Category: Read This Book

This is the story of Ady. Ady and her mother, Sanite, were bought at a slave auction by a man named du Marche. He didn’t have them work at his slave labor camp, known as a plantation, and instead had them serve him at his townhouse in New Orleans. Very early in the story, du Marche begins to sexually assault Sanite. Sanite does everything she can to protect Ady from both this and the other myriad horrors of being enslaved. Sometimes, du Marche leased mother and daughter out to work for his neighbors.

Not all the Black people in New Orleans were enslaved. Some were free and well-off business owners themselves. Ady was in awe of them and loved to walk around the parts of the city where she was allowed. It had always been just her and her mother, and her mother was her whole world. The story follows Ady and Sanite, their attempted escape, and eventually, just Ady. Du Marche treats Ady in the same disgusting manner he treated Sanite, and then at one point, he brings in a tutor and starts demanding that Ady learns to read and write. He also starts buying her nice dresses and asks her to refer to him as father. There are many parts of this book that are really dark.

One day, Ady is on a walk in town while du Marche is away at his slave labor camp, and she stops to rest. She meets an enchanting free Black woman who owns a tavern and invites Ady to come in for a refreshment. Ady does so without question, even though she knows that if du Marche found out, the punishment would be swift and harsh. Making this woman’s acquaintance opens many new, tempting doors for Ady and the story gets increasingly more interesting and daring. Slavery is always hard to read about, and this book is no different, but there are also elements of joy and hope in Ady’s story as well.

If you know anything about horror manga, then you’ve likely heard of Junji Ito before. Ito’s name is basically synonymous with the genre, and he’s developed quite the cult following. I’d consider graphic novels like Uzumaki and Tomie contemporary horror classics, they are already so beloved and revered. But Ito’s catalogue goes a lot deeper than his most popular titles.

I know I’m newer to graphic novels, but when I picked up Black Paradox at my local bookstore (shout out to Elliott Bay Book Company!), I had never heard of it before. Aside from just knowing and appreciating Ito’s work, I was also intrigued by this particular story and its artwork. Obviously, I was not disappointed. Black Paradox is a quick read with shocking imagery you won’t soon forget, and it deserves to be recognized alongside Ito’s most popular works.

Black Paradox tells the story of a group of four strangers who all meet each other on a website called Black Paradox, where people meet to help plan and facilitate each other’s deaths. All four have their reasons for seeking out death. Maruso is a nurse whose dark visions of the future leave her with uncontrollable anxiety. Taburo is pursued relentlessly by a doppelgänger. Baracchi is haunted by the birthmark on her face. And Pii-tan’s robot clone has him questioning his own existence. Maruso, Taburo, Baracchi, and Pii-tan agree to meet in person to carry out their suicides together. But right from the beginning, nothing goes according to plan. And nothing is what it seems.

Yes, the material in Black Paradox is dark, and no, the four main characters aren’t particularly likable. But if you can appreciate dark subject matter and morally gray characters, there’s so much to love about this story. With every turn of the page, there’s another mind-bending, reality-warping twist that just pulls you deeper into the web of Ito’s sick, twisted world. I won’t give any of those twists away because I didn’t know what I was getting into when I picked this one up, and I think it’ll be so much more fun for you if you do the same.

This is the shortest graphic novel I’ve read from Junji Ito, but Black Paradox packs a punch. It was such an unexpected journey and one I’d love to see more people share with me — mostly because, selfishly, I’d love to talk about this book with more people! If you’ve never read Junji Ito before, this is a wonderful way to dip a toe in. If you already know and love Junji Ito, this might still be one that isn’t on your radar yet. Either way, make sure you check it out! And report back. Warning: I will not hold myself responsible for any weird dreams/nightmares you may have after reading this.

I first read Greta & Valdin when it came out a few years ago. A friend of mine got his hands on an ebook edition and read it to me over Voxer. We were both smitten with these two queer Māori siblings trying to find their place in the world. I couldn’t be more pleased that this novel is finally available in North America.

As members of a Māori-Russian-Catalonian family, Greta and Valdin are used to living in the in-between spaces of their different cultures. Valdin’s ex-boyfriend is now living in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Valdin pines over his ex-partner’s social media, agonizing over their break up. Meanwhile, Greta weathers through the mundane onslaught of academia, often wondering if she’s made the wrong life choices AGAIN. What’s worse, she finds herself entangled with a new love interest, wondering if the flirtations she senses are just in her head. 

Greta and Valdin share an apartment and often find reassurance in each other’s presence. They are two beautiful characters, fully fleshed out. Valdin is sad and brooding but genuinely trying to figure out what is on the horizon for him. Greta is harried, constantly forced into company with bitter academics. Over the course of the novel, they both begin to better appreciate each other and the rest of their family members, 

Reilly’s ear for dialogue shines in this novel full of snappy comebacks and witty observations. I found myself laughing out loud at our protagonists’ asides. What’s more, Greta and Valdin find themselves in awkward situations of their own making as they try to figure out their love lives. Full of heart, Greta & Valdin is a must-read family novel of the year.

This is the exact proper way to write about fairies, which is to say, the fae are terrifying and demented and never to be trusted. As a child, I thought fairies were cute, like Tinkerbell and the tooth fairy, although a fairy that sneaks into your house at night and purchases your bones is maybe not actually cute. As an adult, I have become increasingly more horrified by the fae, and playing Dungeons & Dragons is only partially to blame. The Butcher of the Forest is a dark fantasy, borderline horror, about the fae, though the author might not even use that particular term.

It starts before sunrise at the home of Veris Thorn, a woman nearly 40 years old. Armored guards show up at Veris’s door and command that she get in the carriage. She is still in her nightclothes and doesn’t know the meaning of this, but she knows it’s bad because these guards belong to The Tyrant. The Tyrant is just as you would imagine: a terrible ruler who goes around “conquering,” and if a village doesn’t submit, he just murders everyone, which had included Veris’s parents. The only family she has left are her elderly aunt and grandfather. Veris goes willingly with the guards in order to protect her family, though, as I mentioned, she has no idea what the Tyrant wants with her.

The south woods have been tamed. They’re used for hunting and harvesting and planting fruiting trees for generations. The north woods, however, are a different story. Everyone in the village knows not to go into the north woods. Heck, everyone in several nearby villages knows not to go into the north woods. Anyone who goes into the north woods never comes back out. Except, one person had: Veris. Now, the Tyrant is ordering Veris to go back into the woods for a task. She has one day to get in and out, or else the creatures of the forest will claim her and what the Tyrant has lost. If she doesn’t complete this task, the Tyrant will raze her entire village to the ground.

Content warnings for violence, gore, harm to children, harm to animals, mentions of sexual assault.

In Most Ardently, Gabe Cole Novoa recasts Elizabeth Bennet’s character as Oliver Bennet, a trans boy who wants nothing more than to live his life as his authentic self and who cringes at the thought of becoming someone’s “wife.” When he and his sisters first attend the ball at Meryton and meet newcomers Bingley and Darcy, Darcy doesn’t make a good impression on Oliver. He’s curt and rude and shows no interest in being polite. But when Darcy meets Oliver as his true self the next day, Oliver is surprised to find a different side of Darcy. Rather than haughty and cruel, he realizes Darcy is shy and bookish, with little patience for social pomp. As Mrs. Bennet conspires to set up Jane and Bingley, Oliver finds himself more and more in Darcy’s presence, but not as his true self and realizes that he’s falling for a boy who doesn’t realize who he is.

I loved this reimagining of Pride & Prejudice, and I thought it was extremely clever how Novoa was able to retell the beloved original tale with a trans protagonist. The changes that he makes are really interesting — not just to the plot and character but also to the setting. Novoa situates Meryton on the outskirts of London, allowing Oliver to take part in aspects of London society and culture that are absent in the original market village: molly houses, coffee shops, gentlemen’s clubs, and more. The historical details strike the perfect balance of ringing true to the source material while also introducing readers to more aspects of Regency life beyond the drawing room. The romantic tension is exquisite, especially as Oliver longs to be his true self with Darcy, and the way that certain Austen characters pop up is both surprising and fun. Some deviations are to be expected, but every change Novoa makes honors his characters, and you can’t help but root for them. This is a must-read if you’re an Austen retelling fan!

I fell in love with Kelly Link’s writing with her short story collection Get in Trouble, which was shortlisted for the Pulitzer Prize. After proving herself the master of the short story, Link is back, but this time with her debut novel.

The Book of Love follows three teenagers — Laura, Daniel, and Mo — who suddenly find themselves in a realm halfway between the living and the dead. Two otherworldly entities who guard the door between life and death decide to play a game with their lives. They will be sent back to the land of the living, but they must compete to see who gets to stay alive and who must return to the land of the dead. The three of them land back in their small town of Lovesend, Massachusetts, with their families having no memory that they’ve died. Now, they possess magic, which they are expected to use to gain the upper hand on one another.

Like her short stories, Link’s novel feels like a dark fairytale, twisted and spectacular. There are mysterious beings, love beyond mortal imagination, and plenty of magical creatures. Though this novel clocks in at over 600 pages, I felt captivated by every page. The characters are so well crafted, complex, and messy. The stakes are high; the likelihood of anyone ending up alive at the end is small.

January LaVoy — who is basically audiobook narrator royalty — performs the audiobook. She captures all of the teenage angst and uncertainty. Her narration evokes the fairytale-like feel of the story, and I found myself engrossed for hours on end. 

The Book of Love is Link at her best, her story full of whimsy and darkness in equal measure. With her novel debut, Link proves a master storyteller, making this a truly magnificent must-read.

Though this book is almost five years old, I am not surprised that it is still deeply relevant to understanding the inherent racism in Western standards of beauty, especially around body size and shape. Sabrina Strings, Ph.D. is the North Hall Chair of Black Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and had a dual postdoc appointment in both the Department of Sociology and the School of Public Health at the University of California, Berkeley.

This is not a light read. In fact, it is incredibly dense and very academic. It is a slow, thorough examination of historical artwork, historical texts, historical policies, advertisements, periodicals, and more that draws an undeniable link between the prevalent beauty ideal of being thin and racism. I’ve often wondered how Western society strayed so far from the desirably plump ideal of the Rubenesque woman. This book lays it all bare, and it is a deluge of answers to that question. Of course, you can’t talk about these things without also talking about white supremacy, eugenics, puritanism and John Harvey Kellogg. The author goes deep into all of these subjects (and more) and repeatedly shows how it is all tied together. She not only writes about the origins of the slender ideals in art but also clearly shows how the medical establishment hopped on the anti-fat train and got to where we are today.

When we talk about intersectional feminism and how we can make sure our feminism is worth a damn, we also have to talk about racism and homophobia and ableism and multiple other intersections of identity. This means we must talk about anti-fatness when we are talking about racism and feminism. If you’re a reader who has been reading a lot of books on antiracism over the past few years, I highly recommend that you also read this book.

The author refers to a lot of artwork, and there are photos in the physical copy. I found myself stopping to Google image search everything I was hearing about on the audiobook. Many content warnings for racism and anti-fatness.

Iris Winnow’s brother went to war, and she hasn’t heard a word from him since. In his absence, she had to drop out of school, find a job, and care for her mother, who had succumbed to addiction. She’s lucky, though — she’s found a job as a junior reporter at Oath’s biggest newspaper. The only problem is that she’s competing against Roman Kitt — wealthy, privileged — for one columnist spot. At night, Iris writes letters to her brother that she slips into her wardrobe…where they disappear. What she doesn’t know is that are magically transported to Roman’s own wardrobe, and he’s been reading them for weeks. But when tragedy strikes for Iris, and Roman finally begins to write back, anonymously, it sets them on a path that will take them all the way to the war front, where they will learn the truth about each other and the war sweeping their land.

I am a sucker for any fantasy world that looks very similar to our own but is definitely not. Some call it “low fantasy,” but I find that to be an inexact descriptor for this world, which feels like England circa World War I, but is its own world with its own legends and lore surrounding the mythological gods and goddesses who have been sleeping for centuries and are now responsible for the war tearing apart the country.

But all of that is revealed slowly. First, you meet Iris and Roman, and you get to know them as people. I thought Ross did a wonderful job creating their characters, and while she mainly sticks pretty close to Iris’s perspective, we do get to see Roman’s point of view. They start out as rivals, but as Roman gets to see the vulnerable side of Iris, he falls in love with her…but she leaves town for the front before he has a chance to confess his feelings. The book then takes a turn as Iris goes to the war front, where she works as a correspondent, and finds that the war of gods is closer than she realizes and more perilous than she can imagine. The second half of the book unfolds, contrasting the war-time danger with the romance between the two characters, ending on a cliffhanger that will ensure you’ll want the sequel, Ruthless Vows, on hand. I was so mesmerized by the writing, and rooting so hard for Roman and Iris that I could barely put the book down — and the sequel is a wonderful follow-up that expands upon the lore that Ross seeds in the first book. Definitely don’t sleep on this duology!

Back in January, Roxane Gay announced that Start Here was going to be the January pick for her Audacious Book Club. This is the first time that Gay has chosen a cookbook for the book club, and with her love of all things cooking and baking (her love for Ina Garten is unmatched), I trusted her recommendation wholeheartedly. And as if Gay’s recommendation of the book wasn’t enough, Samin Nosrat — the author of Salt, Fat, Acid Heat — writes the foreword. Ugh! How could I not love this book?

Start Here is an easy, step-by-step guide that gives you detailed instructions on common recipes and provides inspiration and ideas on how to take your cooking to the next level. The egg section alone is worth its weight in gold. El-Waylly’s instructions are straightforward, with just the right amount of scientific explanation (and illustrations!) to properly explain why a recipe is crafted in a certain way. For example, in the egg section, she describes why the correct amount of heat is vitally important for the perfect omelet.

The photos are stunning — bright, vibrant, delicious-looking — and the page layout with color blocking makes it easy to follow even the most detailed of recipes. There are sidebars about ways to break out of the typical recipes and conversion charts to swap out ingredients. Basically, It’s everything you want for the perfect cookbook. So, if you’re looking for the must-buy cookbook for yourself or a friend (or both!), you’ll definitely want to pick Start Here. It has everything you need.

I truly love the premise of this poetry anthology, and it absolutely delivers. There are times that I’ll read a collection or anthology of poetry or sometimes even a single poem and it is so incredibly unrelatable to me as a Black person who lives in a city. I think this was my primary experience of poetry when I was a young adult, looking back at what is considered canon or classic. Finding entry points to poetry, especially for young people and especially for young Black people, can be tedious if you don’t know where to look. This anthology feels like something that younger me would have appreciated because current me definitely does.

This anthology not only includes poems that are relevant to the Black experience (as mentioned in the title), but after each poem, it has a small paragraph of explanation, which makes it more accessible to a reader who maybe isn’t experienced with reading a lot of poetry. As per the introduction, this anthology is really a celebration of Black poetry, folklore, and history, and I love the range and variety of poems included. While poems about Black pain and Black trauma are deeply important, I appreciate that there are more than a few poems that focus on Black joy and even just Black existence. We’re here. We exist. We are not a monolith, and we move through the world in myriad ways.

As I alluded to earlier, this book also feels like a direct response to the types of poetry that are often taught in schools and the gatekeeping between who gets to be called the title of poet versus who does not. The poetry included is not only contemporary, but it spans a range, so there are also poems from over half a century ago. It’s not only standing up to shout that “we’re here” but also “we have been here” and more than that, “we are here today because our ancestors survived being brought here.” I really loved this read.