Valerie

Back during the election, I think I remember Octavia Butler and this book specifically being referenced as eerily prescient. I don't think I clued in to how specifically prescient it was in that the nation would elect a reactionary demagogue working from a elitist form of Christian values who literally uses “make America great again” as his tag line. Guys, we weren't even recovering from an Apocalypse when it happened...

But unsettlingly accurate future visions aside, this is an unsurprisingly amazing book. It is vast, encompassing both Olamina's story after founding Acorn and her daughter's story and opinions as a frame. It speaks a lot towards the imperfections that come with being human, the betrayals which can so quickly escalate to horrific, as the traitors and bystanders repeatedly justify their actions and move along. It forces us to look at even what the protagonist justifies, and then what excuses we ourselves make, what moral compromises would we rather just not think about.

Butler pulls no punches, and I often struggled to get through because I couldn't handle that much vicarious suffering. Her prose makes Sharers of us all. She was a master, fully deserving of her acclaim and reputation, and this duology in particular are necessary reading in America's current climate.

I can't remember if I read this or not as a child, though with how much I loved the films, it's probably a safe bet. Reading it as an adult, I found myself looking for metaphors and reading it as a kind of exploration of childhood grief and depression. Bastian loses his mother literally and his father figuratively, and seeks shelter in Fantástica where he vicariously defeats the Swamps of Sadness, the Oracles, and the Nothing at great cost. Then he loses himself in his own escape, drives away those who love him, and forgets even his own sense of self. That preservation of self and memory is such a strong, resonant theme challenged again and again by various monsters and ephemera. It's really a beautiful book, and while the first film does justice to the first half, the second is well worth exploring, especially as an adult.

For anyone who thinks protagonists have to be likable in order to enjoy a book, give this one a try. June is pretty horrible, the human incarnation of “I'm not racist, but...”, and yet Kuang preserves her humanity and allows the reader to feel empathy with her. She's awful, but she's not a caricature. She's a very real person, probably all too common in Kuang's publishing spheres. As a white woman with dreams of traditional publishing myself, I can't help but read her as a cautionary tale.

Yellowface is a major departure from Kuang's epic fantasies, but her writing is strong enough to cross genres effortlessly. I wouldn't call it a “fun” read. It's frustrating, complex, and frequently disheartening, but it is a good story that is vital and incredibly relevant in our social media fame-obsessed age.

Amazing book. Another SF classic that passed me by when I should have read it. Having finally done so with the perspective of an educator who has spent her entire adult life learning how to work with young minds, I'm deeply impressed by Card's impression of them. The children in the story all feel like very real children despite their intellectual advantages. Real children who have seen and experienced far more than they are supposed to have done. The idea of applying playground psychology to interstellar war is absolutely brilliant, and I understand why this book is as famous as it is. Not sure if I'll get to the sequels. There are a lot of them and my catch-up list is very long, but even without them ths book holds its own.

I picked this one up at the library to celebrate Banned Books Month. I've read a bit of Murakami in the past, so I expected some weirdness, and I was right to expect it. This book is an Oedipal myth, and it gets very mythy with talking cats, personality displacement, and portals to pocket dimensions. I couldn't see the exact reason why it was banned, but probably </spoiler>statutory sex scenes with people who may be mother/son</spoiler> but it could also be the fact that it features a trans man who is particularly nuanced and treated like a human being by basically every character. You just never know with book banners.

My husband often asks me if I'm liking whatever I'm reading, and I often found that questions hard to answer with this one. This book is profoundly uncomfortable and occasionally horrific. It's also Murakami, so there's a great deal I probably need four or five re-reads to interpret. Did I like it? Kind of? When I wasn't horrified? It's hard to explain. I had similar feelings after 1Q84. I like reading Murakami, though, because it really makes my literary interpreter brain kick into gear. Even when I don't understand points of the story, I enjoy thinking about them and why they are there. This book made me think about Japanese civilians in WWII, Greek Mythology, classical music, poetry, libraries as memories, memories as libraries, why people help others, capitalism, philosophy, and lots more, so it felt worth my time. That said, definitely check out some trigger warnings before reading this one.