Review: "Tell Me How You Eat" by Amber Husain

Tell Me How You Eat by Amber Husain
Published February 2026 via Washington Square Press
★★★

Struggling to find the key to recovering from anorexia, Husain set about looking at some of the meaning that has historically been ascribed to food: food as power, food as rebellion, starvation as power, starvation as rebellion.

I was and still am rather unsure of what to make of the book. Husain traces various political movements (women's suffrage, etc.) and the weaponization of food—whether something to be forced upon somebody (e.g., in response a hunger strike) or withheld (e.g., Israel's starvation tactics in Gaza). It's interesting material, but while the book description says "Each chapter searches for reasons to eat and live", I wondered whether at times Husain was looking less for reasons to eat than for justification for not eating (not eating enough to sustain life, not eating animal products).

There's a depth of curiosity and research here that I appreciate, and Husain is for the most part careful about what details she shares about her illness (I wish more authors writing about eating disorders were so circumspect). I think I ended up not being quite the right reader for this book—the connections were not entirely there for me, though I suspect that some of that is at that some point I lost track of the magic-mushroom context. This may be something to come back to at a future point in time; therapy with substances usually associated with recreational use has been cropping up more often in my reading (e.g., Amy Griffin's The Tell), and I'll have to keep an eye out for more.

Thanks to the author and publisher for inviting me to read a review copy through NetGalley.

Review: "A Perfect Match" by Rachael Sommers

A Perfect Match by Rachael Sommers
Published February 2026 via Ylva Publishing
★★★

Erin's been the star of the Manchester women's football world for a while now, but when an injury sidelines her, her future in football is uncertain. Enter Lia, an up-and-coming star fleeing trauma of her own...and they clash immediately.

I just cannot resist a lesbian soccer (sorry, old habits die hard, and I can't say "football" without thinking of a pointing oblong ball and permanent brain damage) story. Plus, you know, cute cover, and (shh, don't tell) I do in fact judge a book by its cover. This was an extremely quick read—I read half of it in one evening at the gym and finished it before bed the same day—and there's a really satisfying amount of soccer in the book. Lia and Erin both do a lot of thinking with their hearts rather than their heads, for better or for worse, and they don't really go at things in a half-assed way...which is probably just what a successful soccer player needs.

(The next couple of paragraphs are a bit longer than I intended, so if you just want to know who I recommend this for, skip to the last paragraph!)

Two things gave me pause: First, this doesn't feel like a healthy relationship. There's Erin's distrust of Lia—she might be a soccer superstar, but it makes me think that she isn't much of a team player. This is reinforced by the shape of the relationship, as while Erin and Lia are able to play well together on the field, much of the book sees one or both of them refusing to treat the other one civilly and no consideration of what this might mean for team dynamics. On top of this, there's quite a lot of jealousy throughout the book—e.g., Erin getting jealous when another woman hits on Lia—and between that and the push-pull dynamic they set up early on (pulling together and then pushing each other away), it just doesn't feel like the setup for something healthy in the short or long term.

Second, I don't love the approach to workplace relationships and power dynamics. Though there isn't a direct power dynamic between Erin and Lia (Erin has no say over Lia's play time, her position on the team, etc.), there is an indirect power relationship (Erin is about a decade older, more senior on the team, and Lia's childhood sports hero). I think this is probably in line with the fact that the author's other books seem to be age-gap romances, which is fine but not my jam; I would have liked more discussion of it within the book, but this will still be a good fit for readers who like more power play between their heroines. Also didn't love, in the context of a problematic player–coach relationship, repeated references to the player "getting away with it"; i.e., not being publicly shamed for it (though the coach is) and another character unfairly taking some of the blame. And while yes, the player should take ownership for cheating, that's a whole different ballpark (soccer field?) from the subordinate in an unequal relationship deserving a public lambasting.

So while this didn't work as well for me as I'd have like...it's still a fast read with soccer, and interesting family relationships as B plot, and a decent amount of spice. A better fit for those who like age-gap romance, workplace romance, power dynamics, and enemies to lovers. And of course one for sports fans!

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

Review: "Born at the Gates of Hell" by Maria Milland

Born at the Gates of Hell by Maria Milland
Published February 2026 via Steerforth
★★★★

I have been to other refugee camps before. But right away I can tell that this camp, with its residents, its army of aid workers, and the massive presence of guards, is like nothing else I have ever experienced. This is a detention camp storing people. (loc. 388*)

The al-Hol refugee camp in Syria was not Milland's first foray into humanitarian work, but it was unlike anything she'd seen before. There as an OB/GYN with the Red Cross, her work was constantly complicated by security concerns and cultural mores and just plain uncertainty. At al-Hol, again unlike anything Milland had seen before, oxytocin was routinely used to speed delivery—not for medical reasons but because both patients and staff had to be out of the hospital before dark, because it was too dangerous to leave later. Or: Milland learned early on that before she asked if a woman could be pregnant, she had to ascertain whether the woman was married, because it wasn't possible for an unmarried woman to be pregnant. (And if an unmarried woman were pregnant, she'd have to give birth in secret and quietly give the baby up.)

The statistics are striking. Milland describes a camp that had been open and closed, open and closed again; established for 15,000 people but holding around 57,000 when she worked there. That's roughly the population of Chapel Hill, NC, or Casper, Wyoming, but where Chapel Hill might see one or two murders per year, al-Hol saw 85 deaths to violent crime in 2021 (loc. 1459).

It's a thoughtful book. In addition to an overall view of what it was like working at the camp, Milland discusses individual patients she saw, the people she worked with (and learned from, since the context is so specific and unlike medicine performed in wealthier contexts), and just the sheer exhaustion of providing care in such a harsh environment. I appreciate the way she talks about the value her interpreter brought to the process—interpreting not just language but also cultural meanings and the like. This is a kind of memoir that I love (telling hard stories about things I am unlikely to experience firsthand but that are so important for more people to know more about), and does not disappoint.

One thing of note: Milland wrote the original in her native Danish, and then she did her own translation for this English edition. I can't speak to the exact translation, of course, because I speak precisely zero Danish, but I am so impressed with the outcome nonetheless; translation is an art rather than a science, and if it hadn't been noted in the book I would not have known that this was not a professional job.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

Review: "Limelight" by Andrew Keenan-Bolger

Limelight by Andrew Keenan-Bolger
Published February 2026 via Penguin Workshop
★★★★

Danny dreams of something more. Life is better than it was—there's less money, but now that he and his mother are out from under his father's thumb, there's more room to breathe. But Danny has bigger dreams...and a chance at a performing arts school in Manhattan seems like maybe, maybe a way to make those dreams come true.

This book is a love letter: to New York of the 90s, to found family, to teenagers coming out and figuring themselves out. In Manhattan, Danny is a fish out of water—his Staten Island roots run deep—but he learns, and the people he meets are also willing to learn, and gradually his world grows bigger and brighter.

There's a bit of an element of magical realism here, and usually I'm not keen on that, but it worked really well in Limelight—a combination of the voice of the narration (which sometimes zooms out a bit) and the light touch of the magical realism. The characterization of the teenagers is great (in places the book reminded me of Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda), and Danny's mother is wonderfully complex. It's the 90s, and she's not ready to contemplate the possibility that Danny might be anything other than 100% straight, but the way she phrases this makes it clear that she's coming from a place of heartbreak (I don't want to say too much, but it makes sense in the book), not shame or hatred.

There's some family stuff throughout the book, and I'm not sure how to feel about the ending—it's what the book builds to (well—one of the things the book builds to), but there are a couple of ways that plotline could have gone within that, and as it is some things still feel a bit unresolved. But...if I had to guess, I suspect that Keenan-Bolger is pulling on real-life experience there, either his or that of people in his circle. And sometimes not everything can be tied up with a bow, especially when you're a teenager with so much of your story left to write.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

Review: "Everything Changes Everything" by Lauren Kessler

Everything Changes Everything by Lauren Kessler
Published February 2026 via Balance
★★★★

When Kessler set out on the Camino de Santiago, she was navigating grief, and she needed to take that grief somewhere. Call it a reason or a purpose or a call.

This, also, is a lesson of the Camino that translates directly to life: that occasionally and gloriously, there are true aha moments, but mostly there is the long slow toward making sense of who you are. (loc. 1762*)

I came into this have read 1) nearly every memoir about the Camino that I've been able to get my hands on and 2) two of Kessler's previous books, one of which I loved and one of which I loved less. The combination seemed like pretty good odds, to be honest, and—as it happened—the odds made good.

There's a lot here: Kessler weaves between the now and then, between her journey on the Camino and all the things that came before. She's slow to share the details of that Before, so I won't spoil anything (the shape of it becomes clearer and clearer as the story goes on, but, you know...in its own time), but suffice it to say that the details are a doozy.

One of the things I love so much about Camino memoirs is that although the path may be the same—there are multiple Camino routes,** but the Francés is the most heavily traversed, and even on other routes the basic idea is the same—each person's journey is different. Walking through restlessness or grief or change; walking with months and months of preparation or only the barest of knowledge; staying in cheap municipal lodging with fifty bunks to a room or in boutique hotels with crisp sheets and hot showers; processing big things or simply having an adventure. Maybe this is what I love so much about memoir in general.

Kessler makes excellent work of telling a complicated, messy story with very little judgement or shame. Parts of the story are quite dramatic, and it works in the book's favor that Kessler stays steady throughout, drawing on journalistic skills to tell the story without letting emotion (and to be clear: very valid emotion) take over. I wouldn't recommend this as the only Camino book you read, but down the line or as something to read when thinking about grief? Yes.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.

**And judging by Kessler's social media, the Francés is not the last one she walked

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

Review: "Why Fly" by Caroline Paul

Why Fly by Caroline Paul
Published February 2026 via Bloomsbury Publishing
★★★★

A meditation on flight, relationships, and adventure.

We were like those knitters who knit to pass the time in DMV queues and then unwind what they've done almost dispassionately, then knit again. (loc. 343*)

I read Paul's Fighting Fire a decade ago, and it's one of those books that I still think about on a regular basis. Now—Fighting Fire hits one of my more random reading interests, while I don't have a particular interest in flight. But Paul's writing is so tight and engaging, and it's so clear how much she loves flying (and in particular, flying gyroplanes! I didn't even know gyroplanes were a thing) and how much she's thought about it. This is a love letter to flying, and also a love letter to a deteriorating relationship (I promise this makes sense in the book).

Why Fly travels through historical record and memoir and recent aviation events, mishaps and triumphs. It culminates in a cross-country gyroplane trip, and my gosh, while this does not make me want to learn to fly (which is just as well; flying lessons are not in my budget), it does make me want to backtrack and read Paul's Tough Broad.

One for flight enthusiasts, yes, but also one for those who are just curious.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

Review: "Dino Scores" by Lola Faust

Dino Scores by Lola Faust
Published February 2026
★★★★

Lola Faust is back, and I've never—well, actually, it's the middle of February, so I've definitely been happier. But a new Lola Faust book improves that a lot.

Me: There's a new Lola Faust book!
(pause)
Partner (sounding very weary): The dinosaur woman?
Me: Yesss!
Partner (even wearier): Uh-huh.

Anyway, let's start with the content notice:

Homophobia, biphobia, homophobic language and slurs (Russian and English), Canada, Canadians, Canadian media, gun violence, death, mild-to-moderate limited-scope gore, voyeurism (lack thereof), sports, toxic masculinity, Russia, Chechnya, rain (a lot), Vancouver, Yaletown, Gastown, seagulls, Seattle, anxiety, being picked last for a sports team, fainting, tuna melts, dinosaurs (genetically modified), Kyle, assholes (physical and metaphorical), organized religion (assorted), athleisure, hyperlocal brands, international brands, poetry, hockey (loc. 5*)

This is in many ways the most standard of any of the romances Faust has written—the author's note at the end acknowledges that it parodies Heated Rivalry (which I have not read; I read one gay hockey romance and concluded that I'd need more interest in both hockey and m/m romance to continue...apparently I make exceptions if there are dinosaurs involved) and that it is not erotica but contains a sex scene involving a prehensile tail (loc. 1204), and if you think I did not spend some time going "dear god, no" in that scene, then you do not understand what these books are or why I keep reading them against all logic. Note that the sex is otherwise very tame—erm, as far as it goes—so if you've been curious about dino romance but haven't yet worked up the courage to go there, this is a decent entry point.**

In what other romances do you get the words His breath smelled meaty and bloody (loc. 275) when the characters are tantalizingly close to hooking up? And don't get me started on how far the vending machine metaphor is pushed...

"You smell like steakhouse," Khasanov murmured with amusement, stepping away.

The moment shattered. Stone's head spun and his shoulders sagged. How could he have been so careless...

"It is good thing I like steak." (loc. 547)

This is horrifying, obviously, though maybe it's less horrifying to less ardent vegetarians. (Come to think of it...what is Stone's diet made up of?) But that is genuinely part of the joy of these books; they lean in hard to exactly what they are, so hard that you think they might topple over, and yet here they are, still standing. I did get stuck for a while on some of the logistics: If Stone is cold-blooded (and I do sort of love that this comes into play), is playing an ice-based sport really in his best interests? (Is living in Canada at all really in his best interests?) Should he really, on the cover, be wearing shorts at the ice rink? (Can he maintain enough heat on the rink even by moving quickly? And while we're on the cover, how do his feathers extend through his sleeves?) I know, I know; I am missing the point.

All he wanted was to ride this dino-man into the sunset. (loc. 442)

This review does not need to be as long as it is; you need very little other than the cover to know whether this is something you'll find entertaining. If not, that's okay! But you're missing out, I tell you.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.

**The things I find myself saying when I read these books!

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

Review: "Stock Photo" by Simona Supekar

Stock Photo by Simona Supekar
Published February 2026 via Bloomsbury Academic
★★★★

Let this book be a tale about how when some things are seen, they cannot be unseen. (loc. 96*)

For years, Supekar had a job that I've never so much as considered: she keyworded stock photos. In addition to giving her an inside view of an industry that most of us have probably spent very little time thinking of, it illustrated the way representation matters...and the way representation so often doesn't happen.

I read this because the Object Lessons series is a delight, and the books almost always teach me something...and Stock Photo delivered, because really, I have spent very little time thinking about stock photography. There was a brief moment when the sale of stock photos could make a comfortable living for photographers, but the market has changed, and with AI it is changing again.

(Notes Supekar: The AI site generator I used to create this image asked me to "Select All Pictures of Film Reels" to confirm that I was human. (loc. 182))

AI plays a role in the dialogue here, as well it should, but mostly Supekar's focus is representation: who appears in stock photos, and in what contexts; who is readily findable as a doctor or lawyer or woman laughing alone as salad, and who is represented mostly as a person hitting a piñata or as a drug user or as a terrorist. And alongside that: what landscapes one can readily find, and which cultures' foods, and which keywords are popular when.

Other than representation, what interests me most is the positivity with which Supekar talks about stock photos in general. To the extent that I've thought about them, they mostly read as "stuff I wouldn't want on my walls"—either too much manufactured quirk or too generic, I guess. So it's nice to have the food for thought of what else they can mean, and how they can be useful in so many contexts.

Three and a half stars; not my top ever Object Lessons book (that's still Pregnancy Test), but satisfying.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

Review: "The Summer I Fell" by Sli Ndhlovu

The Summer I Fell by Sli Ndhlovu
Published October 2025
★★

A brief young adult romance set in South Africa. My library recently started purchasing large numbers of indie/self-published ebooks, which is a decision that intrigues me—I'm both glad that indie authors have the potential to get more of an audience and appalled by some of the blatantly, and blatantly terrible, AI covers. (The cover comment is not about this book, but if you've seen the sort I'm talking about...you know.) I'm very curious about what their criteria are (and also, perhaps, what the overall reception is), but I have nobody to ask, so...here we are.

Anyway, all of this is to say that I read this out of curiosity, and as far as I can tell it's a self-published book by a young writer. Young characters with big emotions and family drama and family money and a lot of angst and hormones. Reminds me a little of some of the fanfic I read as a teenager, not so much for the plot as for the angst/emotions and general writing style. Would have been a better fit for me as an also angsty teenager; as it is, I'm glad to have gotten to read something outside the mainstream but am unlikely to continue with the series.

Review: "The Dreaded Pox" by Olivia Weisser

The Dreaded Pox by Olivia Weisser
Published February 2026 via Cambridge University Press
★★★★

Slip back a few hundred years and catch a carriage (maybe after a ship?) to London, and maybe you have an idea of what you could expect—or maybe not. And probably the pox doesn't factor into those calculations, but it should...because if The Dreaded Pox is anything to go by, the pox was everywhere.

In London of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, "the pox" was something of a catch-all diagnosis for just about everything that we now know as sexually transmitted infections, and there was a thriving economy built around the pox: potions and pills and recipes and, ah, rather more disturbing cures.

Weisser doesn't get into what those cures actually did. I'm guessing that in most cases the answer was "nothing good" (honestly, the book made me wonder just how humanity has survived this long; I will spare you the description of some of the side effects of mercury treatments, but...), but the point is more how the pox, and pox treatments, came into play socially: how society understood the pox and how it was transmitted; who was considered suspect or blameable (hint: racism, sexism, and classism, plus general xenophobia, were major players); how the pox factored into certain types of trials; how it could tell a story that people sometimes socially could not.

And yet, midwives did not wield the same authority in court as medical men. The very subject of midwives' expertise – women's bodies – paradoxically made their knowledge suspect. (loc. 2303*)

The actual text of the book is short—some 40% is notes—but it makes for an engaging read and an unusual lens into history. Somewhat academic but very accessible for the lay reader. I'm not sure, after all this, just how much brain space the pox took up in the average Londoner's mind or how likely one was to end up with said pox (or, for that matter, what the scene was like in smaller places), but I loved the comparisons Weisser draws to more modern ailments. How far we've come, and yet how little some things have changed.

One for those who like those corners of history that are often left to gather dust in the corner, and also for those interested in medical curiosities of both the then and the now.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.