characters or the world? What was your inspiration for the magic of Earthsong? Were you inspired by other books? Movies?

When I first wrote this book, up until the time I gave it to my first editor, I thought it was going to be a novella. It was always meant to be a fairytale-esque story of a girl’s journey from the margins of society straight to its upper echelons. The characters Jack and Jasminda were there before the world was ever clear in my mind. The first scene I wrote was the one where they meet in front of her cabin. I knew they were from different, warring countries and they came from very different sorts of lives, but that was all. Through the magic of revision (lots and lots of revision) I discovered the journey that the characters would go on and all the conflicts they would face.

 

I love fantasy and there were so many inspiring series that I soaked in prior to writing the book, from Graceling* by Kristin Cashore to Seraphina by Rachel Hartman. But I think this book owes its biggest inspiration to the Lumatere Chronicles by Melina Marchetta. Her fantasy world felt well realized and complex, filled with incredibly detailed characters, groups, nations, and settings. But I also wanted to write a kinder, gentler fantasy novel that wouldn’t double as a doorstopper. And mix in a really strong romance like some of my favorites Nalini Singh or Kresley Cole.

*Sarabi’s note: Graceling  is also a great series. I remember loving it in high school. 

 

 

2. What were your favorite scenes to write for SONG OF BLOOD AND STONE? What was the hardest scene to write? Is there a scene or moment that really sticks with you?

Though Usher, Jack’s valet, spends relatively little time on the page, I loved writing the scenes with him and Jack. When two characters have known each other for a long time, it can be really fun to play with how to show their relationship. Usher has known Jack his entire life and so the way they interact is unique. I also loved writing the visions that Jasminda gets from the stone. They were in a different voice, from a totally different perspective and the peeked in on a vibrant, fully formed world that’s different to the one of the main story. Hardest to write were the ones where Jasminda is confronted with the racism and bias of Elsirans.

 

The scene that sticks with me is when Jack and Jasminda are in the army base and he sleeps on the ground beside her, holding her hand. I find it really sweet and romantic.

 

3. How involved were you in the cover art process?

Since this book was initially self-published, and St. Martin’s Press decided to keep the cover when I signed Song of Blood & Stone_cover imageon with them, I was extremely involved in the cover art process. I choose the designer after over a year of looking for the right artist, while I was writing the book. And that was probably the best decision I made. He was fantastic, and took all of my notes and ideas and created a cover that I just wasn’t ready for. It seriously blew my mind the first time I saw it.

 

4. Is there a character in SONG OF BLOOD & STONE that you most relate to? How do you select names of your characters?

I think Jasminda represents various aspects of myself both as I am and as I’d like to be. She’s definitely bolder than I am, but her struggle to feel a part of things is one that I understand.

 

As for naming my characters, for each nation, I asked questions about how the names should generally work. Things like: which prefixes and suffixes are common? Which letters and sounds are prevalent? Which letters or sounds either don’t exist or are more rare? So the Elsirans have a lot of double vowels in their names. Qs, Vs, and Zs are prominent, but there are no hard Cs.

 

Lagrimari names generally don’t use Js. I set up which suffixes were for men and women and the types of sounds the names would have. There are only 9 last names in Lagrimar, corresponding with the Houses. Jasminda as a name is an exception. Her parents didn’t follow the naming conventions of either country for her or her brothers. Because their interracial relationship was unique, they wanted their children’s names to be distinctive as well.

 

. Have you heard Emily Wapnick’s TED talk about being a multipotentialite? Both the talk and your bio really resonate with me, because I’m also interested in doing many different things. Do you or did you find it difficult to switch careers and make all of your interests work together?

I hadn’t heard of that before, but I listened to the TED talk and wow! Mind blown! I’ve found my people J It can absolutely be hard having so many different interests. Right now, I’m trying to figure out how I can start taking Krav Maga classes and obstacle course racing classes at the local Ninja Warrior gym. While I continue to rock climb and practice with my piano lessons app and still have time to make websites and write books! I can’t do all the things! It’s frustrating. But usually things happen in cycles, because they need to. At one period in my life, it was relatively easy to get a group of people together and make a short film—these days it’s much tougher. So I do other things.

 

And if/when you are making money from your interests, focusing becomes easier. The closest deadline gets the most attention. When deadlines converge, however, you’re in for some rough days, and some things you just need to let go of. For me, that aligns with when those things stop making me happy. I’m in a constant juggling act of letting something old go to make room for a new interest or opportunity, but life is cyclical like that. And if you think of it as your super power instead of a detriment, you can use your power for good!

 

6. What advice would you give aspiring authors, especially authors or color, striving to have their stories and truths shared?

I would tell aspiring authors to really investigate your goals and be frank with yourself about why you want to do this. It’s a difficult path emotionally, creatively, and professionally and what will get you through the low points is being very clear about your “why”. It can also be incredibly rewarding, but knowing what you’re getting yourself into is key.

 

Writing and publishing are two different disciplines. Your “why” will inform whether you pursue traditional publishing or seek to self-publish. It will keep you going through rejections, delays, bad reviews, disappointment, and the imposter syndrome that we all go through.

 

The other very important thing is to have a community to fall back on. Whether that’s a chapter of a professional organization like RWA, SFWA, SCWBI, and others, or a Facebook group, critique group, or writer’s circle, having others to commiserate and celebrate with you makes the journey much easier.

 

I’d like to thank L. Penelope for taking the time to answer blogger questions. 🙂 

 

Old Assignment: “In the Machine, I See Everything…”

…and it all looks the same. On the surface, “The Machine Stops” (by EM Forster) seems like another typical dystopian sci-fi story, however closer inspection of the story’s history yields one important find: it’s old. This leaves me with the assumption that “The Machine Stops” in some way paved the road for its subject matter. I will admit, I have not read every single technology-related dystopian novel, nor am I well versed in the history of the entire movement, but I’ve read enough to realize particular patterns.

 

 

**Note: this post contains mild spoilers for The Giver, Brave New World, and the Uglies Series.**

 

 

The first thing I picked up on was the characters’ lack of original thought. It quickly became obvious that the majority of the people in the world of the Machine were not accustomed to coming up with their own ideas, and even when they did their ideas were either of little substance or rehashings of the ideas of other people. I imagine this lack of originality is a direct consequence of the Machine. When there are buttons that do everything, there is no real need to do anything.

 

 

Immediately, I made the connection between this story and Scott Westerfield’s Uglies series. The people in Westerfield’s novels also lived in a world so technologically advanced that there was very little a computer could not do. Westerfield’s novels, like Forster’s story, refer to a previous version of human civilization in which is apparently less advanced than the current one, so much so that that version of society is obsolete, its members extinct. The difference between these two stories lies in how the humans use the technology. Forster’s short story prompted me to think about technology in new ways. Whereas the people in Westerfield’s novels for the most part used technology to bring themselves to things, the people in Forster’s narrative used technology to bring things to them. This relationship between humans and technology never occurred to me before. 

 

 

While describing the human relationship with technology, Forster chooses adjectives that suggest a vast emptiness. He actually repeatedly uses the words “nothing” and “empty.” He emphasizes the idea that while the people are seeing their friends and the rest of the world through the machine, they are are actually very much alone in their rooms. He never explicitly states that each citizen lives alone, but it is implied through Vashti’s lifestyle and the repeated assertion that face-to-face interaction is rare and touching is absolutely barbaric (“[the attendant] behaved barbarically… People never touched one another,” page 8). I concluded that the nothingness/emptiness doesn’t particularly bother the humans because they have the machine, and because everyone has approximately the same surroundings, technology and lifestyle.

 

 

The idea of sameness is another frequent theme within the dystopian science-fiction genre. The Giver (Lois Lowry), The Uglies Series, and Brave New World (Aldous Huxley) all deal with the idea of sameness. In the Lowry novel, citizens look more or less the same, they all see in black and white and they all follow the same steps into adulthood. The only variances lie in their particular occupations when they grow older, but these differences are inconsequential (unless on is assigned the occupation of “The Receiver,” like Jonas).

 

 

The Westerfield novels depict a socially accepted plastic surgery that makes everyone “pretty.” Before having the surgery, one is referred to as “ugly.” The surgery is designed to keep everyone young and pretty, while suppressing original thought (more on that later). In Brave New World people are  manufactured in a laboratory. The lower a person’s rank in society, the more copies of them their are. The sameness in these novels suggests that eliminating variance is the most effective way to rid society of trouble and dissent. After all, if everyone is identical (or nearly identical), what would be the point in coveting another’s belongings and life?

 

 

Until the end of the story, religion in “The Machine Stops” was faint but present. Religious rituals were alluded to through Vashti’s habit of crying “O Machine!” and kissing “the book.” In Brave New World there is a similar pattern of humans worshiping technology. The religion in Huxley’s world is called “Fordism,” so named because Henry Ford invented the assembly belt, which, according to the novel, is the beginning of technology as we know it (I also couldn’t help but notice the sheer number of products- people included- in Brave New World that were produced on an assembly line).

 

 

The inclusion of religion in these two works confirms a hunch I had a few years back: society cannot exist without some form of religion. People are constantly searching for something to give meaning to their lives; they want something to turn to when things go wrong. Vashti’s actions when the Machine begins to stop further strengthen my point. She fervently performs her rituals (chanting, kissing the book and pushing buttons) as if her belief alone would spare her. It is important to note, however, that every person in Brave New World and in “The Machine Stops” follows the same religion. There would be too much dissent if people followed different religions. It is also important to note that both religions are tied to the technologies that lie at society’s foundation.  This forges an powerful bond between, humans, religion and technology. Just as the humans cannot live without religion, they cannot live without technology.

 

 

As mentioned earlier, original thought is not common in Forster’s fictional world. Towards the end, around the same time the Machine starts propagating religion, original thoughts are more publicly rebuked. Original thought is the beginning of disunity, so it’s best to curtail the flow of such thoughts. Both Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 and Westerfield’s novels address this topic. In Westerfield’s novels, only the members of the government and the members of the rebellion are aware of the true purpose of the “pretty surgery.” Being pretty and happy are incentives to undergo the procedure, however the happiness is created through what is essentially an implanted tumor on the brain. The tumor rests on the areas of the brain responsible for creativity and unpleasant emotion.

 

 

In Bradbury’s novel, original and dissenting ideas are eliminated through near-ritual book burning, while the masses are kept happy by technology that takes care of all their needs. Technology essentially distracts the population from the larger problem. All of these stories paint humans as gullible, adaptable creatures (with the exception of a few main characters who can see through the charade) that don’t question what’s going on as long as they are pacified by their televisions and computers. In a way, there is a similar pattern forming in society today. News is more accessible than ever with the invention of the internet and smartphones that can run news apps, but people tend not to be as informed because there are “more important” matters to attend to, such as achieving a high score on Angry Birds.

 

 

I’ve spent the majority of this analysis talking about the similarities between EM Forster’s story and novels of the same genre, but that isn’t to say “The Machine Stops” doesn’t  have anything new to add to the conversation. On the contrary, “The Machine Stops” brings forth two new insights. The first concerns a new point of view in the human-technology interaction and the second concerns the result of the fall of technology.

 

 

In dystopian novels, the audience usually only gets to see the thoughts of the dissenter. Those who acquiesce to “the system” are obviously present in the stories, but they do not have much dimension beyond the face that believes “the system” is best for society. In EM Forster’s narrative, the audience sees the Machine from the perspective of an ardent believer in its powers. We see Vashti’s disgust towards her son’s dissenting thoughts and even her failure to comprehend the idea that anything could be wrong with her beloved Machine. Had the story been told only from perspective, and excluded her son, the audience may well have converted to a believer in the Machine (until the end, that is). Speaking of the end, I have yet to read another dystopian or science-fiction novel which concludes with the nearly immediate death of every person within the novel’s world. In “The Machine Stops,” people were so dependent on the Machine that they accepted its shortcomings, and died within minutes of its ultimate failure. The humans literally could not survive without technology.

 

 

At times, modern attachment to technology feels similar to the relationship described by EM Forster, albeit less extreme. It is still possible to live without technology, but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult.  Fortunately, the progression and production of technology relies on creativity, so we’ve thus far avoided the pitfall of ceasing to come up with our own ideas. We also have yet to achieve sameness. While people are more and more able to acquire similar things, and while people are expected to have certain “baseline” technology (namely a car, a cellphone, and a computer) the variety among these products is astonishing and there are still areas of the world that are untainted by the “modern world’s” incessant coveting.

 

 

Though unrelated to the bulk of my analysis, I can’t help but take “The Machine” as a metaphor for the social side of “modern” society as well. Our world is very much a machine. We are expected to follow the scheme and complete the tasks in order. I won’t get into that right now, I’ve written about it here. The main idea is that we all must remain vigilant, lest we become so settled into our way of life that we do not notice the machine taking over.

____________________________________________________

I originally wrote this post in 2014. I was going to write a long, updated political conclusion but such rambling has no place on my blog right now. Besides, the post is long enough. Suffice it to say that reading this post concerned me. I’m frightened by just how similar current events are to the action in the short story. That said, I remember immensely enjoying the tale, and I highly recommend it. I don’t remember enough to give an exact star rating, but The Machine Stops is definitely somewhere in the 4-5 star range.

 

“The Machine Stops” is in the public domain, which means you can read it for free. I’ve chosen to link Feedbooks and the Wikipedia audiobook, but you can also find “The Machine Stops” on LibriVox (a free audiobook app). If you do choose to buy it, I’d be grateful if you use my Amazon link. It costs nothing for you and gives me a few cents towards maintaining this blog. ❤

 

 

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