Book Review: Blood Scion by Deborah Falaye

By Shantell Powell

Content warning: extremely graphic depictions of violence against Black people, including sexual violence, genocide, murder, and enslavement of children

Blood Scion is the powerful debut novel by Nigerian-Canadian author Deborah Falaye. It is the first book of a forthcoming young adult series, and it ends on a cliff-hanger. Blood Scion does not shy away from the awful realities of colonialism. It is an unforgiving and action-packed examination of what it means to be colonized, and what it means to be exterminated like vermin for the colour of your skin or for following the “wrong” religion.  It is relentless, dire, and ultraviolent—by far the most violent YA novel I have ever read. It is also the first YA book I’ve ever read which takes the reader through the ancient military practice/punishment of decimation. The story has a basis in the current and historical colonial contexts of genocide, slavery, and child soldiers. Using Yoruba-Nigerian mythology as a foundation, Blood Scion takes place in the land of Nagea, a land which has been brutalised by the invading Lucis for generations.

The Lucis are running a campaign of genocide to slaughter all descendants of the Orisha.  To do so, they conscript Nagean teenagers to do the dirty work. During basic training, the children are brainwashed and tortured both physically and mentally. They are forced to commit acts of unspeakable violence against their own friends and family, exchanging their humanity for their survival. Those who live through the process become soldiers in the Lucis army. 

Sloane is the protagonist, a fifteen-year old girl and descendant of the Orisha. The Orisha are deities of the Yoruba religion, and their descendants have powerful magic coursing through their veins. The descendants of the Orisha are called Scions, and it is almost impossible for them to hide from their oppressors. Their magical abilities cannot be hidden for long because not only are they difficult to control, but they are blatant when they manifest. Sloane is brimming with fire magic and does not know how to keep it under wraps. With the slaughter of so many Scions, survivors do not have the knowledge needed to control their powers. 

Blood Scion is a revenge fantasy, but it is also the story of resilience and friendship in the face of overwhelming oppression. The pacing of this book is as fast and hard-hitting as machine gun fire. I found it to be a very quick read once I got past the first couple of chapters. Although there are moments of tenderness in the book, they are few and far between. I would like to have seen some comic relief to break up the gut-wrenching trauma.  Reading this book is like speeding through an abattoir with your eyes and mouth wide open.

Blood Scion will appeal to fans of Nnedi Okorafor’s Who Fears Death and Tomi Adeyemi’s Children of Blood and Bone.  

Thank you, Harper Collins, for a complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Swimming Back to Trout River by Linda Rui Feng

By Carolina Moriello

Linda Rui Feng’s debut novel Swimming Back to Trout River tells the interwoven stories of Junie, Momo, Cassia, and Dawn. The story begins with Junie’s journey to the small Chinese village of Trout River, where she will be living with her grandparents after her mother Cassia leaves for America to be with her husband, and Junie’s father, Momo. Junie adjusts effortlessly to her life in Trout River, despite the distance between herself and her parents. However, Junie is saddened when she receives a letter from her father with the news that she will be moving to the United States to live with her parents when she turns twelve years old. It is Momo’s mission to reunite his family, but Junie and Cassia may not be on the same page. It is at this point in the novel when we learn about the past struggles and hardships Cassia, Momo, and his friend Dawn had to face, all while living through China’s Cultural Revolution. 

Although this novel ultimately begins and ends with Junie’s story, the majority of the book revolves around Dawn and the newly separated couple Momo and Cassia. We learn about their hardships growing up during an intense time in China’s history, their misfortunes and experiences with grief and loss, and Dawn and Momo’s love for and connection to classical music. We also learn of their individual journeys and struggles as immigrants in America, and how they evolve and flourish as individuals, all while living in a foreign country that promises them a better future. Each of their stories are unique, diverse, and interesting in their own regard, but they ultimately felt choppy and hard to follow. The novel often jumped from one perspective to another, and at times included details that did not lend themselves to the actual plot of the novel. 

Overall, Linda Rui Feng is a beautiful writer and the words felt poetic and lyrical. She was able to write about heavy and morose topics such as love, loss, and tragedy in a beautiful and effective way. It was also interesting to learn more about Chinese culture and conflict. However, as beautiful as the writing was, the storytelling could have been more consistent and less erratic. Junie was an important character in this novel, but we rarely read about her life and connection to her grandparents. This relationship and connection was probably the most important one in the novel, yet the reader was unable to learn more about it. It was hard to connect to any of the characters because we never got to know them on a deeper level. Oftentimes I was left wondering why a certain memory was being shared, making it difficult to find its importance and contribution to the overall plot. This book had much potential, but ultimately fell flat. 

Book Review: This is Assisted Dying by Stefanie Green

By Christina McLaurine

After spending 12 years in maternity and newborn care, Dr. Stefanie Green’s focus changed to providing medical assistance in dying (MAiD). This Is Assisted Dying is a recounting of Dr. Green's first year providing MAiD in British Columbia. In an emotive and educational manner, Green details the history of MAiD in Canada—from the Rodriguez case in the early 1990s, to Carter v. Canada in 2011, to details on the way the unanimous decision of the Supreme Court in 2015 changed end-of-life care in Canada. Green also highlights similarities and differences between Canadian legislation and regulation of MAiD to those in other parts of the world. 

Through portraits of her patients, Green outlines the eligibility for and the process of MAiD. Readers get a glimpse of what the event and final goodbyes may look and feel like. Dr. Green writes in a way that makes all parts of the book easy to understand. Readers who were not previously familiar with MAiD or do not have a medical or legal background will be able to follow along easily. 

From the title, one might assume This Is Assisted Dying is a melancholic read about death, suffering, and grief. While those themes are present, the focal points are the hope, choice, and control MAiD can bring to people facing terminal illnesses. Ethics, law, and family relationships and dynamics are also explored through the final goodbyes and events of Dr. Green’s patients. 

The spectre of death hangs over us like an elephant in the room. Whether it be ailing loved ones or aging parents it is always challenging to face our mortality. The stories of her patients provide an opening to broach these difficult conversations. This Is Assisted Dying is an engaging book that will stay with readers long after they’ve turned the last page. 

Thank you to Simon & Schuster Canada for a complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review. 

Book Review: Buckaroo Banzai Against the World Crime League et al. A Compendium of Evils by The Reno Kid with E. M. Rauch

By Dahl Botterill

I was very excited to discover that Buckaroo Banzai Against the World Crime League: A Compendium of Evil existed. While I’ve never read The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension, I loved the movie; it’s a ridiculous steamroller of uninhibited creativity that plays like a love letter to every bombastic film genre you’ve ever seen. To be perusing the shelves at a bookstore and see a sequel staring back at me seemed too good to be true, and I couldn’t wait to read it. I went in hoping for a wild and crazy thrill-a-minute mess in all the best ways, offbeat and colourful, full of weird characters and over-the-top twists and turns. 

Well. It does have some weird characters. And it is indeed a mess.

It isn’t that nothing interesting happens, or that the characters aren’t weird, but the writing style is such that everything happens at a positively glacial pace. Twists and turns become long lazy arcs that the reader has entirely too much time to prepare for, and the bulk of that time is spent on tangents, blind alleys, and dialogue that goes nowhere. In a different book or genre that might work, but Buckaroo Banzai suffers; it feels like a book that doesn’t know what it is. 

The writing often feels childish, with the frequent curses misspelled for some largely unexplained reason and a plethora of attention given to toilet humour and bodily functions. The expected audience is ostensibly declared to be young but what may be intended as juvenile comes off as crass and off-putting much of the time. Not only is the self-indulgent style hard to get into, but the language occasionally feels so out of place as to knock the reader right back out. There is certainly a dedication to the weird and offbeat, but it all feels overwritten. The end result is prose that feels manic but lacks any momentum, and the novel is crippled by this incongruity. Rauch takes hundreds of pages to cover what a classic science fiction author would have divulged in thirty, resulting in a story that suffocates under the weight of its own world-building.

I’m sure there are some folks out there that would enjoy this book. Given an effective editor and some very deep cuts, there might have been an entertaining sequel in here somewhere, but in its current form I find it hard to believe it saw publication.

Book Review: The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri

By Megan Amato

Content warning: body horror, murder, gore, violence, torture, homophobia, forced opium use, child death, public executions by fire

If you have read any of my previous reviews, you may think these next words have no meaning, but nevertheless, Tasha Suri’s fantasy, The Jasmine Throne, is my favourite read of the year and easily tops my top ten of all time. Her layers-upon-layers of worldbuilding wrapped in breathtaking prose and her extremely fleshed out and flawed protagonists slowly burning for each other around a complex plot had me flipping the pages faster than my group read had assigned. I simply devoured it. 

Princess Malini is supposed to burn like the Mothers before her. When she refuses, her Emperor brother exiles her to the temple where their late father once sentenced all inhabitants to burn—including the children who gained power from the river hidden beneath. Priya, who escaped that massacre and is now a maidservant for the local regent, volunteers to work in the temple with hopes of finding the river. But even drugged and isolated, the Princess Malini has other plans and will use anyone to free herself and get revenge against her tyrannical brother—including the kind maidservant she is starting to care for. But as their feelings for each other grow, and the complications with it, so are two diverging rebellions—one that Malini set in motion to depose her brother from the throne and the other led by Priya’s wrathful temple brother who plans to burn the whole corrupt empire to the ground. 

Even just thinking about the plot, I get chills. Despite the added layers of questionable morality from both characters—or maybe because of it—I am almost immediately sympathetic to their situation and motives. I love angry woman characters who act upon their fury, and this plot delivers. I am fully invested in seeing the two of them destroy and remake their perspective worlds. Malini is clever, determined, and well versed in court politics and intrigue, which makes her a brilliant opponent to all that stand in her way. Priya has a kind heart, has always looked out for others, and is more than happy to play the supporting role—but she will not be used. Not by the woman who makes her knees weak or by the brother who once saved her life. The river beneath the temple can be found by her alone, and she will let neither of them utilize it to destroy all she cares about in their search for vengeance.

Sometimes when I read books with multiple POVs, I am pulled out of the story and frustrated that I have to read certain POVs. I didn’t have that problem with The Jasmine Throne. Suri’s side characters are just as full of depth and well-developed. She ekes out the mystery surrounding them and the ways they fit into the plot, and I found myself eager to learn more about them with every chapter I read. My favourite was Bhumika, the regent’s seemingly kind wife who adopts people into her household staff and is pulling more strings than we can ever imagine behind the scenes. Aside from the emperor, whom we don’t get to know too well in this book, there is no clear baddie. Everyone is wrapped in shades of grey to aid their cause, and it only makes them more appealing. 

One thing I haven’t touched on but is equally deserving of praise is the magic system. As a reader, I’m not too picky about magic systems; I love them loosey-goosey and extremely detailed alike. Suri’s falls more into the latter, as she constructed a history that explains the river beneath the temple and those who gain power from it, and the naturalistic and horrifying consequences that are spreading across the continent. I won’t give too much away, but I loved every single detail of it, and I think Suri should do a course on creating magic systems. 

The Jasmine Throne doesn’t live in my head rent-free; it pays for it with every single detail that lingers in my dreams. I am supremely jealous of all of you who will get to read it for the first time. I am begging you to read this beautiful story so I can rave about it with you.

Book Review: Love in the Age of Quarantine by Katie Feltmate

By Larissa Page

Content warning: intimate partner abuse, depression, George Floyd/police brutality, the Portapique mass shooting, body dysmorphic disorder, disordered eating

Love in the Age of Quarantine is a collection of poems written by Katie Feltmate, who left a toxic and abusive relationship just before the COVID-19 pandemic. She wrote as a way to heal her way through 2020 and this collection of poems is one of the best collections I’ve read in quite a while. 

Feltmate bares her heart to us in the beginning section of this collection. She works through her trauma and her mental health after leaving a relationship that broke her down. Her writing is extremely vulnerable and I found it very impactful. Much of it gave me goosebumps as I read, though it was also tough to read about someone’s pain, especially when the pain of intimate partner relationships is so common and so prevalent.

I first came across this collection while attending a reading that Feltmate did. She voiced to us then that this “love in the age of quarantine” wasn’t, in fact, a romantic love (though she does write about romantic love as well) but actually the love of herself, of healing and finding her way back to herself after losing herself and her independence. The collection of poems begins painfully, but the way in which she comes back to herself and loves herself becomes evident as the collection of poems moves though the sections.

Toward the end of the collection of poems, Feltmate also writes about the COVID-19 pandemic itself, including poems about healthcare workers, anti-vaxxers, pregnant friends, people who have lost their lives due to the pandemic, BLM, and so much more. She includes a few poems about the Portapique mass shooting event that left Nova Scotians absolutely reeling. She lists the victims, and she honours them in her work. Living in Nova Scotia in the first half of 2020 was something none of us will ever forget and I was glad (and heartbroken) to see it memorialized within the pages of this book in beautiful poetry.

Love in the Age of Quarantine was truly a wonderful collection of poems. It gave me goosebumps, made me cry, and made me consider how other people lived during our times of lockdown and within this pandemic. It helped give me insight and understanding, as well as hope, respect, and love. 

Book Review: Hall of Smoke by H. M. Long

By Meghan Mazzaferro

Content warning: murder, violence, gore, self-harm, animal sacrifices 

In H. M. Long’s debut adult fantasy novel, Hall of Smoke, an exiled warrior priestess must navigate an ever-changing world and prevent a war of the gods. Hessa has been exiled for failing a task given to her by her goddess of war, and before she can make amends, her people are attacked. Enemies from the north are migrating, and the Engi, Hessa’s people, are being targeted. Cast far from her home, Hessa must journey across the continent, grappling with human enemies, long-forgotten monsters, and newly awakened gods to fulfill her destiny and hopefully regain Eng’s grace. But as she travels, Hessa cannot help but learn that the gods are complicated and imperfect, there is more to the growing conflict than her goddess is willing to tell her, and there are deeper magics at play than she could ever imagine. 

This book is spectacular. Incredibly atmospheric, deeply personal, and brimming with Viking-inspired badassery, there is nothing this book doesn’t do. Hessa is an incredibly compelling character, the gods are perfectly flawed, and the mysteries of the growing conflict are revealed at just the right time to keep you on the edge of your seat. H. M. Long takes her time crafting a rich, immersive world full of vibrant locations, well-developed characters, and complex gods and magic. The slower pace allows you to fully engross yourself in the story, and to truly connect with Hessa as she goes through an emotional and physical journey to restore her name and save those she loves. 

Hessa is such a compelling main character to follow. She is forced to deal with both physical and emotional trauma, her struggles with her faith, her sense of self, and her purpose in life connect with the reader on a visceral level. She is a woman who is put through hell, but she never stops fighting for those she loves, and it is inspiring. The fight scenes in this book are choreographed so well and have a certain physicality that fits the Viking culture this story is inspired by. Hessa’s complexity as a character makes her very easy to root for and relate to. 

This book’s plot is emotionally complex, dealing with topics of grief, faith, identity, and self-discovery in a rapidly changing world. The war between the gods, and Hessa’s journey to the heart of the gods’ power, is an incredibly interesting, complicated, and satisfying storyline. And though this book deals with some big-scale conflicts—a full-on war between the gods—the story never loses its emotional core. Through Hessa, the reader is grounded in this world and one person’s struggles within it. It would be so easy for this story to get wrapped up in all the different politics at play, but choosing instead to focus on one woman’s experience creates a lasting, emotional hold on the reader. 

If you are a fan of feminist fantasy with strong female characters, shifting power structures, and fallible gods, this story is perfect for you. And luckily for you, there is a companion novel, Temple of No God, that just came out, so you’ll be able to spend even more time in this incredible world H. M. Long has created. 

Book Review: Bathe the Cat by Alice B. McGinty and Illustrated by David Roberts

By Christine McFaul

Bathe the Cat is a new picture book by author-illustrator team Alice B. McGinty and David Roberts. 

In this humorous caper, Dad and Papa rally their children for a day of cleaning. The family scrambles to complete their chore list before Grandma arrives for a visit, but due to the antics of their rascally bath-adverse feline, the chore list ends up scrambled instead. What began as a very clear to-do list has each member of the family completing an increasingly quirky and chaotic set of tasks: “Sarah, feed the floor. I’ll sweep the dishes. Bobby rock the rug. Dad will scrub those fishes.”

The writing in this book brings the comedy alive in a rollicking rhyme pattern that is so fun to read out loud. The wordplay, repetition of couplets, and alliterative sayings (“holy hornets” is my personal favourite, and I have used it endlessly since reading) is sure to engage readers at all levels of the picture book age range. And McGinty doesn’t leave the adults out—as the story races along, it very cleverly mirrors the increasing panic that accompanies getting everything in the house ready before a visit from important company.

McGinty’s nimble writing is brought to life by Roberts’ incredible illustrations (you may recognize his style from the iconic Questioneers series). Roberts’ art perfectly complements the tone of the text, somehow managing to punch up the happiness, humour, and energy on each page. The palette is bright and citrusy, almost neon in places, and contrasted against a crisp white background. I love his choice to do the chore list using old-school fridge magnets; it delivers a nice little dose of nostalgia and homey-ness. In Robert’s deft hands, the family cat—and ultimate source of mayhem—is subtly and hilariously rendered. It’s fun to find the furry feline on each page, and its many varied expressions tell a story in-and-of themselves. 

One of the funniest and most engaging picture books I have read this year—I highly recommend this exuberant adventure. It has become a repeat-read in our house (I’m fielding daily requests from my own two little bookworms), and in my humble opinion, there is no greater compliment. For anyone looking for a children’s story with positive representation, this book includes a biracial and LGBTQ+ family.

Thank you, Chronicle Books and Raincoast Books, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Sisters of the Snake by Sarena and Sasha Nanua

By Megan Amato

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a simple girl in possession of a pair of eyes and ears must be in want of a Prince and the Pauper retelling. Ever since I watched Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper—at an embarrassing age—I’ve loved any piece of media featuring this trope (that includes The Princess Switch, Mary Kate and Ashley’s It Takes Two, Beethoven’s 4th, and The Parent Trap). Penned by real-life twins Sarena and Sasha Nanua, Sisters of the Snake is a brilliant addition to add to my collection of retellings and adaptions. 

In an Indian-inspired world, sheltered Princess Rani is desperate to prove to her ruthless father that she has what it takes to rule. Orphan and street thief Ria’s only concern is stealing enough to survive. When Ria discovers her name on a conscription list, she and her best friend Amir plan to rob the castle of its jewels to pay their way out of the oppressive kingdom. When Ria is caught by the princess who shares her face, Rani promises to give her enough jewels to escape if she agrees to temporarily switch places. As Ria wrestles with acting like she’s been born royal and trying not to fall in love with the princess’s fiancé Saeed, Rani bears witness to the destructive nature of her father’s regime. When the existence of a dangerous mythic stone is discovered, Rani and Ria must look outside their own desires to find the bloodstone before the king, and save their kingdom.

The shining beacon of this novel is its characters. The protagonists are fleshed out with their own desires and goals that are realistic to their situations. I liked that despite being confronted with the reality of the world outside her privileged life, Rani’s views and goals shift slowly as they adapt to each new situation she’s faced with before her blinders are fully taken off. On the other hand, Ria has always known the struggle of existing in the kingdom outside of the elite. Now, as she temporarily lives the life stolen from her due to a cataclysmic prophecy, she undergoes the emotional turmoil and feelings of rejection that come with any adoptee/orphan discovering their birth family. Both undergo journeys of self-discovery that are precariously placed in the midst of saving their world—and I love it.

The romances are also very well done. Rani’s relationship with the sweet Saeed had been one of duty and disappointment, while Ria’s with Amir had been one of pure friendship, almost familial. While the chemistry between each pair is palpable through the page, the history of each relationship, along with the lies told to maintain their illusion, has to be overcome first. Saeed is my absolute favourite, and I’m looking forward to watching him becoming even more fleshed out and solid in the next book as he is given more agency out of the shadow of his mother.

The only real issue I had was that we didn’t see much interaction between the sisters because they were parted most of the book. Their relationship at the end felt slightly rushed, but I’m hoping that because this book mainly focused on their individual journeys, the next one will centre around their growing relationship.

The Nanua sisters have written an imaginative debut and a fun twist to one of my favourite tropes. I will be keeping both eyes peeled for the sequel that undoubtedly will have increased stakes for my favourite characters. 

Book Review: Pippo & Clara by Diana Rosie

By Lauren Bell

One child turns left: the other right. 

Pippo, Clara, and Mamma are a small but resilient family, displaced by unrest in Italy and driven by frequent location. With their arrival in an unnamed Italian city, Mamma goes out one night and doesn’t come back. Clara, the eldest child, goes out to look for her the following morning. A little while later, Pippo wakes to find both missing and goes out searching as well. 

One child turns left: the other right. 

Neither child has any concept of time, and the moment of losing each other is intensified. Both children think they see their mother with her golden eyes and layered necklaces, but both are mistaken and propelled into two very different worlds. 

One child turns left: the other right. 

Clara is taken in by the intimidating Signore and Signora, a childless fascist couple who are heavily involved with the city’s politics. Pippo is taken in by Donna and Mario, a joyful communist couple. While Pippo is dazzled by the prospects of becoming a communist and begins working as a messenger for a secret resistance group, Clara is enrolled into Mussolini’s school system and thrust into Italy’s fascist society. However, secret readings with a Jewish librarian keep Clara skeptical of the ideals she learns in school. 

One child turns left: the other right. 

In more ways than one, the children and their “new” respective families are foils of each other. Where Clara is a loner, quiet and bookish, Pippo is outgoing, described as a “chattering bird”. Within their character development, Clara matures by becoming more risk-taking and open to others, whereas Pippo becomes more serious, taking on the more caregiver-oriented roles for his family. There are many times within the novel when the two siblings almost cross paths, which only become more frequent as both families stop fighting for their political ideals and instead choose to fight for humanity. As the plot unrolls, Diana Rosie, the author, shows her mastery of dropping subtle hints and foreshadowing. 

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Pippo & Clara by Diana Rosie and would very much recommend it to others. I found that she was able to reflect Italy’s moral dilemma into one family, as well as tie in bildungsroman and family themes within the plot. For instance, I really appreciated that she often used the colours red, green, and white as motifs. Her characters were real and interesting to read about as there was neither the perfect villain nor the perfect hero. Moreover, Rosie was very adept at building suspense, which is perhaps another reason why I found it hard to put down. 

Thank you, Publishing Group Canada, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Anonymous Sex edited by Hillary Jordan and Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan

By Erica Wiggins

“27 Authors. 27 Stories. No Names Attached.”

Content Warning: these short stories involve a variety of sexual situations and could be triggering from some. 

Anonymous Sex is a collection of stories covering the spectrum from funny sex to tortured sex to revenge sex. The authors are listed at the beginning of the book with no indication of who wrote what story. Both editors are bestselling authors: Jordan has won multiple awards for Mudbound, which was adapted into a Netflix film. Tan is a staff writer at various newspapers and has written two books herself. 

This was my first time reviewing a collection of stories, which was much more challenging than I anticipated. The stories included were wide-ranging. There were stories that I loved and stories that just didn’t do it for me. In any collection of stories, it seems that this would seem standard. However, when you add that the stories are about sex—well, there are bound to be some varying opinions.

Without giving away too many details—as some of these stories are only a few pages long—here are the ones that I enjoyed the most: 

History Lesson

“It was an arrangement she had not only entered willingly but had been the one to propose. She and her husband had a work trips-are-fair-play clause in their marriage.” This was the first story in this book and easily one of my favourites. The arrangement between two professors who hook up at a conference each year drew me in immediately. Michael and Denise each bring their own interesting quirks, and I could have read an entire book about them. 

LVIII Times A Year

“The average married couple, he has read, has sex fifty-eight times a year.” This story had me laughing out loud about this poor man trying to increase the number of times he has sex with his wife. This story played on what happens when relationships become a chore.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel

This one was a delight to read. A fun X-rated twist on the classic fairy tale. This short story has you laughing as Rapunzel exerts her strong character and turns up the steam as she navigates her search for a partner. The ending was—perfect.  

These were just my top three, and there were more that I enjoyed. 

Overall, I enjoyed reading this book. Before reading, I thought it was an interesting idea to have this compilation of anonymous stories. However, after completing the book, it does present a challenge. There are stories I loved and would like to seek out more stories from the authors, and the anonymity prevents that. There were also stories that I could do without. I would recommend this book with the caveat that while every story might not be for you, you are likely to find ones that do.  

Thank you, Simon and Schuster Canada, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel

By Megan Amato

Once in a while there comes a novel that astonishes you with its raw beauty and talent. And for me, on this day, it’s Vaishnavi Patel’s stunning epic debut, Kaikeyi. This exquisitely written feminist reimagining of the Ramayana from the so-called villain’s perspective was masterfully plotted and full of vivid details that immersed me within its pages and left me in utter awe that this is Patel’s first novel.

As the king’s only daughter, Kaikeyi lives in the shadow of her twin and seven other brothers—until her father banishes her mother from court and Kaikeyi must step up to fill her shoes. Desperate for her mother, Kaikeyi unsuccessfully begs the gods for their help before scouring her mother’s library for a lesser god and discovering something else: a meditation ritual that lets her manipulate the bonds that tie her to others. Using the bonds, she convinces her brother to train her as a warrior and teachers to let her study so that she doesn’t have to rely on the whims of men while her beloved maid Manthara teaches her to be a queen. When she’s married off as the third wife of another king, she learns that her penchant to use those bonds doesn’t always have the desired results. But Kaikeyi is not willing to give up the freedom she’s gained or the voice she’s earned and be regulated to the sidelines—nor is she willing to let the women around her do the same if she can help it.

While I’m not as familiar with the Ramayana as those who grew up with it—I did do some research prior to and after reading Kaikeyi—I was awed by the level of depth and character work Patel wrote in humanizing quite a villainized figure. Kaikeyi is portrayed as a jealous and scheming wife in the epic, and though these traits aren’t totally erased from the novel, they’re built upon and layered with nuance to include the cultural and historical context that comes with being a daughter, and later a mother, in a rigidly patriarchal society. She is not a paradigm of virtue by any means. Like any human, she is filled with shades of grey consisting of just as many strengths as flaws, and  that is what I find so beautiful about her. She’s a character who will use whatever tools she’s given to fight for agency and self-actualization and will do whatever it takes to protect those she loves. 

As someone who identifies somewhere on the asexual spectrum, it was also refreshing to have representation in such an extraordinary character. Her struggle to understand her feelings for her husband outside of the friendship they shared will no doubt be felt by many readers who have struggled with the same sentiments. 

This was an absolutely stunning debut, rich in both descriptive details and character growth. I cried several times throughout, and I would recommend everyone wanting an epic, character-driven story full of female power and magic to put this on their to-be-read piles immediately. 

Thank you to Hachette Book Group for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Circus of Wonders by Elizabeth Macneal

By Fayth Simmons

Set in a somewhat fantastical version of 1860s era England, Elizabeth Macneal’s newest work, Circus of Wonders, functions as an enthralling escapist novel. Although the setting promotes images of affluence and otherworldly beauty, with magic at the helm, the author appears to capitalize on themes of power, control, and identity. 

The novel centers largely around the character development of Nell, a 19-year-old girl from a small coastal village. Her life is a quiet one, with the companionship of her brother and father and her enduring love for the neighbouring sea. The villagers scorn Nell for her birthmarks—placed in a patchwork over her skin, they distinguish her as being someone ‘other,’ and as such, she is isolated. Her brother is set to be married, and facing his potential absence, she worries over what may become of her life. When Jasper Jupiter’s Circus of Wonders arrives in their small village, Nell’s peculiar appearance is discovered, and in an act of exploitation and betrayal, Nell’s father sells her off as a performer.

Though stung by her father’s disloyalty, Nell finds that she excels within the circus. Soon known as the ‘Queen of the Moon and Stars,’ Nell’s image is plastered across posters and she quickly gains fame. Through performing, Nell gains confidence and a newfound sense of ownership, both over her body and the circumstances in which she finds herself. She forms relationships and curates a community for herself—the likes of which she never experienced back home. When her fame overpowers that of the ringmaster, however, Nell’s place in the circus, and her marketed identity become threatened, and those closest to her must decide between competing sets of values. 

Featuring an array of diverse and interesting characters, each with their own internal conflicts that lend to the overall plot, the novel is able to paint an eloquent picture of Victorian-era England. The fantastical entwines with aspects of blunt reality, with the circus acting much as a theatrical setting upon which the protagonist is forced to embrace her natural-born identity rather than the various ones given to her by others. Macneal’s writing is sure of itself and successfully delivers a believable and immersive narrative, which contemporary readers are likely able to relate to despite the novel’s historical context. 

There is an allure given to the life of the circus through vivid description, though the reader is always aware that the main theme is arguably one of a more existential nature. Power plays are examined closely throughout the novel, and the balance between control and obsession is constantly being weighed – it is in the rejection of this balancing act that the protagonist is able to ultimately mobilize her capabilities and lend action to her values. 

Circus of Wonders might also be categorized as a comfort read, despite the presence of some darker conflicts, as the plot is overall a relatively positive one, with few twists or disruptions, and it allows for constructive character growth and development. 

Thank you to Simon & Schuster for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: The Convict Lover by Merilyn Simonds

By Sara Hailstone

Carefully pieced together by Canadian author Marilyn Simonds after discovering a young girl’s letters from a convict in the attic of a house in Kingston, Ontario, The Convict Lover reveals what life was like for prisoners in the historic Kingston Penitentiary while offering a creative nonfictive text as a cornerstone of CanLit. It took the author nearly two years to situate the letters chronologically and work through almost a decade of archival research to thread together a masterfully written narrative published in 1996 of the pair’s unorthodox relationship. 

The compelling nature of the novel is rooted in the depths of the two main characters, Joseph David Cleroux (AKA Daddy Long Legs) and a 17-year-old Phyllis Halliday (Peggy), hooked together only by their letters and brief sightings of each other in the grotto of their own isolation between the homestead and quarry pit. The man and young woman exchange letters through a crevice in the quarry, and grippingly, the record of this exchange is one-sided. What remains of this exchange is only what Simonds discovered in the attic of her house—Cleroux’s line of communication. We never know what and how Phyllis wrote to the convict. Yet, in the solitude of her childhood, she gained footing and a loss of innocence in providing for the convict not only a conversation but a steady supply of tobacco. The reader is carried through these exchanges and enfolding character development with unspoken suspense in anticipation of when the convict and young woman will meet. 

Simonds’ command of language carefully sculpts a sense of the agony of time and captivity between both characters that pull the reader through similar feelings of expectation for liberation and freedom. Texture and environment mark out the convict’s life. Language and his letters contour hers. Still, the story is pained because there is delicate foreshadowing that Phyllis will be left empty with the absence of the convict and his letters when he is set free. She knows that within her family homestead, she will remain, yet she longs for passion in the same breath she fears she is losing her life, “I am sinking without leaving a trace.” Her trace becomes shaded between the lines of the convict’s words. When he is finally released, she waits for him to come. He never does. 

The novel can feel anti-climactic with heavy sub-plotlines detailing the Kingston Penitentiary and the almost abrupt ending of Cleroux and Phyllis mid-narrative. Phyllis remained with her family throughout her life, surviving her parents and siblings. She never married. Phyllis passed away in 1986; she endured illness for the entirety of her life. Simonds found the letters, diaries, photographs, clothes, and clippings in tins, boxes, and sugar sacks on what would have been Phyllis’s 85th birthday on August 8, 1987. Simonds never found a trace of Joseph David Cleroux after December 1921 when searching archives, census records, and birth and death records. We learn of Cleroux through his letters and the creative layers Simonds lays down with these historical pieces. The reality is we want stories to contain a resolution and provide us closure. We want the characters to meet. We want them to fall in love. We could very well reflect on the fact Cleroux could have led Phyllis through a labyrinth of fantasy for distraction, connection, and tobacco. I hope not. 

Book Review: Emotional Inheritance by Galit Atlas

By Carly Smith

Trigger warning: suicide, death, incest, pregnancy

In Emotional Inheritance, psychoanalyst Galit Atlas addresses the heavy subject of intergenerational trauma and the ways in which the distressing life events of parents and grandparents affect the lives of their descendants. Readers are exposed to a variety of scarring and painful, yet not necessarily uncommon, experiences that live in the bodies of not only the individuals to whom they happened but also their children and their children’s children. As Atlas recounts stories of her patients and herself, she delicately explains how one’s traumatic circumstances can be passed on to future generations, both knowingly and unknowingly. While providing these anecdotes, she simultaneously sheds light on her thoughts, questions, and expertise as a psychological professional, helping readers—particularly those without a substantial education in psychology—make connections about, and build an understanding around, the part that trauma plays in families. 

The book has three sections. In the first part, Atlas describes the effects of trauma related to grandparents. In one story, we learn about how a mother’s inability to process her own mother’s death has presented itself in her daughter, who is having an extramarital affair. Atlas’s second example touches on a grandmother who was the victim of incest and the ways in which this victim’s relationships with both her daughter and granddaughter were negatively impacted because of it. Next, we hear about a man who is having trouble overcoming a breakup with his partner and later learn that his paternal grandfather died by suicide, likely because he felt forced to suppress his homosexuality. Atlas also uncovers traumas that descendants of Holocaust survivors carry and how their pain and terror stay in the family much longer than one may expect.  

In the second section, Atlas focuses on trauma passed down from parents. She describes situations of children whose parents lost other children, partners, and their own parents in tragic ways. She also touches on individuals whose parents had unwanted children and people whose folks lived through and participated in war. Like in the first section, Atlas effectively and compassionately shows her audience that inherited trauma will exist until it is discovered, better understood, and worked on. 

The final part of Emotional Inheritance centers mostly on one’s own tragedies and experiences. We are presented with different ways that we subconsciously hold trauma and try to protect ourselves- violence, idealization, avoiding connection, and hyper-vigilance- and how these defense mechanisms drive us further from processing sorrow and breaking the cycle of intergenerational trauma. 

Although this book discusses many intense, triggering topics, Atlas manages to address each one with dignity, profound knowledge, and hope. She induces optimism in circumstances of great pain without dismissing or belittling the tragedies that she and her patients have endured. She intertwines client and personal stories with professional insight and well-researched support, leaving readers empathetic, enlightened, and more emotionally intelligent. I recommend this book to anyone who is interested in trauma, has trauma in their lineage, or who is curious about psychotherapy but may not be ready to take that leap. 

Book Review: Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel

By Larissa Page

I have been a fan of Emily St John Mandel’s writing since reading Station Eleven a few years ago. I was thrilled to read The Glass Hotel last year when it was released, and Sea of Tranquility has been my most anticipated read since I heard it was in the works. It did not disappoint—much like the other two, it floored me. When I finished the novel, I reflected on how Mandel gives us these seemingly unrelated and yet incredibly linked narratives, characters, and backstories so expertly.

Sea of Tranquility gives us a diverse cast of characters: an exiled young British man living on Vancouver Island in 1912, a bestselling author of a pandemic novel on a book tour when an actual pandemic breaks out, a young Vincent (you’ll remember her from The Glass Hotel) videoing her walk through the Caiette woods as well as her friend Mirella, and a time traveller who battles with whether or not to take actions in the past that will impact the future. Each character is given a small section of this story, and yet, each character and setting are developed just as much as we need as the reader.

The ultimate plot of Sea of Tranquility is not immediately clear, in fact, it is not clear until after halfway into the story. It is clear there is a thread of connection through each section but what and how isn’t explained until our story reaches its farthest dive into the future world and I for one was shocked at the direction it took. Unlike Mandel’s other books, this one takes a step into the sci-fi genre while remaining in the literary fiction genre. I was very impressed with how this was done. There was not so much sci-fi as to make me feel confused but enough to make me understand how important to the storyline it was. I loved the future world that was built and felt like I could see and understand the setting.

I wasn’t excepting certain sections of the story to be so heavy on a pandemic world either. I guess I sort of assumed that since Mandel had already done the pandemic topic in Station Eleven, it wouldn’t be so heavy here. Olive, the author character, gives us a picture of what it is like to live through a lockdown with virtual meetings and school, being unable to leave your house, and stockpiling groceries. These are things that all of Mandel’s readers will now, of course, be intimately familiar with. Especially the fact that the author had previously published a pandemic novel and was on a book tour when a pandemic started and subsequently in lockdown. I am so curious as to how much of that section is autobiographical. Mandel is the bestselling author of a pandemic novel that was being produced for TV and the author of a new book right at the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic. I really felt the emotion behind this part of the book and wonder if that may have been an outlet for her own feelings that she experienced during our own pandemic. 

The ending ofSea of Tranquility surprised me, and I felt it was a satisfying conclusion. I briefly wondered in the middle of the novel whether I’d like it as much as her other works, and I have to say yes, I absolutely do. I already want to read it again, and I will absolutely be recommending it to others.

Book Review: Letters to Amelia by Lindsay Zier-Vogel

By Dylan Curran

Meet Grace, a 30-year-old library tech with a knack for overthinking, love of The Office, and a special place in her heart for lost love letters. 

Navigating the grief of her recent breakup, Grace is met with the daunting task of collecting the newly discovered correspondence between Amelia Earhart and her secret lover. As readers uncover the twists and turns of their relationship, what starts to compel us is not the scandal of the affair but the unmistakable courage and dedication Earhart had to her craft. A bold and unapologetic character, Earhart’s letters stir something deeper within Grace. Despite the tumultuous ups and downs of Grace’s post-breakup life (stabilized mostly through the over-consumption of peanut butter sandwiches), she comes to recognize her own worth. As she regains her own footing by reconnecting with her friends, family, and co-workers, the story opens up to a whole new world for Grace to explore.  

Blending epistolary and historical fiction is no easy task. The writing in this book is clever, well-thought-out with allusions to real events but playful enough to embellish some of the lore surrounding Earhart and her life (and disappearance). While the novel begins with Grace merely reading the correspondence, she quickly finds comfort and friendship within these bubbly and loose writings. Readers will revel in the honesty and vulnerability that Grace exudes in her letters to Earhart, a conversation seemingly easier on paper than it is in her day-to-day life. There is a palpable shyness that echoes in each of Grace’s interactions. Even her closest friends are forced to wait until the moment is right for her secrets to be shared. I think we are all a little bit like Grace—but we still need our daily dose of Jennas, Carolyns, and Jamies in our lives. 

Letters to Amelia will be well-loved by readers who already enjoy the works of Amy Jones, Karma Brown or Sonya Lalli. Its characters and world-building resonate with Canadian culture and the complexities of modern-day romance in a unique and uplifting way. Amid a pandemic, this is an especially important read. People are craving escapism—with beautiful attention to detail, Zier-Vogel captures intimate moments in faraway places that sweep you away from your living rooms and into the depths of your imagination. From Newfoundland to Saskatchewan, The Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library to Howland Island, readers will find adventure in every nook. While one expects Earhart to be leading the travels, Grace is the one to guide us through Trespasser, wartime Toronto, and Washington, D.C. This book is the perfect read to combat the lockdown blues and a reminder to find your passion, no matter your circumstances. 

Thank you to Book*hug Press for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review! 

Book Review: Songbirds by Christy Lefteri

By Rebekah Dolmat

From the award-winning author of The Beekeeper of Aleppo, Christy Lefteri, comes Songbirds—an emotional and heartbreaking story inspired by real-life events that sheds light on the plight of migrant domestic workers in Cyprus.

Songbirds follows the story of Nisha—a widowed mother from Sri Lanka who has come to Cyprus to work as a nanny and housekeeper following her husband’s death. From the very beginning of the book, the reader knows that Nisha has gone missing but does not know why. Throughout the course of the book, even though the reader never meets Nisha in the present, they learn of her story through Petra, the woman she works for, and Yiannis, her love. It is through Petra and Yiannis’ thoughts and voices that the reader gets a sense of the woman, wife, mother, and worker that Nisha was. 

When Nisha is discovered to be missing, both Petra and Yiannis report her disappearance, in separate instances, to the authorities. However, in both cases, their concerns are not taken seriously and are instead brushed away. The authorities suggest that Nisha has moved on and gone elsewhere, as many foreigners do, and do not consider her to be a person worth searching for. Petra and Yiannis disagree—they know that Nisha would never willingly leave, and they spend the rest of the book searching for her. What they discover in their search is absolutely tragic but unfortunate reality that many migrant workers face.

Lefteri states in her Author’s Note that this book is not an attempt to represent the voices of migrant workers or to speak for them, but instead is meant to explore the “ideologies, prejudices, circumstances, and underlying belief systems that can lead to very sad and often catastrophic events” . This book explores the idea of how a flawed system can trap people—people who are searching for a better life and for freedom but who instead find themselves more trapped than before, without any way to return home. So, while this book does not represent migrant worker voices, it does shed light on one of the many “catastrophic events” that can happen to them in their search for freedom.

While Songbirds is an emotional and heartbreaking story that pulls at the reader’s heartstrings with every turn of the page, it is also a beautifully written one. Lefteri’s prose is so elegant, and it has this poetic element to it that is not often seen. This beautiful writing and the heartbreaking story of Nisha will leave the reader thinking about this book long after the final page. 

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

Book Review: Sun in my Tummy by Laura Alary and Andrea Blinick

By Christine McFaul

Sun In My Tummy is a new Canadian picture book by author Laura Alary and illustrator, Andrea Blinick. This cozy nonfiction story reads like fiction and follows the cycle of photosynthesis from sunlight to energy. The book begins with the rising sun. Its rays gently wake the young female protagonist who knows she needs to wake up and get ready for school but would prefer to stay snuggled in her bed (relatable!).  

But the book says it’s time to “put the sun in your tummy!” 

Alary then goes on to unpack that metaphor using the oatmeal, blueberries, and milk that make up her young protagonist’s sleepy breakfast. 

The Oats: Began as “seeds, snuggled deep in the dark earth.” The story explains how those seeds use food from the soil, rain from the clouds, and sunlight to grow. It introduces the concept that hidden inside of these plants “were all the things that had made them grow…” 

The Blueberries: The story then takes a closer look at how plants make sugar or “food from thin air!” Here the reader learns that when seeds go back to the soil, they make new plants, which make more seeds, and on and on the cycle goes. 

The Milk: The final spin through the cycle builds on the concept that plants become food for others, in this case, the cow who provides milk which is the final ingredient in the protagonist’s breakfast.

I love the circular nature of each journey through the chain of photosynthesis, done in accessible and pretty language. Each turn layers beautifully on top of the other until the young protagonist—and young readers—understand the meaning of having the sun in their tummy.

Now let’s talk about the pictures, which are just adorable. They are warm and full of clever details (like cow spots on the carton of milk and a bright sun on the belly of the protagonist’s red t-shirt) alongside cozy morning rituals (mugs of tea, fuzzy slippers, and sleepy slouching at the table). Blinick is a mixed media artist, and the cut-out effect is beautifully used in this book. The palette is reminiscent of a country kitchen, with an abundance of golds and yellows interspersed with green, red, and blue. The sun is ever present, and each spread gets brighter and brighter until the protagonist is awake, energized, and ready to start her day.

For those of us that like a fictionalized feel to our nonfiction, this book delivers. It’s accessible, fun, and informative but does not scrimp on the science (there is even a one-page Author’s Note describing the process of Photosynthesis). It could just as easily be read as a bedtime story as used as a learning tool in a classroom environment. An excellent choice for parents, caregivers, or educators. Loved this read.

Thank you, Pajama Press, for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Anne's Tragical Tea Party by Kallie George and Illustrated by Abigail Halpin

By Cassandra Navratil

One of the best and arguably most memorable scenes in L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables is main character Anne Shirley’s tea party with her ‘kindred spirit’ and ‘bosom friend’ Diana Barry. Having read through Kallie George’s other Anne adaptations, such as Goodnight, Anne and Anne Arrives, I was eager to see how she had adapted this treasured moment for younger readers. 

At first glance, the stunning illustrations by Abigail Halpin left me feeling warm and nostalgic for my own childhood, and the image of Anne with Diana on the cover was just as I imagined them countless times before. Even if readers are not familiar with Anne outside of this book, Kallie George does a magnificent job of concisely detailing how Anne came to be living at Green Gables with the Cuthberts. The voicing of each of the characters is done in such a way that is simple yet still evokes the feeling and acknowledgement that this story is not set in our modern world. Old-fashioned language and expressions are utilized throughout the story but not overdone, and I suspect that George has done this to keep even the youngest readers engaged. My five-year-old daughter found the novel delightful and expanded her own vocabulary via her curiosity about words like “kindred” and “cordial”. 

After completing my first read-through, I checked against the original novel and found that some of the conversational text was exact, which I did not expect in a younger children’s adaptation. I am very excited for more of these adaptations to come from such a wonderfully talented Canadian children’s author.  

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