Book Review: A Single Rose by Muriel Barbery

By Serena Ewasiuk

A Single Rose by Muriel Barbery, translated by Alison Anderson, tells the story of Rose Uneno as she visits Kyoto, Japan to hear the reading of her late father’s will. Rose had never met her father, Haru, a successful art dealer, or visited Japan before. She feels resentful and hurt that her father didn’t contact her or have a relationship with her. When she arrives in Kyoto she stays at her late father’s house and is taken care of by his housekeeper, driver, and assistant Paul. Haru left an itinerary of special places for Rose to visit while in Japan and has instructed Paul to accompany her. The two forge a special bond during Rose’s time in Japan and love blooms.  

A Single Rose is a short novella that shines in the way it immerses the reader in experiencing Japanese culture. It is evident that Barbery has a true love for Japan and has experienced Kyoto firsthand. She captures the rich culture and gorgeous landscape with her observations and descriptive passages. First there is the food. Paul and Rose visit tea houses and restaurants, sharing meals and conversations, allowing the reader to share in these culinary experiences. There’s sake and beer, ginger and white radishes, matcha and udon.  

Barberry also provides the reader with rich depictions of nature as the two explore Zen gardens and ancient temples. The poetic and descriptive style of writing paints a vivid picture of Japan’s landscape. Rose, a botanist, appreciates the simple beauty of peonies, lilacs, azaleas, bamboo, and maple trees, and Barbery writes lush and poetic passages to set the backdrop of the story.  

A unique storytelling element within A Single Rose is the use of Japanese folktales, which are placed in between chapters to shed light on themes which will be explored in the forthcoming chapter.  While I enjoyed the folktales, they were at times too philosophical or cerebral, with quotes that were difficult to interpret.  

A Single Rose explores themes of love, forgiveness, growth, and second chances.  While the pacing felt off at times and the storyline was predictable, the novella shines in its lyrical homage to Kyoto. A Single Rose is a poignant story of a reawakening or blossoming, if you will, of Rose, who “at the age of forty, had not really lived.”

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

Book Review: The Other Side by Heather Camlot

By Carly Smith

Liam, a preteen hooked on soccer, is at his grandfather’s house on the lake when he finds a dead body nearby. As he tries to move on from this unexpected discovery, he can’t help but think more and more about what he saw. Whose body was it? Was it an accident? What was this person like when she was alive? 

With limited evidence, and with the help of friends and family, Liam works to piece together this young woman’s death while continuing with his everyday life. As he delves deeper into his detective work, he learns more about his grandfather’s past and how it may be connected to the death. However, his intense focus on solving the mystery proves difficult to successfully maintain his role on the soccer team, an activity which he has always loved and excelled at. Can Liam and his crew get to the bottom of this death, and if so, how will it change Liam’s life? 

Each character in The Other Side brings a unique dynamic to the plot. Camlot thoughtfully develops the characters’ personalities and idiosyncrasies, making it easy to visualize the book’s events, create a voice for each person, and really immerse oneself in the storyline. Liam, the protagonist, is clever, observant, and diligent. As his character is developed, it is clear that he is also caring, focused, and curious. We see this in his passion for soccer, his concern for his grandfather, and his interest in the suspicious death. His sister, Elvy, is a cheerful girl who brings a light-hearted air to the scene whenever she is present. She loves her brother dearly and is keen to be his sidekick in this exciting investigation. Opa, Liam and Elvy’s grandfather, is a man with much history; he is from Germany and is a veteran of World War II. He has been exposed to a lot in his lifetime and wishes for a delicate balance for Liam—that he knows the tragedies his grandfather lived through, but also that he is still able to carry on, not overly immersed in Opa’s past so much that it interferes with his own life. 

The Other Side was a quick read, but not so quick that readers can pay half-attention to the book’s events. Camlot revealed clues through dialogue and narrative, and I found myself enjoying this young adult murder mystery as much as any adult murder mystery I have read. Several times I felt it necessary to reread parts, not because something was poorly written but because some clues were so subtle that I second guessed myself, which is always a sign of a compelling book. I truly enjoyed how The Other Side was not strictly about a murder, but also woven within it was a historical fiction component. Overall, Camlot smoothly ties together the various parts of a young man’s life to create an engaging read for both young and not-so-young adults alike.

Book Review: Monkey Beach by Eden Robinson

By Sara Hailstone

Content warning: Death, murder, addiction and drug use, racism, sexual violence, intergenerational trauma

The focus of reviewing Eden Robinson’s 2000 debut novel, Monkey Beach, is to acknowledge and highlight the power of activating textual layers of magic realism in providing a pathway of shamanism and spiritual components of the Haisla Nation throughout the book. Robinson guides her readers on this journey while simultaneously withholding the sacred power of knowing. What cumulates in this traditionally perceived coming-of-age narrative is an understanding of a young female protagonist’s reclamation of a way of being lost to immense colonial folds. 

Robinson set Monkey Beach in 1989 in her own hometown of Kitamaat Village, BC. The reader follows the fraught actions of 19-year-old Lisamarie, who learns of her brother’s disappearance and suspected drowning while working away on a fishing boat. Without her parents knowing, Lisamarie sets out on her own to find Jimmy. 

While trekking the Douglas Channel alone on an outboard, Lisamarie works through memories of lost loved ones. The reader is pulled through this narrative point-of-view of a close-knit family legacy of death, trauma, suicide, accident, and the immense bonds of love. Triggered, Lisamarie pushes through emotions of drug abuse, rape, and her mental health. Through this narrative weaving and intermingling of Lisamarie’s worldview, Robinson successfully evokes a multi-dimensioned existence of the supernatural, spiritual, and physical. Monkey Beach is a shaman story. 

“Contacting the dead, lesson one. Sleep is an altered state of consciousness…To contact the spirit world, you must control the way you enter this state of being that is somewhere between waking and sleeping.” 

Thus, Robinson threads throughout shifting timeframes of the present and past with spiritual teachings and conceptualizations of life that in reality transform the structure of the text itself into an awakening process. In combination with the polished execution of elements of magic realism is Robinson’s way of artistically and brilliantly pulling Lisamarie and the reader through a process of essential reclamation and, in my opinion, empowerment. 

In connection with the vibrancy of the land itself, Lisamarie’s world is ethereal and vividly layered. Supernatural beings like the B’gwus, or sasquatch make appearances, and she communicates with other Haisla spiritual beings through dreams, visions, and sightings. Lisamarie walks with the dead and the overlaying of an ethereal matrix with the young woman’s confrontation of colonial psychological and Western clinical views of mental illness and personality disorder. 

“Contacting the dead, lesson three. Seeing ghosts is a trick of concentration. You must be able to concentrate on nothing and everything at the same time.”

Her grandmother, Ma-ma-oo’s guidance and passing on of Haisla knowledge is also an initiation of shamanism. Lisamarie is instructed in the history of the Haisla people, herbology, walking in the way of the existence of the dead, translating the synchronicity of the appearance of supernatural phenomena and the realization and actualization of her power. “I felt deeply comforted knowing that magical things were still living in the world.” Two strong female characters, the learning and teachings carried out between Ma-ma-oo and Lisamarie prepare her best to journey after her missing brother.

The enthralling and magical components of Robinson’s writing is that the plotline embodies a West Coast mythology of the Spirit Canoe travelling to the Land of the Dead. Lisamarie journeys and navigates spiritual realms fully and risks being lost there. “Never mind about [Jimmy] now. Go back. You’ve come too far into this world. Go back,” she is warned upon reaching the dead’s shores and witnesses her ancestors dancing around a bonfire. Lisamarie is left on these shores at the end of the novel, existing multi-dimensionally, both rooted in the visceral and hooked to the ethereal. Regardless, my interpretation is that she is existing and more fully actualized than before her journey to find Jimmy. “I lie on the sand. The clamshells are hard against my back. I am no longer cold. I am so light I could just drift away. Close, very close, a B'gwus howls—not quite human, not quite wolf, but something in between. The howl echoes off the mountains. In the distance, I hear the sound of a speedboat.” Lisamarie is the plotline incarnate, a keeper of memory, a mediator of worlds, a practitioner of magic, ‘something in between.’ 

Book Review: The Last Train to Key West by Chanel Cleeton

By Hayley Platt

The Last Train to Key West, published in June 2020, is a historical fiction novel set in 1935 in the Florida Keys when one of the most powerful hurricanes recorded passed through the area.  

Helen Berner lives in the Keys with an abusive husband and is nine months pregnant when the hurricane heads into town. Mirta Perez is brought to the Keys on her honeymoon with her new husband before they head to New York City permanently. Elizabeth Preston travelled to the Keys from New York and is hoping to find a missing family member who is likely in the camps where many veterans of the Great War are living. The book is set during the Great Depression, and even though that is not the focus of the storyline, readers can see how it has impacted each of the characters and how they deal with conflict.

The book is told from all three of their perspectives, but it is easy to keep each storyline straight as the author has mastered writing each of their perspectives in its own way. 

Cleeton has woven the stories of Mirta, Elizabeth, and Helen seamlessly as they prepare for and live through the hurricane. She has shown the strength and determination women of the time had, having lived through the war and the beginning of the Depression before encountering this extreme weather. All three women start off in Key West but travel separately to the town of Islamorada, where they weather the storm, each in their own way. At the end of the book, readers are left feeling satisfied with no major plot holes. It is clear how each storyline has come to a neat conclusion.

The Floridian landscape has a unique feeling, and the descriptions of the setting easily transport readers into the page alongside Cleeton’s heroines. As the storm rolls in, it is impossible to miss the darkness and worry within the pages.

In addition to the primary tale of surviving the hurricane, each perspective pulls in details about secondary storylines and history that may not be expected in historical fiction surrounding a specific event. Examples of this would be the lives of some army men following the war in the work camps which can be found in Elizabeth’s chapters. Helen’s chapters include fishermen at the time and the struggles women encountered in abusive relationships in the 1930s. Mirta’s chapters brought in background information about the Cuban Revolution in 1933. All of these topics added to the story paint a detailed picture of the lives of each of the women.

In addition to the spectacular writing, the cover design was developed using an image of a model from the cover of an issue of Vogue in 1952 superimposed onto an image of Key West.

This book is recommended to historical fiction lovers, especially those looking for stories set in the USA during the Great Depression. 

Book Review: Think Like an Artist, Don't Act Like One by Koos de Wilt

By Caprice Hogg

The title of this book piqued my interest as I hoped to read in-depth insights into how artists think despite poor life choices by said artists. 

Upon my initial read, I felt it was more of an art history book for beginners. It was an easy and entertaining read with only one or two paragraphs next to each work of art. As the book progressed, I found large gaps in information. The book begins with a sculpture from 25 000 B.C, and then we jump to Tutankhamun’s tomb in 1333 B.C. He briefly touches on art throughout the ages, but the large jumps bypassing entire centuries is disturbing. 

De Wilt features several works of art through the Renaissance with well-known artists such as Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Titian. He attempts to not only feature the famous artists but also a small cross-section of lesser-known artists from other countries such as Pieter Jansz from Holland. In actuality, this does the book a disservice as the world of art is simply too large to be undertaken in a book with only 591 small pages. The 18th century is skipped over with only one work of art for the entire century. He goes into impressionism, post-impressionism and almost the entire second half of the book is on post-expressionism and abstract art. It is weighted heavily in certain art movements.  

The author refers to this as “an illustrated book on life lessons in art.”  Yet, I feel no further enlightened towards what the artists thought on life lessons. Rather than quoting from great artists like Picasso or Dali, DeWilt quotes Steve Jobs instead. There was not only one quote from Jobs but two! I also fail to understand how De Wilt knew what the artist was thinking in 25 000 B.C.?

Another information gap is that the author sometimes wrote a description about the painting being shown, and at other times, he wrote a description of the artist’s life without any information about the painting itself. I was disappointed when, next to Van Gogh’s Cafe Terrace at Night, he did not describe why Vincent had painted a yellow horse walking down the street or anything about the cafe or the patrons. The writing was a brief description of VanGogh’s life featuring well-known details that did not give me any further insight into the art or life of VanGogh.  

Another discrepancy in the book is that sometimes a photo of the artist is featured rather than the actual work of the artist. Perhaps this is a copyright issue? Whatever the reason, I would like the art to be more consistent throughout.

I would not recommend this book as it falls short of its premise of giving readers a true picture of what artists truly think, nor does it give an accurate history of art.

Thank you, NetGalley, for providing me with a copy to review. 

Book Review: You by Caroline Kepnes

By Jamie Maletta

Content warning: Domestic violence, obsession, manipulation

I won’t lie: I have binge-watched every episode of the Netflix phenomenon You since I first came across it. I’ve seen every episode, and I’m currently (impatiently) waiting for the next season. Since we’re confessing dirty little secrets: I didn’t realize this on-screen masterpiece was an adaptation of the book series by Caroline Kepnes. I had no idea. I opened the perfectly wrapped Christmas gift to discover there are actually three books in this series and decided the first You would be my debut read of 2022. 

Diving into chapter one, we’re introduced to bookstore worker “Joe,” who we immediately realize has an obsession with women. There isn’t one thing about a good-looking woman that he’s within the vicinity of that Joe can’t contort into believing was intended for his pleasure. The way she looks, what she talks about, her body language—he’s completely convinced himself that these women want him. He absolutely believes he’s above everyone else and any of his personal downfalls he contorts into a justification to give him an advantage over others. 

When a young, unsuspecting Guinevere Beck (known as “Beck”) walks into his bookstore, the obsession becomes too real. He must get to know her in every which way possible, and he stops at nothing to do so. He learns the ins and outs about her schedule, family, and friends. He ensures she believes the many coincidences he’s corralled to be placed between the two of them appear organic and natural. It’s no surprise that when they inevitably end up dating, he believes it’s for the long haul and that everything he’s done is out of pure love and dedication. When things begin to unravel, and he can no longer control every situation, he begins to “fix” what is in their way. He will do anything for love, and Joe’s dedication knows no limits. 

I believe all of us know a “Joe,” or have been with or known someone to have been with a “Joe.” Maybe for you, it’s a feminine “Joe”—you get what I’m saying. As such, I believe this book could be incredibly triggering for anyone who’s experienced physical or psychological domestic abuse. The writing really gets into the mind of the manipulator, the narcissist, the person who believes every action they make is justified, no matter the effect or damage to their partner. Although this book is very well written, and one you just need to keep reading to know what’s going to happen next, I don’t believe that it’s for everyone. Some topics, some content, are worth leaving in the past. 

As an aside to my review, if you’re experiencing domestic violence, please reach out to a family member, friend, or professional for help. Too many individuals suffer in silence, and it’s time to end that stigma. You are a survivor. There is a way out and a life that awaits you on the other side of domestic violence. Please check out https://www.canada.ca/en/public-health/services/health- promotion/stop-family-violence/services.html for a list of resources in your area. 

Book Review: PlantYou by Carleigh Bodrug

Carly Smith

PlantYou delivers a variety of plant-based meal recipes that author Carleigh Bodrug promises are “ridiculously easy” and “amazingly delicious.” With a foreword by Dr. Will Bulsiewicz, a medical doctor passionate about gastrointestinal health, PlantYou encapsulates the benefits of plant-based eating, as well as the detriments of animal and animal by-product consumption. Along with the recipes, Bodrug offers suggestions about appliances and cookware, and presents a shopping list of plant-based staples that will help make this lifestyle more manageable. The recipes are grouped sensibly, making it easy to find recipes and navigate the book. 

Now let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. There are elements of this book that really appealed to me and will keep me coming back to it time and time again. However, I argue that there are also shortcomings that made me think this book was more about making sales than delivering on Bodrug’s goal, which is to help readers incorporate more plants in their diet. Let’s start with the aspects of the cookbook that I enjoyed. 

First, the presentation is crisp. Each recipe follows the same format, is accompanied by a realistic photo, and unlike some cookbooks, the pages are not overwhelming to scan (this is essential when your eyes are constantly moving from page to cutting board and back again). Next, Bodrug is true to her word when she says that the recipes are easy and delicious. Often, authors lure readers in by guaranteeing quick and/or easy recipes, only to leave them frustrated and using more time than anticipated to create the recipe. Bodrug does the opposite, and in a refreshing change of pace, offers accurate and short preparation times for all her recipes. Not only was I left satisfied with being able to trust the time suggestion for each recipe, I was also overjoyed to find that these oil-free recipes were far from bland. Finally, I was really drawn to the substitutions made available for most recipes; cooking with new ingredients or adjusting to a new food lifestyle with intolerances and allergies can be difficult, and Bodrug thoughtfully offers substitutions for many ingredients and makes it clear that quite a few ingredients can be substituted based on availability or preference. This alleviated a lot of pressure in both the grocery store and the kitchen. 

Now I will address the parts of the cookbook I found to be disappointing or contradictory. To start, Bodrug labels her recipes as “infographic,” which piqued my interest because who doesn’t love a nice visual amongst a sea of words? The infographics are merely images of the individual ingredients in each recipe with their names below them. Although this was a letdown for me, perhaps it is helpful to readers who are visual learners or who are unfamiliar with the appearance of some of the less common ingredients. Next, I found a discrepancy between Bodrug’s push for concentrating on nutrient density and her breakdown of nutritional information for each recipe. She states, “I encourage you to let go of meticulously calculating macronutrient information and instead focus on increasing the nutrient density of your meals by fueling your body with whole, unprocessed foods as showcased in these recipes.” While she stresses the importance of all nutrients and posits that the focus on macronutrients is too intense in today’s world, the nutritional information for each recipe includes only the caloric, fat, protein, carbohydrate, and fibre contents. This was surprising to come across, especially since readers were previously persuaded about the benefits of other nutrients, like vitamins and minerals, and these amounts were not included in the nutritional breakdowns.

PlantYou is a lovely cookbook to have on hand. Its openness to substitutions, user-friendly layout, and breadth of meal options makes it desirable for cooks of all skill levels. The freshness of the recipes, as well as their simplicity and short prep times, are attractive elements that also add to the book’s utility. Although I was not satisfied with the infographics and nutritional information, I do think this can be overlooked by readers who do not diligently keep track of their nutrient intake and who have experience in the kitchen with alternative ingredients. PlantYou will not be stored in a bin of old books in the storage room in my house; it will be kept in the pantry alongside my other well-referenced cookbooks.

Book Review: Scorpion Season by Tara McGowan-Ross

By Meredith Grace Thompson

I swore I would stop 

apologizing in matters of sex and business, so instead I say: 

thank you for your time and your interest in this project. 

There is this old folktale about a scorpion and a fox—sometimes it’s a frog—in which the scorpion asks the fox to carry it across the river because it cannot swim. The fox refuses because it knows how dangerous the scorpion is but the scorpion begs, promising not to sting the fox at any point on their journey. The scorpion seems genuine and so the fox, who is not a cruel animal, finally agrees to ferry the scorpion across. And so they set out into the river, the fox paddling with the scorpion perched atop its back. Halfway across the river the scorpion stings the fox. As its body fills with poison the fox looks back and asks: Why have you done this? Now we are both going to die. The scorpion says only, I am sorry, but it is my nature. 

The point of this story, I suppose, is to be wary of scorpions, assuming the listener identifies entirely with the fox, because scorpions will always sting you even if they promise otherwise. But what of the scorpion? What of the creature who cannot help but follow its nature, even if that nature causes it to drown without malicious intent? 

Scorpion Season, a poetry collection by Montréal-based Mi’kmaw poet Tara McGowan-Ross, seems to ask this very question, with “coping mechanisms so strong they may kill her.” The collection is as immersive as a sensory deprivation tank. You enter the book and the world is dark; sound muffled in that particularly meditative way where air is heavy and you find yourself submerged fully in each poem. They begin to ring, softly at first, and then louder and louder. The collection walks the tightrope of confessional poetry, which risks melodrama if it is not masterfully handled. But McGowan-Ross is a master. She dances through each poem, landing on distinctive beats and luxuriating in each line while propelling onto the next. McGowan-Ross creates the through lines of the collection, weaving between each stand-alone poem with the dimensionality of a novel. Scorpion Season follows the creation of a speaker as seen through differing accounts by minor characters all of whom weave together the story of a self in its formation, dealing with identity, addiction, eating disorders, friendship, love, self-love, academia, philosophy, family, and grief.  

The underlying beat of the collection is strong, giving McGowan-Ross space to use staccato notes, dancing softly on the syncopated beat. The beat changes, as do the syncopations, but McGowan-Ross’s skill is consistently shown throughout. The form remains close knit yet mouldable—as gauze over a wound. McGowan-Ross has an innate understanding of form, to rival any contemporary poet. Embedding trope, formal structure, mixed chronology, and more experimental styles including psychiatrist’s notes and emails with mysteriously redacted names, McGowan-Ross moves seamlessly throughout the seemingly sporadic yet meticulously intentional chronology of the collection (sometimes jumping between years from one poem to the next) to create an articulated self which expresses much more than its own selfhood.  

Churning through grief in physical form, through the carried intergenerational trauma of waves of colonized peoples in the folds of an individual body, through self-loathing, through causing the fox beneath you to drown, the speaker of McGowan-Ross’s collection is magnanimous. McGowan-Ross is a delight on paper. Her delightfulness radiates to make you wish she was the friend sitting next to you filled with laughter and stories of youthful rambunctiousness until far too early in the morning. 

In one interpretation, the tale of the scorpion and the fox presupposes the reality and functionality of a precise human nature; “mental defect: philosophy degree.” A secondary interpretation views the fable as a comment on individual nature. We are a composite of our contexts; “a psychologist tells me we repeat our parents’ habits in love and money. my immediate family history is one of resource mismanagement.” We are a mosaic of everything that we are or were or can be. All these things create our nature. 

NATIONALITY: Colonized 

RACE: Restless 

INSURANCE: handouts 

PRIMARY CARE: Alcohol

Scorpion Season is a revelatory look inside/beside/behind/in front of/and towards a mystical creature called woman/human/queer/philosopher/pervert/poet/artist/friend/daughter/sister/mother/lover/mentor/self and always (and always) filled with promises. 

I promise not to egg your house or cause a scene at your work

Book Review: The Sisters of the Winter Wood by Rena Rossner

By Sara Hailstone

The residue of my reading experience with Rena Rossner’s The Sisters of the Winter Wood was an “aha” moment after finishing the novel and reading of the book’s historical rootedness in the author’s Jewish family history, and the intertextuality of folklore blended with the fantasy genre. In a historical note following the story Rossner records that “On March 20, 1903, the body of a young Christian Ukrainian boy named Mikhail Rybachenko was found drained of blood in the garden of a Jewish man named Yossl Filler in the shtetl of Dubossary, on the border between the Ukraine and Moldova.” This event resulted in over 1,300 pogroms, attacks on Jewish persons in the Ukraine. Rossner has personal ties to this history. “As a result of the pogrom in Dubossary, my great-uncle, Abraham Krovetz, made his way to America via Ellis Island in 1905.” The extension of this narrative is that during World War II the Nazis exterminated the remaining Jewish people of Dubossary and buried all 6,000 in a mass grave. Rossner writes, “Every family member of mine who did not make it to America from 1903 to 1912 was slaughtered by the Nazis in 1940, together with the rest of the Jews of the town. Only 100 to 150 Jews from Dubossary survived.” So, as a debut novel in 2018, The Sisters of the Winter Wood is grounded in historical, biographical, and literary elements of truth, fantasy, and fiction. 

The story depicts the coming-of-age and fantastical loss of innocence of two sisters, Laya and Liba, who live close to the village of Dubossary with their parents. Despite the novel’s intriguing idea of combining history with a re-imagining of Christina Rossetti’s “Goblin Market,” the literary parallels suffer from the pacing of the plot. Before the parents are called away from their homestead to the deathbed of grandfather-rabbi with the intention to achieve familial reconciliation, the reader is shown rather quickly that both parents shapeshift.  

           The mother is a swan and the father is a bear, and there is family history of separation between the swan and bear lineage. The sisters are left alone to process the reality of shapeshifting, family truths of parental heritage, and their own changing existences of human into animal—Laya will become a swan like her mother, and Liba will grow into a bear like her father. I wanted to fall into this fantasy environment like I would with elements of magic realism in literary fiction, but the writing did not enable me too. I finished the story knowing I do not fully believe or am convinced. I think if these details were revealed slowly with a more integrated backstory, the shapeshifting wouldn’t feel rushed or artificially inserted. 

When I first picked up the novel I was interested in the evident shift in narrative point-of-view between the two sisters in both prose and poetry sections. I was excited for the poetry sections. The textual style reflects the sister’s personalities. Prose is detailed and reveals observation, emotional intelligence and deep thought with Liba, the older sister. The poetry sections flow with pockets of air and space around them. One text of underbrush fit for a bear. One text of air fit for a swan to fly. I wanted the poetry to inspire and captivate me, but I found while reading that these sections were sentence fragments. I wanted lyrical poetry with imagery, metaphor, and a deeper message. One strength of the writing style is Rossner’s language that achieves interconnectivity between the sisters and nature. These descriptions were poetic and convincing. 

I suggest that in attempting to achieve a cross-genre text of history, fiction, and fantasy, Rossner could have written a creative nonfiction text combining historical records and direct literary references to “Goblin Market.” An intertextual product could possibly achieve her desire to integrate the history of atrocity of the Jewish people of Dubossary, her family history, literary references and the sensuality of “Goblin Market,” and the author’s Russian/Romanian/Moldavian/Ukrainian heritage. Overall, in making a connection to Jewish suffering, scapegoating, and shapeshifting, a point of existence could be mastered of other worlds/realities, hidden dimensions, and capacities that could close the gaps in the narrative to make it more believable. The novel needs a firmer understanding of a magic system, worldbuilding, and a power structure or system of government in flushing out who holds power within this world. 

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

Book Review: The City of Brass by S.A. Chakraborty

By Samreen Khan

There is no other way to put this—I read this book in four days flat, which is a huge feat as I am a working mother of two kids and also because this book is 500 pages long. 

The City of Brass is the first book of the Daevabad trilogy. And you should read this book if you like Muslim folklore; grew up in a Muslim household listening to such folklore; are intrigued by the story of Prophet Suleiman and the Djinns; and if you thrive on stories revolving around mythical creatures, warring tribes, vengeance, sibling squabbles, love, loyalty, friendship, and strong female protagonists. 

This book is a dream come true for Muslim fantasy nerds—it represents a part of Muslim culture and identity in a way that I never thought was possible. The book starts off in Cairo with Nahri, who is a con woman by profession and our lead female character who carries forward all three books of the trilogy. Nahri uses tricks, deceptions, sleight of hand, and knowledge of natural medicines to perform healing rituals to earn her livelihood. One day while performing a zar (a healing custom for troubled souls), Nahri unknowingly taps into a long-forgotten part of her heritage and ends up calling a warrior Djinn named Dara to her aid. And from here the adventure begins and she is transported to the ancient, magical City of Brass—Daevabad—that is hidden from human eyes and is the capital city of all magical races. 

Nahri is catapulted from the war-torn streets of Cairo where ghouls are chasing her to the edgy city of Daevabad that traces its political lineage to the times of Prophet Suleiman (Solomon). It is here that Nahri must face the question of who she really is. Does she truly belong to the lost ancient bloodline that was destined to rule Daevabad as per Suleiman’s wish? The city is fraught with tribal rivalry and rife with tensions between pure blooded Djinns and the Shafit (who are of mixed human and Djinn heritage). And all this is kept under tight control by the current ruler of Daevabad, Ghasan Al Qahtani, who views Nahri as a direct threat to his throne. Nahri unwittingly gets involved with court politics, Dara her warrior Djinn, and Ghasan’s two sons Muntadhir and Alizayd. 

If the plot summary above sounds like a lot—that’s because it is. It’s an entire parallel universe that has been created from scratch by the author who has been very true to Islamic sources and Muslim folklore, and must be applauded for the same. 

I truly enjoyed reading the book because of how it is set parallel to the French invasion of Ottoman Cairo in the 18thcentury; in the human world Nahri faces the impending invasion and then she gets transported to the magical world where again rebellion is brewing. The character of Nahri grows exponentially from the first chapter to the last. Nahri works for her survival at all times, but as her friendships cement with Dara, the warrior sworn to protect her, and Prince Alizayd, she realizes she is not as independent of emotions as she thought she was. She begins to care about the people who surround her and care for her in their own ways. She also learns to trust more, even at times to her detriment. We don’t see much growth in terms of Dara’s character arc, but the character arc that will truly impress readers is that of Prince Alizayd who is standoffish and orthodox in his approach to faith; he has very strong principles and is against the injustices that he sees. Alizayd’s character grows from a rigid box to that of a more open-minded person as he becomes friends with Nahri due to his father’s pressure. After befriending a woman who used to thrive on conning others, Alizayd is amazed at his acceptance of her nature, and he becomes more receptive to the fact that the world is grey-toned. 

Chakraborty writes with a flow and charm that cannot be denied. As a first-time novelist you can see the author’s writing style pick up after the first few chapters when the characters get more drawn out and the plot thickens. Overall the writing is well-researched and the influence of history and medieval Islamic world is evident in it. 

The City of Brass is a well-crafted universe where magical creatures reside, magnificent cities exist, and astounding palaces and libraries hide secrets of the unknown. It takes readers down a mesmerizing fantastical journey that ties intrigue, mystery, love, and loyalty in varying shades of grey. It is a whole new world that awaits you, much more fulfilling than any contemporary magical series can be. This book fills a much needed gap in the Muslim fantasy fiction genre. 

Book Review: This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron

By Megan Amato

Content warning: violence, murder, parental death

Once in a while comes a book, usually in a series, that you know as soon as you finish reading it will be placed upon the shelf with those other volumes you turn to when you need a familiar friend to see you out of a reading slump. Something you can count on. Comfort reads. Kalynn Bayron’s YA contemporary fantasy The Poison Heart has very firmly been placed on that shelf.

When Briseis inherits a house from an unknown birth aunt, she and her two moms trial spending their summer there so Briseis can explore her gift and learn more about her heritage—one where plants bloom and grow at her touch and allow her to handle the deadliest plants without dire consequences. As Briseis settles into this town filled with strange inhabitants, newfound freedom settles over her, she begins a budding romance with a mysterious girl, and she reveals her magic to a friend for the first time. Soon, that sense of safety is ripped away when it’s revealed that the garden out back holds an even deadlier secret than the plants grown there. Kept under lock and key is a plant that her ancestors have kept safe for generations. One that others would kill to get their hands on. 

After I read Bayron’s debut sapphic YA fantasy novel, Cinderella is Dead, she became an instant-buy author. She has a way of creating incredibly likeable characters—teenage ones at that!—and Briseis was no different. As she works through the labyrinth that is her heritage, it is easy to sympathize with the mistakes she makes from the sense of loneliness that comes with her gift, her desperation to keep her remarkable family from fearing her, and the weariness resulting from protecting deadly secrets. One of my pet peeves in young adult fantasy is when protagonists barely react to traumatic events, especially murder or death, and quickly move on with their lives. However, writers like Bayron ensure that you feel every emotion of Briseis’s as she is confronted with traumatic events: new love, impulsive curiosity, primal fear, blinding anger, and paralyzing grief. It reminds you that even with her magic, she’s still human. 

One of my favourite elements in the novel was Briseis’s moms and their unconditional support of their daughter through everything. Adoption always comes with its share of trials and traumas, and when birth families are suddenly involved, it can be painful for both the adoptee and adoptive parents. However, Briseis’s parents are open and honest with her while encouraging her to learn about her heritage at her own pace. Even as the plot develops and unbelievable circumstances come to light, they trust that Briseis was telling the truth and that she could make the right decisions—it contrasted nicely with another less-than-appealing parental relationship in the novel. 

Contemporary/urban fantasy is one of my favourite genres. I love the blend of myth and folklore with the real world. Bayron does it beautifully, layering Greek mythology into this small modern town full of big characters and even bigger stakes. Many of my favourite tropes are found in this novel, including nature-based magic, a small town filled with colourful characters, and a powerful love interest who’s a softie for the protagonist. This book was easy to read, bursting with beautiful botanical descriptions, and full of humour that had me giggling out loud. I will leave you with these final words: if a mysterious kind lady tells you not to grow oleander, for the love of the Greek gods, listen to her!

Book Review: The Naidisbo by Megan Wood

By Larissa Page

Content warning: attempted rape

Torekan has been under the rule of The Order of Alvar for 150 years. The theocracy is ruled by powerful Aitas’, who hold “pure” magic (magic that draws only from one’s self), and who have been systematically eradicating the naturalists (whose magic draws from the earth). The Naidisbo are a family of people whose magic gives them control over the bodies of others, from calming them down to even stopping their hearts. Fear of them caused them to be culled in the last uprising. Believed to all be dead, it is a surprise to the Order and the Rebels alike when a nurse from within the Order reveals herself to be a Naidisbo. Anika is forced to flee with rebels she doesn’t know and embarks on a journey of learning who she is, where she fits, and which side of this war she will be standing on.

This debut novel, the first of a two-part installment, does an excellent job worldbuilding the land of Torekan. There’s a lot at play here: not only are there several different types of magic held within the regions of Torekan, but there are also multiple levels of military/Order positions. Wood does her best to explain each one, and while it can be easy to confuse a Doctor for a Komandante or a Lider, Wood does a good job at having those positions be important to the story without the reader needing to have a full understanding of what they mean to get the full sense of what is happening. 

The same is true for the magic that the naturalist rebels hold and where each of the rebels come from within Torekan. Each magic and background is explained, and explained well, but it is not necessary to hold that information with you as the story continues. I personally like this within fantasy novels, because when you read multiple fantasies it can be easy to get new worlds mixed up. I love learning a new world and I like a well-built world, but I also like not needing to rely on my memory of specific aspects of the worlds to enjoy and understand the story.

There is a large cast of characters in this novel, some more front and centre than others. We are not given full backgrounds on each character, but the ones we get are given to us in a creative way. In a few instances within the story a chapter will jump back and give us a quick origin story; these origin stories were well placed and well used. I hope we will get more of them in the second installment—there are other characters I am longing to know more about.

I did find there to be a bit too much travelling up and down the landmass of Torekan. I wished the characters had stayed in one place or not broken up into groups so often, but this is something I’ve noticed is very common in fantasy novels. 

Wood does a good job in representing the inequalities and injustices that occur within a confined landmass and with perceived “pure” versus “impure” magic. I am looking forward to reading the second installment and experiencing the conclusion of this story. 

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.