Reviews

Book Review: Dearly by Margaret Atwood

By Sara Hailstone

Margaret Atwood shifted the conversation of poetry with her four-line poem “You Fit into Me,” published in 1971. With the entrance of her image of a fisheye and hook into a collective literary consciousness, Atwood set the bar for her poetic compositions. With the recent publication of her collection of poetry Dearly, the world received poetry from Atwood for the first time in over a decade. Expectations were high. There have been mixed reviews. Some reviewers deem that with this recent book of poetry Atwood’s writing has fallen “short of [the] mark”; some take issue with the unsettling tone of the topical movement throughout the pieces; an impression of “the rapidity of writing,” that the pieces came to press too soon; that there is a lack of editing; or more significantly, that the pieces in Dearly signal an “inevitable decline in the work” of one of Canada’s most looked-to authors.

I did not feel disquieted by this set of poetry, rather, I felt inspired. I needed to read through the sadness and personal loss, a human layer laid down by an almost untouchable Canadian author. As a woman, her transparency of the aging process is also a necessary scope of voice needed for society, especially to give voice to representation of the female body that is not traditionally spoken of. “Things wear out. Also fingers./ Gnarling sets in./ Your hands crouch in their mittens, forget chopsticks, and buttons./ Feet have their own agendas.” And the tone of a dystopic writer seeps in: “Ears are superfluous:/ What are they for, those alien pink flaps?/ Skull fungus./ The body, once your accomplice, is now your trap.” An aging body that seeks calm, “a flat line you steer for.” We need to hear the language women have about their bodies and the conversations they have with them. This language takes back power while allowing women to be vulnerable. There is strength in that sensitivity. The world needs sensitivity now. The world needs authenticity. The world needs authentic art.

Atwood’s literary canon is weighed heavily. Some will omit Dearly from the list of best Atwoodian works. I argue to leave it in. Do not overlook it. Ironic would be becoming footnoted in your own repertoire.

Book Review: The Stone Angel by Margaret Laurence

By Sara Hailstone

Written over 60 years ago, Margaret Laurence brought to life the iconic character of Hagar Currie Shipley in The Stone Angel. The novel spans decades of Hagar’s life and brings the reader into the mind of an elderly woman facing the final throes of an emotionally isolated life. This old woman is suspicious of those around her, what they plan of her final days and pushes us head-on into the narrative of a past life ridden with turmoil and hardship. What cumulates is the old woman’s resistance to being placed in a nursing home. The Stone Angel is a novel in which the reader cannot take sides, or the reader will risk leaving the story not liking the main character — or they will love her very much.

Laurence has carved out a pedestal for Hagar with The Stone Angel as a memorable figure of modern literature. A difficult woman yet, a narrative that follows the hardship that she faced, especially around her final years. Society was not used to a story told from this point-of-view, and I think we needed it.

Hagar was the daughter of an ambitious and disciplined Scottish merchant, and it is evident from her childhood memories that she sought her father’s approval. Yet she married Bram Shipley whom her father disproved. She is disowned and her father dies without seeing her, saying goodbye, or even meeting his grandsons. Laurence authentically shows that we usually resemble those who raised us, hurt us, and despite our individual borders, we mirror them. Hagar lives like her father, without joy, strung between life events in a grueling cloud of grit and domestic perseverance. She does not share her inner self with her husband and sons, they do not receive maternal gentleness, and neither does her sister-in-law in later years. Her husband, an inconsistent and rough man with a brash temperament, mortifies Hagar and is resentful of her and her sons. Laurence displays a detailed narrative of intrafamilial dysfunction.

Late in life, Hagar is a fiery woman severely skeptical of the true intentions of care from her son Marvin and his wife Doris. In her mind, they are out to get her, and with a raging willpower, she’s determined they will not capture her. She possesses a critical tongue and unrelenting wit that leaves a memorable echo of this literary character. We see the consequences of a life without love.

The plot jerks around Hagar’s eventual temporary escape from Marvin and Doris. She takes a bus to a summer place she assumes will be habitable and a refuge from the fate of a nursing home. Facing the crux of her physical deterioration and surviving for some days in an abandoned mouldy space, exposed to the elements, a male neighbour finds her isolated and on the brink of social composure.

“He stares at me, and then I’m aware of myself, crouching among thee empty boxes, my cotton housedress bedraggled, my face dirt-streaked, my hair slipped out of its neat bun and hanging down like strands of gray mending wool.” She is covered in dead June bugs that she’s adorned herself with earlier in almost play, a theatrical crown, she could “die with mortification.”

They share a jug of red wine and Hagar relays her life story to this stranger. A final testament, perhaps an opportunity with the reader for redemption. The situation is unsettling and compelling. Laurence’s prose can point us in these damning final moments to introspection, witnessing what a hard life for women and the aging process does to our relatives.

Laurence composed The Stone Angel as one of five books set in the fictional town of Manawaka. After writing about Africa, Laurence felt a need to come home to her writing and depict what she knew. The other novels, A Jest of God, The Fire-Dwellers, A Bird in the House, and The Diviners. Born in Neepawa, Manitoba in 1926, Laurence became a household name with her novels mirroring and embellishing rural Manitoba society. She did spend some time in Africa and England but finally settled in Lakefield, Ontario, in 1974 where she died in 1987. She has won two Governor General’s Awards for fiction. She crafted unforgettable and legendary characters who have rightfully taken their place in the fabric of a Canadian literary canon.

The meaning of Hagar’s name is “flight” and “forsaken.” She is a “stranger and one who fears.” Hagar was also a biblical figure in the Old Testament, a handmaid to Abraham’s wife Sarah and in other understandings, a concubine driven into the desert with her son Ishmael. I wonder if the name of the character ever came up with Laurence in conversations on banned books and plot development. In her later years, Laurence broke silences surrounding the banning of The Stone Angel from schools. Due to perceived ‘blasphemous’ and “obscene” language by fundamentalist Christians, Laurence stood by her work as a cautionary tale, also one reflective of a culture she herself grew up in. Laurence was put to the test, she remained as committed to her writing as she did to the character development of Hagar. Another layer is laid in appreciating the tenacity of this Canadian classic.

As Canada’s population ages, The Stone Angel can hold its place of relevancy for Canadian readers. Mayhap Hagar will stand firm giving us a point of reference for those around us who have faced years of isolation and are enduring the final days of health crisis. For women, a stubborn and introspective voice is maybe exactly who readers will need to turn to in facing their own domestic snow globes of living. The Stone Angel allows us to see exactly through Hagar’s eyes to witness a life from the telling of an unreliable narrator. We are even revealed details that Hagar herself does not want us to know. We do not have to root for her, we merely have to watch, she herself will challenge our thinking. She, herself, will challenge our reading.

Book Review: The Whirlpool by Jane Urquhart

By Sara Hailstone

Respected Canadian author, Jane Urquhart wrote her debut novel titled, The Whirlpool, which was published by McClelland and Stewart in 1986. It was the first Canadian novel to be awarded France’s Prix du Meilleur Livre Étranger (Best Foreign Book Award), following publications of the novel in various languages and across European countries.  

Urquhart established a successful literary career following her debut novel. Her later novel,The Underpainter won the Governor General’s Award for English-language fiction and The Stone Carvers was a finalist for the Giller Prize and the Governor General’s Award, and was longlisted for the Booker Prize. A Map of Glass was a finalist for a regional Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Best Book. She has a collection of short stories titled, Storm Glass and four books of poetry. Urquhart lives in Northumberland County, Ontario, and sometimes resides in Ireland.

The Whirlpool has been reviewed with a lens of motif, plot structure, and characterization. Some have found the poetic language of the text to be inaccessible and that the plot whips around, spiraling like a whirlpool in and of itself. Characters have been noted for their eccentricities and layers of varying obsessions that either consume or isolate them. However, I found this novel finds reprieve in the poetic connections of nature that extends the Canadian landscape into a literary consciousness and further the wondering that is centered around the language development of a character referred to as “the child” who has been deemed to portray qualities of Autism.

Fixed on the churning whirlpool two kilometers downstream of Niagara Falls in the summer of 1889, the reader is pulled into the entangled lives of several enigmatic characters and their individual obsessions.

Maud Grady is an undertaker’s widow. The man had been fixated on spiders and their webs, setting a tone for the structure and plot line that the very characters will become caught up in. Maud meticulously catalogues the belongings of those taken by the falls and the river while continuing to run her former husband’s business. She has a mute son who develops language throughout the story. The progress of his language development loosely mirrors B.F. Skinner’s hierarchy of verbal behaviour that constructed the pillars for behavioural science and understanding of autism.

The boy requests, labels, and carries out reciprocal exchanges, labelling actions and objects within his environment. When he begins to categorize, he seizes objects within the house, arranging them in piles and associations. In a deeper sense, he turns his mother’s carefully compartmentalized world upside down by opening the belongings of the fall’s victims and combines the items by similarities. An awakening for his mother, she sees the bigger picture of the world differing from the way of being she had traditionally tried to honour and pay homage to. I think the behaviour of the boy, alone, is integral in revisiting this classic text in relation to representations of neurodivergence in literature.

The novel’s wrapped in a prologue and epilogue that feature the life of poet Robert Browning and his death in Venice, which has stumped some reviewers. A line of continuity is threaded through the width of the plot trajectory through the character of Fleda, who loves Browning, and nooks her life experiences throughout the novel to lines of his poetry. Fleda is the wife of David McDougal, a military historian infatuated with Laura Secord and the war of 1812. The couple have just sold their large manor house to relocate and build a new home by the whirlpool, and have camped out in a tent by the pool for the summer. They encounter a man named Patrick, a poet suffering from writer’s block who works for the government in Ottawa. He’s come to live with his aunt and uncle in Niagara Falls and discovers Fleda in the woods by the whirlpool when he is out in nature seeking reprieve and inspiration in nature. He finds passion and an awakening of the writing process in Fleda, and so begins his narrative obsession with the lady of the woods. In turn, all characters are entangled in obsession like a web, one that chokes them out or opens them up painfully.

This novel is complex and simple simultaneously. As readers, we can observe with distance how the human responds to others, how they contemplate being viewed, and how they wish to be responded to and viewed in turn, especially when this wanting is not achieved or met.

Thank you to Jane Urquhart and Cloud Lake Literary for the opportunity to write an honest review. I highly recommend The Whirlpool as a must-read and study in pursuing the canon of Canadian Literature and Canadian storytelling. 

Book Review: Side Effects by Lorin J. Elias

By Caprice Hogg

This book was not what I expected it to be, as I have previously researched the enhanced creativity of individuals who regularly access parts of their right brain. Before reading this book, I did not realize that we all have strong biases towards the right or left in multiple areas of our lives. These biases are exhibited throughout art history, all the way back to cave paintings and Mayan sculptures. The dominant hands are shown, not just in handwriting, but by the tools and objects that are portrayed. Cradled babies in all the Madonna representations show a bias to cradling on the left side. Why is this? It is biological and across species. In portraiture (even in selfies), the left cheek is most often shown. The left side of the face shows emotion, and the right side of the face is more emotionally controlled. If a person wishes to be seen as impassive and wants to hide their emotions, they can choose to show their right cheek in a photo or portrait.

We are also influenced by our assumptions on our perceived source of light. Our mind makes us feel that we look better if the light is coming from the left, and this bias actually informs many of our buying decisions when looking at advertising. There are also clear biases when we perceive and look at art. Arranging objects from left to right will be more aesthetically pleasing to most of the population. Our natural tendencies to normally turn or look to the right impacts many things in our environment, from driving rules to architecture to where signs are posted. The world is mainly designed to take our human biases into consideration, even when we have little or no idea we even have such biases.

Let’s not forget the debate regarding the difference between left- and right-handed individuals. For many years, it was thought that right handed individuals were superior and much of the material world was developed with this in mind. It is not always easy being left-handed in a world that was designed for the majority—right-handed people. Yet, left-handers excel at sports, especially fast-paced ball sports and combat sports. Left-handed gymnastics is viewed as being more beautiful. In the title of the book, the author is not referring to side effects from pharmaceuticals, but rather “the side effects from our lopsided brain.”

“We can leverage our emerging knowledge of these side effects to optimize the images we use for our social media, dating profiles, decisions about seat selection, or even advertising campaigns.” This book can help the reader to become more conscious of our human tendencies that few individuals are aware we have. Knowing our biological tendencies can help us to make better decisions in our life overall. Or perhaps this knowledge can just make our lives easier and more fulfilling?

Book Review: Our Lady of the Lost and Found by Diane Schoemperlen

By Sara Hailstone

“For reasons which will become clear soon enough, I cannot tell you my name. Nor can I tell you the name of the city in which I live.”

Thus is the reader ushered into the perimeters of a novel that will attempt to package an unbelievable story into something palpable, a story made believable through the craft of storytelling amongst the domestic. Our Lady of the Lost and Found, written by Diane Schoemperlen in 2001, is narrated by an unnamed successful writer who finds solace in the comfort of her home and single life.

“People often ask me how much of my fiction is autobiographical, how much of what I am writing is actually the real story of my own life. I freely admit that some parts of each book are true but I am not about to say which parts or how true.” The reader is enticed to learn if threads of this novel are true; yet, we cannot know the writer. And the writer carefully places the reader within the firm grip of a reliable narrator. “I cannot tell you the titles of my books because then you would be able to figure out who I am.” Strung through carefully laid facts, we are to believe the narrator: “I am telling you all this now because I want you to know from the outset that I am a normal, rational, well-educated, well-adjusted woman not given to delusions, hallucinations, or hysterical flights of fancy. I do not drink or do drugs. The only voice I hear in my head is my own. I want you to know from the outset that I am not a psychotic, an eccentric, a fanatic, or a mystic. I want you to know that I am not a lunatic.”

It is on an ordinary Monday morning in April that the writer enters her living room to water plants and finds a woman standing by her fig tree. Dressed in white Nikes and a blue trench coat and holding a suitcase, she quietly introduces herself as the Virgin Mary. The visitor is tired and explains that she needs a place to stay for a week to rest. Mary wants to rest in ordinary solace and the writer has established the perfect domestic oasis for this need. The encounter is mundane and human; Mary is not an apparition or a figment of imagination. She will stay under one condition: the writer must not reveal that Mary was there. “If people find out that I have been here, that I have talked to you, eaten with you, and slept in your house, they will descend upon you in droves.” Mary outlines the chaos that would rain down if the masses found out about this visit. “If you break this promise to keep my visit a secret, your life will never be the same. Do I make myself clear?” And so, under these conditions, Mary stays.

         The two women find gentle reprieve in each other’s company without crossing boundaries. The writer navigates her understanding of one of our society’s most iconic cultural and religious figures. Chronicling Mary’s presence in civilization for the last two thousand years, Schoemperlen folds the narrative together with fact and fiction, propelling the reader to wonder at the extraordinary within the ordinary of daily life.

         Diane Schoemperlen has established an impressive and solid portfolio of work of Canadian literature, having published three novels and seven collections of short stories. She began submitting poetry and prose to Canadian publications in the seventies, and completed a degree in English at Lakehead University in Thunder Bay. Her first novel, In the Language of Love, published in 1994, was composed of one hundred chapters, each one based on one of the one hundred words in the Standard Word Association Test, which was used to measure sanity. Schoemperlen’s 1998 book of short stories, Forms of Devotion, won the Governor General’s Award. Her second novel, Our Lady of the Lost and Found was published in 2001. Schoemperlen’s 2017 book, This is Not My Life, tells of her love for a prison inmate. The archives at Queen’s University house more than 150 short stories, essays, plays and manuscript drafts of novels. Diane Schoemperlen was born and raised in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Ontario and now resides in Kingston, Ontario.

         Schoemperlen has been weighed heavily for the shifting of this novel between accounts of a monotonous life, and the lack of trauma of the middle-aged author; dialogue between two women—one human, another supernatural in essence—that shifts into confessional narration while encoding segments of Mary’s life with meditations; historical accounts; discussions of the Pythagorean theory; and the nature of truth and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. Past reviewers have noted that Mary is not allowed to speak among three hundred pages of narrative shifts and authorial balancing. Reviewers have also argued that the sublunary backstory of the narrator’s personal essence disrupts achievement attempted by weaving in historical and theoretical discussions that strive to contextualize the believability of Mary staying with a writer for a week. One reviewer noted that, “the supposed core of the story, meeting the mother of God, isn’t strong enough to balance the tangents.” These tangents, in my opinion, were intentional and serve a greater purpose in giving depth to the structure of the plot and narrative voice. The reader is intended to navigate the ledges of fact and fiction. The tangents are based on “actual documented accounts,” as stated by the author in the book’s acknowledgements. The writer-narrator contemplates that the opposite of fact might not be fiction, the opposite space is a place “where literature comes from.” She articulates that this place, a “threshold bridge at the border between the real world and the other world, still points where the barrier between the human and the divine is stretched thin as a membrane that may finally be permeated and transcended.” We are to wonder of these spaces between Schoemperlen’s tangents and the narration. That is the beauty of the text.

         Perhaps the author wanted readers to locate Mary in either space. The miraculous accounts, relayed with a basis of documentation and a baseline of the writer-hostess, represent Mary as both passion and reason. I found, as a female reader, the life of the writer-hostess peaceful and her state of independence refreshing. She single-handedly created a space that Mary would want to take shelter in. Not bound by trauma or trigger, the writer created a home that could birth this story, that could house both the divine and the ordinary. I needed this story. I needed those tangents and those “mundane” bits. I recommend others to find peace there in their reading too.

Book Review: Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton

By Carmen Lebar

Content warning: drug use, physical violence, death

Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton is an environmental thriller that focuses on the dangers of late-stage capitalism.

Birnam Wood is a guerrilla non-profit organization that specializes in gardening, and making crops accessible to surrounding communities in New Zealand. In 2017, there’s a landslide in the Korowai Pass that gives the nonprofit’s leader, Mira Bunting, an idea to use that land to garden. When she goes to investigate the area, she meets billionaire Robert Lemoine who promises to give Birnam Wood money to see what can be done with it.

Former member, Tony Gallo, is not impressed with Mira’s decision, which leads him to do an individual investigation as to what’s really happening in the Korowai Pass, and what Robert Lemoine is doing there. Birnam Wood is an unputdownable read that brilliantly captures the dangers of capitalism and its damaging connection to the environment.

As Birnam Wood arrives at the Korowai Pass, they start their work on the Darvish estate, which Robert Lemoine has purchased to build his bunker. There they begin planting, but cracks in this deal begin to arise. Why does a billionaire, who owns a drone company, want to work with their nonprofit?

Catton critiques billionaires on how they tie themselves with charities and nonprofits to either distract from their bad decisions, or cast themselves in a better light. Sir Owen Darvish, a pest control owner, sells his property to Lemoine to create connections to Lemoine’s wealth, especially after having received knighthood only a couple months prior. Mira is similar to Darvish because she wants both: a reputable business, and spokesperson, for Birnam Wood so they can incorporate.

Catton illustrates the complexities of living in a capitalist structure, and how each character in the novel has to play along within its rules to achieve their individualistic goals. No one can escape capitalism in the novel, so they all work around it—even though it causes much frustration with others who oppose it.

Tony vehemently opposes the negative effects of capitalism, especially in the case of Mira’s agreement with Lemoine. He is worried about what this form of connection would mean for Birnam Wood, and how it goes against a lot of what the nonprofit stands for. The environment is one of the most important aspects to Birnam Wood, and Tony is unsure how a billionaire will care for the local environmental group. He soon discovers that there is more at stake at the Korowai Pass than just a landslide, and has documented proof that Lemoine is up to something.

Catton delves into the strain that is put on the environment throughout the novel. She writes about the contradictions of working with capitalists to help the environment when many of the people with money in this novel don’t care about it at all. The environment is impacted by everyone in the novel, whether they are planting new plants or digging the earth to build a bunker.

Birnam Wood is a thriller unlike any I have read before. It combines the uncertainty of the environment, the distrust of people in power, and the scarcity of natural resources. Catton also makes important critiques of white saviorism, surveillance, and government spending. Although there are clear villains, so to speak, in this novel, what I found most refreshing was how every character lives in a morally grey area. Everyone has their own motivations, everyone has something to gain, and no one is painted as an absolute hero. I would recommend Birnam Wood to anyone looking for a timely thriller that explores the connection of the environment and capitalism. Its ending was truly unexpected, and one that I haven’t stopped thinking about—even days after reading it. 

Book Review: Pachinko by Min Jin Lee

By Carmen Lebar

Content warning: racism, death, suicide, physical violence, sexism

Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko is a generational novel set in Korea and Japan during the 1900s and follows the life of Sunja and her family  over four generations. Sunja is a young girl who works with her family at her home where they lodge fishermen. During this time, she falls in love with a wealthy man and becomes pregnant. When she finds out he’s married, she is convinced by her parents to marry a minister who is staying at their lodge on his way to Japan. Unbeknownst to Sunja, her decision will have consequences for the generations after her. Pachinko excels in its storytelling, expertly weaving the connections of all its characters to the real-life happenings in Korea and Japan in the 20th century.

Sunja’s story begins with a decision. After falling in love with the wealthy Koh Hansu and becoming pregnant with his child, she eventually decides to marry the dutiful minister Baek Isak, whom she cared for when he was dealing with tuberculosis. Her decision ultimately changes the fate of her children and everyone else connected to her. As the novel depicts the changing political and social climate of Korea and Japan, it reveals how the characters are viewed in society. This interconnectivity is brilliantly written by Lee, showcasing how personal decisions can affect how one is perceived in society, and how these decisions don’t only affect the person making them. I particularly enjoyed reading about the differences between Sunja’s children—Noa and Mozasu—and how they navigate growing up and finding a place in society differently based on their mother’s decision.

With Sunja’s choice made, she moves to Osaka with Isak to live with his brother and sister-in-law. They have to work hard to survive as their passage into Japan is wrought with uncertainty, but Sunja and her sister-in-law, Kyunghee, do whatever it takes to keep their family afloat. Many hardships and dangers await the family, and it’s through the dedication of these women that many of these hardships and danges are avoided.

In this novel, Lee writes about women in a nuanced way. They have their faults but ultimately show integrity, resourcefulness, and loyalty. It was pleasant to see such complex female characters and the determination they had to help their loved ones in any way they could. Lee depicts women as more than just mothers or caregivers but as people with an amalgamation of motivations and desires.

Pachinko is a modern-day historical classic. The novel takes the reader on a journey through Sunja’s life, but also the historical, political, and social changes that were occurring in Japan and Korea in the 20th century. Lee is artful with her writing, creating vivid imagery, and haunting plotlines. Although the novel is nearly 500 pages long, it sweeps you away in its storytelling, making it a fast and engrossing read. I would recommend Pachinko to historical fiction lovers, and readers who love reading generational novels. It’s an excellent novel depicting important moments in history, and one that will be on modern-day classic reading lists in the near future. Pachinko is a novel I’ll never forget, and I’m confident Sunja’s story will captivate readers in the years to come.

Book Review: Dark Water Daughter by H.M. Long

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warnings: gore, death, sexual assault, gun violence, slavery, kidnapping  

As a Stormsinger, a woman whose voice can control the weather, Mary Firth has a limited number of options: be forced into service with the military, or servitude on a pirate ship. When a notorious pirate seeks out Mary, she must side with his nemesis to protect herself and hopefully find the mother she lost years ago. Following Mary is Samuel Rosser, a broken Sooth with a connection to the Dark Water,  the magical world beneath theirs, desperate to regain his honour along with a talisman Mary stole from him. Their paths will take them across the Winter Sea and force them to confront forces more powerful than the mortals who seek to enslave them: Samuel wrestles with his growing powers, and Mary struggles to understand her connection to ghistings which are spectral creatures connected to the Dark Water and who protect the ships that sail the Winter Sea.

Why is it always so much harder to review a book that you love than one that you hate? I think it’s because it’s very hard to put inhuman screeches of love into words, but I will do my best. I’ve been a fan of H.M. Long since her debut novel, but I think this is my favourite of her books so far. Dark Water Daughter is rich, cold, fast paced, and incredibly immersive. Mary and Samuel jump off the page, the world feels real and gritty, and the magic system is one of the most unique and interesting that I’ve ever seen.

Trying to summarize this book was incredibly challenging because , even though bound copies look nice and tiny, so much happens in this story. There are feuds, warring pirates, hidden treasure, a host of magical creatures, dark magical forces, an old mystery, and more. I won’t go into too much detail because I want to avoid spoiling anything, but I will say that all these pieces come together in a way that is incredibly satisfying and gripping to read. Long’s writing is cinematic and fast-paced, she crafts flawed and realistic characters, is able to explore a multitude of dynamics and relationships in a fairly short page count, and is able to write both gripping and visceral fight scenes as well as slower character moments effortlessly.

Both Mary and Samuel are well-crafted, distinct characters who leap off the page and feel real enough to touch. They each have their own journeys and character growth throughout this book, and the connection and pull they feel towards each other had me kicking my feet with anticipation, but Long doesn’t sacrifice other character relationships in support of Mary and Samuel’s connections. The large cast of side characters all feel fleshed out and compelling, and both Mary and Samuel have a variety of interactions and relationships throughout this book that all feel equally real and authentic. Even the story’s villain, with a relatively low page count, is distinct and his goals are explained and explored, though never justified.

This story’s plot wraps up in a satisfying way while still having enough seeds hidden throughout that it’s clear there is so much more to come. This is a unique magic that I feel each of H.M. Long’s books possess, and which makes her one of my favourite fantasy writers. The fact that she can craft such immersive worlds that even without a cliffhanger you know that you have to go back, is such a testament to her skill at both character work and worldbuilding.

Okay, enough trying to be eloquent. The book is amazing, and I can’t think of a single criticism I have for it. It’s pirates in a northern setting with spirit magic, and singing to control storms,  and an old mystery, and so much more. I highly recommend it. Go read it. Right now.

Book Review: Strung Out by Erin Khar

By Tiffany Miller

Erin Khar’s memoir Strung Out: One Last Hit and Other Lies That Nearly Killed Me sucks you in from the very beginning.  Strung Out starts with Erin Khar’s son Atticus asking his mom “if she ever did drugs?”  A loaded question for someone who had been trapped in a cycle of addiction for years. Like any parent, Erin panics to find the words to answer her son’s question. But quickly she finds the courage to tell her son the truth of the perils of her personal drug use.  Not only because he is growing up and will eventually be able to read how his mother publicly and honestly writes and speaks about her own experiences, but also because she doesn’t want to shelter him from the truth that could potentially save his life. This book was appropriately dedicated to “all those who didn’t make it, who left too soon. You are missed. You are loved.” and from page one this book had my undivided attention.

I live in a town like many others that has seen a growing opioid epidemic. An epidemic that has killed more people over the pandemic than COVID-19 itself. As someone who experimented with drugs in my youth, I’ve always wondered what the fine line is between drug experimentation and those that get drawn into addiction. The truth is that there is no line, there are no rules, and everyone is susceptible.  As an adult I have seen it happen to many people and I know that anyone can fall victim, but it wasn’t something I could understand as a young person. When most people think of addiction, they imagine the marginalized, but the truth is addiction touches every corner of society and it affects a variety of people and families.

This book was vivid, eloquent, emotional, intellectually and philosophically engaging, and truthfully, I believe, a gift to humanity. There is something really special about seeing the world through someone else’s eyes.  I think it profoundly helps us as humans to connect, build empathy, and understanding.  I think it’s one of the primary things that draws me to books, connecting to other’s experiences, both real and fictional, and reading their thoughts and feelings as they navigate life’s ups and downs.

Erin Khar’s Strung Out captures you in her personal story of drug use, addiction, recovery, mental health issues, trauma, and unconditional family love. Erin’s family’s commitment to help her recover shows that there is always hope, that often people suffering from addiction are loved by someone, and that offering that supportive hand, whether it be the second, third, or fifteenth chance, could be the one that saves a life.

Thank you to Park Row Publishing for providing a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: The Emotional Brain by Dean Burnett

By Carly Smith

The Emotional Brain is a nonfiction book by neuroscientist Dean Burnett that explores the world of human (and sometimes non-human) emotions. With an immense amount of information spanning over 300 pages, the book covers a variety of topics including memories, communication, relationships, and the brain itself.

The cover page says: “Lost and Found in the Science of Emotion” which, at first thought, may seem like an oxymoron. Emotion and science are rarely thought of as going hand in hand, but readers learn that science cannot exist without emotion and emotions are a well-studied (yet still mysterious) topic of scientists. Burnett discusses the ways in which emotions relate to, and are pillars of, our memories, dreams, perceptions of self and others, how we talk to and behave around other people, and new-age technology. While presenting readers with carefully sought out data related to the aforementioned topics, he makes personal connections to his experience of losing his father during the COVID-19 pandemic and lockdown.

The book itself is broken down beautifully with a table of contents, index, and references section. The chapters are long and information is sometimes repeated across chapters or in the same chapter, but this is not a downside. it’s evident that Burnett has synthesized information so thoroughly that no stone was left unturned in the creation of the book. Each chapter boasts dozens, if not hundreds, of references to academic studies and articles. The book also includes parts of discussions with credible sources. Inserted between all these cold, hard facts and connections to his personal story are doses of humour. These little bits of quirkiness and wit lighten the mood and are a nice balance to the heavier subjects he broaches.

The Emotional Brain is suitable for readers seeking insight into why emotions exist. It is a good choice if you’d like to learn more about the role emotions play in your everyday life, both consciously and subconsciously. It’s not a light read or a binge read. I recommend this book to anyone who may desire or require a deeper understanding of theirs and others’ actions and reactions, moods,  and personalities.

Thank you to HarperCollins Publishers for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: The Night in Question by Kathleen Glasgow and Liz Lawson

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warnings: physical abuse, violence, blood, child abuse, domestic abuse, death, confinement, pregnancy, bullying

Several months after solving the murder of her former best friend, Alice Ogilvie is happy to stick to investigating older mysteries—like the death of a movie starlet in Levy Castle back in the 1920s. Unfortunately, while snooping around the castle at a school dance, Alice stumbles onto a chilling scene: one of her classmates, Rebecca Kennedy, lying in a pool of her own blood, and another, Helen Park, standing over her with a bloody knife. Castle Cove’s inept police department thinks it’s an open-and-shut case, but even though Alice saw Helen with the knife, she and Iris can’t help but think something else is afoot. Something that just might tie into the death of that movie starlet Alice finds so fascinating.

I went into this book super excited to watch Alice and Iris tackle another mystery, but unfortunately, this one didn’t grip me quite as much as The Agathas. While I enjoyed the blending of the past and present, how Alice stood out as a character, and some of the fun reveals, the pacing of this book was a little bit off and stretched my suspension of disbelief a little further than it can go for a contemporary teen mystery. It was still a fun time, but it wasn’t as compelling a read as the first book.

The highlight of The Agathas was the relationship between Alice and Iris, the friendship that developed between them, and the ways they played off of each other. While I didn’t always feel like their voices were super distinct, I loved their dynamic. In this book, both Alice and Iris are dealing with personal struggles that put a strain on their friendship. While those struggles made sense for where each character was at in their lives, the book didn’t delve deeply enough into how they were feeling and dealing with those struggles.  It felt more like those plot points were just there to keep the girls apart. I trust they’ll be addressed in the next book, but it pulled me out of the story to see these things mentioned once and then completely ignored. Likewise, there were several seeds planted in the first book that only existed in the background of this book. There’s another murder that Iris is casually investigating that I assume will be the major focus of the third book, but there are also issues of character relationships, crushes, and evolving friendships that were established in the previous book and mentioned several times in this book, but go nowhere, which was a bit frustrating.

The actual mystery is fun, if a little ridiculous—Alice and Iris commit several crimes in this book that are a little hard to overlook, and when I found myself siding with the inept, sexist police officer telling the girls to stop or risk jail time, I knew that my suspension of disbelief had been pushed to the breaking point. I did find some of the foreshadowing really fun and was excited when I caught onto little hints the authors were laying for the reader but, unlike in the first book, those clues resolved the mystery too quickly and I found myself getting impatient with the girls for not figuring things out faster. I also found that, unlike the first book, I wasn’t emotionally invested in the outcome of either mystery so the stakes didn’t feel as high.

Overall, this book just fell a little short compared to the first. The stakes weren’t as high, the hijinks got a little too ridiculous, and the core dynamic of the book, the relationship between Alice and Iris, was underutilized. I still think it was a fun read and I’ll be checking out the third book when it comes out, but I wouldn’t recommend this one as much as I do the first.

Book Review: Will to Murder by Gail Feichtinger with John DeSanto and Gary Waller

By Tiffany Miller

Do you love true crime? Does the process of criminal justice fascinate you? Can you think of no better way to spend a weekend than binge-reading a story that feels like it couldn’t possibly be a true story about small-town America? Have you ever wondered how the University of Minnesota came to own a gorgeous mansion on the Lake Superior lakefront?

If you said yes to any of these statements, then Will to Murder is for you!
Last summer, I took my second tour of Glensheen Mansion. I was anxious to get there again because I had heard that they restored and opened the third floor of the mansion that was previously unopened for viewing. The mansion is not only a piece of art, but it’s also flabbergasting to believe that this place of beauty could be the scene of an insidious crime (a detail I remembered from my first tour of the mansion).

On my second tour of Glensheen, I waited for the guide to mention the murder but before I knew it, the tour was over and there was no mention of it. At the end of the tour, I asked the tour guide, “Wasn’t there a murder that took place here?”. The employee indicated that yes  there was a murder at Glensheen and it was previously part of the tour before the Congdon Family asked that the murder be removed from the mansion tour, but if I wanted more details, I could read about it in a book titled Will to Murder.  Naturally, I needed to pick it up.
The book was gripping, shocking and full of so much interesting history about the city of Duluth, the Glensheen family, and the economy of Northern Minnesota. Written by the lead investigator of the case and a career journalist, this book follows the story of the philanthropic, millionaire Gleensheen family and the shocking murder of the youngest Glensheen daughter Elisabeth Congdon and her night nurse Velma Pietila.

In 1971, an intruder entered Glensheen mansion, stole a basketful of jewellery, smothered heiress Elisabeth Congdon to death with a satin pillow, and bludgeoned her night nurse Velma Pietila. The prime suspects were Marjorie Congdon, the adopted daughter of Elizabeth—a charismatic sociopath, narcissist, and arsonist—and her husband, Roger Caldwell.

Will to Murder brings readers behind the scenes of Minnesota’s infamous double murder. Written by the lead investigator, Duluth Police Detective Gary Waller, St. Louis County Prosecutor John DeSanto, and former Duluth News Tribune crime reporter Gail Feichtinger, this book captures the decade-long investigation, legal proceedings, and court trials to bring justice to the Glensheen family. You won’t believe this story is true, and you will grow such a deep admiration for the police detectives and prosecutors who committed decades of their lives to serve justice and protect society from two pathological criminals—you won’t be able to stop reading.

Book Review: Strange Sally Diamond by Liz Nugent

By Erica Wiggins

Content warning: child abuse, sexual assault, kidnapping, suicide, death of a parent

In Strange Sally Diamond, we meet Sally, a recluse who creates outrage and media attention when she tries to incinerate her dead father. This act brings police officers, family, and new friends to her doorstop, along with some connections from her past. As Sally tries to step out of her comfort zone, she learns that people don’t always mean what they say, and the truth of her horrific childhood is about to come to the surface. Strange Sally Diamond is the fifth crime novel from Irish novelist Liz Nugent.

I must admit, I wasn’t sure about this story. In fact, I thought it seemed comically strange. However, I have been seeing it around everywhere, and then I was gifted a copy and thought—why not! Let me tell you, this story is brilliant. It is a pick-me-up-and-never-put-me-down kind of book. It’s thoughtful and intentional and it introduced me to a neurodiverse character. Sally is eccentric, confusing, and lovable. She has her own way of interacting with the world and it makes you question how you make decisions. Is she strange? Absolutely—but maybe not to everyone. This is a story that hits everything I look for in a thriller—engaging characters, characters you hate, a disturbing and dark mood, intrigue and twists, and an utterly compelling storyline.

From the first line “Put me out with the trash…”, Nugent draws you in with a completely twisted introduction to our main character. We find her realizing her father has died and putting him in the incinerator on their property. Of course, I immediately wondered how some could not care at all that their father has passed but thus Strange Sally Diamond. The story flies from there. Sally works her way into your heart, and you can’t help but put yourself into her shoes.

The story is fast paced and keeps you on your toes. The alternating perspectives created a full picture and allowed insight into Sally’s history, but only the perfect amount, a little at a time, creating a flawless buildup of anticipation. Nugent creates a world that you will fall into and never want to leave. The storylines come together beautifully and disturbingly. I found myself re-reading lines, laughing out loud, and being completely creeped out.

This story was unlike any I have read. It gave me perspective and reminded me that we don’t all experience the world the same way. I found myself flipping through the pages unable to stop reading. Sally wormed her way into my heart and has become one of my favourite characters. This story will stick with you; it will make you think and give you the best kind of book hangover. I absolutely loved it. Pick this book as soon as you can—an easy five star read.

Book Review: The Agathas by Kathleen Glasgow and Liz Lawson

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warning: domestic abuse, murder, child abuse, physical abuse, bullying, death of a parent

Last summer, Alice Ogilvie’s boyfriend dumped her, and she disappeared. Five days later she returned, seemingly unscathed but refusing to talk about what happened. Now Alice’s best friend (who happens to be dating Alice’s ex) has vanished, and even though Alice knows in her bones that it’s not the same, no one is taking Brooke’s disappearance seriously. Well, no one except Iris, Alice’s tutor, who has her own motives for wanting to find Brooke. Between the two of them, and with a little help from Agatha Christie, Alice’s literary hero and queen of the whodunit, they’re confident they can find Brooke. But it quickly becomes clear that this isn’t a game, and that someone they know could very well be a killer.

The Agathas follows two girls who live very different lives, brought together by circumstance and the desire to get justice for a missing girl. The writing style is quick and immersive. Alice and Iris are compelling characters, and I wasn’t able to put the book down until the mystery was solved.

I mean it. I picked this book up while at home sick, and I didn’t put it down again until I finished it, five hours later. Because of that, I can’t really speak to pacing, but I will say the writing style and the way the clues rolled out was enough to keep me turning the pages for hours, so the authors definitely did something right. I loved the way the mystery unfolded; I’m one of those people who suspects absolutely everyone when reading a whodunit, and this book really leans into that, providing lots of suspects and motives that the characters and the reader have to work through. The book also does a great job exploring the whydunit, a.k.a. really diving into the possible motives of each character to figure out not just what happened to Brooke, but why. I was really invested in the investigation and got swept up in the mystery, to the point that when I figured out a clue before the characters did, I tried to yell at my book to warn them.

This book is, of course, a mystery, but it’s also an exploration of the two characters Alice and Iris, and the ways in which their differences and similarities push them into an unlikely friendship. While overall Alice and Iris felt like distinct, fleshed out characters, I did find that occasionally their speech patterns would change from one chapter to the next. I think this might be the result of having two writers building a story together for the first time, and I’m sure that will be ironed out in later books. It was a slight distraction but ultimately didn’t take away from my reading experience. I really loved following both Alice and Iris. I felt like I could see a bit of my teenage self in each of them and I think lots of teen readers will be able to identify with one or both of them while reading this book. I also loved the side characters that show up in this book, and I hope we can see more of them in the sequels.

Overall, I loved this mystery and these two main characters, and with all the little hints this book drops about older mysteries that haunt this lakeside town, I couldn’t resist running out to pick up book two as soon as I finished this one. If you’re a fan of teen mysteries and whodunits, I think there’s a lot to love about this book, and I can’t wait to read the sequel.

Book Review: Revolutionary Demonology by Gruppo di Nun

By Shan Powell

Content warning: sexual content, graphic descriptions of death and gore

When I saw the listing for Gruppo di Nun’s Revolutionary Demonology, I was intrigued. Gruppo di Nun “is a collective of psycho-activists based in Italy, dedicated to organizing forms of covert resistance to heteropatriarchal dogma.” I can get behind that…or so I thought. I’m not certain what I was expecting, but it isn’t what I got. Maybe I was hoping for something more introductory in scope. Maybe an illustrated text, like some others I’ve reviewed from MIT Press. Instead, I received a brick of a book, drenched with footnotes, and a hefty bibliography.

This book is far more academic than I expected. My understanding of demonology comes from a mixture of pop culture, White Wolf roleplaying game books, Sumerian mythology, and Christian boogeymen (I was raised in a Christian cult which believes in literal demons and devils). This book isn’t really any of these, although it touches upon them (and many more).

I think that to understand each of the sections of Revolutionary Demonology, close reading is necessary. I suspect that only someone with the appropriate backgrounds will be able to read this quickly. This anthology requires concentration, a good dictionary, and the patience to look up a lot of cited works. I wonder how much of this could be attributed to being a work of translation. This book was originally written in Italian, and I do not know Italian. That being said, fun can still be had by reading pages out of sequence and at random.

I enjoyed, but didn’t quite understand, this rather cyberpunk quotation pulled from “Ritual: Every Worm Trampled is a Star:”

The energetic decay of patriarchal temporal structures takes the form of a gradual and unstoppable feminisation of civilisation. Domesticated femininities turned monstrous haunt the nightmares of the declining West, in the form of rebellious androids, synthetic hormones, and painful initiatory scars adorned with glittering silicon implants.

Other parts I do understand, although I don’t hold them as truths. I enjoyed the poetic conceits of “Stilla Maris:”

We all bear upon our bodies traces of all ancient catastrophes that life went through during evolution. Being born is analogous to our far-distant ancestors’ traumatic origins as lifeforms emerging from the sea, and the penetrative sexual act is a ‘true regression to the ocean.’

Ok, I see what the authors are getting at and it’s an interesting concept.

Other sections of the book read like black metal or death metal lyrics. This is excerpted from “My Son, Do Not Abandon Me:”

The shreds of your disembowelled body continue to writhe in despair on the cross of creation, repeatedly pulsating in their dance of death as the eggs of countless parasites hatch, burrowing into the swellings of your belly.

If you follow the Left Hand Path and want to get deep into its philosophy, this book is for you. If you want to flip through randomly and find interesting little snippets out of context, you might enjoy this too. Just don’t expect light reading.

 

Thank you to MIT Press, a division within Penguin RandomHouse Canada, for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: One Step Too Far by Lisa Gardner

By Erica Wiggins

One Step Too Far brings back Frankie Elkin who we met in Before She Disappeared. Now Frankie learns about a young man who has gone missing in a forest. The search for him has been abandoned by law enforcement, but his father and a small crew are still looking for him. When Frankie sees how desperate the father is, she goes to help but quickly sees that something is amiss. When more people start disappearing, Frankie sees that there is something dark going on and they are running out of time. Lisa Gardner is a New York Times bestselling author who lives in the mountains of New Hampshire with her family.

I have been a fan of Lisa Gardner’s books for a long time, so I was excited to dive in and read the continuation of Frankie’s story. I started this one and knew from the first few pages that this would be no exception. For anyone looking to pick this one up, while this is in a series, it can be read as an independent story with no difficulty.

The story begins with a group of friends going hiking and camping before their friend Timothy gets married. But then Timothy goes missing and time passes until it’s been five years later. Now Timothy’s dad and friends are back one last time to try to find out what happened. So, the search begins.

This story moves at a breakneck speed as it leads us out to the woods with vivid descriptions. Gardner creates an atmospheric and almost creepy feeling—plopping you down in the woods. You are right there with the characters listening for the strange sounds in the night while the author preys on the fears of anyone who has been camping—food going missing, noises in the night, injuries, and then adds in the determination of a father trying to find his son. This story is unputdownable.

The twists continue to come as the story progresses. The anticipation ramps up with heart-pounding moments that make you turn the pages faster and faster. I was able to easily picture myself in this situation, thinking about what I would do and how I would try to survive. As I got closer to the end, I thought I knew what was coming but it turns out that I had nothing figured out.  

Needless to say, I loved this book. It had everything I want in a thriller: likeable characters that you quickly attach to, a cadaver dog name Daisy, and incredible twists and surprises that builds anticipation in the best way possible. I am hoping that Frankie gets to continue her story soon. If you love thrillers in a wilderness setting (that extra vulnerable factor), check this book out or really anything written by this author.

 

Thank you, Penguin Random House Canada, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: The Benevolent Society of Ill-Mannered Ladies by Alison Goodman

By Carly Smith

Content warning: murder, abuse, rape, violence, and neglect

Lady Augusta Colebrook is a force to be reckoned with. Repeatedly breaking sexist barriers, she and her sister, Lady Julia, live an adventurous life. With her strong will, wit, and a penchant for facing danger head-on, Lady Augusta, sometimes called Gus, leads a life that appears to be calm and uneventful to her acquaintances and social circle. But behind closed doors, the sisters carry out risky yet charitable missions to bring other women to safety — women who have been abused, mistreated, disrespected, and neglected. Together, with the help of an unconventional accomplice, Gus and Julia dismantle the common idea of what a lady is as they go into disguise, use weapons, and outwit men time after time to bring others out of harm’s way.

Set around 1800 in England, Goodman takes readers on whirlwind after whirlwind in The Benevolent Society of Ill-Mannered Ladies. Writing in language commonly used in the Regency era, the book offers a revival of long-forgotten social decorum. In a breath of fresh air, readers follow along as Gus, Julia, and their mysterious assistant devise careful plans — albeit sometimes requiring luck and spontaneity — without the help of new technology. Goodman sets the time and place beautifully, with descriptive language that allows the reader to feel fully immersed in the ladies’ adventures. Details of this time period’s clothing, means of travel, housing, social gatherings, and societal expectations are implemented accurately and abundantly.

Lady Augusta and Lady Julia complement each other beautifully. Gus is bold, blunt, and unwavering. Happily unmarried, she enjoys her life without a husband and does not allow others’ perceptions of her to wear her down. Throughout the book, readers follow Gus’s internal tug-of-war about God’s existence. Julia is more softly spoken, guarded, and tactful. She helps iron out the finer details of Gus’s plans and keeps a cooler head when Gus cannot. They make the perfect pair for their benevolent escapades.

This novel offers something for everyone: adventure, history, feminism, romance, and mystery. It does not fall short on descriptive language, and carefully introduces secondary characters in a way that ties together perfectly later on. It must be noted that Goodman covers topics related to murder, abuse, rape, violence, and neglect. Clever and well planned, The Benevolent Society of Ill-Mannered Ladies will have you laughing, gasping, frowning, and perhaps crying. It was an honour to follow the Colebrook sisters on their norm-defying adventures of selflessness.

Thank you to Penguin Random House for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: The Power of Thank You by Joyce Meyer

By Jamie Maletta

Joyce Meyer is an American New York Times bestselling author, Bible teacher, and the face of Joyce Meyer Ministries, a Christian non-profit organization from Missouri. Joyce has written numerous books, guiding readers to work through various circumstances from a place of faith. According to the Joyce Meyer Ministries website, Joyce has written 130 books, with a number of those translated into 155 languages, over 37 million copies distributed worldwide free of charge, and millions of copies sold. Needless to say, I think she’s a big deal.

I love self-help books, and when I first chose something by Joyce Meyer, I had no idea her approach was rooted in Christianity. What’s funny is, I actually chose a different Joyce Meyer book (Authentically, Uniquely You), and happened to be sent the wrong title. It also sat for some time in my (always seemingly large) TBR pile before I picked it up. I believe that sometimes certain things or circumstances come to people when they need them most. Beautiful mishaps, one might say. I’ve been on a pretty significant personal journey lately, and not only was this not the original book I had chosen, but when I did pick it up and begin to read, it was during a time I needed to read those words most, months after I’d actually received it in the mail. I believe this was no coincidence.

Joyce explores the many benefits of thankfulness, being grateful, being generous, and expressing and feeling a sense of gratitude and contentment, and what that all means from a place of faith. She often pulls quotes and stories directly from the Bible and perfectly manages to “bring it back to the basics,” explaining how thankfulness, gratitude, generosity, contentment, and the like can be dated back to Biblical times and were always held with importance (and still should be). Joyce discusses how this way of being (or the lack of it) can affect your everyday life, and how powerful these traits are. She doesn’t skip over the fact that life can be hard, and there are times when thankfulness can feel more difficult, but she also addresses such situations with understanding and reason.

Personally, this book put a lot of things into perspective for me. Things I was aware of, and deep down thankful for, or maybe even presently aware I was thankful for, but life’s distractions had just pulled me away from the conscious thought of being thankful daily. I sometimes find myself forgetting just how grateful I should be, and how blessed I am. This book felt like a bit of an epiphany, like the wake-up call I needed, and I’m going to put what I’ve read into practice. I look forward to exploring what else Joyce has written.


Thank you to Penguin Random House for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Kamila Knows Best by Farah Heron

By Sara Hailstone

Farah Heron presents her rendition of Jane Austen’s Emma with her book Kamila Knows Best. Kamila Hussain is just like Emma Woodhouse in that she plays matchmaker with members of her social circle and is connected to a wealthy clique in Toronto’s modern boroughs. As an accountant with her father’s firm, she also cares for her ailing father and is known within her society for throwing elaborate and detailed theme parties. She is the total package: with good looks and an impeccable wardrobe, she is admired and perseveres through the stereotypes of her career, offering cutting-edge and fresh takes on getting a feminine foothold against the current of an overwhelmingly masculine industry. She is whole in person and is not looking for marriage.

Heron slowly teases out a romantic arc for Kamila, but her character strives for more in a world that, despite its contemporary setting, still limits expectations of women. Kamila asserts her desire to take over her father’s company upon his retirement. In a narrative flushing out childhood issues, Kamila Knows Best is a vibrant coming-of-age story of a woman from a South Asian Toronto community.

Inspired by Jane Austen, Farah Heron has carved out her own style of romantic comedies depicting families from South Asian communities. Her debut novel, The Chai Factor, was widely praised, as was its follow up, Accidentally Engaged. Her debut young adult novel, Tahira in Bloom, was deemed the best rom-com of the year by USA Today. Heron’s narrative style stands out as an entry for readers into lives of art, food, family, and love.

In painting the world of a charismatic woman enmeshed in vibrant settings, with Kamila’s lush Bollywood-themed parties and exquisite interior design, Heron offers us entry into this world through food. During the pre-planning of her Bollywood movie night, the reader follows Kamila into a train-of-thought of menu decisions and witnesses the handmade preparations of appetizers. (She has chosen chili-paneer kebobs and vegetable momo dumplings with chili-ginger chutney.) When Kamila struggles with making cooking mishaps, Rohan, her endearing family friend, steps in and saves the day. Their teamwork results in a scrumptious party and a growing romance between the pair. At the end of the novel, Heron lists the full recipes of the dishes presented in the text. Readers can try out the food in the book, a unique inclusion that further allows intimacy.

Overall, the parallel that Heron draws between Emma Woodhouse and Kamila Hussain transforms this first impression rom-com into a text of necessity within a Canadian canon in giving voice and representation to South Asian communities. Firstly, Kamila thrives within a family dynamic of being taken care of while caregiving for her father. But, if autonomous, Kamila would flourish on her own. Her personality is not confined to construct. Kamila is independent in social orientations and career. She also does not exhibit fluency within the feminine domestic domain only but transgresses gender expectations by being a successful accountant. She is not looking for marriage and love to fulfill her being, but it comes to her nonetheless.

Thank you to Farah Heron and Hachette Book Group for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: The Witch King by H.E. Edgmon

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warnings: death, fire, fire injury, violence, transphobia, deadnaming, sexual assault, child abuse, body horror, genocide, cannibalism, racism, animal cruelty

H.E. Edgmon’s Witch King duology follows Wyatt, a trans witch desperate to be free of the expectations and prejudices of fae society. Two years after fleeing into the human world, Eymr, Wyatt’s mate and prince of one of the fae kingdoms, finally catches up with him. With people questioning Emyr’s right to rule and fae society trying to slip back into the old ways, Emyr needs his mate if he has any hope of keeping the kingdom together. But Wyatt knows what it’s like to be a witch in one of the fae kingdoms, and he knows that this world is rotten at its core. Now Wyatt has to decide whether to protect himself and his freedom or face his past and work to make the fae world a better place.

This duology is spectacular. It’s been on my radar for years, but I finally got the chance to read both books for the Trans Rights Readathon in March, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since. I struggle with fae books because the concept of fated mates isn’t my particular cup of tea, and I find fae books can fall into tropes I don’t prefer, but this book turned everything I expected about a fae book on its head and gave me a story about tearing down corrupt systems, fighting for equality, finding queer community, and developing healthy relationships with the people you love. I need to say it again—I’m obsessed.

Wyatt is an incredible main character. He’s snarky and self-deprecating, self-aware, and struggles with trauma and PTSD, and H.E. Edgmon is so gentle with him. Wyatt deals with so much in this book, he makes bad decisions and is put into incredibly challenging positions, and we couldn’t have this story from anyone else’s perspective. Wyatt’s unique voice keeps the book moving and sheds the perfect light on fae society, the choices other characters make, and Wyatt’s own actions.

The side characters in this book all feel fleshed out and real, and two months later, I can still visualize each of them clearly and hear their distinct voices. These characters leap off the page and make you love them (or hate them, the villains in this book suuuuck in the best way), and the community these characters build with each other has a grip on my heart that will stay with me for a long time.

I can’t go into too much detail about the actual plot as this review covers both books in the duology, but I will say that these books deal with corrupt systems, long-hidden mysteries and legacies, oppressed communities, and the weight on young people to change the world. Each of these points are hit so well, and I feel like the pacing of the duology is spectacular. Things keep building and building, while still having moments to allow the characters to breathe, and I was so invested in the mysteries and the work these characters were doing to tear down this mess of a system and rebuild something better. It deconstructs things like the fated mates trope and explores the concepts of love and destiny from a queer lens, which brought me to tears several times.

This duology is one of the best stories I’ve read so far this year, and I highly recommend checking it out if you’re a fan of fantasy, queer fiction, or revolutionary stories with snarky main characters. It is so good.