Book Review: One Who Has Been Here Before by Becca Babcock

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: mental illness, child abuse, incest

Rebecca Babcock’s debut novel One Who Has Been Here Before explores family dynamics and mental illness while weaving in a story based on the notorious Goler clan of Nova Scotia. Emma Weaver travels from her quiet life in Edmonton, Alberta to the South Shore of Nova Scotia so that she can complete research for her Master's thesis, which is centred around the Gaugin family, who have become folklore in the Halifax area. While there are aspects of historical fiction, One Who Has Been Here Before reads a lot more like literary fiction, so many different readers will appreciate this novel. 

Babcock’s main character Emma suffers from an anxiety disorder, however it didn’t feel fleshed out enough. The reader will find out the cause of her anxiety but something about it feels forced instead of real. Everyone deals with and experiences mental illness differently, but there was something about Emma that didn’t feel genuine and it’s difficult to pinpoint what that is. As a reader, I didn’t find her to be very likeable and had a hard time relating to her even though we share some similarities. There is a lot that happens in a short period, with the occasional flashback, but it just didn’t seem realistic that Emma could accomplish all that she did in such a short amount of time.

One Who Has Been Here Before dragged on in some parts and the reader may find themselves wanting to get to the point while not fully enjoying the story. Babcock’s prose was nice to read and even though there was some redundancy the reader will enjoy going on this adventure with Emma. While One Who Has Been Here Before didn’t capture my interest, those who appreciate Atlantic Canadian history will enjoy this read. It will be interesting to see what Babcock writes next!

Thank you, Nimbus Publishing, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: The Sanatorium by Sarah Pearse

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: mental illness, rape

Sarah Pearse’s debut novel The Sanatorium is a murder mystery that takes place in a five-star minimalist hotel called Le Sommet. Pearse takes readers to the Swiss Alps where Le Sommet is located; it was once a sanatorium that housed tuberculosis patients… and possibly something more sinister. Elin Warner is a detective from the UK and she has come to Le Sommet with her boyfriend Will to celebrate her brother Isaac’s engagement. Shortly after Elin and Will show up at the hotel Isaac's fiancée Laure goes missing, a wicked snowstorm threatens to cause avalanches in the area of Le Sommet, and Elin starts to feel like the hotel has some darker secrets. 

There is some character development that is lacking with all of the characters; it felt like the reader only had the opportunity to learn about the characters on a surface level. Elin is an interesting character, but it felt like there was a huge focus on her mental illness and past trauma and not so much about the rest of her. While those are important things to learn about a character, it would’ve been nice to learn some other things about her. It seems like there will be a continuation with Elin Warner so maybe we will learn more about her in the future.

The Sanatorium is an atmospheric read that will transport the reader directly to the Swiss Alps, and Pearse does an excellent job of describing the setting and scenery. Pearse has also done a great job at bringing an air of historical fiction to The Sanatorium. This read feels chilling, while maintaining a steady pace for the most part. Readers who love police procedurals, atmospheric reads, and Nordic crime novels will enjoy The Sanatorium. Even though The Sanatorium was Pearse’s debut novel, I already know that I will be picking up her next novel!

Thank you to Penguin Random House Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: giving up a baby for adoption

Pip Williams’s latest novel The Dictionary of Lost Words explores the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary, the misogyny behind it, and its role in our history. The Dictionary of Lost Words follows Esme Nicholl throughout her life, depicting how the creation of the dictionary has influenced her growing up. Esme begins collecting words that are not found in the dictionary, mostly due to their nature of being about or said by women. As time goes on Esme continues to collect these words and defines them in hopes that one day they will be remembered as part of our language's history. Part coming-of-age, part historical fiction, The Dictionary of Lost Words takes the reader through decades of the dictionary’s beginning while following Esme’s journey, as well as historical events that took place at the same time.

Williams includes a lot throughout The Dictionary of Lost Words and because of that the reader may feel lost at times. There are a lot of things going on, including various time jumps that happen suddenly. Because of this, the novel drags on yet feels rushed at the same time. It feels as if Williams wanted to include as much information as possible without omitting any significant historical events, while also showing off Esme’s entire life and including her own important events. At the same time, The Dictionary of Lost Words skims over some plot points that feel important and spends too much time on others that feel redundant, leaving the reader confused as to what they should be feeling. There is a lot happening and the reader may feel overwhelmed at times. It would’ve been neat to have seen this story unfold in a trilogy rather than one novel due to the number of plot points and content throughout the story.

The Dictionary of Lost Words focuses on women’s voices and how they deserve to be heard. Williams has created a unique story based on real events, and some characters are based on real people as well. Overall, the story is beautiful and interesting enough to captivate the reader, but they may find it a slow read where they need to pay attention to various plot points. Readers who enjoy history or who are fascinated by the English language will find that this is an interesting read.  

Thank you to Penguin Random House for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: Made in Korea by Sarah Suk

By Megan Amato

Despite my love for all things YA fantasy, I am not usually drawn to YA contemporary romance. I didn’t have the best time in high school, and even if I was keen to relive it, I sometimes find it difficult to be invested in the ordinary lives of teens when I’m nearly double their age. However, after seeing the book advertised on Twitter and learning it was written by a fellow Vancouverite, I decided to give Sarah Suk’s Made in Korea­ a chance—and I’m so, so glad I did.

Protagonist Valerie Kwon’s K-Beauty business means everything to her. It’s a chance to make her parents take her seriously as a young businesswoman and a way to make money to whisk her beloved ailing granny to Paris. She will let nothing stand in her way of success, especially not Wes Jung, the cute new student who has started a competing business. But Wes has more at stake too. He must make enough to get into the music school his parents won’t pay for, and so he makes an impulsive bet with Valerie that will potentially double the winner’s earnings. The two contend against each other, and it both pits the rivals against each other and draws them closer together. Soon Wes learns to voice his dreams and desires instead of folding to his parent’s expectations, and Valerie discovers that there is more value to the people around her than the profit they bring in.

This rival-to-lovers story defied my own expectations in so many adorable ways, and despite my reluctance to invest myself in the romance, I found myself flipping through the pages at rapid speed. Suk’s characters are compelling in all their strengths and flaws, well developed, and loveable in contrasting ways. Valerie is driven, puts business before making connections, but has a soft spot for her halmeoni and her fun-loving cousin. Wes is sweet, devoted to his passion for music, and dreams of a life outside of the scrubs his parents want for him. They’re both outsiders—Valerie by choice and Wes as the perpetual new student who never had the time to find his place—and their gradual opening up to each other is beautiful to read. Plus, the tough girl and marshmallow boy is one of my favourite tropes in m/f romance. 

I admire this story because there isn’t a “mean girl” per se, and Valerie isn’t pitted against another girl to compete for Wes. The tension Suk has written in the story is more creative and less damaging to young—especially femme—readers who are constantly taught to compete against other girls and femmes. The other girl who is friends with Wes might have been a rival for his interest, but Suk created a three-dimensional side character with agency and her own desires, goals, and interests outside of their friendship—and I loved that. I would read any book with her as the protagonist.

Made in Korea is a beautiful read, full of small details that stick with you—I might just have taken to eating Hi-Chews based on my mood now—but overall, it’s a love letter to the author’s Korean-North American heritage. I encourage readers of all ages to read it, but I especially love that this is out in the world for teens to see a healthy romance and especially for teens who don’t often see representation of themselves.

*Thank you Simon & Schuster Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: The Drowning Kind by Jennifer McMahon

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: self-harm, suicide, alcoholism, mental illness

Gripping and heartbreaking, The Drowning Kind is a story that centers around grief and the guilt we feel when unfinished business between family members never gets solved. Jennifer McMahon has taken grief and turned it into a slow-paced ghost story that you won’t want to stop reading. Jax and her sister Lex have always been close but as they grew up they began to drift apart, leading to an estranged relationship between them. When Jax hears of her sister's sudden death at Sparrow Crest, a home that’s been in their family for generations, she assumes it has to do with her mental illness but quickly learns there’s more to this story. Jax has no idea of the secrets that are waiting to be told at this family home. The Drowning Kind focuses on Jax in the present day, as well as including history on how Sparrow Crest came to be the place that it is through a woman named Ethel. McMahon’s novel is bound to keep the reader guessing until the very end.

The characters in The Drowning Kind are all intricate and it is clear that McMahon has taken the time to craft each of them as individuals with interesting backgrounds and unique perspectives. A lot of readers are going to find that The Drowning Kind will speak to them in regards to grief and how it’s processed. While this is a ghost story with aspects that you can find in other similar stories, The Drowning Kind is unique, and readers will find that they won’t want to put it down.

McMahon has a way with words that completely draws the reader into the story. The Drowning Kind may unfold at a slow pace but with so much going on readers will find themselves needing to know what’s happening next. McMahon weaves the two plots together seamlessly so there is nothing left unsaid in the end. This ghost story focuses on family dynamics, mental illness, and grief, as these are the themes ever-present throughout The Drowning Kind. McMahon has truly crafted a hauntingly beautiful story centering around the grieving process and what happens to family members individually and as a whole.  

Thank you, Simon & Schuster Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: Becoming Leidah by Michelle Grierson

By Megan Amato

Content warning: rape

As a lover of all things folkloric, selkie stories are both right up my alley and my worst nightmare. I find the benevolent creature fascinating to read about, but the nature of the myth itself always makes me feel boxed in and claustrophobic. Michelle Grierson’s Becoming Leidah is no different, both drawing me in with its beautiful prose, folklore, and imagery, while I try to claw my way out of the “love story” it professes to be.

The story is set in a small Nordic village converted from its pagan roots to Christianity and begins with a storm that washes fisherman Pieter up onto rocks, where he finds Maeva seemingly waiting for him. He makes love to her and takes her home to marry, and even though she seems reluctant to even talk to him, he is obsessively in love with her. They have a child, the spirited Leidah, who grows close to her father, who dotes on her but continually argues with her overprotective mother. As the story progresses, you realize that this isn’t about a fairy tale romance, but about a magical woman who can’t leave the marriage she was forced into because her husband has hidden her seal skin. When Leidah begins to show signs of magic, Maeva will do anything to escape the village that hates her and return to the sea with her daughter—even as her desperate husband does everything in his and his witch lover’s power to stop her.

Told from multiple perspectives, this story moved me in many ways—not all good. It was beautifully written, filled with Nordic mythology and descriptions so breathtaking that I could weep. And weep I did when I discovered that the first scene on the rocks, told in wistful glimpses of prose, was non-consensual, and so is Maeva’s marriage to Pieter. I know this is done purposely—selkie stories rarely end happily. Even if the selkie in question loves the human, the sea always calls them back and only hiding their seal skin keeps them from returning to the sea. Even knowing this, I couldn’t help but be angry at how the story unfolds and the lack of accountability Pieter faces throughout the novel—even if that, too, is realistic. 

Despite how this story makes me feel, I cannot deny the magic delivered within each line and how deliberately Grierson voiced each character so that each chapter felt like you were in the character’s head or diary. My favourite perspective to read was wee Leidah as she begins to grow into herself and her magic. She’s an impartial and innocent figure outside of her parents’ awful marriage; she loves her father and desperately wants her mother to love her, and is unwittingly drawn into her mother’s quest for freedom. While both Maeva and Leidah’s characters and motivations were well developed, I felt that Pieter’s was lacking. All we know about him is that he is obsessed with keeping his wife—despite her asking for freedom throughout the novel—and even in his POV chapters, we never really understand why. While his actions wouldn’t have been justified even if we knew, it would have made the story stronger—and possibly made me less angry.

My last complaint about the story is that the last quarter came undone in a way that left me confused and dissatisfied. And while I do enjoy the parallel of Pieter and Maeva’s lives coming undone in an unsatisfying and confusing fashion, I genuinely don’t think I could describe what happened in the end—and not in an ambiguous ending kind of way, but with a “huh?” However, despite these faults, I would still recommend Becoming Leidah to other readers. It’s a beautiful and emotional tale and deserves the chance to be read by folklore lovers and readers alike. 

*Thank you Simon & Schuster Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly by Stephanie Oakes

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: gore, graphic scenes

Stephanie Oakes’s debut young adult novel The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly takes a look at resilience, trust, and coming-of-age through the eyes of seventeen-year-old Minnow, who has just been convicted of aggravated assault. Minnow has spent twelve years of her life living in the wilderness with a group of people calling themselves the Kevinians, worshipping a man they call the Prophet. In the Community, Minnow has her hands cut off after trying to rebel against the Prophet. When Minnow is finally able to escape, she finds herself thrown into a juvenile detention centre, after brutally beating a young man who made her feel threatened.

Minnow isn’t the most reliable character and despite everything that she’s been through, she is unlikeable. Oakes has written Minnow in this way because, in light of her experiences, she is someone who doesn’t trust easily. The secondary characters feel quite one-dimensional and underdeveloped so it can feel like they are easily lost in the novel. Minnow herself doesn’t feel like a layered character despite the life she has lived so far. 

The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly is a quick read even though it’s a longer book, probably because it’s a young adult novel and therefore an easier-to-read book. There is some redundancy throughout the book, yet Oakes has been able to write an interesting story that will keep the reader's attention throughout. There is room for growth in Oakes’s writing style and since this is a few years old, Oakes has likely grown in her writing so it would be interesting to see how her other books have turned out. Overall, The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly is a quick read that is suitable for older teenagers.

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

Book Review: The Henna Artist by Alka Joshi

By Megan Amato

Content warning: Domestic abuse, abortion

Richly detailed, thoughtfully plotted, and bustling with history, Alka Joshi’s debut historical novel The Henna Artist transports readers from their homes to post-colonial India in the 1950s. In addition to the stunning prose, it also doesn’t shy away from topics like contraception, abortion, and the caste system’s intricacies.

After escaping an abusive marriage, Lakshmi runs away to the bustling city of Jaipur and makes a name for herself as an herbalist and henna artist for the privileged and rich. Lakshmi dreams of financial independence and sees a quick way to make money by matching the son and daughter of two privileged families. When her estranged husband turns up with a sister she didn’t know existed in tow, Lakshmi takes her in and attempts to acclimatize her to a new life. Things are not easy between the sisters as Radha comes with her own traumas and questions Lakshmi’s choices. Soon Lakshmi’s plans to gain true independence are threatened as the consequences of both sisters’ choices begin to unravel all her hard work.

The tension of each of their choices drives the plot, but the depth and vitality of the characters make this story stand out. Joshi allows her characters to be flawed, to make mistakes and learn from them and grow. Lakshmi cares for the women who purchase her services, but her own goals often lead her to make unsavoury decisions based more on financial gain than loyalty. However, when Radha shows up, their strained relationship forces her to revaluate her choices and what is truly important to her. Radha enters her sister’s life as an angry young woman dubbed “Bad Luck Girl” in her village and begins to grow as she follows her heart, gets it broken, and ends up paying deeply for it. The side characters are just as developed, even the antagonists, showcasing humans in all their messiness.

It calls to mind one of the best pieces of writing advice I have received, which was given to me second-hand by a friend: write through all five senses.  Joshi has mastered this. The prose is beautifully written and interwoven with detail after detail that feel natural and flow from the page like the scent of jasmine, the taste of mango, the feel of one’s skin against another’s, and the stunning views and sounds of the Pink City. The research done to write a novel so intricate in detail must have been enormous. 

I tend to read a lot more genre fiction and normally shy away from more literary works as they can be exploitative of other cultures and needlessly depressing (I just like a happy ending!). According to the author’s note in this book, the events are inspired her mother’s life and even if her mother took creative licence in telling her own story, I put trust in the author to tell it. It’s a beautifully written and often poignant story, and I would recommend it to those looking for an immersive story full of heartbreak and hope. 

Book Review: Sins of the Bees by Annie Lampman

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: rape, sexual assault, animal violence, sexual abuse of children, miscarriage

Part literary fiction and part thriller, Annie Lampman’s Sins of the Bees follows arborist and bonsai enthusiast Silva on her journey to reconnect with her estranged grandmother Isabelle. On the path to find her grandmother, Silva ends up helping out a beekeeper named Nick at his lodge–which just so happens to be near Almost Paradise, a religious, anti-government cult that is preparing for doomsday. Silva knows that her grandmother is part of Almost Paradise and wants to free her from it. While Silva plans to locate Isabelle, tensions begin to rise at Almost Paradise, which is leading up to an all-out war situation. At the same time, the reader gets a glimpse into Almost Paradise through letters from Isabelle to her late husband Eamon as well as descriptions of paintings that she had to complete while in Almost Paradise.

Lampman focuses a lot on Silva and her relationship with Nick but it would’ve been nice to see even more about the cult that is housed not too far from them and the impact that they have had for generations. Sins of the Bees could’ve easily been two different novels: one that focuses on Isabelle and her escape from the cult and then a different novel focusing on Silva and her search for Isabelle. A lot was going on, and while all of it was quite interesting, the reader may find themselves having to go back and reread sections for clarity. While Sins of the Bees was an entertaining read, it felt rushed, and yet at the same time too long. I would recommend that readers take their time with this one so that they don’t become confused with the multiple plots.

Thank you, Simon & Schuster Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead by Emily Austin

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: mental illness, suicide, suicidal ideation, eating disorder, alcoholism, homophobia  

Canadian author Emily R. Austin has made a splash with her debut novel Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead (Everyone in This Room) where she explores mental illness through the eyes of Gilda, an atheist lesbian who ends up working in a Catholic Church only to impersonate the previous receptionist just because she wants to make everyone happy. Austin has crafted a witty and macabre story about a character who is struggling to find herself in this world and wants nothing more than for her ruminating thoughts on death to stop. Everyone in This Room also looks at family dynamics, the healthcare system, and how the general population perceives mental illness. 

Quirky and unique, Everyone in This Room explores how mental illness can completely take over our lives and how it not only affects the person who is dealing with it but how it affects everything around them as well. Gilda seeks help from the hospital where she is either turned away or not given the proper referral time and time again. This is a perfect example of how mental illness is treated a lot of the time. Gilda’s family doesn’t want to discuss the mental illness that seems to be running rampant among them, which is yet again a great example of how our mental health can be perceived by our family members. Austin has the reader inside Gilda’s head, and she has done an excellent job at portraying anxiety through Gilda’s thoughts. Gilda is a very relatable character because the reader gets to experience her every thought and a lot of readers may see themselves in her.

Austin also includes alcoholism, family dysfunction, and homophobia throughout Everyone in This Room. While a lot of the themes present in her debut novel are thought-provoking, Austin manages to balance the heavy with some seriously dry humour. While not all readers may appreciate the style of humour used, it works well for this story, paralleling nicely with the heavy themes. The story itself is laid out in a way that may feel choppy to readers but again, it works. Austin’s writing style is unique and manages to keep the reader flying through pages, needing to know what’s going to happen next. If Everyone in This Room is any indication of the storyteller that Austin is, then we can’t wait to see what she writes next.

Thank you, Simon & Schuster Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: Percy's Museum by Sara O'Leary and Carmen Mok

By Christine McFaul

Percy’s Museum is a new picture book by critically acclaimed author Sarah O’Leary (Family is a Family, Night Walk, This is Sadie) and award-winning illustrator Carmen Mok (A Stopwatch from Grandpa, Tough Like Mum, Violet Shrink). I love this pairing of two Canadian children’s literary greats and couldn’t wait to review the results of their collaboration. 

The story follows Percy, a young boy who has just moved from the city to the countryside. Percy misses the familiar urban bustle of his old home and is unsure what to make of his new, quieter environment. As Percy begins to explore his surroundings, he quickly learns that nature is “busy in its own way.”  He watches ants on parade, birds putting on air shows, and dark skies filling with stars. He tastes wild strawberries and collects leaves, sticks, and all manner of bugs. As Percy spends his days enjoying the wonders of nature, the book gently delivers the message that it is possible to “be alone without being lonely.”

Percy’s observations of the natural world create a perfect microcosm for change. Percy sees that in nature, “everything changes;” flowers bloom and die, eggs turn into birds, and worms become food for birds. By the end of the story, Percy has discovered his own ability to affect change, turning an old backyard playhouse into a museum and a newfound passion for nature into the start of friendships.

Like many of O’Leary’s picture books, the narrative does not mince words. Instead, it uses simple, straightforward phrasing to convey big, profound concepts. Mok’s illustrations bring the text to life in washes of candy-coloured images. Her pictures provide clever interpretations of the text and allow young readers to discover interesting details in nature alongside Percy. Both pictures and story remain child-focused, allowing young readers to absorb the book’s themes without adult intervention. 

A quiet and calming story aimed at the 3-7 age range, Percy’s Museum correlates to the Common Core Standard in English Language Arts and would be a great reading choice for the Summer season ahead. 

Book Review: Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warning: emotional abuse, violence, murder, suicide (referenced), rape (referenced)

Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko takes place in an African-inspired fantasy world, in which a young girl named Tarisai, raised in isolation by an often absent mother, is sent to the country’s capital to compete with other children for a chance at the Ray. If she succeeds, she will be bonded with the country’s future king as one of his Eleven, becoming closer than blood. The promise of this closeness calls to Tarisai, who has never had a real family of her own, but her mother has other plans. Tarisai is cursed to earn the trust of the crown prince, receive the Ray, then kill him. But Tarisai is not willing to give up on the promise of family, and she fights for the chance to write her own story—one that would not only save the life of the prince she has sworn to protect but countless others as well. 

It’s challenging to write a review for a book that left you speechless. I don’t know how to capture in words the absolute majesty of this story or the hold it had over me while I was reading. From the first page, I was pulled into Ifueko’s world, and every second I could, I dove back into it, desperate to learn Tarisai’s story and rooting for her to succeed. 

I purchased this book based on recommendations on Twitter and Instagram back when it was first released, and when I decided to review it this month, I picked it up without rereading the summary, so I went into this book blind. Even if I had read the summary, I would still be taken aback by the layers and complexities of the plot, which go far beyond what I was provided and have provided for you. 

Unlike most YA, this story takes us through several years of Tarisai’s life, walking us through her experiences as a child and brings us with her to Aritsar, into the trails, and on her wider journey into the secrets of the Ray, the country, her mother’s past, and her own future. Despite this longer timeline, the book never lags; Tarisai is always learning something new, forming new connections, or exploring a part of the world not yet discovered. Even when the plot slows, the reader is always given some detail to keep them engaged, whether it’s Tarisai’s growing bond with the boy she is destined to kill, her developing relationships with the other children, or discoveries about the state of Aritsar and the surrounding countries. 

The world of Aritsar feels vast and grounded, and there is a knowledge with every page you read that there is so much more that exists on the outskirts of this story—things you want desperately to explore. The magic system is well-explained and digestible, the cultures diverse and distinct, and the mythology is tangible. With the sequel scheduled for August of this year, there is the promise that as we see more of Tarisai, Aritsar, and the surrounding world, the lore surrounding this story will be deepened. 

While this book is filed under YA, I would recommend it for any fans of fantasy or books that explore personal trauma, diverse cultures, complex characters, and the inherent need to do good and make the changes necessary to make the world a better place. That may sound cheesy, but this book touched me on such a profound level that I genuinely feel Tarisai’s purpose as something real and tangible, something I want to be a part of. I haven’t read a book that touched me like that in a long time, and it’s not something to be missed. 

Book Review: The Fifth Head of Cerberus by Gene Wolfe

By Dahl Botterill

It can be difficult to describe Gene Wolfe’s writing to the unfamiliar. It is clever, well-wrought, literary fiction that drips with countless fascinating ideas. There is a fullness to it that refuses to vacate your thoughts when you think you’ve finished with it. It is very much speculative fiction while also completely unlike what one might expect from such a simple description. As you make your way through a Gene Wolfe work, you’ll usually find yourself reading many stories—each character, each perspective, will carry a gravity of its own—but you’ll also be aware of all the stories you’re not being told directly. Wolfe has a way of making even the stories he’s not sharing utterly enthralling. This talent is on particular display in The Fifth Head of Cerberus, a collection of three increasingly related novellas that never cease playing with their own interconnectedness.

The first of these stories, sharing the collection’s title, introduces the reader to the twin worlds of Saint Anne and Saint Croix while focusing on the latter, and particularly on a science-obsessed young man growing up in his father’s brothel. This young man—while there are clues dropped as to his proper name, he is only ever directly referred to as Number Five—narrates the tale from a future time and place, looking back on his youth. The tale is told in a manner that assumes some common ground with the reader, and so his world is described in bits and pieces as details become pertinent to the tale being told. It starts on what feels like familiar ground, and it is only by putting those details together that one gradually realizes what Saint Croix and its culture look like. By this point, the reader feels a part of it, discovering the culture’s joys and horrors from within instead of having a basic description doled out at the beginning. 

The second story is very different in its structure. “A Story,” by John V. Marsch is perhaps more traditionally told but from an entirely different perspective in a pre-colonized Saint Anne. Its title provides some connection to the previous tale, but it feels more mythological, following the journey of two twins separated at birth and raised in rival communities as fate brings them violently back together just before the arrival of Terran colonizers. The Annese have only been mentioned briefly during the first story, so this new focus seems only tangentially connected (its named author is an anthropologist met by the previous novella’s narrator, Number Five), but it provides some intriguing insight while laying many threads and breadcrumbs that will be picked up later by the reader of V.R.T.

V.R.T. is the final tale Wolfe weaves in this book, and it appears much less organized than its predecessors. Woven achronologically from a multitude of documents and perspectives, and filled with both subtle and dramatic narrative shifts, this is the story that reveals the depth and breadth of the interrelationships found within The Fifth Head of Cerberus and its three novellas. Aspects of earlier stories that seemed inconsequential come into their own when viewed in a new context, and revelations abound. Each of these stories could stand alone if necessary, but the whole is truly greater than the parts themselves. 

The most interesting part of all, and the aspect that strikes me as most particular to Gene Wolfe’s writing, is that even when all three stories have concluded, there is a sense of so much more that may have been missed. The reader is trusted to do the heavy lifting, and so all three tales are filled with tiny clues and subtle misdirection that could be easily missed. Different readers may very well pick up on completely different connections and thus come away with varied impressions and conclusions. The result is a book that stays in your head after you’ve finished it, continues to be considered and picked away at in the back reaches of your mind, wondering what you might have missed your first time around and what you might discover if you approached it again. While it is indeed a few smartly written slices of speculative fiction brimming with strange ideas and concepts, The Fifth Head of Cerberus is also a clever bit of mystery that plays its cards so close you may not realize what you’re unravelling until you’re mulling it over afterwards. 

Book Review: Gutter Child by Jael Richardson

By CB Campbell

Content warning: violence, racism, suicide

In Gutter Child, Jael Richardson explores complex issues in an easily accessible prose style. She has created a bifurcated society split between haves and have-nots with a (mostly) racial line between the two.  There are elements of apartheid South Africa, the antebellum South and Dickens’ England. Like Atwood’s Gilead, Richardson’s world provides a sense of place that feels unpleasantly possible.

Our narrator, Elimina, has grown up with her adoptive mother on the Mainland with its overwhelmingly white settler population.  The Gutter is a small island, effectively a reservation.  The residents of the Gutter are the Indigenous people of this country, trapped in intergenerational indentured servitude—slavery by economic regulation. 

The novel begins when Elimina’s adoptive mother dies and she is sent to a boarding school for Gutter children.  She quickly discovers that while her life to this point was hard, she has been sheltered from the reality of the Indigenous people on the Mainland and from the Gutter culture she was taken from. Thanks to her imperfect knowledge of this dystopian world, we take the journey with her. 

Richardson explores family, race, gender, colonization and economics.  While there is black and white in this world, there is also grey.  Is the Gutter a prison to escape or a home to protect?  One character says, “I never realized we were trapped in [the Gutter] until I was on the other side,” but it is also a place where Elimina recovers her past and expands her family. The Mainlanders hate and fear Gutter dwellers for reasons clearly driven by racism, but they accept a successful Black settlement on the Mainland.  We discover that Elimina was taken from her family in the Gutter as part of a failed experiment to integrate her into the privileged world of the Mainland. The purpose of the experiment is not clear but the failure appears to have been intentional.

Like the world we live in, bad things happen and some people rise to the challenge while others do not.  The choices characters face are not always pleasant. Friends are made, lost, and only sometimes found again.  This is a book worth reading, because it doesn’t offer easy answers or a fairly tale ending.  Multi-generational bias and hatred are not easy to address and should not get resolved in 368 pages.  

This is Richardson’s first novel, although she has been writing for a number of years.  My first exposure to her work was her 2012 memoir, The Stone Thrower, that explored her life and that of her father Chuck Ealey, a Black man from Ohio who came to Canada to play football in the CFL. Richardson is also the Artistic Director of The Festival of Literary Diversity and a voice we can all look forward to hearing for many years to come.

Book Review: The Bridge: Writing Across the Binary by Keith Maillard

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: suicide, suicidal ideation, alcoholism 

Canadian-American writer Keith Maillard’s memoir The Bridge takes a look at growing up nonbinary in the 1940s and 1950s when gender identity was at its peak. People were expected to be strictly “masculine” if they were boys, or “feminine” if they were girls. While we know that there have always been people that are nonbinary, the term has only been around for roughly ten years, so it took the majority of Maillard’s life to try and understand who he is. Maillard also examines how being nonbinary impacted his writing career by taking a look at literature and pop culture throughout the decades and how that helped him form an idea of who he is. Maillard paints a picture about how being nonbinary impacted his life well into older adulthood and how having a supportive family had a positive impact growing up.

Maillard has written an accessible memoir that gives an insight into what it means to be nonbinary and how that influences one's life. The Bridge is beautifully written and is a great read for those who may be experiencing the same questioning that Maillard once did. The Bridge is also an excellent read for those who may not understand what it means to be nonbinary, or who want to learn more about the topic. The Bridge is not a difficult read however there are some themes present such as alcoholism, suicide, and gender dysphoria, that may make it difficult for some readers, so it’s recommended that one be in the right frame of mind before jumping in. Maillard is a talented writer and while this is the first book of his that I’ve read, it certainly won’t be the last.

Thank you, Freehand Books for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

By Megan Amato

Thanks to a duo of teenage babysitters who introduced four-year-old me to The Blair Witch Project and Alien, I had nightmares for years, jumping at every brush of a branch against my window.  I avoided horror with varying degrees of success over the years and literally ran from the room at the first sign of any advert promoting a horror film. Despite this, the supernatural has always fascinated me. Throw in a speculative element and a haunted house, and I’m hooked enough to ignore the internal warning bell’s toll. That’s why despite my hesitation to read anything labelled horror, Mexican Canadian Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic intrigued me enough to add it to my Goodreads list. 

At the novel’s opening, Noemí is sent to check up on her cousin, who has written a hysterical letter claiming that her English husband is poisoning her. Greeted with cold hospitality and prevented from being alone with her cousin, Noemí worries about this once-romantic cousin wilting in such an oppressive place. When she begins to have weird dreams about a dead woman, she suspects that there is more amiss in High Place than the mold-ridden walls and strict rules, and she discovers a history of cyclical violence that has stained the house and its members. At times romantic, sometimes grotesque, and often chilling, this gothic horror is sinister in a way that draws from Mexico’s colonial history to highlight the twisting insidiousness of race theory eugenics and exploitation wrought by Western Europeans on Indigenous peoples around the world. 

In the beginning, the protagonist seems like an unlikeable character: Noemí is spoiled, toys with men and is seemingly fickle. As you read on, you discover that she is exceedingly clever, determined, and loyal to those she loves but ultimately a product of her time and place. As a young woman in 1920s Mexico, she has ambitions to be an anthropologist but is dependent on the men around her to get into the university and gain entry to all the places she wants to go. 

At times the story can be slow-moving as Moreno-Garcia weaves the mystery around the history of the house and family, but never enough to pull me from the story or stop me from reading the book in two evenings. The plot is intricately woven, and I found myself collecting details to try and figure out just what was going on in that creepy house. The foreshadowing was done so well that even the hints I guessed accurately were only the tip of the vast iceberg that is the plot. The twist ending was unique, compelling and, to be honest, a little weird—but it worked. 

Silvia Moreno-Garcia has masterfully written a book full of atmosphere and an eerie charm, combining myth and allegory with the exploitation of Mexico to deliver a terrifying novel that has even the scaredy-cat in me wishing to reread this novel all over.

Book Review: Girl A by Abigail Dean

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: physical and emotional abuse of children, neglect of children, death of a child

Abigail Dean’s debut novel Girl A follows seven siblings who grew up in what is known as their parents’ “House of Horrors.” The seven siblings were discovered when Lex, also known as Girl A, escaped her captivity and was able to seek help. Fifteen years later, when their mother passes away while in prison, Lex is named executor and plans on turning the once horrid house into a community centre. Lex has to revisit the past in order to build the future, which means meeting with her siblings to get their approval to transform the house. A story about resilience, Girl A explores trauma and how differently it can affect people, even when they have gone through the same experiences.

Girl A is broken up into seven sections without smaller chapters, and some readers may find that the sections are too long, but having the book sectioned this way makes sense to the story and the siblings' lives. Girl A shows interactions between Lex and her siblings—both in the past and the present. Dean has done an excellent job of creating complex characters who can make the reader think about how their past traumatic experiences have shaped them into who they are today. Each of the siblings has notable strengths and flaws, which adds to the richness of the overall story.

Girl A is named a psychological thriller, however it reads more like literary fiction. Dean explores how these intensely traumatic events impacted each sibling and how they became the adults that they are. While there are elements of psychology throughout Girl A, it isn’t the main focus and the book is not very suspenseful. Dean’s prose is easy to follow even with the difficult topics brought up throughout Girl A, making this a quick read if the reader is in the right mindset. This novel touches on what happened in this awful home, but Dean doesn’t go into much detail because the story isn’t about the specifics of what has happened to these siblings, it’s about how they overcame and survived the traumas of their past, and how that has made them who they are today. Dean’s exploration of the impacts of trauma is fascinating, and if the second book she is currently writing is anything like Girl A, we won’t be disappointed.

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

Book Review: Of Women and Salt by Gabriela Garcia

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: substance abuse, substance addiction, domestic violence, immigration trauma, child abuse, sexual abuse, discrimination, racism 

A family saga stretching from 1866 to 2019, Gabriela Garcia’s Of Women and Salt is a beautifully crafted novel about generations of Cuban women and how intergenerational trauma not only impacts family directly but also affects those around it. Of Women and Salt has a mirroring storyline of Salvadoran immigrants, Gloria and Ana, that eventually intersects with Jeanette’s life when Jeanette becomes a central part of Ana’s life. The reader will follow numerous women throughout time and learn about the secrets, betrayals, and sufferings they all kept and endured and how their actions and choices impacted women of future generations, whether they were aware of it or not.

Garcia’s central character is Jeanette, a woman who has long suffered from addiction and substance abuse. Jeanette is the character that connects the other protagonists throughout Of Women and Salt whether they are related or not, and it is Jeanette’s character that truly sets up the entire novel. Each of the characters Garcia has created is complex with a rich background, and it is clear that these characters were influenced by some powerful women. Garcia has also included Cuban history throughout Of Women and Salt to show how turmoil also affected these women at various points in history.  

Even though the reader is getting snippets of these different women and what they had to do to survive the lives they lived, Garcia manages to run recurring themes throughout Of Women and Salt: mainly resilience, strength, suffering, motherhood, the mother-daughter relationship and how all of these things help one overcome adversity. Of Women and Salt is outstanding and it will leave the reader to ponder a lot of things including freedom, privilege, and strength. 

Of Women and Salt is a rather short read which means there’s a lot of information in a small amount of space, which can feel overwhelming. If Garcia either made Of Women and Salt a series of short stories or drew out the story a little more, the reader might appreciate the prose even more. Garcia is a force, one that we will need to watch for because there’s no doubt she will produce other stunning pieces of art.

Thank you to Raincoast Books for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: The Book of Selkie by Briana Corr Scott

By Kaylie Seed

Briana Corr Scott’s adorable children’s book The Book of Selkie tells the folk tale of the seal people called the selkie, who are said to live in various parts of Ireland, Scotland, Great Britain, Norway, Iceland, and the Faroe Islands. The selkie are a type of faerie said to be very helpful and private, who can go between land (as humans) and the sea (as seals). Scott has written a short, lyrical children’s story that highlights different things that the selkie are said to do. With an easy-to-follow rhyming scheme, children aged four to seven will find this story easy to follow along at bedtime and will learn about an interesting folk tale that isn’t focused on often.

Scott illustrated The Book of Selkie as well, using oil paintings that are soft and airy, the perfect complement to the whimsical prose found throughout this book. At the end of the story, Scott includes some history on the selkie which will only want the reader to learn more about these secretive mythical beings. The Book of Selkie also has some fantastic paper dolls that Scott designed, which add to the whimsy this book brings to readers. This short children’s book holds a lot of interesting tidbits that many adults probably didn’t know, and they will find The Book of Selkie is a lovely tale to get lost in even for a little while.

Thank you, Nimbus Publishing for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: Lookout: Love, Solitude, and Searching for Wildfire in the Boreal Forest by Trina Moyles

by Kaylie Seed

When most people think of fire they think of danger, damage, loss, and even death. We see the way fire threatens communities all over the world, yet we don’t see fire in the way nature sees it—that fire is meant to cleanse and rejuvenate, to start over. In Canadian author Trina Moyles’ memoir Lookout: Love, Solitude, and Searching for Wildfire in the Boreal Forest (Lookout) she not only tells the story of how she ended up in an obscure job watching for fires in the Canadian north, but she also manages to compare her life journey to fire and teach the reader a thing or two about nature’s true intentions.

While many fires are caused by humans, whether that be unintentional or not, most fires that burn are caused by nature herself. Moyles talks about how fire needs to happen so that new life can emerge; something a lot of us are likely unaware of. Thankfully, Moyles includes many educational elements throughout Lookout that parallel her own life, so that the reader can learn about this natural phenomenon in depth while also reading about the amazing things that Moyles has accomplished. Her life, documented throughout her memoir, is fascinating and filled with so much action that the reader won't want to put Lookout down. 

Moyles’ prose captures the reader's attention from the beginning and continues the momentum until the very end. Even as Lookout was finishing, I didn't want it to end. I wanted to know more about Moyles’ life in solitude, and I wanted to keep reading her beautifully eloquent writing. Moyles is a natural storyteller and it’s clear that her passion for writing goes hand in hand with her passion at the fire tower and her loving dog Holly. I resonated with Moyles and how she went through difficult times, emerging a rejuvenated person on the other side. Without coming out and saying it, it’s evident that Moyles is comparing her life to that of the life cycle of fire, showing how the adversity she faced became resilience. Moyles is extremely relatable, making Lookout a book where many other readers will say “hey, I see myself in her!” Her parts of comic relief are also hilarious. 

I can easily say that this will be one of my all-time favourite reads. I admire Moyles and aspire to be like her: a woman who craves solitude, a woman who faces adversity head on, a woman whose soul fevers with passion the same way a wildfire rages on in the forest.

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