Elle

“Welcome to Aloisville, rainiest town in the rainiest state. Population: we don't recall.” Laverne has lived here for... well, a while. She knows she moved to Aloisville with her husband before their divorce, and at some point, it started raining, but when? There's no way to know for sure, because there's something in the rain water that erases the memories of the people of Aloisville. One drop, and you might lose just a moment, but the more time you spend in the rain, the more you forget until you're just a husk that starves to death because you don't remember how to eat. The town's been blocked off, and the citizens of Aloisville try to plan an escape, but Laverne wants no part of it. She just wants to stay home and stay alive.

I happened upon the audiobook of this novella randomly while looking for something short to listen to last night after I finished a long book. I decided to start it on my nightly walk with my dog, and when I stepped outside, it was raining. I have to say, walking a block in the rain while listening to the journal of a woman who is terrified that the nearly never-ending rainfall outside her house will strip her of her memories was, uh, quite the experience! The narrator, Soneela Nankani, is partially responsible for that, as she really did a great job capturing Laverne's personality and constantly shifting emotions.

It was interesting to see how the people of Aloisville adapted to the rain and how it affected Laverne mentally. The mystery of the rain was my favorite part of the book and I enjoyed coming up with theories about its origin along with Laverne. Her theories were better than mine, though. Because the story is so short, it's hard to say more without giving too much away, so I'll stop here with this: I think the ending was perfect.

Emet North's debut novel, In Universes, is unlike anything I've ever read. It's beautiful, challenging, and the very best kind of strange. Each chapter is just a glimpse into Raffi's life in one of an unlimited number of possible universes. On their own, the chapters could be short stories—all entertaining for different reasons—but together, they weave a tale of grief, love, heartbreak, and the search for self.

Anything is possible when we're talking about infinity, so some of Raffi's lives take place in fairly recognizable universes much like our own, while others take place in universes in which aliens inhabit animal bodies and attack humans, or, in my favorite (because it was both entertaining and absolutely brilliant), mothers fracture into hordes of animals when they give birth to daughters. What the universes all have in common though, is that they all fall within timelines in which Raffi connects with Britt, Kay, Graham, or Alice, and each of Raffi's lives is unique in a perfect way that doesn't make them unrecognizable as the same person. Raffi's shifting and changing relationships with these recurring characters were fascinating, especially the one they had with Britt, who is always important no matter the universe.

Raffi is a remarkable character. They truly read as if they are a real person. They have fully fleshed out hopes, dreams, flaws, and plenty of endearing qualities. It's easy to relate to and love a character as genuine and realistic as Raffi. Their friends and lovers were also great people. I wanted to choose a favorite to mention here but I couldn't do it. Too hard. It might be Graham though.

Often, when I (and many people, I imagine) read a book, I insert myself into it. What would I do if I was the main character? What would I say if I was the side character? I did do that sometimes while reading In Universes, but more often, I inserted the concept of the book into my life instead. I've lost so much sleep the past couple nights, lying awake thinking about the points at which my life could have split into different universes and what those universes might be like. Or thinking about the universe in which I never met someone I love, or I did, but I love them in a different way, or they are merely an acquaintance. Or, hey, what kind of animal horde my mother would have fractured into when I was born (polar bear).

When I wasn't losing sleep over In Universes, it was affecting my dreams. I won't go into detail because reading other people's dreams is kind of boring and that's not what this is anyway, but my dreams have been incredibly weird and 100% influenced by this book. I loved In Universes while I was reading it, and I love it even more because it had such a strong hold over both my dreams and waking thoughts.

If you're looking for something thought-provoking that will take you on a multifaceted journey, this is it. This is the book.

I'd like to thank NetGalley and Harper Collins, from whom I received this ARC. It was a pleasure to read and review In Universes!

First line: The night it happened, there was a party.

Where Sleeping Girls Lie is a great thriller/mystery. I wouldn't say I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, as it's a bit of a slow burn, but I did feel like I was right there with Sade, trying to solve the puzzle. And it really was a puzzle. With most books, I don't think too hard on the mystery because I know it's going to be solved eventually. I'll come up with theories as I read but that's as far as I go. This book had me entering morse code into a translator and attempting to decipher an anagram. That's how invested I was, and it was so fun!

I worried that Sade and her friends working to solve a mystery would feel a bit like an episode of Scooby Doo, but I was pleased to find that it did not. It was also as realistic as a story about teenagers trying to solve a crime could be. They didn't know more than they should, they didn't solve it ridiculously quickly, and there were even times when they made more emotional than logical decisions. The characters felt very much like actual young adults - their behavior wasn't super juvenile, but it also wasn't overly adult in the way that some characters in books other YA media can be. 

Something else I really loved is the way that Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé describes her extremely diverse cast of characters. She does it so perfectly that even I had a clear picture of what they all looked like, and I don't even have the ability to visualize. Not only were their descriptions on point, but their personalities were fantastic. I loved Baz so much. Everyone needs a Baz in their life. 

The book starts off with a letter to the reader in which Àbíké-Íyímídé explains that “with Where Sleeping Girls Lie, I write to young girls who feel so much anger, and need desperately for someone or something to tell them that their rage is important, and that the capacity to heal from deep wounds is not at all impossible.” This is such an important message that spoke to the angry young girl I once was (and sometimes still am) in a way that I truly appreciate.

I knew next to nothing about The Pale House Devil when I borrowed it from the library. It was in the new fiction section and I basically grabbed it at the last minute on my way out the door because I was in the mood for something short and spooky. I can say now that was a good call.
This frightening and fast-paced creature feature is worth it for Ford and Neuland alone. They may be hitmen but they are also good men with good hearts and they're great friends with excellent banter. I wish they were my uncles.

Nestlings is truly creepy, something I was personally pretty grateful for considering my last horror read didn't feel especially spooky. I went in blind, so I had no idea what the horror aspect was, and I spent about half the book guessing, which was a lot of fun. I love that Cassidy didn't go with the typical tropes so even once I had figured it out, I was still surprised by various characteristics and rules of the Big Bad (which I'm not mentioning in case someone else wants to go in blind, but it's easy enough to look up).

I love how complicated Ana was. She struggled with bitterness over her parapalegia and resentment of her daughter in addition to the normal postpartum stuff. After all, she wouldn't be paralyzed if she hadn't had Charlie. The constant fight in her mind between loving and hating her baby, and then the guilt she felt afterward, the worry she wouldnt and couldn't be a good mother, was heartbreaking. Ana struggled with Reid as well, but in my opinion, anyone would. Reid was a colossal ass. Once upon a time, before this book began, he may have been a good guy, but not anymore. He didn't feel like a complex character, he just felt like an incredibly selfish jerk that only does things that will serve him. He was suffering mentally, just as Ana was, but the ways in which they handled it were so different. Sometimes I did feel like he had a right to be the way he was, or that it made sense, but I was constantly angry at him and even had to remind myself once that he isn't a real person.

There were a few things that were brought up or events that took place that confused me. I understood what was going on, but I didn't really know why it was going on. It didn't feel like filler, exactly, but it didn't feel necessary either. So yeah, a few things had me scratching my head, but the story was good enough that it was easy to shrug them off.

The formatting of the book was very pleasing to me, so I want to mention it too. Short chapters were broken down into small, numbered chunks, and paragraphs were small. I've never complained about paragraph or chapter length before but I liked this very much. Nestlings takes place during the pandemic and in a note at the end, Cassidy explains why. He wanted to “capture the incredibly strange period of time we were living through in 2021 (and '22)” where people wanted the pandemic to be over, but it wasn't quite. Some pretended it was. Some couldn't. It was just a very odd, nebulous time. I think he did a good job of capturing that uncomfortable feeling of the unknown.

Nestlings is a story of grief. It's a story of the complexity of motherhood. It's about feeling like you don't belong . And it's about an ancient evil that predates crosses 😉

On a hot summer day in a small Japanese town, five fourth-grade girls are playing on the grounds of their school when they're approached by a stranger. The man says he's at the school to do some maintenance work and he needs some help, and four of the girls stand aside as he takes their friend Emily by the hand and leads her away. Hours later, Emily is dead. Fifteen years later, Yuka, Maki, Akiko, and Sae, now all women in their 20s, reflect on the murder of their friend, the fact that the murderer was never caught, and the impact it had on their lives.

Unless you are from Japan, you may not know that the country had a fifteen-year statute of limitations on murder until 2010. Penance takes place before the statute of limitations was lifted, so it's no coincidence that Emily's death was fresh on each of the four women‘s minds just before the 15th anniversary of her unsolved murder. Penance isn't just an emotional reflection on the trauma of having a friend murdered when you're a child, or else it wouldn't be a Kanae Minato book. It's a psychological thriller and a story of guilt and revenge.

This is the second book I've read by Kanae Minato, and if you're familiar with her other book, Confessions, then you'll know what I mean when I say the structure of Penance is very much the same. Each woman has her own chapter (about a quarter of the book) in which she talks about Emily's murder and what has happened in her life since then. Because they all talk about the day of Emily's death, there's a little repetition as some of them recall the same details, but it's interesting to see the same event from different perspectives.

Having loved Confessions, I was pretty confident I would enjoy Penance and I'm glad I was right. There's always something twisted brewing just beneath the surface of Minato's writing, and I love it so much. I love reading her books knowing something big is coming but having no idea what it is. She's written so many books but only a couple have been translated to English and I sincerely hope we get more soon!

This is it. This is the physical book I want to annotate. I can't, because it's a library book, and I'm honestly kind of devastated.

Anyway, our narrator is incredibly selfish, a horrible friend, and she doesn't care about anyone around her. But she doesn't seem to care about herself either. She's self-destructive and makes no effort to take care of herself in even the simplest of ways. She's not exactly a likeable character, and yet, I found myself liking her. Maybe even loving her. I don't behave the way she does (I promise!) but I somehow understood her. And anyway, her friend Reva did sound kind of annoying.

Though a couple things might not have been 100% believable, the book felt like an incredibly honest memoir, and I enjoyed that aspect a whole lot. I found myself relating to some of the narrator's thoughts and experiences in some abstract, some more concrete ways. She said some things I could have written myself and who knows, maybe that's why I liked her as much as I did.

I love the way My Year of Rest and Relaxation feels like it's about nothing and something at the same time. A young woman sleeps through a year of her life, so, yeah, there's not a lot of action. But sometimes, she wakes up, and in a haze, she goes out for supplies, or to see her irresponsible therapist for prescription refills. She calls her horrible sometimes-boyfriend. Her friend drops by. She reflects on old memories. The between-sleep content provided a surprising amount of substance for a book about a woman who wants a year of nothingness.

I haven't read any other reviews, but I've heard reception was kind of mixed on this book and I understand why, but I'd absolutely recommend it to anyone who doesn't take issue with characters deemed unlikeable.

After reading Carmella in February, I decided I needed more sapphic vampire stories in my life. Around that same time, I stumbled upon House of Hunger, which fit the bill pretty well, and thought the premise sounded great.

While House of Hunger is a horror book, nothing about it stood out to me as horror until around 80%. Up until then, it really felt like dark romance. I understood going into the book that there would be romance, and I'm always fine with that, but only romance for well over half the book when it's categorized as horror just isn't for me. I appreciated some of it, but it still felt too long and slow, and then the last 20% was like: whoa here's some horror and it's going down very quickly whooosh now it's over! I honestly think that if it was paced to my liking, I would have enjoyed it much more.

The atmosphere of the House of Hunger was really dark and luxurious and I feel like I know exactly what its smoky parlors full of drunken overindulgent nobles look like. There are a lot of interesting places and scenes I think would lend themselves perfectly to a movie. I think I'd really enjoy a film based on the book. 

If you're someone who likes romance (with a little spice), and is into mysterious gothic vibes, you might really like House of Hunger!

Pizza Girl's struggle with the death of her father and her terror that she is too much like him is extremely relatable for me. Someone once said I was like my father and I wanted to shrivel up and die, so I get you, Pizza Girl. Jenny provided a welcome distraction from that and the other struggles in her life and Pizza Girl says if she'd never met Jenny, “I would've found something else to lose myself in—if you were pushed off a cliff, you'd grab hold of anything resembling safety,” and this is really all it is. Her obsession with Jenny was born of desperation for something, anything, that felt safe and comfortable and different to free her from her current situation.

I enjoyed the story, which shifted in unexpected ways. At times, I found myself wishing for more information about Jenny and her life, but I came to understand why that information wasn't included. This was Jean Kyoung Frazier's debut novel and I'm definitely interested in looking into more of her stuff!

I listened to the audiobook while reading the ebook at the same time, something I'd never done before. It took a minute to get the audiobook speed to match my reading speed well enough that it didn't feel super weird, it was extremely satisfying. Also, I noticed something: in two spots, the ebook had different text than the words spoken by the audiobook's narrator. By the content, I could tell that the stuff the narrator said was deliberately removed/changed in the ebook. A friend who often listens and reads at the same time told me this happens a lot. I find that so interesting! I wish I could do this more often to hear all the differences but alas, library availability of both ebooks and audiobooks doesn't always line up as perfectly as they did for Pizza Girl.

This is the best catalog I've ever read, and I've read a lot because my nana used to get a ton of them in the mail. If you're planning to read Horrorstör, a physical copy is the way to go. The design of the book really adds to the reading experience in a way I didn't expect and it was a real joy. The map in the front cover makes it obvious that Orsk stores are set up just Ikea stores, which really cool because so many people have been to Ikea that easy to understand exactly where Amy & co. are when they're in various locations around the store. And if you aren't familiar with Ikea stores, well, there's a map. So you can just look at it.

There was some fantastic humor in the beginning of the book that made me laugh out loud more than once, and then when shit really hit the fan I was gasping in horror and my days of laughing at Amy's shenanigans were long gone. There was even a part where, after finishing a particularly terrifying chapter, I had to stop reading to stare at a wall for a couple minutes. I really had a hard time putting this one down and did so only once, out of necessity. After that, I refused. I read it straight through, carrying it with me throughout the house whenever I needed to get up for something. 

I can't wait to get my own copy. And a coffee table. Because Horrorstör would make an excellent coffee table book.

Is this anti-Ikea propaganda? Because it worked. I'm not sure I'll ever look at an Ikea the same way again. Should I get my coffee table there? I'm scared.

This is my second Natsuko Imamura book (the first was Woman in the Purple Skirt) and I love her writing. Amiko is severely misunderstood by everyone around her, and as a result, she spends a lot of time isolated and confused about the world works. She tries harder to grasp what's going on around her than anyone tries to understand her, which is really depressing.

Alongside Amiko's story is that of her family and how they cope with a loss that devastates them. The descriptions I read say this book is heartwarming and I didn't quite feel that myself. It's more like heart-rending to read on as her father, mother, and brother devolve into shadows of their former selves. As Amiko silently struggles without even realizing she's doing so. It was a good read though and Amiko was an endearing character that I won't soon forget

The first half of the book really does a good job of building up dread before the second half hits. Fracassi shows us how terribly the boys are treated by Father Poole and his lackey, Brother Johnson, and how the orphanage is already an awful, depressing, oppressive place that we know is only about to get worse. And we can only imagine the ways in which that will happen, but we'll probably be wrong!

The perspective shifts back and forth between Peter's first-person POV and a third-person POV. Peter is a great, likeable character with a lot of depth. Throughout the book, he's wrestling with an important choice he must make. His struggle with his upcoming decision is extremely relatable, and when he's forced to make the choice, it's heartbreaking. It's easy to love (and hate!) many of the other characters in the book as well. My least favorite was Father Poole and I really loved David.

The Boys in the Valley interested me from the start, but it didn't become a book I could not put down until the second half. Once there, I did not stop until I finished the book because I couldn't walk away from what was going on. There was a ton of action, lots of chaos, and it was so intense! I didn't expect the ending, but it was perfect.

The Crossing is a perfect blend of sci-fi and fantasy. Laurie Janey is a marvelous world builder, and I imagine Rheta to be something like the most lush, beautiful national park I've ever been to dialed up to eleven. One of my favorite things about the world of The Crossing is that it contains a lot of the same flora, fauna, and objects we are familiar with here on Earth, but Janey has given them different names. It was easy to parse the meaning of the words, which added to the feeling of Rheta being an alien planet in another reality without the confusion of complicated science jargon that often alienates people from science-fiction. 

The friendships between Berro, Virda, Jex, and Fessi were so endearing and it's easy to tell this is a very close and loving group of friends. Fessi is my favorite, I loved the chapters that centered on her because they provided a glimpse into her fascinating mind.
Virda is massively obsessed with tree climbing to the point that I almost felt like I knew what it would be like to be her friend in real life: She's a good, loyal friend, you love her and you're glad she has a hobby she loves, but also you kind of wonder if the tree obsession is entirely healthy. Jex is just a sleepy little puppy dog. Let's just give him a pat on the head. Overall, I felt that the characters were pretty well fleshed out and fun to hang out with. 

Berro's internal struggles with how he felt about Imparter Undra, his mother's death, and the role he played in the studies of the crossings were realistic and hard to read because it was so sad to see how he dealt with all of it as a wholly unequipped introvert who just wanted to help the teacher he idolizes study realities and go home. 

The Crossing had some serious, dramatic moments that were expertly entwined with others that were sweet and wholesome. I didn't expect something so dark to also feel so cozy, and I am extremely here for it.

Reminiscent of horror stories from the 70s and 80s, The Devil and the Deep has all the ingredients for a creepy good time. There are demons, undead, possessions, cults, plus plenty of mystery, and I will take all of that, please and thank you.

The story starts with a prologue. It's 1975 in the small coastal town of Port Gaynor and Father Michael is attempting to perform what should be a run-of-the-mill exorcism. Except it's not, because of course it isn't. This exorcism off the walls bonkers and it's probably the most awesome opening to any book I've read in recent memory. The story continues 17 years later, the exorcism long forgotten by all except for one person, when an ancient evil reawakens and every citizen of Port Gaynor unwittingly becomes a part of a grand plan beyond their wildest imagination.

I found the characters very easy to connect with and I even found myself sympathizing and connecting with someone I absolutely didn't expect and that was really fun. I love when a book surprises me and this one was full of surprises. Sometimes when I'm reading a book I have to stop and wonder how the hell the author came up with the thing I just read. I did this multiple times while reading The Devil and the Deep and it was extremely satisfying. Something else I found satisfying was that every time I had a question, I had some time to develop my own theory, but then it was answered. Sometimes I like when books leave a lot to the imagination but this wasn't one I wanted that from and I'm glad that it delivered what I wanted.

The Devil and the Deep takes up about 75% of the book and then there are a few extra short stories. The Thing in the Bay is a heartbreaking story that follows one woman as humanity is driven to madness by an unknown force. The Ghosts of Powick Bridge is a moving and poetic tale of the ghost of a man who died in a war and is haunted by a song. E and the Night Before Christmas is the story of a cloaked figure with a scythe who brings chaos and horrifying creatures to a small town on Christmas Eve. This one was my favorite, it had a really great twist. The last is Eleven Twisted Christmas Songs: horror parodies of familiar songs you'll easily recognize and want to sing along to in your head. These short stories weren't really necessary but they did add to the overall theme of madness and they were fun bonus reads. 

The book opens with a stylistic warning: Christian Francis believes in the use of creative voice in fiction. There are ‘rules' that are often forced opon writers and Francis doesn't subscribe to them. He does things his own way. He uses commas to signify a breath within sentences, for example. This warning basically says that if you're bothered by his lack of rule-following, this book isn't for you. I knew I wouldn't have a problem so I read on! I did notice that Francis didn't follow the typical ‘rules,' but there wasn't anything that stood out too much and it wasn't out of control or distracting, so even if you're a person who cares about that stuff, I honestly don't think you'd be put off. 

I received an eARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

When I read Cabbage yesterday morning, I thought “Welp, that's going to give me nightmares,” and then it actually did. That's not something that has ever happened before!
In this short horror story, an elderly couple discovers a miracle in their garden, but is it truly a gift, or is it in fact a curse? It's somehow both charming and frightening, and the entire last page gave me the chills. C.S. Fritz is a fantastic artist, wordsmith, and I haven't read any of his other horror books (yet!), but if this one is any indication, he's also a master of incredible imagery. His descriptions of... literally everything were chef's kiss so when I woke up from that nightmare I knew my own brain had nothing to do with it - it was all Fritz's fault.
When (not if) you grab this book, grab your headphones too, because it includes a QR code to a Spotify playlist curated by Fritz himself that you can listen to as you read. I don't typically listen to music while reading but this was such a novel idea, I had to give it a go and I was immediately happy with my decision. The playlist is absolutely perfect. It fit the tone of the story so well, and though I finished the book before the it was complete, I always felt like the music matched up well with what I was reading. Fritz made a playlist for another of his books, A Fig for All the Devils, and I can't wait to listen while I read that one too!
I've always been a bit selective when it comes to my favorite books, but I've had the very rare and highly-sought after Book Adding Ceremony and Cabbage is now on the list. Time to buy a physical copy!
Many thanks to Net Galley and Albatross Book Co., from whom I received this eARC in exchange for an honest review. Cabbage is already out. Go get it!

I finished Meditations at Midnight in one sitting, not because it is relatively short, but because I legitimately did not want to put it down. It's a collection of poetry and prose in a variety of styles and tones: dreamlike, somber, mysterious, whimsical, but always thought-provoking. One little story had me laughing, a moment later a poem left me feeling wistful, and another story kind of gave me the creeps. Though I cannot visualize, Gary Jansen's descriptions of everything from sunsets to people, were intricate and vivid enough that I had as clear a picture as I possibly could, and that's no small feat! 

As the book progresses, there are more and more mentions of God, prayer, and the like. I'm not at all religious but I was raised in religion. For me, reading these bits felt like I was observing something from long ago, but from a different angle. I didn't mind it at first, but as I said, it seemed as though it came up more frequently the more I read, so it did start to throw me off. Then it occurred to me that there was no mention of the influence religion obviously has on Jenson's work in the description of the book, and I think that might bother some people. From what I can tell, Loyola Press is a religious publishing house, so that could be a clue, but I didn't know this until after I read the book and it's not reasonable to expect people to have this knowledge. 

That aside, this really is a lovely little collection of stories and poems (with a gorgeous cover to boot). I've been over here living life thinking poetry wasn't for me and with this book, Gary Jansen has helped me realize that poetry really is for everyone. I just had to keep looking for the stuff that works for me and now I feel inspired to really give poetry a chance!

Thank you to NetGalley and Loyola Press, from whom I received this eARC in exchange for an honest review. 

These three short stories further cemented my budding love for Japanese fiction (horror/thriller specifically).

The first and longest, Nails and Eyes, was tense and unsettling. After a preschool-aged girl's mother dies, her father moves his affair partner in and the the girl keeps a watchful eye on everything the woman does. While it did feel a little off, it didn't feel quite like horror until close to the end, which made the sudden horror all the more jarring. I actually said out loud “Uh, what the fuck!?” This little story made me wish I had a friend I could force it on so I could see if they say “Uh, what the fuck!?” in the same place I did.

The second story, What Shoko Forgets, was equal parts horrifying and devastating. A grumpy old woman stuck in a hospital after a stroke remembers and then forgets something every night. This was my favorite story, though I almost feel weird saying so. The second to last paragraph killed me. It was beautifully written, so tragic and heart-wrenching, so unfortunately relatable. I'm not sure I've ever read anything like it and I'm going to be thinking about it for a long time. 

The third and last story, Minute Fears, was mysterious and nostalgic. A mother wonders why her son spends so much time at a playground hidden behind an old building. This one was my least favorite. It wasn't necessarily bad, it just had really tough competition and it almost felt lighthearted in comparison.

Overall a pretty good little collection. Still trying to decide whether or not I appreciate the amount of destruction What Shoko Forgets brought upon me.

I was in the middle of reading something I can barely remember now when I got a notification from Libby that my hold on Bad Dolls was finally available. As I instructed Libby to send the book directly to my Kindle do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars, it started pouring rain after an otherwise perfectly sunny and unseasonably warm day. Nice.
Mood serendipitously set, I got right to it. Four excellent short and spooky stories about body image, hard choices, friendship, and loss later, I can now say I have read everything Rachel Harrison has published. I can't pick just one so here are my favorites (in no particular order): all of them.
My favorite of the short stories in Bad Dolls though, was Bridesmaid. A woman heads to a remote cabin for her childhood friend's bachelor party and finds that she doesn't quite fit in with her old friend's new friends. That's okay, she grew up with her friend, they know everything about each other, they're like sisters, right? Or does she no longer fit in with her childhood friend either?
While my childhood friendships didn't end in horror, this story hit hard for me. We'll just say my I highlighted lines about friendship I related to so often the ink might have run out if it wasn't on a Kindle. Excellent story, just like the rest, but one that really spoke to me.
Of course I recommend Bad Dolls, just like the rest of Rachel Harrison's books, to anyone who likes to get a bit emotionally invested in their horror. So good. SO GOOD.

I love retellings of and new takes on fairy tales, myths, etc., so Stone Blind was an easy choice for me. I was especially excited to read this one because although I’m somewhat familiar with greek mythology, I’ve never read much about Medusa beyond the standard stuff.

The description of Stone Blind is extremely Medusa-heavy, so I went into it thinking most of it was going to be all about Medusa. Her origins, life, how she was cursed, and Perseus and his quest. And that story was there, but it also kind of felt like Medusa was just in the background for a lot of the book. There wasn’t as much of a “Medusa is the Main Character” feeling as I expected and I do feel disappointed about that.

The story of Medusa and Perseus is there, but the book is also about all of these women and maybe more I can’t remember because I already returned the book to the library:

Metis, ex-wife of Zeus

Hera, wife of Zeus

Athene, daughter of Zeus

Amphitrite, wife of Poseidon

Stheno, one of Medusa’s sisters

Euryale, the other of Medusa’s sisters

Phorcys, mother of the three gorgons

Danae, mother of Perseus

Cassiope, queen of Ethiopia

Andromeda, princess of Ethiopia

Natalie Haynes tells their stories just as much as she tells the story of Medusa and Perseus if not more.

Because of that, Stone Blind feels a little all over the place. Each chapter follows a different character and there are <i>a lot</i> of characters. But for all jumping around, everything ended up coming together and making sense in the end.

Speaking of all these characters, it’s a little difficult to keep track of everyone at first. I think partly because it jumps around so much but also because there are so many people that Haynes had to include a list of some (not all) of them with descriptions of who they are in the front of the book. But surprisingly, it wasn’t actually as bad as I thought it would be, and each character is brought to life perfectly. Medusa and her sisters are instantly lovable, Athene is amazing, Zeus is a cranky mofo which is exactly how I always imagined he’d be, Perseus is… Perseus.

There are a lot of powerful women in Stone Blind and we get to see a lot of the sometimes inspiring, sometimes frustrating ways each one of them used that power. A blurb on the back of the book from Glamour (UK) says that it is “A fierce feminist exploration of female rage…” and, yes. This exploration is not subtle or gentle. It’s funny, it’s witty, it’s in-your-face, and I like that.

PS great ending A+

When I learned this is a book about a woman who works as a content moderator for a large social media platform and how she copes with the graphic content she encounters, I knew I had to read it.

Many years ago, I worked for a company contracted by Google not to moderate content, but to help guarantee that Google users receive results relevant to their searches. So if, for example, someone searched for “where to buy a computer,” I was part of the process that ensures the results that come up are appropriate for the query. In this example, the most helpful results would be electronics stores, websites that sell computers, etc., and not results like shoe stores or Olive Garden locations. A lot of the work I did was that simple. But there was also a much darker, very depressing side to it. People use Google to search for all kinds of messed up shit. I had to see not only the searches but the results and I sincerely wish I could forget some of those things.

The the first sentence, “So what kinds of things did you see?,” made me laugh out loud because this question is literally the reason I stopped telling people about that job. I wondered if I'd see myself in the rest of Kayleigh's story. Short answer: No. Long answer: Nooooooooooooooo.

From what I can tell, We Had to Remove this Post is only categorized as horror in some places. I definitely felt a sense of dread while reading that I get from some horror I've read. The dread didn't come from the graphic content Kayleigh had to moderate, but from witnessing the way she embraced the rules of content moderation and applied them to real life. I think you're meant to start this book thinking you're going to get a surface-level shock from some “Trigger Warning on The Internet” type stuff, but by the end, those things aren't the most shocking parts of the book at all.

Whoa, what a book. A teacher seeks revenge after her only reason for living is ripped away. I was absolutely gripped from the start. The first chapter alone could have been an insane short story and I'd have been satisfied, but I'm more than glad it was longer.

Each chapter is written from a different point of view, and sometimes multiple people describe the same series of events, so bits of information are repeated, but in a different way. For some, it might feel repetitive, but I didn't think it was a problem at all. It was interesting to see things from more than one angle.

I'd like to say more about the plot, but I went in blind and I think you should too. It's a perfect revenge thriller. Reminded me of Old Boy. Yeah, it has THAT kind of jaw-dropping revenge. The best kind. 

I find it incredibly difficult to find meaningful things to say about books I really love. I have all these thoughts that are too intense to put into words. I want to say so much more than “omg it was so good,” but that's all that comes out. Idk, maybe I just need a thesaurus. But, I mean, OMG IT WAS SO GOOD. 

Of course I enjoyed the entire book but the last half is what really did me in. For a good chunk of the last part of The Night Circus, I was overcome with so many different feelings, it was overwhelming. As I got closer to the end I dreaded it, feeling as though I might not be able to take it. My eyes were forever teary and I was on the verge of crying for so long that when I finally finished, when I finally closed the book, I erupted into intense ugly sobs, causing my boyfriend to rush to my side, concerned I was in pain or dying or something. 

If this book doesn't give me a hangover, then I am immune to them. 

UPDATE: It is days later and I still cry when I think of The Night Circus. I've been reading discussions about the book and people keep saying they feel that the relationship between Celia and Marco was rushed and that it was told but not shown. I usually don't care what other people think about the stuff I like but I found myself stewing over that comment, wondering how they could possibly be so blind to something that was shown, it was shown! And so beautifully, too! Ugh.

I've never had such an intense emotional reaction to a book that latched on and refused to let go. I think I can safely say The Night Circus is my favorite book ever.

I am 100% convinced that that best way to consume this beautiful, yet disturbing novel is through audio. The book is written in first person, very casually. The main character, Kathy, goes off on tangents or will start talking about an event and then remember she has to tell the reader about a prior event in order to give this current one some context. It's as if your friend is sitting beside you telling you the story of her early years and that's what makes the audiobook so much better than the physical book. It really feels even more like Kathy is talking to you, she's sharing something with you specifically. 

Kathy's reflections on her time at Hailsham and her relationships with other students and the guardians were all very interesting to me and the stories from her early childhood especially felt very realistic and even brought up some memories of my own childhood. As the children grew up at the boarding school, they learned bit by bit what it meant to be a student at Hailsham, but none of them fully understood until after they graduated, and even then some things were still murky. Kathy and her friends knew they were special, and the guardians even told them so, but what it truly meant to be so special was never clearly spelled out during their time at Hailsham. So much of what they really needed to know was hidden within their school lessons. Or in a rumor, a whisper, an overheard conversation. Their lives were puzzles they only got a piece of every once in a while but tried to put together anyway and it was heartbreaking to “witness.”

Candy, a young teen staying in an abandoned home with other teens runaways (some of which were pretty unforgettable) fights to stay alive through substance abuse, prostitution, and the dangers of being unhoused. 

This is not a hopeful and inspiring story. Candy's struggle is real and it is heartbreaking. We see how she deals with her pain and we feel it too, knowing that there are many, many Candys out there. Cynthia Cruz knows it too, and her writing absolutely reflects that. It's poetic and melancholy, it's authentic. It feels like a memoir. 

There is a blurb on the back of the book by Cara Hoffman that says “We are so sick of survivors. This is a book for the rest of us.” and that about sums it up, really. Steady Diet of Nothing is depressing. It opened my eyes wider than they wanted to be and I'm glad I read it

I listened to the audiobook and I'm so glad I did because it's narrated by Brian Jacques himself AND a full cast, which I love. So good. 

God this book is great. Matthias is such a brave little mouse and Cluny the Scourge was actually pretty scary for a rat in a children's book, not gonna lie. I was so invested in the inhabitants of Redwall Abby and the creatures of Mosswood that I never wanted to stop listening and felt a little abandoned at the end of the story. I even had a little cry. Good thing there are like, 21 more books or something.