Category: Read This Book

Schuyler Bailar is a speaker, educator, and author who was also the first transgender athlete to compete in any sport on an NCAA Division 1 men’s team. His public transition to the Harvard Men’s Swim Team made headlines, and he is an important voice in trans advocacy. He/She/They is primarily for readers who consider themselves or would like to be allies to transgender folks. It’s also a really great read for folks who have someone transgender in their lives but don’t know the first thing about being trans. The tone of Bailar’s writing mirrors his online content, which is accessible, compassionate, and remarkably patient. He weaves in personal stories about his own experience of his gender and transition, as well as some of the tough conversations he has had, sometimes with family. He strives to teach readers how to approach these conversations ourselves.

He goes over the basics of definitions of terms like “sex,” “gender,” and “the gender binary,” which are all complicated, and he does an excellent job of conveying the complications without getting too far into the weeds for the sake of the book. He goes over what gender-affirming care is, detailing that it can be very different for a child than for an adult and that many people have wild ideas about what gender-affirming care for a child is when it’s really usually maybe some different clothes, a haircut, and maybe using a different name and pronouns.

He answers so many questions that people use to try to debate transgender folks’ right to care and have a peaceful existence. Throughout the book, the information he teaches readers is based on science, research, history, and basic human decency. He teaches readers about the importance of pronouns (in the English language) and the myth of being transgender as a mental illness. His chapter on transgender athletes was particularly poignant, given that he was himself a nationally ranked trans athlete.

While I mentioned the primary audience for this book seems to be folks who are not in the trans community themselves, he does speak to folks who are at some points through this book. He answers questions like, “Does it get better?” and offers his own stories about coming out and telling his family and teammates. He also takes some time to talk about the intersections of his gender and race.

This was such a wonderful and informative read. Content warnings for transphobia and discussions of gender dysphoria and eating disorders.

Ophelia is quiet, small, and peculiar. She can “read” any object she touches with her hands and know its extensive history, and she has the ability to pass through mirrors. She spends most of her days in her family’s museum of artifacts from before the world fractured, but when she learns that the matriarchs of her ark have agreed to arrange her marriage to a foreigner from another ark, her life is turned upside down. Sent away to the Pole, a frigid ark whose politics are deceptive and deadly, Ophelia isn’t thought much of by her icy new fiancé, Thorn. But he underestimates her…for Ophelia may look timid, but she’s not to be shoved into a corner.

The world-building in this book is truly remarkable, and the author throws the reader into it with little explanation or backstory, so one must read carefully to fully envision this strange world. If that’s not your preferred reading experience, I totally get it, but I do enjoy a good immersive fantasy experience, and the details were just interesting enough to pique my interest. I also liked that Ophelia is not your typical YA fantasy protagonist. She’s not outgoing, she’s not beautiful or even pretty, and she doesn’t have much in the way of physical strength. She also has zero interest in her new fiancé, but she does have a passion for her own unique abilities, and she has curiosity. This curiosity gets her in trouble…but it also saves her, too. The court intrigue that she is subjected to is dark, sometimes violent, and always very perilous as alliances are forged and broken, and you never quite know who to trust.

This is the first in a series, and I found myself absorbed by this strange world, the various odd characters within, and Ophelia’s quiet resilience. While the true motives and intentions of various characters take some time to emerge, by the end of the book, I promise you’ll be clamoring for the next volume. I’m not kidding when I say I don’t think I’ve ever read anything quite like it in YA, and that alone makes it worth picking up if you enjoy fantasy!

Fun fact: This book was published in the U.S. by Europa Editions (you might know them as the U.S. publisher of Elena Ferrante), and it’s the first YA book they’ve brought to the U.S.!

Since I started participating in Erin and Dani’s book club, now called the Indigenous Reading Circle, I’ve been introduced to a host of incredible Indigenous authors from across Turtle Island. These incredible books and book club members have encouraged me to pick up even more Indigenous-authored books from around the world. One of those books is Why Indigenous Literatures Matter.

Daniel Heath Justice, a citizen of the Cherokee Nation and Professor of Critical Indigenous Studies and English Language, writes about the Indigenous Literatures. Justice uses the term “Literatures” to push back against the idea of pan-indigeneity and instead reinforces the fact that Indigenous Nations each have their own unique culture and history.

Why Indigenous Literatures Matter discusses the importance of decolonizing your approach to engaging with Indigenous writers’ work. When we’re taught to study literature in a more formal setting, non-Indigenous professors often approach texts from a Western, colonialist perspective. Justice challenges that approach, asking readers to decenter Western ideas of what makes “good” literature. 

Justice also introduces readers to the unique qualities that Indigenous Literatures often have in common, using specific examples in his text. Though each Native Nation’s literature is unique, Indigenous Literatures often centers around themes of community and resilience in the face of violent settler colonialism. Justice emphasizes that it’s important that Indigenous Peoples tell their own stories, centering Indigenous experiences. Indigenous Literatures do not exist to educate settlers. They exist as a way to show solidarity with and celebrate Indigenous cultures.

As an added bonus, in his discussion, Justice recommends dozens of texts that readers might enjoy. I ended up with an incredible list of other books to check out next. Why Indigenous Literatures Matter is such a priceless resource. And if you are an audiobook lover, Justice performs the audio edition, adding that special something that happens when an author reads their own work.

Georgina Lawton grew up in the suburban outskirts of London. Her father was British, her mother Irish, and both parents were white, which is an interesting fact when you learn that Georgina is Black. When Georgina was born to her white mother, she was clearly a Black baby. Georgina’s father, however, said nothing and so the mother said nothing. The nurse or midwife threw them a lifeline and said something to the effect of, “It must be those recessive genes of yours from Western Ireland,” and Georgina’s mom and dad took that story and ran with it for over two decades. Yes, for two decades, they insisted that they were both Georgina’s biological parents and everyone around them, including family and friends, were too polite to say anything so they just went along with the lie. This includes things like filling out that she was white on official school paperwork.

I want to reiterate here that Georgina obviously looked different from her parents and yes, I realize there are some complications with judging the race of people solely on looks, especially when some people are multiracial, such as myself. That being said, Georgina really did not look like the biological child of two white parents.

Of course, Georgina went along with it for a long time because why would her parents lie to her about something like this? Why would everyone else lie to her about it? If it weren’t true, surely someone would have said something, wouldn’t they? As Georgina got older, she tried asking both her parents. She brought it up multiple times, and they both just doubled down on the lie. As Georgina worked on discovering who she is and contemplating the meaning of family, she explored many locales. She goes to places like New York and Nicaragua to immerse herself in Blackness. She does some investigative reporting on where hair extensions come from, and yes, there is a lot of hair talk in this book, and for good reason.

It would be so easy to hear of her situation and think that it’s unbelievable but also to judge her parents harshly. Lawton does an amazing job of telling her story and her family’s story with tender care and showing that there was a lot of love in her home growing up, and she truly loves her parents. This was a deeply engaging book. Content warning for the death of a parent from cancer.

Ife doesn’t like her new, posh boarding school, but when she wins a place and a chance to secure a sponsor to fund her education at university, she can’t refuse. But the people are stuck up, some fellow students seem out to get her, and a recent disappearance has Ife on edge. When one of her fellow Black students changes dramatically, Ife begins to wonder if the school’s urban legend about the Changing Man is true — and when she begins to probe at the mystery, what she finds is truly terrifying.

I was really intrigued by the setup of this book and the details that made the Changing Man so shiver-inducing. He comes at night, he has magenta eyes, and he leaves the smell of wet pavement wherever he goes. The menace of this story lingers in the background at first as Ife goes about her day, trying to keep her head up and not get ground down by the oppressive rules and classism that are rife at the school.

The more obvious horror of her day-to-day life is the unfair way she’s treated by the white teachers at her school and their contempt for her presence among them. Ife doesn’t always treat her fellow classmates the best in her desperate attempt to stay connected to her old life, and she seems oblivious to the ways that she shuts out another student, Bijal, also hoping for connection amidst the tough and pressurized academic setting. Her actions feel immature but realistic, and as she slowly becomes more aware of the danger of the Changing Man —who is very real but not at all what she imagines — Ife learns that the only way to survive at Nithercott is to embrace the friendships she’s been resisting.

This story has some tense moments and high stakes, and the Changing Man legend had some nice twists that I didn’t see coming. Definitely pick this one up if you want a dark academia read with a supernatural bent!

Alicia Elliott, a Tuscarora writer from Six Nations of the Grand River, writes about Alice, a young Mohawk writer trying to write a novel about her people’s creation story while also caring for her young daughter.

From the outside, Alice seems to have the perfect life. Her white husband is wonderful. He’s kind, caring, and quick to take over caring for their daughter so she can have a break. But there’s something just off about him. He downplays the racism Alice experiences from her husband’s colleagues. Her husband doesn’t want her family around to help with the baby because he feels that they should be able to parent on their own.

Disconnected from her Nation, her community, Alice feels like she’s losing her mind. The trees are sending her pictures of their memories. Pocahontas, the Disney version, keeps talking to her, describing how Disney got her story all wrong. Alice keeps seeing cockroaches all over the house. And Alice can’t help but think that her half-white newborn daughter hates her.

Elliott uses horror elements to communicate Alice’s different experiences of the world. Alice experiences visions and voices that she knows can’t be really there…or can they? Alice spirals, and we, as readers, aren’t sure what’s real and what’s not either. As Alice experiences more and more microaggressions from the white people in her “well-to-do” neighborhood, her husband continues to gaslight her. Alice wonders if she, with all of her intergenerational trauma, is too “damaged” to continue with her “perfect” life with her husband in their white neighborhood.

I loved the suspense of this novel. As Alice moves through her everyday life, we can’t help but feel with her that she’s fallen down the rabbit hole into a white world that is more than happy to remind her that she doesn’t belong. What is real? What is not? Is she going to wake up and realize that this was all a dream, just like her namesake in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?

I have read an increasing amount of books about various forms of activism and systems of oppression in the last few years, and I know I’m not alone in this. It’s pretty overwhelming. I’m overwhelmed by the amount of oppression, the varieties of oppression, and the sheer number of things that need to be done or ways that people can show up to fight. I become immobilized from trying to make a decision because I am one person, and there is just so much.

This new release has helped me take steps toward action. The first main idea of this book is narrowing your focus because you can’t do everything. Once you decide where you’re going to focus your activism energy, the book encourages you to take consistent and sustainable actions. It is very easy to get burnout, and this book aims to avoid that.

The author has created four activist archetypes to help readers figure out what kinds of activism they would thrive participating in. Are you someone who likes to work in the background or run the show? Or maybe you’re the headliner who makes the speeches? Williams makes it clear that not everyone can be the Beyoncé of the rally, and we need all types of folks to go up against oppression. As the author says, a lot of activism isn’t glamorous, and it shouldn’t be.

There is a lot of pressure for each of us to create our own unique thing and be the loudest out there, while what needs to be done is the opposite. Activism needs to be done in community because that is how it moves the needle, and this book not only has a chapter on finding community but also weaves the thread of community throughout. This book also includes short interviews with activists around the world interspersed throughout the chapters. They talk about what their specific activist focus is, what keeps them going, and how they practice self-care. In addition, each chapter also has reflection questions and key takeaways. Finally, the fantastic illustrations help tie the messages together while also adding to the impact of the writing.

When Louise gets the news that her parents are killed in a car accident in her hometown, she’s devastated. She makes the long journey from San Francisco to Charleston in order to sort out her parents’ affairs, but she dreads the entire process. Most of all, she dreads seeing her brother Mark, who was coddled by her parents and never forced to grow up and take responsibility. Now, he’s a grown man who acts like a teenager, and Louise dreads having to take care of him, too. Then, settling their parents’ estate proves to be more complicated than they expect, and Louise is faced with the prospect of cleaning out a house stuffed to the rafters with her mother’s dolls, puppets, and deranged artwork. Dealing with Mark is the least of her worries because it’s becoming clear that there’s something inside the house that doesn’t want to leave.

I loved Louise’s character, and I think a lot of readers can relate to her—she’s grieving the loss of her parents, she’s upset and angry with her younger brother and his approach to the funeral and arrangements, and she’s at a loss as to how to help her young daughter process the loss. The last thing she needs is evidence that her parents’ house is haunted. The clues and signs are subtle at first, but as soon as Louise discovers what’s really going on in her parents’ house, things escalate dramatically and take some sharp and scary turns. Louise and Mark are forced to confront their childhood animosities, secrets, and half-buried memories and face the truth before it destroys them all. I love how Hendrix’s setups are always a bit weird and wacky but downright creepy, and this one is no exception. If you hate dolls, this storyline will give you nightmares! I also love how the horror of this book is wrapped up in shared experiences with siblings you don’t really relate to or understand, and Louise and Mark are forced to face the truth of a past they weren’t fully capable of comprehending at the time. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll shiver in terror—but you won’t want to miss this one!

Bonus: The audiobook narrated by Jay Aaseng and Mikhaila Aaseng is excellent!

“You already know the story. You will die. Everyone you love will also die. You will be sad and angry. You will weep. You will bargain. You will make demands. You will beg. You will pray. It will make no difference. Nothing you can do will bring them back. You know this. Your knowing changes nothing. This poem will make you understand unfathomable truth again and again, as if for the very first time.” 

This is how Emily Wilson ends her introduction to her translation of The Iliad. Her words speak the universal qualities that have made The Iliad the classic as we know it today. But how it’s been translated in the past, that’s another story.

I was first introduced to Emily Wilson’s work with her translation of The Odyssey, which was the first translation of The Odyssey outside of academia. Her work on The Odyssey has stayed with me through the years, so of course, when I saw she had a translation of The Iliad coming out this fall, I had to get my hands on it.

While Wilson is not the first woman to translate The Iliad, she still brings a unique perspective to the work. Her Iliad is sweeping, poetic, and incredibly vibrant. The fates of gods and men war both on the ground and in the heavens above. Men weep. Women fall silent with terror at the future they know is inevitable.

In Wilson’s translator’s note in the beginning, she describes how The Iliad was intended to be performed out loud, and she strived to ensure that the English edition maintained that same musical quality in its sound and rhythm. This is even more apparent in the audiobook, which is performed by Audra McDonald, one of the most decorated stage actors of our time. McDonald’s performance is magnificent. While I listened, I felt as if I was experiencing The Iliad as it was meant to be. McDonald creates a truly incredible listening experience, one I will definitely be revisiting again.

This young adult anthology has 14 stories about mermaids (or rather, merfolk because they aren’t all maids), and there is such a wide range of stories: sweet, creepy, hilarious, vengeful, enraging, exhilarating, heartbreaking, and more. The variety keeps it super interesting, and the pacing and organization of the stories flow really well.

There are some stories, like “We’ll Always Have June” by Julian Winters, that are contemporary, and the merfolk in this world aren’t known by humans, in general. Other stories, like Preeti Chhibber’s “The Dark Calls,” don’t even bother with humans. This story keeps us with the merfolk under the water and dares to imagine going even deeper. Kalynn Bayron’s “Return to the Sea” will definitely squeeze your heart in a few different ways when you read it. In this story, merfolk are not only known to humans, but they live among each other, work together, and go to school together. Of course, there are humans who love to appropriate merfolk culture without actually having an ounce of respect for them or for the ocean. Two specific stories, “The Deepwater Vandal” by Darcie Little Badger and “The First and Last Kiss” by Julie Murphy, reminded me why I love the short story format so much. Both stories in themselves are as fulfilling a read as reading an entire novel, and they just hit all the right notes.

Some of the stories are historical fantasy, and I appreciate that not all the stories take place in the United States. It’s so refreshing to have merfolk from various cultural backgrounds and also just merfolk as their own culture and not just a Hans Christian Anderson mermaid “but make them brown.” The characters in these stories have real depth (pun intended). There were also stories that made me laugh out loud, like Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s “Shark Week” and others that brought tears to my eyes.

I enjoyed the wide exploration of how the humans react to mermaids: awe, fear, disrespect, adoration, etc. I had so much fun reading this anthology, and I hope you do, too.