Book Review: Beyond the Legal Limit by Pat Henman

By Kim McCullough

In June 2013, Pat Henman and her daughter Maia were travelling from Calgary to their home in Nelson, BC, when a drunk driver crossed the centre line of a single-lane highway and plowed into them. Henman and her daughter were both critically injured in the head-on crash, with Henman having to be resuscitated before making it to the hospital. Beyond the Legal Limit is an inspiring memoir that chronicles the trauma of Henman’s injuries and the healing that followed. It also delves into her experiences beyond the healthcare system into her struggles with the legal system and insurance industries. 

As Henman writes, “Everything can change in the blink of an eye.” Even though the two women lived, nothing would ever be the same for Henman, her daughter, or the rest of their family after that day in June. She keeps the story her own, rarely sharing her daughter’s struggle to return to a normal life after devastating injuries. Henman’s memory of the hours before the crash is clear, but she has to rely on her daughter’s memory, witnesses at the scene, and RCMP, and first responder reports to put together the details of what happened on the highway that day. 

Henman’s experiences with the healthcare system are described clinically—detailed and clear, and told with grace. She is aware that she was, understandably, not the easiest of patients, and she addresses her frustrations with a grateful nod to the doctors and nurses who did their best to care for her during her many procedures and the setbacks that followed. 

There is a sense of careful fury surrounding the parts of the memoir that discuss the young woman who got behind the wheel drunk. Henman is unflinching in both her opinions and her depiction of the terrible choices the woman made, but she is respectful, too. She doesn’t name the driver and tries to imagine what she was thinking, not only on the day of the accident but at the courthouse and later when she sends a letter to Henman. 

Henman’s anger reaches beyond the drunk driver to a legal system steeped in a process that sidelines victims of crimes and an insurance industry that is more concerned with avoiding responsibility than doing what is right. 

Throughout the legal process, Henman is supported by Mothers Against Drunk Drivers (MADD). MADD provides information and context for what happens in the courtroom; they are invaluable in helping Henman’s family navigate an impersonal and blind justice system. 

Beyond the Legal Limit is a detailed, engaging look at a survivor’s arduous emotional and physical recovery from the aftermath of a stranger’s poor decision to drink and drive. Henman’s memoir carries a brutal reminder of the way chance and choice collide, but in the end, it is a compelling story of perseverance, passion for a cause, and the deep love of family. 

Thank you, Pat Henman, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid

By Melissa Khan

It’s 1983, and Nina Riva is still planning on having the end of summer party she throws with her three younger siblings every year. Throughout the course of one day, we learn the history of the Riva siblings and of the bonds that tie them together in Taylor Jenkins Reid’s novel Malibu Rising. Careful Nina seems to be repeating her mother’s mistakes. Brothers Jay and Hud have been keeping secrets from each other for the first time ever. Talented Kit is struggling with her identity. And having a famous absentee father is not helping any of them.

Interwoven with the present day are excerpts from the past, from Mick and June’s first date to their first child to the first time he walked away. And the aftermath of these decisions is written in such heartbreaking detail. The first part of the novel switches between chapters from the present and the past, with each sibling’s perspective progressing from the start of their day leading up to the start of the party. Flashback chapters mostly centre on moments through the lens of their mother. With these changing perspectives, we start to form a picture of the family and their relationships with one another. 

The second part begins at the start of the party and includes shorter chapters from the perspectives of other guests at the party. These outside views show us the siblings in another light, one that proves how drastically different of an image one can portray. We also begin to learn through flashback chapters how the siblings moved into adulthood, which I felt did a good job of bridging the gap between these characters as children to who they are in the present day. 

I think the changing perspective between chapters was a great way to paint the picture of Nina, Jay, Hud, and Kit. I loved hearing how their shared history affected them differently. However, I felt at times that we didn’t get enough to really sink our teeth into the characters. I would have loved to read more about Jay and Kit specifically, there was so much more to get out of their storylines, and I wish we got to spend more time with them. There were moments when Jay’s actions felt out of character, and I would have loved to see it corrected or explained. Kit’s struggle with her identity and future was raw and complicated and could have benefitted from getting more than a struggle with how to dress or who to kiss.

I felt so much sadness reading this novel. It was everything I expected from Reid, a beautiful, complicated story that got me to empathize with every character I encountered. If you were a fan of any of Reid’s previous work, I would highly recommend checking this one out as well. It will leave you feeling hopeful and sad and eager for more!

Thank you, Penguin Random House Canada, for sending me a copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Everybody, Always by Bob Goff

By Jamie Maletta

I came across author Bob Goff’s Everybody, Always on an Instagram story. I promptly messaged the poster asking if it was any good, and she couldn’t say enough. Without anything else to go on and some faith in the feedback, I was sold! 

I read through the first chapter and quickly realized the book is a Christian self-help/motivational read, which I hadn’t realized, but I was definitely intrigued! This was one book I actually had a hard time putting down, and I honestly feel motivated to be a better person having read it. Although the context is that of the Christian faith, I believe anyone could take the overall message and apply it to their daily life, regardless of faith or spiritual preference. 

Goff jumps into story mode in chapter one. He does an incredible job of recalling stories and experiences from his own life and imperfectly reflects on how he approached various situations and why. His overarching message throughout the book is to “become love” and express love through action to those around you—especially those that are hard to love, hard to like, and are unlike ourselves and our inner circles. It’s easy to express love to the ones we already love—the ones that hold the same values and share similar lifestyles. Goff teaches us that this love isn’t enough and that the world needs so much more. 

The stories are so well written, interesting, and often humorous, and I can’t help but love the writing in this book. Goff has a number of books out, and you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be adding them to my must-read list! 

Book Review: The Barren Grounds by David A. Robertson

By Christine McFaul

The Barren Grounds by Canadian author David A. Robertson is a middle-grade fantasy novel and the first book of the Misewa Saga series. I actually chose it as my most-anticipated Cloud Lake read for this fall (see Volume 3, Fall 2021 for further details), and I’m excited to get into the nitty-gritty of the reading experience. 

A quick note on art, although some middle-grade novels contain illustrations, this one does not. It doesn’t require them. Robertson’s words create a visceral and visual world that is easily imagined. I will mention, though, that the cover art is stunning and perfectly sets the tone for the text before the book is even opened.

Touted as a retelling of the classic C.S. Lewis series, the book is described as: “Narnia meets traditional Indigenous stories of the sky and constellations in an epic middle-grade fantasy series.” 

The story is told in the limited first person by Morgan, a 13-year-old First Nations teenager who has, during her short life, lived in a variety of white foster homes in Manitoba. Two months into her newest placement, she gains a younger foster brother, a quiet and artistic 12-year-old Cree boy named Eli. Morgan and Eli feel disconnected at home, don’t fit in at school, and barely get along with each other. So, it isn’t surprising that when they discover a portal that leads, Narnia-like, to a magical world beyond, they have very different ideas about what to do. Eli, recognizing an affinity for what lies ahead, is eager to explore, while Morgan, seeing only potential pitfalls in the unknown, prefers to stay put in the real world. The two argue, and Morgan says hurtful words to Eli. Later, he disappears through the portal, and Morgan must follow him into the barren grounds of Misewa to apologize and convince him to come home.

Once there, Morgan discovers that the Misewa community—in the frozen grips of the White Time—is on the brink of starvation and cannot survive much longer. Determined to help, she reunites with Eli and the two join forces with Ochek (Fisher), the last hunter of Misewa, and Arik, a squirrel with excellent comedic timing. Their unlikely crew embarks on a dangerous mission to end Misewa’s frozen misery and bring back summer.

In Misewa, Morgan and Eli speak “the good language,” or Cree, learn the traditional way of surviving, and connect with Indigenous stories and philosophies. 

“Kiskisitotaso…I know that word,” he said. “In English, it means something like, ‘Don’t forget about who you are’….”

Robertson deftly uses both the contemporary and fantasy settings (and sometimes the tension between them) to explore themes of identity, family, culture, alienation, and connection in heartbreaking, humorous, philosophical but always relateable teenage ways.  

To me, one of the most interesting aspects of Robertson’s narrative is his study of anger, and ultimately, forgiveness. Explored through the narrative itself, as well as through teachings, these twin concepts are unravelled throughout the story in many interesting and nuanced ways. 

I entered into this reading experience with high hopes and The Barren Grounds delivered. Morgan is one of my favourite types of female protagonists, angry but with a sense of humour about it, good-hearted but not a goody-goody, strong, smart, and above all, interesting. Voice, which can be tricky in the middle-grade category, and worldbuilding, which can make or break fantasy, are both executed seamlessly. I am looking forward to getting my hands on the next book in this series and curious to see whether there will be a shift to Eli as the narrator or stick with Morgan? Robertson seems to leave the door open to either of those possibilities.

Book Review: Dead Dead Girls by Nekesa Afia

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warning: murder, gore, violence, kidnapping, attempted rape, racism, racially motivated violence, racial slurs, homophobic slurs, physical abuse  

Dead Dead Girls by Nekesa Afia explores the duality of the 1920s, contrasting the opulence of prohibition with the racial violence that permeated the period. Ten years prior, Louise Lloyd was abducted off the streets of Harlem and held in a basement with three other teenage girls. After fighting off her abductor and getting herself and the other captives to safety, Louise is dubbed Harlem’s Hero, a mantle she has been fighting to escape for the last ten years. Instead, she pours her time into simple pleasures like working a waitressing job at a quiet coffee shop and dancing at Harlem’s hottest speakeasy with her girlfriend. But when young girls start turning up dead, Louise makes a drunken mistake and finds herself forced to aid the police as they race to catch a serial killer targeting young Black girls working for the city’s most notorious gangster. 

I’ll begin this review bluntly: this book was not for me. While a historical murder mystery is not typically my genre, I was very intrigued by the premise and was excited to immerse myself in 1920s Harlem to follow Louise on her investigation. The concept of this book is really promising; however, the execution failed for me. The prose in this novel is underwhelming. Many of the sentences begin with repetitive words and phrases, sentence lengths are short and choppy, and chapters are short with jarring transitions between scenes. The attempt, I believe, is to create a feeling of heightened suspense for the reader, which fell flat for me, unfortunately, and it felt in many instances that this book was telling rather than showing. 

Likewise, Afia’s writing style failed to set the scene for me, and I had difficulty connecting with any of the settings or characters in this book, as I felt they were under-described. I had some issues with the plot of this novel as well, as I found the actual investigation to be somewhat lackluster. Unfortunately, the story simply failed to capture my interest, and Afia’s writing style didn’t work for me. 

However, I do feel that this book needs to be commended for its representation. Louise, the book’s protagonist, is Black and queer, as are her friends, and the book spends a great deal of time exploring the ways in which marginalized communities in this period were victimized, with Louise seeing herself in the serial killer’s victims. Afia’s author’s note states that this book could have taken place in modern society strikes a chord with readers who have just read a story filled with racism, gendered violence, and bigotry that one wants to believe we have left in the past, but which are all still present in the world today. The times where I felt this book worked best were when Louise was examining her place and the place of the dead girls in society, pondering the prejudices against Black people, women, impoverished communities, and same-sex relationships that allowed for her and girls like her to fall victims to brutal violence. 

As I said at the beginning of this review, this book was not for me. However, I am grateful I had the opportunity to read it as I feel the statements it made are important, even if the execution fell short. While I personally did not enjoy this book, I do feel like it has an audience: fans of historical mysteries with a fondness for fast-paced writing and an introspective protagonist who aren’t overly critical of writing style. 

Thank you to Berkley Publishers at Penguin Random House for a copy of Dead Dead Girls in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Such a Quiet Place by Megan Miranda

by Melissa Barbuzzi

Content warning: Murder

Such a Quiet Place takes place in Hollows Edge, a neighbourhood that was once filled with neighbours who gathered and looked out for one another—until the murder of residents Brandon and Fiona Truett. A year and a half later, one of Hollows Edge’s residents who was accused of their murder returns home while the other residents feel stuck and suffocated, confronted every day by the Truett house and their testimonies. Will their murders be solved? Will the neighbourhood once again get back to how it once was?

Such a Quiet Place is a compelling mystery filled with secrets and paranoia. After the murders of Brandon and Fiona, everyone keeps to themselves, but eyes are always watching. The story started off as a slow burn, which worried me at first, but it quickly turned into a page-turner that kept me on the edge of my seat until the very end! The major plot twist was definitely gasp-worthy and seriously took me by surprise.

I felt fully immersed in the plot and the neighbourhood’s secrets. The characters had endless layers, and the author did a great job at slowly pulling each layer back to reveal more about the neighbours of Hollows Edge. The two main characters, Harper and Ruby, felt so incredibly real and deep to me. Normally, in thrillers, I find that the decisions made by the characters are so unrealistic but in this book I felt most decisions were realistic and true to the characters.

The murder and case were so interesting that I do wish we were given more details about what exactly went on in the weeks surrounding the murder. I was left with so many questions that I wanted answered, but I think that was mainly because I’m a true crime junkie who wanted all the details! 

I also wish that we got more details about all the neighbours and maybe more of an inside look at their lives. Everyone in the neighbourhood was always watching from afar, but we never truly learned about all of their deep dark secrets.

Overall, if you’re looking for a thriller to add to your TBR pile, I highly recommend Such a Quiet Place by Megan Miranda. The twists and turns were so entertaining, and kept me on the edge of my seat! This was my first read by Megan Miranda, but I’ve already ordered two of her other books because I loved this one so much!

Book Review: Eat, Pray, #FML by Gabrielle Stone

By Jamie Maletta

Gabrielle Stone is an American actress, director, and author. Her newest book Eat, Pray, #FML hit shelves in June 2019, documenting her adventures through a divorce, a short-lived and intense romance, and a solo trip abroad. 

Gabrielle begins her story by unraveling her marriage and inevitable divorce. She soon finds herself in the arms of an stranger, whom she falls head-over-heels for. Their relationship is intense and becomes very serious very quickly. They book a romantic month-long backpacking adventure through Europe that he just so happens to bail out of only 48 hours prior to their departure. With nothing to lose, Gabrielle decides to embark on a trip of a lifetime with or without her new love, meeting new friends, eating and drinking (so much drinking) to her heart’s content, all while trying to get to the bottom of who she truly is and what she truly wants. Crazy adventures ensue, and revelations are made as she hops across Europe in Eat, Pray, #FML.

Personally, I found this book very surface-level. It’s apparent the author attempted to achieve depth, and it just wasn’t there for me. The writing was very much like a “teenager trying desperately to justify their actions,” and I found myself wanting to comfort this woman or provide her with some sense: “You don’t need a man. You keep advocating for this but contradict the very point you’re attempting to make!” It was a little frustrating, to say the least.

I believe this book may be of more interest to the 19-21 age range audience looking for an easy and adventurous read. It contains mature themes, a lot of partying, and cool adventures. The “fun” and adventurous aspect was not lost on me, and I do believe this could be a fun read for the younger-than-me audience! (I say at my ripe old age of 33!) 

Stone’s next book, The Ridiculous Misadventures of a Single Girl, is set to release September 2021, and I find myself intrigued enough to check it out, and include it in a future review! 

Book Review: Sincerely, Your Autistic Child Edited by Emily Paige Ballou, Sharon daVanport, and Morénike Giwa Onaiwu

By Kaylie Seed

Sincerely, Your Autistic Child is a series of 30 vignettes written by autistic people specifically for parents of children on the autism spectrum. This was a book that hit close to home for me. As an autistic person, I resonated with each and every one of these stories and felt so honoured to be able to read these words. 

Before I speak about the book, I want to clarify that using identity-first language (i.e. “autistic person”) is totally okay! Oftentimes people want to use person-first language (i.e. “person with autism”) because they think they are being polite, however many autistic people prefer identity-first language  and it can be seen as ableist to use person-first language to some autistic people. Always check with the individual to see how they would prefer to be seen; each person is unique, and so is the way that they choose to be identified.

Sincerely, Your Autistic Child has amazing individual accounts but there were a couple of ever-present themes that popped up all throughout the book. Autistic people want to be accepted, they want to be loved, and they want others to see them for who they are, not a project to be fixed. Every single one of the authors in this book was telling parents to accept their children, their stims (self-stimulatory behaviours), their quirks, their identity. There is no need to try to change the person they are, and there is no need to search for a “cure.” Autistic people may think and see the world differently, but we have so much to offer if people would take the time to step out of their boxes and step into our triangles.

While this feels more like a diary entry than a review, I think this is a way for me to reflect on my own autistic journey through the words of those people who are everything and nothing like me. If you’ve met an autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person. Just like everyone else in the world, we are unique, and while we share a diagnosis, we are nothing alike. If you are lucky enough to have an autistic person in your life I hope that you take the time to get to know them and get to know their autism, because it is part of who they are and not anything they should be ashamed of. Being autistic just means I have the chance to experience the world differently.

For more information regarding identify-first language, please read:  https://autisticadvocacy.org/about-asan/identity-first-language/

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

Book Review: The Son of the House by Cheluchi Onyemelukwe-Onuobia

By Larissa Page

Content warning: child abuse, sexual assault/abuse, infertility, kidnapping

The Son of the House by Cheluchi Onyemelukwe-Onuobia is the perfect new novel for fans of the 2020 best seller The Girl with the Louding Voice. Though the story differs greatly, I found some of the themes to be the same and I truly enjoyed getting to experience the resiliency of Nigerian women again.

The Son of the House opens with two women, Nwabulu and Julie, who are kidnapped together in Nigeria, in 2011. Known to each other as new friends, they choose to spend their time in captivity sharing their stories with each other. We are given a recount of Nwabulu’s life, from being a housemaid with the dream of becoming a typist, before her dreams are crushed by both her decisions and the betrayals of others. We also hear Julie’s story of being a middle-aged single woman until she tricks her suitor into marriage, before suffering infertility. During their time together, they discover they are linked in an inexplicable, heartbreaking way.

Cheluchi Onyemelukwe-Onuobia is a fantastic writer. I found this novel easy to read and I didn’t struggle to understand the experiences of those with whom I don’t have a shared experience. The emotions and feelings were well described even in situations where I felt I may not feel the same way, or with actions I may not have agreed with. I also found the class difference between the two women to be very evident as well as the class movement by Nwabulu. It was well written and believable to see her growth. 

While I didn’t connect as much with Julie’s story, and I certainly didn’t feel myself rooting for her in quite the same way (I do wonder if that was on purpose), I do also see the purpose Julie serves in this story. While I wish the story was a bit more Nwabulu-centred, Julie shows us a different type of women’s resiliency. She may not always have been ethical, but she took care of herself and did what she could to make herself a family. 

I really, really loved how this novel was set up. First, we are given the women together during the kidnapping, agreeing to tell their stories; then we are given Nwabulu’s story up a certain point; then Julie’s. Julie’s story gives us what we need to understand the connection between the women but not enough to know how they came together. Following both stories is how they found each other, how they ended up kidnapped together, and just how much of their stories they choose to tell each other. It really kept me guessing until the very end whether the characters themselves would tell the truth, make the connections, and ultimately make their ways home. This one really succeeded in being a human drama that keeps you guessing and hooked to know what happens next.  

An excellent look at the class structure of 1970s Nigeria through to 2011, The Son of the House gives us a window into the lives of two very different women with a shocking connection. Each of them struggles with different issues in their growth over four decades, though ultimately, they end up together in a dark room where they share the stories of themselves with us and each other. We are shown the struggles and strife, growth and resiliency, of women in a patriarchal world.

Book Review: The Listeners by Jordan Tannahill

By Erica Wiggins

The Listeners is Jordan Tannahill’s second fiction novel. Tannahill is a new-to-me author, so I did some research before diving in. First off, he’s Canadian; second, he’s young; and third, he is VERY successful. He has made short films and written and produced plays, along with writing nonfiction and fiction books. In fact, this book is being adapted into an opera which is set to premier in 2022. I was excited to dive in. 

 “The thing I struggle to wrap my head around is how did something so small, so innocuous precipitate the complete unraveling of my life. How all of this soul-searching, transcendence and devastation could begin with a low and barely perceptible sound.”

The Listeners tells the story of Claire, who one night hears a humming sound which no one else seems to be able to hear. She checks around the house to try to find the source but has no luck. As time goes on and the hum continues, her daily life is impacted. Her family thinks she is crazy and she is unable to work. After a hiatus from her job, Claire realizes she must pretend that she no longer hears the hum and heads back to work. There she makes a connection with one of her students, Kyle, who also hears the hum. They work together to find the source of the hum and it leads them to a group of people who hear the hum. In an almost cult-like fashion this group comes together to meet and discuss the hum. While some just want the hum to stop, others are fascinated and believe that they are the elite, that the hum can bring them to a euphoric state. These believers work to convince the group that the hum makes them special.  

I enjoyed that the story was written from the perspective of Claire as a sort of record of what happened to her and her involvement in this group. I quickly became invested in Claire—the decisions she made, the way she interacted with her family, and the impact that this event had on her life. I found myself thinking about what I would do in this situation and how easy it can be to fall into a group of people who you feel are going through the same thing regardless of how that group looks. It also made me question what was happening. As we are only getting Claire’s perspective, how accurate is her view of the story? Is she being honest in her retelling? 

I went into this story knowing that it was being developed into an opera and wondered how it would translate. In a way, I believe this helped me to visualize the story. Tannahill wove a story that revolves around sound in a beautiful and haunting way. I could see how this would play out on stage, especially when the group begins to meet. While I did enjoy the story, it felt like it wasn’t complete. Perhaps this was intentional, and I would be interested to see it play out on stage. It feels like a story that you need to experience rather than read. 

I would recommend this book to those who are able immerse themselves in the world of the story they are reading and visualize the events. 

Thank you to HarperCollins Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: Not a Happy Family by Shari Lapena

By Rebekah Dolmat

Content warning: murder

Canadian author Shari Lapena’s latest book, Not A Happy Family, is a fun, fast-paced whodunit domestic suspense thriller that leaves the reader guessing right up until the very last page. 

Fred and Sheila Merton live in a mansion located in Brecken Hill, Upstate New York. One night, following a disastrous Easter family dinner with their three adult children—Dan, Catherine, and Jenna—their partners, and their long-term housekeeper Irena, the Mertons are murdered. Sheila was strangled in the entrance, while Fred was stabbed to death in the kitchen with his throat slit. When their bodies are discovered two days later by Irena, their three children—who are set to inherit millions—become the primary suspects.

While Fred’s appearance in the novel is extremely brief, he is by far one of the most interesting characters. Depicted as a psychopath, Fred is a powerful oligarch who finds joy in tormenting his “disappointing” children and pitting them against one another. During their family dinner, the reader discovers that Dan is penniless and unemployed because his father has sold the company that he worked hard for and was set to inherit. Catherine, the most accomplished of the three, will no longer be inheriting the family home because Fred is putting it up for sale. And Jenna, the black sheep of the family, is about to be cut off from his financial support. Clearly, Dan, Catherine, and Jenna all have their own financial motives for murdering their parents—so, which one of them did it? Was it even one of them at all? You’ll have to read to find out!

The story is made up of short chapters that include several short paragraphs told through multiple perspectives—the children, their partners, the housekeeper, extended family members and friends, and, of course, the two detectives on the case. With each chapter, the reader becomes more and more suspicious of the characters. However, it’s not just the reader who becomes suspicious because all the characters do too, and they quickly turn on each other. Lapena excels at implicating each of her characters to the point where they all become equally plausible suspects, right up until the final pages when the murderer is finally revealed to the reader. 

In addition to all of the characters being suspicious, they are also all equally unlikeable; they have weird quirks, personality traits and habits, and each of them will surprise the reader in a different and shocking way.

In short, this is an unputdownable, fun, fast-paced, and thrilling read.  Readers looking for an addicting read that will keep them guessing with every turn of the page will highly enjoy this book—it makes for the perfect summer thriller.

Thank you to Penguin Random House Canada and Doubleday Canada for the complimentary review copy.

Book Review: The Nine Lives of Charlotte Taylor by Sally Armstrong

By Meredith Grace Thompson

Charlotte Taylor’s story requires very little introduction to be completely enthralling. A maverick woman in a time when agency was denied to those of her gender, Taylor was a human being to be marvelled at. Written by her great-great-great-granddaughter Sally Armstrong, The Nine Lives of Charlotte Taylor is a fictionalised account of the life of the woman who has become legend in Tabusintac, New Brunswick.  

The story begins on her voyage fleeing her home in England with her family’s Black butler, with whom young Charlotte has fallen deeply in love. They hope to make a home for themselves in Jamaica, but after a terrible accident in a foreign land where she has no rights and no protection, Charlotte Taylor finds herself alone and unmarried—and very much with child. 

Talking her way onto a merchant naval ship with a compassionate captain, Taylor manages to make her way north to the shores of eastern Canada. Through the narrative of this fictional Taylor’s life, Armstrong manages to embed some of the history of European settlement in Atlantic Canada, moving through the history of the Acadians and their deportation and eventual and struggling return, to the Mi’kmaq tribes and their relationship with British settlers, as well as the nature of settlers’ land rights as land shifted from Nova Scotia to the newly formed province of New Brunswick. 

Charlotte Taylor’s story is one of perseverance and endurance. Living well into old age, the novel looks at the expanse of her life—her survival of the brutal Atlantic winters, her nine children by four different fathers, her three marriages and three separate experiences of being widowed, and her lifelong friendship and love affair with a Mi’kmaq man. Othered by her sex and the seemingly inescapable misogyny of the men around her—including her father, husbands, and even eventually her sons—Charlotte Taylor refused to conform to what was expected of her, and yet always did what was necessary for her family. Armstrong’s connection to her protagonist is clear, as the narrative feels like an elongated family legend being told over the remnants of a large dinner. 

Armstrong paints Taylor as the mythical figure of the Canadian white settler. She battles the elements, overcomes infringements on her rights as best she can, raises her children fiercely, and has a special relationship with the Mi’kmaq band nearby. While I have no doubt that many of these characteristics are true, I am forced to wonder at the level of mythologizing which occurs in these pages. Charlotte Taylor is a strong woman, a hero of female worth and emancipation, but she is also steeped in white privilege. Encased and cocooned in her own assumed gentleness and dependant on the kindness of strangers who unquestioningly give her the “benefit of the doubt” (so intrinsic to whiteness and all the privileges that are attached to it), Charlotte Taylor manages to skate through life in a way that women of colour or a lower class would not have been able to. While attempting to be respectful and inclusive of the Indigenous experience of Atlantic Canada, Armstrong’s depiction of the gentle Wioche, the Mi’kmaq man Charlotte loves her entire life, is problematic. Taylor never considers building a home or a life with Wioche, and seems to use him only for emotional support during her own times of need. She never seems to ask him anything about himself or allow him agency of his own. This portrayal, if not falling headfirst into Indigenous fetishization and tokenism, certainly teeters on the edge of it. 

Armstrong’s narrative is clean, focused, and meticulously plotted. The plot rushes forward at nearly breakneck speeds, racing through years while lingering on and luxuriating in defining moments. The narrative voice is however decidedly contemporary, sometimes unintentionally breaking the illusion constructed by well-crafted historical fiction with overtly modern words or phrases. But this is made up for by the veracity of the protagonist herself. Charlotte Taylor is a force to be reckoned with. Radically open, with a wildness of spirit and an abundance of self-worth, Taylor falls in love quickly and easily. And you will in turn fall in love with her too.  

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

Book Review: We Have Always Been Here by Samra Habib

By Anusha Runganaikaloo

Content warning: sexism, racism, Islamophobia, child abuse

We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir is the story of Samra Habib, a Toronto-based writer, photographer, and activist. It is a tale of resistance in the face of oppression in one’s homeland, of exile and resilience—but beyond that, it is a one-of-a-kind book that celebrates queer Muslim identities around the world. 

The author starts by recounting her childhood in a working-class neighbourhood in Lahore, Pakistan. Nostalgia and trauma are inextricably tangled as, on the one hand, she recalls exuberant family reunions, or mornings spent singing and baking with her mother and sisters in their one-bedroom house while her overbearing father was away at work; and on the other, rampant sexism, femicides, and fearing for her life as an Ahmadiyya Muslim in a country where her community was, and still is, persecuted by the Sunni majority.

At thirteen, the author moves to Canada with her family—and mysteriously, her first cousin Nasir, who is ten years older than she is. Amid a flurry of appointments at the welfare office, struggles and humiliations, encounters with bullies at her new school, intensive ESL classes, and tremendous efforts to adapt to her new environment, she learns that her family has arranged for her to marry Nasir.

The teenage Samra sees her childhood dreams fall apart as her parents and Nasir become more and more controlling, so that she only finds solace in school and books. Ultimately, this is what saves her, as she wins a scholarship to study journalism at Ryerson University. Around that time, we also witness her first act of open self-assertion when she dissolves her marriage to Nasir, challenging her parents’ authority and getting ostracized by her Ahmadiyya community.

From then on, we follow Samra as she searches for herself as a young adult, repeatedly using the dysfunctional coping mechanisms she has grown up with and dealing with incomprehension as a first-generation immigrant.

Slowly, she manages to carve a place for herself as a fashion journalist and dares to come out as queer. However, one thing is sorely missing from her life: spirituality. This realization propels her toward a journey to reconnect with the religion that she distanced herself from so many years ago. It is finally in a queer mosque, a place of acceptance and openness, that she comes full circle and reconciles with who she truly is, a queer Muslim in all her glorious uniqueness.

The strength of this book lies in how it handles complex issues such as family dynamics and religious identity. The author never falls into clichés or extremes. Her parents’ ambiguity and redeeming traits are well portrayed: paradoxically, they are conservative but almost feminist in their fight for their daughters to have the finest education. And, later on, in their own way, they end up accepting Samra for who she is. Furthermore, instead of rejecting Islam, she reclaims her religion and makes it her mission to show the world how queer Muslims are empowered by their faith.

That being said, I could not help but notice a few inconsistencies, such as the author claiming that she was coming out for the first time, or was visiting the USA or Montréal for the first time, when she already had earlier in the story. However, these are minor flaws, and I definitely recommend this edifying read to anyone who wishes to explore the challenges faced by diasporas from a very original standpoint.

Book Review: Yearbook by Seth Rogen

By Robyn Rossit

Content warning: drug use, antisemitism

Yearbook by Seth Rogen was by far the funniest book I have read this year. Told through a collection of true stories/essays, the reader is taken on a journey through Rogen's childhood, his career, and everywhere in between. Fans of Seth Rogen's comedy, or even fans of comedy in general, will probably find themselves chuckling while reading Yearbook. The book is written in a very casual and down-to-earth manner that feels more conversational than formal.

One of my favourite aspects of the book was realizing how much the movie Superbad parallels Rogen's high school experience. I kind of knew that going in, but I don't think I truly realized the extent of it, right down to quite a few of the characters being named after real people. He also tells some hilarious stories about awkward encounters with other famous people including Kanye West and Nicolas Cage. Oh, to be a fly on the wall the next time he runs into them.

Unsurprisingly, a lot of Seth's stories do centre around drug use and the antics he has gotten into as a result. Even at the most inappropriate of times, his stories are still just as thoughtful as they are funny. He manages to touch on deeper topics such as his Jewish heritage and the antisemitism that he has experienced throughout his life. 

Although I read the physical copy of this book, I am already eager to experience it again as an audiobook. Seth, along with some family and friends, narrate it, which sounds like it will further enhance the reader's experience. Rogen certainly writes true to his voice, because even reading the physical book had me imagining him reading it to me.

Overall, if you're a fan of Seth Rogen, you will probably enjoy Yearbook. It would be the perfect read to cheer you up on a gloomy day because making people laugh is what Rogen does best. He is a natural born storyteller and it shows.

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

Book Review: Had it Coming by Robyn Doolittle

By Carmen Lebar

Content warning: rape, violence, sexual harassment, sexism

Had It Coming by Robyn Doolittle explores the discourse of sexual assault and harassment within the #MeToo movement. Doolittle investigates what is fair in this movement, and the varying ways justice can be seen within society. The precursor to this book was her “Unfounded” piece for the Globe and Mail, where she identified that a high percentage of sexual assault cases that were dismissed as unfounded were, in reality, not properly investigated. I found Had It Coming to be insightful and informative. There were many cases, and legal technicalities, that I did not know about. I think this book is an essential read because it shows how Canada, and the world, has developed better ways to handle sexual assault cases—but it also highlights the ways in which society is failing victims.

Doolittle begins her book with the advent of the #MeToo movement and gives examples of well-known male celebrities who have been exposed for their behaviour. One of Canada’s most infamous cases, that of Jian Ghomeshi, is given as an example of how societal mores do not equate to what is illegal. Canada’s legal system is changing, but not at the same pace as our morals are shifting. I appreciated learning more about the legal system in Canada, and how what I may find morally wrong, may not be legally wrong. There were many laws I didn’t know about, and also some archaic ones that were unsettling to discover. But the most unsettling thing I learned in this book was the way that myths about sexual assault are even present within the legal system. 

A recurring topic Doolittle brings up in Had It Coming is ignorance vs. cognizance in relation to myths about sexual assault. A great example of this is when Doolittle interviews Judge Robin Camp, who made inappropriate remarks during a sexual assault case—being ignorant to the actual laws. (He has since been debarred from judging.) Since then he has taken courses, and tried to learn more about sexual assault law in Canada. However, not everyone is willing to educate themselves and unlearn the harmful myths about sexual assault. I was surprised to learn about Judge Camp and his willingness to learn, and the way that people can attempt to redeem themselves through education. However, I was also dismayed to learn about the way that some people, like Jian Ghomeshi, think redemption is a given.

Doolittle brilliantly conveys the current atmosphere of the #MeToo movement and questions how we should navigate each case. Through education, and debunking myths, we can find better ways to help victims. Doolittle makes her personal comments known about each case she mentions, but she never neglects oppositional views or reports. Had It Coming is a great starting point for anyone who wants to learn more about how sexual assault and harassment is handled in Canada, and anyone who enjoys investigative journalism. 

Please note that Carmen has recently acquired a new position with Penguin Random House Canada. Her thoughts and opinions are her own, but for transparency we'd like to share this detail.

Book Review: The Girl Who Died by Ragnar Jónasson

By Kaylie Seed

Ragnar Jónasson’s newest mystery novel The Girl Who Died takes place in Iceland during the 1980s. The story follows Una, a teacher looking for a change of scenery who ends up in Skalar, one of the most remote places in Iceland, where things are far from idyllic. Skalar is home to only ten people, and Una has the chance to know each of them more intimately than she might like. Chilling, dark, and atmospheric, The Girl Who Died is bound to keep readers up past their bedtimes. While Jónasson has written The Girl Who Died as predominantly a mystery read, there are aspects of the supernatural woven throughout the book which add to the eeriness of the entire story.

All of the characters that you meet throughout The Girl Who Died are complex and filled with interesting back stories. Jónasson peels back the layers on each of these characters slowly as the story evolves, which adds to the mystery of the novel. Since Una is the main character, the reader has the opportunity to learn the most about her. Through Una the reader will have the chance to learn about the other characters; however, this may seem biased since everything is from her perspective.

Jónasson is a master at writing atmospheric reads and it certainly helps that he uses Iceland as his backdrop. Iceland is a stunning country (I have been and cannot wait to go back) that holds an air of mystery all on its own. The setting in The Girl Who Died acts as a character all on its own, which is an impressive thing for an author to accomplish. Readers who enjoy mysteries with a sprinkle of the supernatural will fall head over heels for The Girl Who Died.

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

Book Review: Undersong by Kathleen Winter

By Larissa Page

Undersong is a historical fiction novel focusing on and narrated by James Dixon, a young jack-of-all-trades handyman who comes to work for the Wordsworths on their estate. The Wordsworths, as in famous poet William and his unique sister Dorothy (Rotha). Spoken from Dixon’s point of view, retelling his life with the Wordsworths to a tree and a garden (with whom he has always felt connected) upon his dear friend Rotha’s death, Undersong describes his day-to-day life—becoming Rotha’s friend, companion, and ultimately her watcher, as her brother William grows and moves away from her. Undersong also includes cameos from other literary legends from this time period (approximately 1816) such as Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Mary Lamb.

I thought picking a historical fiction book from a period I am not typically drawn to would pique my interest. I enjoyed the description for Undersong and Winter’s past reputation as a Giller prize short-lister. Unfortunately, I was not able to get interested or hooked into Undersong. 

I absolutely loved the concept of James Dixon’s connection to the garden. The prologue and inserts between parts are from the point of view of the large garden tree (Sycamore) that James sits below, shaded, while mourning the passing of his friend; the chapters themselves are from James’s point of view as he tells the story of his time in their household to the garden and the tree. The novel ends with a part devoted to what was contained in Rotha’s red diary (which is referenced by James throughout the novel).

The chapters are also written without quotation marks, which works for some people and not for others. I, for one, found this to be a challenge in reading this book. I would have preferred if the speaking parts had been accented with quotation marks. 

I found Undersong to be a fairly quick book to move through, and Winter’s writing is certainly beautiful, with fantastic descriptions of the relationship between James and Rotha as well as between Rotha and William, and also incredible descriptions of the landscape Rotha and James often traipsed through. However, I just wasn’t hooked at any point throughout the novel and found it lacklustre on the whole. I struggled to want to pick it back up with each reading session, simply not interested in the content of the story, nor compelled to continue. That said, I feel the book description was a draw and the potential for another reader to enjoy it is high. 

Book Review: Both Sides Now by Peyton Thomas

By Carly Smith

Content Warning: Transphobia, homophobia, racism

Both Sides Now is a captivating, quick-moving novel about Finch Kelly and his life as a senior in high school. Finch has the typical woes of teens his age—friendships, his relationship with his parents, and admission into university. There is more to Finch’s story, though, because he is set to participate in the national debating competition and the topic being argued has to do with transgender rights. This hits close to home because Finch is transgender. Readers follow closely as Finch prepares for and takes place in the debate, transforms friendships, questions his sexual identity, and learns more about himself and his values as he strives to be offered admission to Georgetown University.

The novel is written from Finch’s perspective, and Thomas builds Finch’s character so carefully and intently that readers will have difficulty remembering he is not a real, physical human. Finch is intelligent, good-humoured, hard-working, and wise beyond his years. It is evident that transitioning, living with ever-arguing parents, and his role on the debate team have offered him many experiences that other teens have gone without, all of which contribute to his well-roundedness and mature disposition. Rather than dwell on hardships with which he is presented, like arguing for topics that he is passionately against in debate club, Finch uses them as learning opportunities. 

Jonah is a friend and debate partner of Finch, a clever young man whose everyday life is equally as mesmerizing as Finch’s. Thomas paints a picture of Jonah, which unveils to readers life as a gay Asian teen. Between Finch and Jonah, a world of seemingly non-existent and outdated inequalities is revealed to readers, prompting reflection, both inward and outward. 

Human rights are a major theme in Both Sides Now. Thomas’s ability to intertwine transgender rights with the life of a transgender high schooler and his extracurricular life is impeccable. The book is written in a way that makes readers want to continue to each new chapter immediately while also taking time to pause and reflect on current societal standards and one's own stances on the themes presented. The words and chapters flow flawlessly, and Thomas uses language both adults and young adults will connect with. If you are a white, cisgender, straight person, Both Sides Now should be at the top of your ‘to be read’ pile.

Thank you to the Penguin Group Penguin Young Readers Group for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review! 

Book Review: The Missing Treasures of Amy Ashton by Eleanor Ray

By Christina McLaurine

Content Warning: domestic abuse

The Missing Treasures of Amy Ashton is a debut novel by Eleanor Ray. The protagonist, Amy Ashton, is a collector who finds it’s easier (and safer) to surround herself with things. After suddenly losing the most important people in her life 11 years prior, Amy opts not to create any space for new people in her life. Instead, she fills her life and her home with her things: wine bottles, mugs, cookbooks, newspapers, and a cornucopia of thrift store finds. This is because at the end of the day, her things, her treasures, will never abandon her. However, when a new family moves in across the street, something in Amy shifts and she starts to question if life is better with her things or if she can make some space for new people in her life. 

The novel is told solely from Amy’s perspective and is divided between the past and present. This gives the reader a complete picture of how important the people she lost were and how much it affected her. Getting glimpses of who she was then and who she is now, the reader can’t help but cheer for her to heal from her past and create a more vibrant future. 

Considering Amy’s trauma response is the defining characteristic of her personality and central to the overall plot of the story, The Missing Treasures of Amy Ashton never feels heavy or draining. In fact, the emotional load of the novel remains light throughout the novel, such that the resolution and Amy’s growth felt rushed, not quite matching the pre-established pace of the novel. The Missing Treasures of Amy Ashton is a novel filled with quirky characters, tender moments, and a bit of mystery that will draw in the reader and keep them captivated until they turn the last page.

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

Book Review: The Roanoke Girls by Amy Engel

By Rebekah Dolmat

Content warning: abuse (physical, psychological, sexual), death of a child, murder, suicide

The Roanoke Girls by Amy Engel is a twisted, disturbing, and completely unsettling thriller about the Roanoke family—a family with dark and shocking secrets that span across three generations.

Following the sudden death of her mother, 15-year-old Lane Roanoke is sent to live with her grandparents on their vast estate in rural Kansas. Upon arrival, she discovers that she has a cousin, Allegra, who is six months younger than her and has lived on the estate since she was a baby, cared for by her grandparents following her mother’s disappearance. Over the course of that long, hot summer, Lane and Allegra grow close—close enough for Allegra to share that the Roanoke girls never last long around the estate because they either run away or die, but not close enough to tell Lane why that is. When Lane discovers the truth at the heart of her family, she runs as fast and as far away as she can. However, eleven years later, when Allegra goes missing, Lane is forced to return to the Roanoke estate to find out the truth behind her disappearance. What happened to Allegra? And what is the dark secret that is ruining the Roanoke women, one by one?

The Roanoke Girls is, above anything else, an excellent and compelling page-turner of a read.  However, its dark and extremely taboo subject matter and related themes mean that this is not a book for every reader. The secret that lies at the heart of the Roanoke family—and at the heart of the novel itself—is very quick to decipher by the reader, but it does not take away from the plot, or the story, in any way, shape, or form. In fact, given that it explores such a taboo subject matter, I am amazed at how Engel approached it so gracefully. Every time the secret is hinted at or even slightly mentioned, it is done so in a way that is not graphic but subtle, right up until the end of the book, where both the reader and the characters must address it. As a reader who reads a lot of dark and twisted books, I really appreciate the subtlety; in fact, Engel’s delicate approach to the subject matter is what I find makes this book so brilliantly written.  

In addition to its gripping plot and excellent writing, The Roanoke Girls is filled with incredible and complex characters. Each character is flawed and broken, while their stories and life situations completely pull at your heartstrings. As a reader, you will find that Engel has a way of making you sympathize with these characters at every turn of the page. There were moments where I wanted to cry for them, others that made me feel so unbelievably happy, and even some where I felt incredibly creeped out—but it all worked together perfectly. 

I highly recommend this book if you are looking for a thrilling page-turner that, while not graphic, is on the darker side.