Book Review: Generation A by Douglas Coupland

Dahl Botterill

Douglas Coupland is perhaps best known for his ability to tap into the most immediate and relevant aspects of the interplay between media and technology and capture how that interaction affects people. That ability is certainly on display in Generation A, a novel that wears its literary debts and connections on its sleeve while also attempting to tread some new ground. The story follows five individuals living all over a world without bees when, one by one, they each find themselves on the receiving end of a bee sting.

Governments and international organizations come down like a hammer, of course, and each of the protagonists finds themselves under careful study while deprived of any sort of sensory input or experience. When they are released back into the world, they discover that they've become the most famous people on the planet. Each handles this fame differently, but eventually, their shared experiences draw them all to a remote Canadian archipelago, where together they try to determine what exactly it is that they've all got in common.

There's a distinct narrative shift that occurs partway through Generation A, at which point, a story about five individuals coming together becomes five individuals telling stories collectively. The degree to which it works will probably depend on the reader. Plots and sub-plots begin to morph into one another as they fade into the background, and the characters one has invested in thus far divest their centrality to some degree as their own personal fictions take centre stage. It's interesting, and it works insofar as they're all really telling the same story Coupland has been telling all along—but it probably won't be for everybody.

Generation A is a good book. It's interesting, clever, and Douglas Coupland's writing is as enjoyable to read as ever. The novel is full of fun moments, cutting observations, and plenty of references and retrospections for the casual or committed reader. The author plays with storytelling and narrative in interesting ways and perhaps even generates some effective commentary on the interplay between desire and responsibility. But is it a great book? Probably not. If you're a fan of Douglas Coupland's writing and haven't read Generation A, you'll very likely find lots to enjoy here. If you've never read him before, there are better places to start.

Book Review: People We Meet On Vacation by Emily Henry

By Melissa Barbuzzi

People We Meet On Vacation follows two unlikely best friends, Poppy, a travel blogger, and Alex, a high school teacher, on their annual best friend “summer trips.” They met in university and quickly bonded during a drive home one summer (very When Harry Met Sally style). After years of memories and travelling together, an argument put a pause to their fun travels, and the pair hasn’t had any contact in two years. Until one day, Poppy contemplates what truly makes her happy in life. Is it her job? Living in New York City? She quickly realizes that Alex was the key to her happiness and decides to reach out to him. The pair ultimately end up on another trip together, in the hopes that their friendship can be rebuilt. But has too much happened between the two of them for that to be possible?

This was not your average friends-to-lovers trope. Emily Henry put her own spin on it which made the story feel fresh, exciting, and not like your regular rom-com. The travel aspect of the book also made me super nostalgic and want to travel, as the pair visited some really exciting places that have been on my bucket list for years.

The relationship between Poppy and Alex is a unique one. They have incredible banter, yet they are complete opposites. Poppy is an outgoing travel blogger who always wanted to get away, and Alex, a quiet high school teacher who wanted to settle down and grow roots. I think the pair always had more than just a friendship connection, but both were always too afraid that their differences would result in a failed romantic relationship.

I had two main gripes with People We Meet on Vacation, the first being that the plot was entirely predictable. From the beginning, the main question the reader has is, “what was the argument that caused Poppy and Alex to stop being friends?” As you continue reading, it quickly becomes obvious what that reason was. Generally, rom-coms are pretty predictable but I thought Emily Henry could have thrown a couple of curveballs in there.

The second gripe was Poppy’s indecisiveness and unpredictability. Poppy herself had said that having Alex in her life was what made her happy, but I felt that she was all over the place when it actually came down to it. She said she would sacrifice anything to be with him, but then followed it up with “I won’t move out of New York City.” She didn’t give off the vibe that she wanted to settle down, and that is entirely what Alex wanted. She also seemed to fully live in the past and continually brought up how much she disliked Alex’s ex-girlfriend.

Overall, I think Emily Henry did a great job with People We Meet On Vacation. I enjoyed it more than her previous book Beach Read (which most people may not agree with me on!) and thought the storyline flowed well. It was a light, fun read that made me want to book a trip immediately, and I would definitely recommend it to any rom-com lover!

Book Review: Reproduction by Ian Williams

By Carmen Lebar

Content warning: rape, cancer, alcoholism, drug use, death, racism, violence, sexual harassment, fat shaming. 

Reproduction by Ian Williams is a novel that explores the unlikely relationships that occur during our lifetime. The 2019 Scotiabank Giller Prize-winning book focuses on the relationship between Edgar and Felicia after they meet in a hospital room, where both of their mothers are dying. They spend the night talking, unknowingly connecting their lives forever. The novel is split into four parts, each exploring a different era of their lives and the people in it.Reproduction’s cast of characters all come together in the most unexpected and interesting ways. I really enjoyed this book and think its experimentation and thematic focus make it an exceptional novel—well deserving of the Giller Prize.

Williams's form in this novel is creative and experimental. The novel begins with two chapters that eventually enter mitosis—duplicating each other. It keeps reproducing, where one section has two sets of 22 chapters representing the 44 chromosomes. The story continues to reproduce and eventually gets cancer by the end of the novel. This coincides with one of the characters developing cancer, mimicking the form. Stylistically, Williams demonstrates how reproduction not only brings life, but death as well. I found it compelling how form can replicate the story of a novel. This isn’t something I’ve seen often in literature, and I think it works brilliantly in Reproduction. 

The form in this novel is also heavily integrated with its content, specifically within the theme of memory. There are many instances where the memory of a character is presented as concrete, yet other times it is feeble and malleable. Memories, and history, are repeating and rewriting themselves—a nod to the form, where things are replicating. The integrity of memory is called into question in this novel. Or, memory is being purposefully concealed. What is factual? What is to be believed? Williams makes an insightful commentary on the way we consciously and unconsciously reinterpret the things that happen to us. I enjoyed not knowing entirely what was true.

Reproduction is a novel that shows how form and content can work together to create a complex story. There are moments in the novel that really showcase how relationships can be created by the most unlikely circumstances. Being connected to, or caring about someone, does not mean that you have to be related in any way. It’s a book that is going to make me think years from now about how unreliable my memory is, but also about the memory of those around me. Even though the subject matter can be grim at times, Williams scatters moments of comedic relief in moments of darkness. Reproduction is a momentous novel that will take literary fiction lovers on a whirlwind of a journey. 

Thank you to Penguin Random House Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review. 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: White Feminism by Koa Beck

By Christine McFaul

Content warning: discrimination, homophobia, misogyny, racism, sexism, trauma.

White Feminism, a standout work of nonfiction by Koa Beck, provides an intelligent and data-driven account of the history of feminism in America. Beck, a writer, journalist, and former editor-in-chief of Jezebel, anchors the text with thorough Harvard based research. From the formation of the suffragette movement roughly a century ago to the more recent Lean In phenomenon and Women’s March in 2017, Beck reveals how the white feminist agenda has always espoused the values and ideology of the patriarchal structures it purports to denounce. Included throughout, and particularly powerful, is Beck’s research that details the achievements of marginalized groups, typically left out of feminist history including, Indigenous, Black, trans, and persons with a disability.

The book breaks down into twenty-one chapters, organized into an introduction and three main parts, as summarized below:

Introduction: Beck’s introduction is deeply personal. More than simply listing her credentials, it impresses upon the reader the lived experiences that inspired her research and made this book so necessary to write. 

Part I: The History of White Feminism: – “White feminism is a state of mind. It’s a type of feminism that takes up the politics of power without questioning them.”

Based on thorough research, in Part I Beck contextualizes the suffragist movement and exposes their agenda of gaining “access to what cis white men have” rather than prioritizing issues for the betterment of all women. She simultaneously highlights the herculean efforts made by marginalized groups of women in the same time period, but for whom “the movement” has historically preferred to ignore or suppress in order to prioritize and promote their own agenda. 

Part II: White Feminism™: When the Movement Went Corporate: “#Feminism is abundant, particularly for marketers who would like me to purchase my politics on T-shirts, buttons, stickers, and even makeup.” 

Part II explains how white-woman-in-a-power-suit became media shorthand for women’s rights, building a “new dialogue through which to sell products” (do the terms #Ladyboss, #sidehustle, #bossbitch, etc. ring a bell?!).  Beck provides an incisive review of how capitalism profits off of feminism and then uses those profits to ensure the continuation of the same power structures that have historically sidelined marginalized groups.

Part III - The Winds of Change: “Where white feminism begins is precisely where white feminism will end: with the people who uphold it. It’s by their hands that this ideology will either endure…or die-out among other practices.”

Beck ends her research by looking toward the future and giving practical recommendations to the next generation. She makes a compelling argument for the need for the fourth wave of feminism to be inclusive, comfortable with intersectionality, and committed to effecting structural changes and reallocations of power. 

White Feminism is a timely and illuminating addition to the current discussions about race, power, and inclusion. Intelligent, illuminating, and ultimately optimistic, it is one of the most important books I have read in the past 5 years—an absolute must-read. 

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

Book Review: What the Kite Saw by Anne Laurel Carter and Akin Duzakin

By Ashliegh Gehl

What is more freeing than a kite floating high in the sky, teetering on the wind, gazing upon the world with an envious bird’s-eye view? It’s a feeling Anne Laurel Carter’s words and Akin Duzakin’s pictures evoke in What the Kite Saw, a 32-page picture book published by Groundwood Books.

War is often filled with loss, uncertainty, and unknowns. It’s a challenging, emotionally charged concept difficult to convey so clearly in picture books—and yet here we have a work of art navigating the middle ground with a fleet of kites taking flight. It’s the perfect position from which to invite young readers, ages four to eight, into a fiction that is tethered so tightly to reality. A fiction illuminated by the power of imagination during a time of great distress.

It’s also a shared reality because war is war, regardless of where it surfaces. The heartbreak of loss paired with fear slithers in the storyline’s darkest shadows only to be thwarted by a lantern of hope.  

What the Kite Saw was inspired by Palestinian children. It’s very timely and relevant given the resurgence of unfortunate conflict in Gaza. In this narrative, Carter centres the story around a young boy’s point of view. From the first spread, with the streaks of red stratus-like clouds marching with the soldiers in the streets, the story is instantly in motion. You feel the isolation associated with occupation and the devastation imposed on the little boy and his family as his father and brother are taken away. Duzakin’s use of colour in bleak, unbearable moments tells a visual story of separation and what may have transpired.  

It’s through the lifting of curfews—small breaths of air—that the story softly lightens and shows children coming together. It’s a space for the boy to mobilize his friends, to inspire them to create make-shift kites. Shaped like stars and strewn from rooftops, the kites can see the world in ways the boy and his friends cannot. It sees the city, in all of its entirety, and can find the place where the boy’s father and brother have gone. While the small joy of kite flying is but a flicker, quickly deflated by gunfire, it is through the release of a kite, one which escapes and lifts off toward the stars, that the child can see, if only in his mind, his father and brother again. 

When reading this book, read it three times. First, the words and pictures. Second, just the words to absorb the precision of Carter’s pacing and then revisit it a third time by only reading the art. There’s a story in each spread which not only complements Carter’s words but deepens the reader’s understanding of the child’s delicate perspective in ways that will strongly resonate with visual learners. Every movement in Duzakin’s art is a strategic decision to further communicate the story, unlocking another layer of emotion and truly taking this story to another level. As much as it is a story of war and loss, it upholds what we know to be true. Imagination prevails in the darkest of hours and builds just enough resiliency to carry us through to a brighter tomorrow.

You Can’t Wait Around for the Muse to Speak

By Evan J

Photo by Evan J

Is there such a thing as a born genius? It’s certainly up for debate. I won’t weigh in more than to say that I’ve met several accomplished writers, but I’ve yet to meet an inherent genius. None of these accomplished writers were born with artistic talent, nor did their muse magically show up one day with the entire blueprint for creating great art.

Those whom I have met are accomplished writers who worked incredibly hard to master their craft and who did everything within their power to orchestrate a life that fostered literary opportunities.

Regarding craft, these accomplished writers prove that you can’t just wait around for the muse to speak. If you’re educationally static, and then the muse does deliver a golden idea, you won’t have the skills needed to properly turn the idea into art. What I’m saying is, to be a successful writer, you must always be working to improve your craft.

But what does constant craft improvement look like?

For me, it looks like years of university studies, an ongoing and evolving relationship with literary communities, regularly participating in poetry workshops, reading the widest variety of literature possible, exploring carpentry and culinary arts, and practicing my poetry skills with a pencil and paper every day.

For you it might look like reading numerous “How to write poetry?” articles, weekly literature conversations with a sibling, an obsession with architecture photography, regular attendance at slam poetry festivals, and a library card so overused it’s cracking.

The strategy for improving writing craft is different for everyone, and it’s important for you to continue pushing yourself and evolving your strategy.

Regarding the orchestration of life, these accomplished writers also prove that if you want to excel in your literary field, you must regularly reflect on your life, your place in the world, and the experiences you gain from it. What are your interests, your connections, your living locations? How do you spend your time? Will these things help you achieve your literary goals? And if not, which ones can you change?

For many writers, this looks like moving to a literary hub or enrolling in an MFA program to increase their connections to other literary minds. For other writers, this means changing jobs or professions to better experience a specific lifestyle firsthand. For me, recently, it meant moving to Northern Ontario because Toronto didn’t offer exposure to the cultural topics I was compelled to write about.

The strategy for orchestrating life, like the strategy for learning writing craft, is different for everyone. But it is hard to become a successful writer if you don’t constantly improve your craft and regularly assess your relationship to the world. If you want to be a successful writer, you have to work for it.

Book Review: The Jigsaw Puzzle King by Gina McMurchy-Barber

By Carly Smith

Content warning: Bullying

Warren is a preteen who recently moved cities with his family, including his twin brother, Bennie. All Warren wants to do is fit in and adjust to his new life by making friends, fitting in at school, and doing some of the activities he did back home. Settling in proves tricky, though, and Warren thinks it’s because of Bennie. Bennie has Down syndrome, and some of Warren and Bennie’s peers have never met anyone with Down syndrome. One new peer, Maya, is keen to build a friendship with both brothers and learns that Bennie has a talent for completing jigsaw puzzles in record time. She encourages Bennie to showcase his skill at the school talent show, but Warren thinks this is a horrible idea. Will Bennie take part in the show? Will Warren stop it? McMurchy-Barber works hard to make a relatable and exciting piece that all ages can connect to. 

We first meet Warren, a boy who like most children his age is starting to care what others think of him. He is constantly on high alert about how others act and react around Bennie. What will others say to him? What will they say about him? On top of this, he sometimes feels like Bennie’s caretaker and not his brother. This feeling is present at home, too; Warren and Bennie’s parents often rely on Warren to be Bennie’s guardian when they cannot. We quickly learn that Warren lacks a sense of autonomy and is very self-conscious. Bennie, on the other hand, is a joyful, optimistic boy who thinks the best of everyone and does not hesitate to march to the beat of his own drum. A kind, funny preteen, Bennie is rarely upset, and when he is, he is keen to find the silver lining. As the book progresses, both boys navigate some difficult feelings, and Warren is faced with confronting his worries and deciding if they are worth more than the strong bond he has with his brother. The Jigsaw Puzzle King is written from the perspective of Warren, which offers many opportunities to empathize with him. Nevertheless, McMurchy-Barber writes the story in such a way that the reader is still able to see the story unfold from Bennie’s perspective. She intertwines both viewpoints beautifully so that the reader is equally pulled towards both boys’ feelings.

Gina McMurchy-Barber’s The Jigsaw Puzzle King touches on several themes, including self-awareness, diversity, and family. We see Warren repeatedly grapple with his role in the family dynamic and how it affects not just his happiness but that of the other members. His initial oblivion to his feelings about how others behave around Bennie plays a significant role in the storyline, keeping the reader captivated with a desire to read on to see if his sense of self-awareness will evolve. These themes, combined with the author’s writing style, makes it hard to put down The Jigsaw Puzzle King; each chapter beautifully compliments the previous one and elegantly sets the foundation for the upcoming one. A nominee for the Silver Birch Fiction Award, I can see myself reading this book again, especially with my son or students. 

Book Review: The Outlander by Gil Adamson

By Larissa Page

Content warning: rape, infidelity, infant death 

The Outlander is a backlist title published first in 2007 but followed up in 2020 by its sequel Ridgerunner. Based on the hype Ridgerunner received (shortlisted for the Giller Prize), I decided to pick up The Outlander so I could read it before diving into Ridgerunner (though they can be read separately).

The Outlander can be described as both historical fiction or western; both would be completely accurate, in my opinion, as it takes place in the Canadian frontier just after the turn of the century (1903). The first chapters I found a bit slow, with much focus being put on a solitary venture (or flee) into the forest and mountains. The nature descriptions were reminiscent of Elizabeth Hay’s Late Nights on Air. 

The story does pick up a bit when more characters enter (and leave) the story, and “the widow” (as she’s referred to) makes her way farther along on her adventure. The story becomes a bit of a western saga with her story, as well as a bit of a “cat and mouse” story with little snippets focused on the Boulton brothers and eventually the Ridgerunner, who are looking for her as she moves through the Albertan landscape.

While historical fiction has made its way into my reading list several times, it is not often I read something considered a western—this may be the second one I’ve ever read, in fact. While I wasn’t sure about it at first (as mentioned, it was a bit slow), I ultimately enjoyed it. Adamson created characters that were easy to root for despite their flaws, created adventures I was happy to join the characters on, and the ending was exactly what I wanted it to be. 

I also appreciated that this tale (because that’s almost how it seemed in its telling) included so many minor characters that, however briefly present, were all very important in different ways. Adamson didn’t waste space with these characters. They entered the story when they needed to, then promptly exited as the widow moved on or the direction changed, but each and every one had a profound impact and were completely necessary.  

I, personally, am thrilled to be able to continue this story (set 14 years later) with Ridgerunner.

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

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: mental illness, child abuse, incest

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

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

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

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

Book Review: The Sanatorium by Sarah Pearse

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: mental illness, rape

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

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

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

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

Book Review: The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: giving up a baby for adoption

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

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

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

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

Book Review: Made in Korea by Sarah Suk

By Megan Amato

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

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

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

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

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

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

Book Review: The Drowning Kind by Jennifer McMahon

By Kaylie Seed

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

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

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

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

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

Book Review: Becoming Leidah by Michelle Grierson

By Megan Amato

Content warning: rape

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Kaylie Seed

Content warning: gore, graphic scenes

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

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

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

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

Book Review: The Henna Artist by Alka Joshi

By Megan Amato

Content warning: Domestic abuse, abortion

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

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

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

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

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

Book Review: Sins of the Bees by Annie Lampman

By Kaylie Seed

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

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

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

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

Hyperbolic Advice to Live By

By Evan J

Photo by Evan J

Reflecting on my creative life, I’ve discovered that I’m heavily influenced by the suggestions of other writers. When I come across useful advice, I write it down, and if it’s really good, it becomes a digital note on my computer, a motivational reminder that I employ during tough writing days.

What I didn’t notice until now is that these notes contain a theme: the hyperbolic.

When read literally, my most treasured advice actually suggests the impossible. Yet the advice works for me. It’s simply a reminder of the difficulty of writing, of the near-impossible and unceasing work that must be done to be a good writer.

If you're like me and you absorb the advice of other writers, then these notes might also resonate with you. I'll share three of them; I hope the advice can be of use to you. Remember that you’re welcome to critically assess it, judge it, experiment with it, adopt it, adapt it, or discard it according to your own needs.

“Fiction is impossible. Ask me [John Oliver Killens]. Poetry is impossible. Ask Langston or Countee. Baldwin will say essays are impossible. But everyone agrees, short stories are so impossible, they almost can’t be written at all.”

This is a quote that Maya Angelou relates in her book The Heart of a Woman. This book and this quote are reminders that writing is hard. Really hard. No matter the genre. Especially if you want to do it well. So be prepared for failure.

“In my opinion, after one finishes a story, one should cross out the beginning and the end. It is there that we writers lie most of all.” 

An article in the Paris Review attributes this quote to Chekhov. A master of brevity and subtext, Chekhov and this quote are reminders to be efficient. Do not waste time with the superfluous. Dig to the most vital core of your topic, and write only that.

“Be totally familiar with the entirety of the Western literary tradition, and if you have any extra time, throw in the Eastern.”

Also from the Paris Review, this quote is Jim Harrison responding to an interviewer’s question, “Do you have any advice for younger writers?” Personally, I adapt Harrison's advice away from the concept of a Western-Eastern literary world, but I still find Harrison’s underlying message to be powerful: it’s your obligation as a writer to know the entire literary landscape. It’s an impossible task, of course, but if you’re stricken by writer’s block, don’t worry, reading is just as important as writing. As Harrison says, “how can you write well unless you know what passes for the best in the last three or four hundred years?”

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

By Kaylie Seed

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Christine McFaul

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

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

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

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

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