incredible, amazing, everything i ever wanted in a story, 10/10, cannot improve! wow!
Things I loved in list form: - magic system that gives Ellie tanincredible, amazing, everything i ever wanted in a story, 10/10, cannot improve! wow!
Things I loved in list form: - magic system that gives Ellie tangible tie to her ancestors (concept: 10/10, feels amazing) - parents who believe their daughter's magical claims - ghost pup powers (not without consequences, but talk about aspirational superpower) - BEST take on the vampires-must-be-invited trope EVER - love a good revenge plot - I love middle grade-esque YA stories, some of my all-time faves are like this (Chrestomanci Chronicles and Tiffany Aching series), so I'm VERY happy to have a brand new fave - soft magic that very much feels like it exists within a recognizable, real-world context—from environmental consequences to societal dynamics - the parents are not main characters, but I loved Vivian getting her own chapter to show her experience of the events - totally makes sense why an earth scientist would write this main character & i love it - Lipan Apache main character who makes subtle digs at those who would refer to her less specifically as an Indigenous character. I respect it. - type A high schooler: I respect that too.
expecting a book 2. plz happen, most anticipated, cannot wait!...more
This book surprised me in every way possible. It is hands-down the most harrowing yet hopeful, insightful, interesting, heartbreaking, inspiring, and This book surprised me in every way possible. It is hands-down the most harrowing yet hopeful, insightful, interesting, heartbreaking, inspiring, and philosophical memoir I've ever come across, and I cannot recommend it more wholeheartedly. If you can read this without crying, your tear ducts might be broken. Seriously.
I cannot possibly make a coherent, rounded-out review, so I will just list some thoughts I had, followed by some incredible quotes:
- Parts of this book are like a time capsule and a lamentation of the Chosun that was, or could have been if history had been more peaceful: one whole country, one whole people.
"Even while I was living there, I couldn't help feeling a strange nostalgia for the simpler way of life in Songnam-ri. I don't know how else to explain it, but all these new experiences seemed deeply familiar. Up in the mountains, surrounded by nature, I felt closer to my real self than at any time I have known. In some ways it was like living in ancient Chosun, the long ago Korean kingdom I had heard about from my little grandmother in Kowon. I think she had the same yearning for a place neither of us had known, that existed only in old songs and dreams."
In North Korea, people lived close to nature, and they developed skills to predict the next day's weather...During the long summer nights, our neighbors would all sit around outside their houses in the evening air. There were no chairs; we just sat on the ground, looking at the sky. If we saw millions of stars up there, someone would remark, "Tomorrow will be a sunny day." And we'd all murmur agreement."
"But there was human intimacy and connection, something that is hard to find in the modern world I inhabit today."
- Descriptions of the Inminban, or the neighborhood watch committees remind me a lot of Red Scarf Girl, a memoir of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, and for that matter, 1984.
"I actually believed that our Dear Leader, Kim Jong Il, could read my mind, and I would be punished for my bad thoughts."
"I finally understood why when my mother sent me off to school she never said, 'Have a good day,' or even, 'Watch out for strangers.' What she always said was, 'Take care of your mouth.'"
"According to North Korea, my grandfather Park and my parents were criminals. My father bought and sold goods for a profit; in other countries he'd simply be called a businessman. He bribed officials—whose salaries weren't enough to feed their families—in order to travel freely in his own country. And while it's true that my grandfather and my parents stole from the government, the government stole everything from its people, including their freedom."
"After five years of practicing being free, I know now that my favorite color is spring green and my hobby is reading books and watching documentaries. I'm not copying other people's answers anymore."
- I can only appreciate the absurdity of the poop fights, but also the ingenuity of Yeonmi and her sister when they spent their days foraging for food and eating crickets contrasted with the inhumanity of the school children being used as manual labor to collect rice from the fields. Again, I can only appreciate the ingenuity with which they sought out stashes from field mice and the absurdity of the whole scenario.
"In North Korea, schoolchildren do more than study. They are part of the unpaid labor force that keeps the country from total collapse."
- How incredible that after escaping North Korea with a 2nd grade education, Yeonmi Park went on to learn Chinese, relearn Korean to fit in in the South, and teach herself English???
- Just some last lingering quotes:
"I know that it is possible to lose part of your humanity in order to survive. But I also know that the spark of human dignity is never completely extinguished, and that given the oxygen of freedom and the power of love, it can grow again."
"In Korea, we say that if a person cannot close his eyes in death, it is because he hasn't fulfilled something in this world. I think my father was still searching for Eunmi."
"Our world isn't ending. It already ended. It ended when the zhaagnaash came into our original home down south on that bay and took it from us. That w"Our world isn't ending. It already ended. It ended when the zhaagnaash came into our original home down south on that bay and took it from us. That was our world."
This book. has everything. It's intense and immersive. It has layers of metaphor, a white devil narrative, and strong windigo energy. It has lovable characters, sharp commentary, and dark twists.
You know how apocalyptic stories can get.. monotonous and dreary? This book never did. Reading it filled me with dread, but I couldn't turn away. 10/10, would recommend. Incredible.
Trigger warnings for a lot of sudden deaths, alcoholism, gun violence. ...more
Absolutely brilliant. If I didn't have so much to say, I would say I was speechless.
"Everyone was crying for the poor dead bird as they went around
Absolutely brilliant. If I didn't have so much to say, I would say I was speechless.
"Everyone was crying for the poor dead bird as they went around murdering flowers, plucking their stalks, exclaiming, 'What lovely flowers! Little Mr. Budgie will definitely be pleased.'"
Convenience Store Woman is told from the POV of a woman (likely) on the autism spectrum who finds the rigid script of working in a convenience store to be the perfect guidebook for participating in society and becoming a "real human." Not able to read social cues or become motivated by the same things that drive others, Furukura Keiko is supposedly an outcast, but through her eyes, we see a satire of how we "normal humans" act—our speech patterns and behaviors that mimic each other and the things we place artificial value on as a society.
"When I think that my body is entirely made up of food from this store, I feel like I'm as much a part of the store as the magazine racks or the coffee machine."
The convenience store is Furukura-san's life, and through this character, Murata says Convenience has become to the Japanese what God is to the Christians.
"The voice of the convenience store won't stop flowing through me. I was born to hear this voice."
"I was just channeling its revelations from on high."
And perhaps Murata is right. The convenience store is not just a symbol; it has practically become an intrinsic part of the national identity.
This book concludes with an essay by Murata Sayaka: a love letter from her the convenience store worker to her lover, the convenience store. She uses this odd scenario to point out that Japanese society values conformity so extremely that any aberrations jump out, appearing bizarre, even lewd. Murata has this way of distilling complex, intangible phenomena into quirks or objects that is so canny and shrewd.
What does it all mean? Onigiri. Sandowicchi. How did we get here? We read the manual. Does it bring you joy? Mochiron! ~*Kyun*~ to kuru.
03/2021: i loved it~~~~can't wait to dive into The Shadow of Kyoshi but also i'm scared bc i think i know who the shadow is, also shook at just how u03/2021: i loved it~~~~can't wait to dive into The Shadow of Kyoshi but also i'm scared bc i think i know who the shadow is, also shook at just how unafraid Yee and Dimartino are to let characters die. was really fun to read a 2nd time and make more connections that i missed the 1st time, like how Kyoshi evaded discovery as a baby and all the different Earth Kingdom towns that are recognizable from The Last Airbender. very interesting how Kyoshi being an Earth Avatar and her coming up on the streets feeds into her burgeoning philosophy as the Avatar, and how that contrasts to Aang as a more spiritual Air Avatar. also I appreciate the commentary on how societies treat the homeless and impoverished while licking the boots of the wealthy, who can be (& often are) the greater burdens to society.
02/2020: Prequels often get a bad rap: If you already know the outcome, how can it be suspenseful? How can we get invested in the characters? or, Why ruin a perfectly good story? So what makes a good prequel? There aren't tons of great examples, but Avatar: The Rise of Kyoshi definitely has the secret sauce.
This book is the first in a YA duology about Avatar Kyoshi, who precedes Avatar Roku in Nickelodeon's Last Airbender series. F.C. Yee has big shoes to fill with such a beloved series (if you know, you know) and having not really liked the Legend of Korra spinoff series, I had trepidations going in. But Yee uses every perk of writing for a preexisting animated series to his advantage without the baggage of having to reuse and alter beloved characters. With the exception of a few conversations with Avatar Aang and a brief appearance from when Kyoshi is well-established in her Avatar career, she's pretty much a blank slate as a character.
Yee has the freedom to create an entirely new cast of Avatar companions, new villains and a tonally different world, while having rich Avatar lore to draw upon and elaborate. I was so impressed with how much novelty Yee is able write into such an established world—from new, creative bending techniques to more philosophical explanations of existing lore that make sense for the series (looking at you, Korra) to a dramatic, twisting Avatar origin story—but it's not cheap. It never feels like Yee is just trying to top his last move.
This book has high stakes, romance, mystery, bi rep, a unique and likable main cast, and a few puzzles left unsolved for the next installment... I couldn't have asked for more or better, and I can't wait to read Book 2!
*trigger warnings: abandonment, death of loved ones...more
I don't think I've ever read the same book twice in one year, but I loved this one just that much. I read first with the audio, then with the physicalI don't think I've ever read the same book twice in one year, but I loved this one just that much. I read first with the audio, then with the physical book, and 100% feel this book has much to offer and is worth consuming both ways. The author's narration, as I stated in my first review below, is soulful and heartfelt, and I found, especially useful in that it features Kimmerer's pronunciation of Potawatomi. At the same time, her text is so rich, her sentiments so beautiful, her ideas worth dwelling on, that I wanted to take the time to slow down, take notes, and sit with the physical text. I'm so glad I did.
One of my undergraduate professors, a Lithuanian immigrant, assigned the first chapter of this book to my class. "Skywoman Falling," an origin story shared by many Indigenous peoples, illustrates beautifully Robin Wall Kimmerer's worldview of reciprocity and giving that is this book's through-line. This story and its lessons stayed with me, prompting me to read whatever else Kimmerer had to say about sweetgrass.
She writes that writing is a gift unique to humans and a valuable tool for thanksgiving. Indeed, her own writing is lyrical and compassionate, and carries on a legacy of oral storytelling in that it wants to be read aloud. Kimmerer's narration is plaintive and tender and at times sorrowful, but always full of love and joy for the land and its plants and creatures. She writes that these are our best teachers; they are the ones older and wiser than us; they embody gift-giving in a way we can only humbly hope to emulate.
"Listening in wild places, we are audience to conversations in a language not our own."
At its core, this book teaches what it is to be native, and how even as immigrants, we too can learn to be, if not native, then good neighbors.
5 stars for a nourishing, heartbreaking, life-giving read....more
I don't really have the words to describe this work, because in and of itself, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is of and about language—the language oI don't really have the words to describe this work, because in and of itself, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is of and about language—the language of war, of touch, of translated meanings, bodies, and lives.
Written in a series of vignettes in the form of a letter from a boy to his mother in a language she cannot understand, it is essentially about all the things we cannot say to the ones we love. Within this framework, it also does so much more.
Ocean Vuong approaches experience as he approaches the word, the phrase, the sentence—with specificity and precision. And through this lens, we are shown the very essence of a world. Violence, damage, war, flight, sex, queerness, survival, beauty, family, a gaze, a sunset, a flower, America.
In its specificity, the story is expansive. From the perspective of a Vietnam War refugee, we are shown the plight of the opioid epidemic in white America. Through immigrant labor—in a beauty parlor and in a tobacco field—we learn cumulative values and costs of love. We learn that love is both silent and iterative. It is, again, a matter of translation.
"Ma, I don't know if you've made it this far in this letter—or if you've made it here at all. You always tell me it's too late for you to read, with your poor liver, your exhausted bones, that after everything you've been through, you'd just like to rest now. That reading is a privilege you made possible for me with what you lost. I know you believe in reincarnation. I don't know if I do but I hope it's real. Because then maybe you'll come back here next time around. Maybe you'll be a girl and maybe your name will be Rose again, and you'll have a room full of books with parents who will read you bedtime stories in a country not touched by war. Maybe then, in that life and in this future, you'll find this book and you'll know what happened to us. And you'll remember me. Maybe."
It is les*own-voices review* **would recommend knowing less going in** TW: suicide, trauma, loss, racism rep: own-voices Chinese, bi-racial MC, queer SC
It is less about secrets than unspoken hurts left misunderstood. Following the sudden death of a young girl, we come to know each member of her family leading up to her death and through their trauma afterward. This book follows a Chinese-white family in 1970s Ohio, and as a half-Asian American, it has the best writing of a mixed race Asian American family I've ever read.
"How had it begun? Like everything: with mothers and fathers. Because of Lydia’s mother and father, because of her mother’s and father’s mothers and fathers.”
Ng treats each member of the family as a different person with different experiences. While that may seem insignificant, it is especially hard to share your feelings when your parents, the people who love you most, do not share your identity. Marilyn and James Lee have different upbringings, therefore they lack a shared vocabulary or narrative of their shared life. Many things go unsaid; many silences ensue.
"If she were a white girl, they'd keep looking."—Marilyn
"If she were a white girl," [James] says, "none of this would ever have happened."
Ng demonstrates how hard it can be to articulate your emotional reactions, and that even when you're talking to each other you might be having two different conversations. Certainly Marilyn has experienced shame and rejection by association with her Chinese husband, but she doesn't understand James's response because she has never been the constant object of overt racial slurs or implied otherness. Not only do the Lee children inherit their parents' traumas and regrets, but they also learn their parents' inability to communicate and their proclivity for keeping things buried or secret. Ng drives home that despite their proximity, each Lee has a completely different experience of the same events.
“He pushed her in. And then he pulled her out. All her life, Lydia would remember one thing. All his life, Nath would remember another.”
This book is less of a thriller than a mystery, and some people may feel dissatisfied by the ending (view spoiler)[and lack of resolution... How could Lydia have found her resolve with absolutely no indication left behind for her family to discover? How could her apparent suicide have really been an accident? Then again, as someone who has experienced the death of a close family member by suicide, there are no real answers. When someone has died alone, there is no way to know what their last moments were like, if they knew what they were doing, if they wavered, or whether they were thinking of their loved ones at the end.
Yes, the Lees made terrible parenting decisions. They absolutely could have given her the tools to survive or the space to flourish. But in Lydia's death, there is no blame to be had, no guilt to be absolved. Lydia died, whether by accident or intention, of her own actions. (hide spoiler)]
Ng's character portraits deftly weave together so many truths that are often borne quietly but felt deeply. I couldn't stop reading, and will likely return to this story again and again....more
Annie Dillard meets To Kill a Mockingbird—at once a story of quiet, contemplative seeing and a high-stakes courtroom drama. We follow "the Marsh Girl"Annie Dillard meets To Kill a Mockingbird—at once a story of quiet, contemplative seeing and a high-stakes courtroom drama. We follow "the Marsh Girl" Kya's solitary life in the marsh alongside a murder mystery set in the future that seems to point all fingers to her. With not a word out of place, it is a deftly woven love letter to the marsh's beauty and rhythms, as well as a surprising treatise on justice.
"Sometimes she heard night-sounds she didn't know or jumped from lightning too close, but whenever she stumbled, it was the land that caught her. Until at last, at some unclaimed moment, the heart-pain seeped away like water into sand. Still there, but deep. Kya laid her hand upon the breathing, wet earth, and the marsh became her mother."
With the care and expertise of a wildlife scientist and the literary symmetry of a well-read classic, Owens portrays the marsh's gentle embrace of a resilient, yet fragile girl, her trust broken by the deep hurt of loneliness and repeated loss. With the marsh's seasons, Kya becomes a woman. With every chapter, we feel a step closer to the truth, only to be contradicted by another truth more complex than the first. The pacing and tension are expertly driven, and every twist lands just so. I don't have a single complaint—Where the Crawdads Sing is practically perfect, an instant classic.
trigger warning: abandonment, sexual assault essay topic ideas: symbolic seasons, plot rhyming, certainty/uncertainty/morality in justice, human/animal nature, etc. etc....more
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