Review: "The Blonde Identity" by Ally Carter

The Blonde Identity by Ally Carter
Published August 2023 via Avon
★★★★

Here's a reading tactic I highly recommend: When you've read a book description and know the book interests you, stick it on your TBR and then...forget the details. Professional clown who discovers she's secretly the daughter of the US president? Remember, vaguely, that there's something about the circus. Growing up gay in Ireland in the 90s? Remember "Ireland". Something to do with spies, written by Ally Carter? Well. Something to do with spies, written by Ally Carter. Don't revisit the description when you start the book—go in blind, and be all the more surprised for it.

The appeal of The Blonde Identity is obvious—I tore through Carter's Gallagher Girls series a decade or so back, and I was keen to see what she'd do with what is in a lot of ways Gallagher Girls for adults. And on that level, this entirely delivers: it's high-paced and energetic, basically a 300-page car chase with some kissing. Our heroine wakes up knowing from context clues that she's in Paris—and, conveniently, remembering a decent amount of pop culture; it's clear from relatively early on that if nothing else she's read more than her fair share of romance novels—but without a clue about who she is or why she's in Paris. She doesn't even know her name, and though I question the way in which that is figured out (very small spoiler: "Ask someone to test a pen and nine times out of ten they'll write their own name," claims the hero (loc. 1215; quotes may not be final), and I call bollocks—I draw squiggles, and I would wager that that's far more common), Carter does a sterling job of balancing what to reveal when.

The book does require a high level of suspension of disbelief. It occurred to me, late in the game, that I should have been counting the number of times the characters should have died—every time bullets fly or someone leaps out of a moving train or falls down a mountain or—well. The list would be long. In real life, these characters would be real dead by now. Since this is a grown-up Ally Carter book, I am entirely on board with this, but it helps that I got exactly what I was hoping for.

Recommended to other young-ish adults who have fond memories of the Gallagher Girls, and to those who don't mind their romance with a high level of improbability.

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

Children's books: Dragons!

Dragons Don't Eat Ice Cream by Rohit Loomba and Saheli Shah, illustrated by Izabela Ciesinska (Arashi Publishing)
Baby Dragon's Big Sneeze by Sheryl Bass, illustrated by Remesh Ram (Be-Kind Publishing)

Diving into the world of picture books...this time, with dragons!

In Dragons Don't Eat Ice Cream, Tootoo the dragon is used to being left out because he can't breathe fire—but that doesn't mean he's happy about it! Written for very young readers, the book serves as a reminder that it's okay to be different, and sometimes our differences are our strengths. (Think Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but with dragons.)

With text on one side of the page and full color illustrations on the other, the bright and playful images are likely to appeal to kids. (The ice cream in particular looks delicious. Though Tootoo asks for three scoops and seems to get seven, which might set a kid or two up for disappointment when they don't get the same result!) It might have been nice to see Tootoo and the other dragons work together (another dragon could lighting a candle with its fire-breath and Tootoo putting it out?), but the book is aimed at young enough readers that a simple message is probably for the best.

In Baby Dragon's Big Sneeze, this baby dragon doesn't breathe fire...he sneezes it! This lively, rhyming story, something of a twist on classic dragons-burn-it-all-down stories, shows young readers a different side of the story—in this case, a young dragon who needs care rather than blame. With help, he's able to get over his cold...and return the favor by helping the townspeople rebuild.

The illustrations are colorful and with plenty of detail for young kids to examine. The verse is not my favorite (the rhymes are solid, but the meter is a bit hit or miss), but the messages of compassion and collaboration (and covering your mouth when you sneeze!) run a strong thread throughout the story. I love that the story makes fireproof tissues a thing...and who can fail to sympathize with a sick baby dragon?

Thanks to the authors and publishers for providing review copies through NetGalley.

Review: "Journey of the Sparrows" by Fran Leeper Buss and Daisy Cubias

Journey of the Sparrows by Fran Leeper Buss and Daisy Cubias
First read circa 1998
★★★★

Maria is a teenager when she flees El Salvador, where—due to civil war—it is no longer safe for her family to live. But nothing, from the perilous journey over the border to finding work to ensuring that her younger brother doesn't starve like other siblings have, is easy.

I read this in grade six, and I retained only three bits of it then: a scene in which the narrator is nailed in a crate in the back of a truck and another child wets himself in fright; a vague impression of a crowded room with the Virgin Mary on the wall; and the fact that it was assigned reading for school, and we had to get permission slips signed—probably because there are references to sexual violence. I lost my permission slip, so my father wrote me a note saying that I had permission to read whatever I liked.

Those details have flitted in and out of my memory for years, so I'm glad to have finally found it again to make the rest of it more concrete. The things that stand out now are 1) the importance of the Virgin Mary in the book, and in Maria's life, and 2) how little things have changed for so many refugees. This translates incredibly well to the present day, even accounting for things like changes in technology—if Maria were a fifteen-year-old in 2023 trying to, say, escape poverty and starvation in Venezuela, she might have a cell phone, but she'd still likely face racism and violence and a struggle to survive in the brittle cold of Chicago.

Some things—not all—are looking up for Maria by the end of the book, and I appreciate the refusal to make this a rosy story with an unrealistically happy ending for all. Instead there's hope for better things in the future, but still a long way to go. I hope this is still being taught in middle school classrooms.

Review: "Mur, the Kitty-Knight Adventures in the Fairy-Tale Animal World" by Igor Shnayder

Mur, the Kitty-Knight Adventures in the Fairy-Tale Animal World by Igor Shnayder
Published July 2023

In the tradition of the classic fairy tales many of us grew up with, <i>Mur, the Kitty-Knight Adventures in the Fairy-Tale Animal World</i> presents a young kitten who flouts convention and grows up to be a valiant and virtuous knight.

I read this entirely for the cover, and the art does not disappoint—saturated and whimsical, with no shortage of animals in armor or fancy dress. (I'm particularly keen on the fox queen in her ballgown.) I'm guessing that it's some sort of digital illustration, but art is not my forte, so don't take my word for it!

In each chapter, Mur the kitty-knight tackles another problem and learns a few lessons. The chapters are short (a page or two each) and often closer to a summary of how Mur solved the problem than a fully fleshed-out story; each chapter, if extended, could be its own picture book. I think this would be best for adults who are happy to extend the story when reading to their children—to pick a chapter or two at a time and embellish wildly, or get the children to speculate. Who might have stolen the royal globe, and why? What might it be like for villagers to be afraid of the dragon? What could the riddle on the mysterious island be? Could be a fun read for kids with vivid imaginations—and, of course, a love of cats.

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

Review: "Change of Plans" by Dylan Newton

Change of Plans by Dylan Newton
Published August 2023 via Forever
★★★★

Bryce was living the single life as a chef in Florida. Ryker had a long career in the Marines ahead of him. But, you know...plans change.

I picked this up mostly for the disability rep, as Ryker is a BK amputee. (I have no personal connection to amputation stories, but diversity in romance brings me joy.) His injury happened long enough before the story starts that, although there are ongoing complications, it's not his primary focus. Similarly, Bryce has been her nieces' guardian long enough that they've passed the hump of "new situation and we're all basically strangers" and moved into the muddier, more complicated waters of "figuring out how this is going to look in the long term." As far as I'm concerned, it's a much more interesting place for a character to be, and that's where Bryce and Ryker find each other—figuring out the long term.

The rapport between the characters is excellent, and I love that Bryce's aunt-ing adventures feel so chaotic—these are not five- and eight- and twelve-year-olds who sit around quietly, smiling angelically and waiting for the next time they're needed in the story. I also love that Bryce and Ryker try to communicate, even when they don't get it 100% right, because one of my pet peeves in romance is conflicts that could be solved by a simple conversation. (There's some of that here—Six-y, I'm looking at you—but usually those conflicts are solved pretty quickly, and they can get back to questions of whether either of them is in a place for a relationship at the moment.) Is Ryker a bit too good to be true? Probably. He should hang up his shingle as a mechanic and start peddling his services as a child whisperer. But if a romance novel isn't the place for a check-all-the-boxes hero...what is?

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

Review: "Misfit Faith" by Jason J. Stellman

Misfit Faith by Jason J. Stellman
Published 2017 via Convergent Books
★★

Stellman grew up Protestant, became a missionary and a pastor, and then...left the ministry, split from his Protestant church, and converted to Catholicism.

I'm not sure how Misfit Faith lands for someone who knew what to expect, but my expectations were built largely on the cover and the subtitle...to say nothing of the book description. I expected personal story, some wrestling with faith, and a dive into how Stellman went from Protestant to Catholic.

This is not that story.

Instead this is what I can only describe as Stellman riffing on Christianity and the Bible, interspersed with lots of recaps of (secular) TV shows and movies. (I'm reminded of that brilliant sequence in the movie... (loc. 1168); In a twisted kind of way, this [...] reminds me of one of my all-time favorite TV comedies... (loc. 1203); While we're on the topic of iconic 1980s high-school-themed films... (loc. 1239)) As it turns out, the subtitle (Confessions of a Drunk Ex-Pastor) comes from a podcast that Stellman started with a friend, but other than mentioning that the podcast exists, that's about all of the title that makes it into the book.

As Stellman tells it, the book shifted directions at some point between first draft and final draft, but by the end I'm not sure he'd figured out what his point was. Maybe in his former church, his shifting beliefs made him a misfit, but he's not discussing any beliefs in here that aren't some form of generic Christianity (I guess in some circles any kind of questioning makes you a misfit? But I wouldn't want to fit into those circles), and at the end of the day I don't have the faintest idea what about the Catholic church won him over.

This might be a better fit for someone who enjoys (or has listened to at all!) Stellman's podcast—I can't speak to that—but overall I found it to be a disappointment that spent far more time delivering pop culture references than discussing what it promised.

Review: "Scorched Grace" by Margot Douaihy

Scorched Grace by Margot Douaihy
Published February 2023 via Gillian Flynn Books
★★★

Sister Holiday is, if not an enigma, somewhat at odds with the general perception of what a nun should be: chain-smoking and heavily tattooed, queer and foul-mouthed and sarcastic, she's one of four nuns living in a tiny convent in the heart of New Orleans. The attached Catholic school makes up the rest of their stomping grounds—until there's a fire, and a death. And another fire, another death. Convinced that the police aren't up to the task, Sister Holiday takes it upon herself to solve the case.

I love the premise—cranktastic nun who loves god but sometimes regrets giving up drinking and drugs? Heavy snark that she cannot cover up the way she covers up her tattoos? Yes please. (Also, that cover.) But...the execution I don't love nearly so much. I think what we have here is a litfic-writer-slash-poet trying to write a fairly standard murder mystery with a chain-smoking twist, and what we're left with is a lot of the stench of New Orleans without a lot of reason to care about most (any) of the secondary characters. We're told that one Sister is sweet and another is sour and another is Sister Holiday's stand-in mother, but...I rarely felt any of that. I also low-key hate the how-bad-can-we-make-it backstory for Sister Holiday, which is not unusual for murder mysteries on the grimmer end of things but which feels gratuitous at best. (And—maybe a small point in the book, but at one point someone has a diabetic emergency...and the so-called 'responsible' adult shrieks that it's low blood sugar...and sends for insulin. That's not how it works! If his blood sugar is low, he needs sugar! Candy! Whatever! If his blood sugar is high, he needs insulin. Giving insulin to someone with low blood sugar will make the problem worse.)

It looks like this might be poised as the beginning of a series, but all I want for book two is for Sister Holiday to get some serious therapy. And I don't need to be there for that.

Review: "The Great Fitness Experiment" by Charlotte Hilton Andersen

The Great Fitness Experiment by Charlotte Hilton Andersen
Published 2010 via Clerisy Press
★★★

2.5 stars. In The Great Fitness Experiment, Andersen describes a year of trying fitness routine after fitness routine to see what worked 'best' (read: led to most weight and fat loss). She kept a blog throughout the process, and...it became this book.

On the plus side: Andersen's voice throughout the book is lively and entertaining, and a lot of her advice is very sensible—there isn't a one-size-fits-all routine, BMI is bunk, et cetera, et cetera.

On the...not so plus...side: It becomes clear fairly early on that Andersen isn't really practicing what she's preaching. Two things stand out: first, she rarely follows a prescribed workout, as she usually cobbles together an estimation of the workout based on what she can find online rather than buying the book or paying for lessons or whatever, and she almost always supplements the workout with extra cardio, more reps, etc. Second, more troubling...her results are pretty much always measured in body fat loss and sometimes weight loss, and she's almost always disappointed with the results—but she's coming at it from the perspective of someone with a long history with an eating disorder (not fully under control) and who has a concerningly low body fat ratio to begin with. I genuinely don't think it would have been possible for her to both get results she was happy with and keep her toes on the healthy side of the line.

It's a fun read at times, but probably the best outcome of it all is that a provider eventually referred her to eating disorder therapy. It looks like that's covered in book two (I'm sort of surprised that the publisher signed on for a second book—not because of this book itself, but it looks like the second book has exactly the same premise, and usually I'd expect a second memoir to have a new spin), but I don't think I'm going to be hunting that one down. Here's hoping that, more than a decade on, Andersen has found a bit more balance.

Review: "Ghosted" by Amanda Quain

 

Ghosted by Amanda Quain
Published July 2023 via Wednesday Books
★★★

3.5 stars. Hattie Tilney doesn't believe in ghosts. She used to: they were her father's passion, and so they were her passion as well. But grief changes things, and over the past three years Hattie has molded herself into someone who not only doesn't believe in ghosts but has actively sought out as normal and conventional a life as possible. Her high school's campus is a hotbed for ghost hunters, though, and when Kit Morland enrolls in her school—on a scholarship funded by the National Paranormal Society of Investigators, no less—it's harder than ever to pretend that everything is normal.

Ghosted is inspired by Northanger Abbey, and while part of me wishes I'd reread Northanger Abbey before tackling this (it's not one of Austen's works that I know particularly well!), there's no need to be conversant in Austen to read this. As with Quain's Accomplished, Ghosted cheerfully sidesteps the desire to retell a story that's been retold many times before—though, admittedly, I've seen many more retellings of Pride and Prejudice than of Northanger Abbey—in favor of taking the original as inspiration and then running with it. It's been one of my favorite things about Quain's books, because I've read enough Austen retellings to know that a lot of the exact details of her books don't translate well to the modern day, and I prefer versions that get creative with it.

Hattie hasn't let herself show much personality over the past three years, preferring to blend in as quietly as possible...but that doesn't mean she (and, crucially, the author) doesn't have a sense of humor. It's mostly snarky asides to the reader—"in case you were wondering, the proper term for a group of paranormal enthusiasts was 'an annoyance'" (loc. 63*)—but given that the book carries some fairly heavy themes of grief and feelings of abandonment, the levity made for some nice balance.

The one thing I wanted more of: more ghost hunting! There's a bit of it, but oh man. At one point (staying vague to avoid spoilers) a character mentions a ghost-hunting podcast, and there's another point involving a chain saw when Hattie thinks that "if one of the campus tour groups spotted us now, we'd spawn an entirely new Northanger legend" (loc. 2736), and given that Northanger Abbey was a bit of a spoof itself (Ghosted is much less satirical), I can't tell you how entertained I'd be to see something that took one of those things and, you know, ran with it.

Recommended for readers of Austen retellings and light ghost stories—I'll happily keep reading Quain's retellings.

*I read an advance copy, so quotes and location numbers may not be final.

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

Review: "The Hike" by Lucy Clarke

The Hike by Lucy Clarke
Published 2023
★★★

Four women go into the Norwegian wilderness. Their preparation for hiking a gruelling trail is spotty, and their enthusiasm for the outdoors equally so, but they're determined that it will be good for them, and for their friendship. They do not have a clue what they're in for.

I've been going through a murder-mystery-in-the-woods phase, and this seemed just the ticket—especially since I had my own first foray into Norway last winter, and I would absolutely love to go back some summer for a hiking trip. The hiking part is well enough (though these women are absolutely not prepared), but the mystery felt like something of an afterthought, and the real mystery is which of the present day women will and won't make it out alive. The drama at the lodge felt rather heavy-handed to me—so many bad vibes, and so many people trying to warn them away from the trail they've chosen—such that it ended up dulling the suspense for me rather than heightening it.

And...I have to say. When you are an inexperienced hiker, you are hiking with your even less experienced friends, and multiple experienced locals tell you to check the weather and reconsider your route because you're heading into trouble...? Listen to the experienced locals. Don't be a Liz.

Review: "I Felt the End Before It Came" by Daniel Allen Cox

I Felt the End Before It Came by Daniel Allen Cox
Published May 2023 via Viking
★★★

Cox's early life was punctuated by rules and prophesies—those of the Jehovah's Witnesses. When he was expelled as a young adult, it was partly devastating and partly a relief; outside the realm of the Witnesses, he was free to fly gay into the world.

This is partly, then, a story of growing up in a cult (his word), partly a story of queer liberation, and partly a fitting together of puzzle pieces of his fiction. Interesting but not really what I was looking for—I've recently discovered that when memoirs start delving into 'and then this experience inspired this novel that I wrote...' my eyes sort of glaze over. It's not a huge part of this book, but (especially since I haven't read any of Cox's fiction and have no real plans to) it was enough to dim my interest. Cox has had an undoubtedly interesting life—I suspect in many ways this is the bare bones of the stories he could tell—but I found myself wishing that he'd hewn more closely to a smaller number of topics, and then perhaps followed up with another work of nonfiction if he'd wanted to explore, e.g., his time in Poland.

Maybe one best suited to readers of Cox's fiction, who might feel the book's reverberations better.

Review: "My Heart in Braille" by Joris Chamblain, illustrated by Anne-lise Nalin

My Heart in Braille by Joris Chamblain, illustrated by Anne-lise Nalin
Translated by Montana Kane
English edition published June 2023 via Europe Editions
★★★

Opposites attract: Marie is a would-be professional musician, bent on succeeding well enough at both school and cello that she's selected for a prestigious music academy. Victor has his garage band and an inch-thick file at the principal's office. But when chance pushes them together, they find that working together can keep them both on the right track.

Art can make or break a graphic novel, and it's working well here—clean illustrations, with some lovely moments when they break out of the panel-after-panel format to fill the page with wordless color and movement. (In particular, and I know this is oddly specific, I love Marie's hair.)

At under 80 pages, though, this is a slim volume, and I found myself wishing the story could slow down in places: more about Marie's parents, more about Victor's mother, more about what keeps Victor and Marie together when they're not helping each other towards their goals and Victor isn't pretending to be someone he's not. More about the twins, more about Hussein, more time to explore why Victor struggles in school. (Marie's parents in particular: they, and she, seem to treat the possibility of Marie going to a disability-specific school as something of a punishment, but I have to think that it's much more complex than that—such a school, assuming it's a good one, could give her strategies and solidarity that she might not get elsewhere, and there's no guarantee that the music school would be at all understanding. I'd have loved to see that explored more.) It's well-told overall, but I'd have been happy to see this same story told with twice the page count.

Readers might also consider, on first read, skipping the first page and coming back to it at the end, to have a bit more suspense in the story.

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

Review: "I'm Not Here to Make Friends" by Andrew Yang

I'm Not Here to Make Friends by Andrew Yang
Published July 2023 by Quill Tree Books
★★★

It's a teenagers-stuck-in-a-house-together reality TV show with a twist: the cast is all Asian American. And another twist: this has always been a low-key show that is just about normal teens' lives, with none of the drama and puppet strings of other reality shows.

But yet another twist is in store: this year, the show has been bought out...and the new producers want Drama.

Parts of this I really love—almost the entire cast is Asian, which is fantastic and still unusual in YA. I love that the ultimate emphasis is on friendship rather than romance (I spend a lot of time bemoaning the YA focus on romance—I want so many more friendship stories). It's light and fluffy and summery. It also seems to be operating in an interesting gap of "almost"—could be one thing, could be another thing. (More on that in a moment.)

Another part of me wants to take Sabine by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. She's of a generation that has grown up with reality TV—it should be basically her first language. And yet she's still surprised to find that the producers will prioritize ratings over feelings, and will slice and dice footage however they see fit, and will resort to whatever underhanded ruin-your-life threats they have on hand. I think this part of things will work for a lot of readers, but it left me cringing (mostly on Sabine's behalf) for much of the book, and secondhand embarrassment isn't really something I enjoy, even about a fictional character.

I'd have liked to get to know the other characters a bit better—as it is, we have Sabine and Yoona, who spend the book locked in a will-they-won't-they place between friendship and enmity, and we learn a fair bit about them. Then there's Danny (bro), Grant (exists), Chris (would-be actor, but I guess he's locked in a closet, making out with Mari, for most of the book), and Mari (artsy, but presumably locked in a closet to make out with Chris, except when she escapes to play peacemaker and then goes back to the closet). Sabine acknowledges at the end that she didn't actually get to know most of the other players well, but...well, I just wish we'd gotten a bit more of them. More nuance, more flaws, some intersectionality.

On the "almost" gap: I read another review noting that this felt middle grade, and in retrospect I can see that too—it would take some changes (unsupervised 13-year-olds are a different challenge than unsupervised 17-year-olds, or however old they are here), but as it is it's a very clean and uncomplicated story: no drinking, no kissing, no swearing, no innuendo, etc. etc. But there's also an almost-LGBTQ story: it would take even fewer changes to turn this from a platonic friendship story to a f/f romance, which at times I genuinely thought was the direction the book was going in. (Or it could have been both MG and queer!) As it happens, that's not the case, but it does make me quite curious about the choices made during writing and revising and editing.

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

Review: "The Only One Left" by Riley Sager

The Only One Left by Riley Sager
Published June 2023 via Dutton
★★★

At seventeen, Lenora Hope
Hung her sister with a rope
Stabbed her father with a knife
Took her mother’s happy life
“It wasn’t me,” Lenora said
But she’s the only one not dead

4 stars for most of the book. No stars for the ending.

It's the early 80s, and Kit's been called in to work as a live-in caregiver for the last person she can imagine caring for—Lenora Hope, the Lizzie Borden of the 1920s. Lenora was suspected of killing her entire family, and though it's never been proven, general consensus is that she did it...and for decades since then, she's lived as a paralyzed invalid, isolated in a mansion on a cliff.

I've read most of Sager's books by now. I'm always drawn in by the premise, and this was no exception. I love the premise, I love the setting, I love most of the execution. But oh man. I know most people seem to love the twist!s, and I'm an outlier here—but I tend to wish Sager's books, or at least his twist!s, stopped a chapter or two earlier. There's a rhythm to his twist!s—I've read most of his books on my Kindle, so I go by percentage, and I know that if there hasn't been a big twist! by 75% of the way through the book, I'm in for one soon; I should expect another twist! by 90%, and 93%, and somewhere between 95% and the ending. (You get a twist! And you get a twist!) Few of the twist!s in this one come completely out of nowhere, which is satisfying (I fell for a couple of red herrings but guessed at some other things, which is always a satisfying mix), but. My god. I stand firm in my assessment that the biggest twist! that Sager could pull at this point would be to write a book with no twist!s at all.

Review: "Finding Our Way Home" edited by Nikki Simpson

Finding Our Way Home, edited by Nikki Simpson
Published 2018 via Routledge
★★★

Finding Our Way Home takes a look at women's experiences in boarding schools. I picked this up because I had a rather unusual experience of boarding school (long story) and am always looking for that elusive boarding school story that matches, or even has anything to do with, my own experience.

This is not that book. And that's fine, but it's a really specific book in and of itself: it's by women who had bad to horrible experiences in British boarding schools. The author writes in the introduction that This is not to make claim that all girls who boarded were unhappy at school – although I would suggest that any primary aged child would likely be adversely affected – and some girls have in fact been very fulfilled. But the women who contacted me to share their stories were very clearly not (xvii).

Many of the stories are interesting, and many of the stories are sad. But on the whole, the book feels like something of an advertisement for the Boarding School Survivors organization—through which Simpson found many of the contributors to the book (...others pledge that they're going to go to the BSS workshop soon). It's not a balanced book, and while obviously that's fine, by the middle of the book I was wondering whether the reason that the only women who contacted Simpson were ones who had been unhappy at school was simply because the only women she asked were ones who had been unhappy at school.

In any case, probably a better fit for someone who went to a British girls' school (1), most likely in the 60s or 70s rather than in the present day (2), had a dreadful time of it (3), and possibly thinks the Boarding School Survivors organization would also be a good fit (4). If any three of these apply, the book will likely feel more on point to you than it did to me.

Review: "Yazidi!" by Aurélien Ducoudray and Mini Ludvin

Yazidi! by Aurélien Ducoudray, illustrated by Mini Ludvin
Translated by Allison M. Charette
Published May 2023 via Europe Comics
★★★★

Yazidis, a minority group who practice an equally minority religion, have faced persecution for centuries—most recently from ISIL. Yazidi! tells the story of four young girls, sisters and cousins, living in the shadow of ISIL (also known as IS or ISIS). They're Yazidi, and while Mounia and Zina are living in the city with their parents, safe enough from threats, things are about to get very, very hard for Zéré and Nizra.

I picked this up for the cover but also because I know so very little about Yazidism. I love how clearly contemporary this setting is: the older girls in particular are as ready as any modern teenager to use their phones for selfies and covert flirting—and worried about keeping their parents from noticing toooo much.

There's some information about Yazidism here, though I found it necessary to supplement with Wikipedia at the very least. I would have loved more detail—among other things, what the daily lives of the girls, in the city and more rurally, look like; how they envision their futures; more about religion—but the illustrations are beautiful, and I'm glad the book is careful to separate ISIL from ordinary Muslims. There's also a clear attempt to find an ending that is happy but also realistic—this is no dystopian novel in which teenagers overthrow the oppressors and start a more equal society; it's a story in which the conflict can't end with the graphic novel because it's ongoing in real life. I'd be quite interested to see a follow-up graphic novel written about these girls when they're a bit older.

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

Review: "We'll Never Tell" by Wendy Heard

We'll Never Tell by Wendy Heart
Published May 2023 via Little, Brown
★★★

Decades ago, a double murder shook Hollywood. It was never solved, but Casey and her friends think they've scored a coup for their YouTube channel—they'll break into the mansion in which it happened, do some filming, leave; it'll send their channel out with a bang before they split ways for college.

Things...do not go to plan.

I love a good abandoned-mansion book—I'm still waiting for a cozy series in which the heroine inherits a crumbling, rambling mansion or castle and spends a good ten books exploring its nooks and crannies (plus of course solves some mysteries on the side). Never mind cottage core; I want some castle core! Unfortunately We'll Never Tell doesn't quite do it for me in that regard. The group's break-in comes early on in the book, and after things go down there's very little more time spent on the premises, thus dashing my (unfounded) hopes and dreams. I can't hold the book accountable, but...it would have been nice.

Casey is not always the brightest bulb in the box—she's quick to trust—but she has reasons to be invested in, and also to be wary of, this particular case. I didn't need the infighting (I think in this case it would have been more alarming, and more interesting, if they'd been solidly banding together and afraid that something external was out to get them), and I won't be returning to the book, but it was a quick and fun read.