Review: "The Secret Lives of Candy Hearts" by Tommy Siegel

The Secret Lives of Candy Hearts by Tommy Siegel
Published January 2025 via Andrews McMeel Publishing
★★★★

Well, this feels like a fun way to ring out the year. If you're not already familiar with Siegel's work, it's time to go look him up (and if you are familiar with his work, well, you know what you're in for).

Most of the comics in this collection are a snapshot in time, though there are a couple of longer pieces. I'm not sure how many of the comics are new vs. republished (I recognized some but not all of them, though what that means...who knows), but reading them in this book format forces me to think a bit more about themes and structure. It's maybe worth noting that these are free of dialogue—the reader has a voyeuristic look into what each of the candy heart characters is thinking, but the other candy hearts in the picture may never have any clue.

More of a coffee table book than something to read and reread, but I really enjoy these comics; they're simple but witty and often deeply, darkly funny.

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

Review: "We Are Big Time" by Hena Khan

We Are Big Time by Hena Khan, illustrated by Safiya Zerrougui
Published August 2024 via Knopf Books for Young Readers
★★★★

Aliya isn't thrilled about moving to Wisconsin—but there's one big draw, in the form of an official school basketball team. Suddenly she has an opportunity: to improve her game, to help her team win, and to help that team become a cohesive team in the first place. And as a bonus: When the local news spies a human interest story in the team, Aliya and her friends have an opportunity to broaden their community's understanding of what it means to be a Muslim American girl.

It's fantastic to see this sort of representation—not only is Aliya Muslim, but just about her entire circle in Wisconsin is. She goes to a Muslim high school, and though she's not sheltered from the outside world (at least, not more than anyone at, say, a Christian high school would be), for the most part she's able to just be. I would have liked to get to know more of Aliya's teammates better (we learn a little about one or two of them, but honestly, not much), but the art is pretty, and it's nice to see the variations in hijab styles (one of the distinguishing features for each girl).

Perhaps the best thing about this: It's based on a true story! It's worth reading a little about the inspiration for the story and the research Khan did—no better endorsement than the players say she got it right.

Review: "Winning the Christmas Prince's Heart" by Olivia Boothe

Winning the Christmas Prince's Heart by Olivia Boothe
Published December 2024 via Three Brother's [sic] Press
★★

Santa and elves and a whole lot of boinking, oh my!

This is conceptually cute—in a twist on the tried-and-true heir-to-the-throne-has-to-find-a-spouse-in-a-staggeringly-short-amount-of-time-or-be-disinherited plotline, here the heir is, well, the next Santa. Nicholas has a good life...but not a very responsible one. He'd rather throw the Christmas parties and shag an elf or two or twenty than take on the mantle of responsibility. Meanwhile, Alva has trained her whole (young) life for responsibility—and as head elf, she basically keeps the place running (while Santa and Mrs. Claus get the credit, naturally). Her latest task? To speed-run a series of events to help Nicholas choose a wife from a horde of mostly nameless, faceless young women females. And to keep the Frost Queen from ruining Christmas in the meantime...

This is a novella, and I think the short length is working against it. With even a couple of plotlines, there wasn't the space for them to do anything other than go from A to B to C, or sometimes just A to Q to Z. For example: Frost Queen is ruining things? Okay, better find the person who knows what to do (check), follow her instructions (check), and fix it (check). Nicholas and Alva don't like each other but need to be in love by the end of the book? Okay, better give them the irrational hots for each other (check), get them a-banging (check), and have them ready to give up anything and everything for each other within a few short chapters. (Check, in case you were worried.) A longer book could have given this more room to breathe, and more room for their relationship to develop beyond insta-lust.

Not loving Nicholas, who describes Alva as a ruthless harpy (9) and the only female I'd met who didn't seem the least bit interested in what I had to offer (18) and then, once he's boinked her, thinks that If anyone had truly won here, it was her, because no other female had ever been able to enthrall me like she had—demanding my full attention, making me want to worship her body like my life depended on it (42). My dude, when your reaction to having the hots for someone is "she's the real winner, because I have chosen her", then you, sir, are a tool.

What I really struggled to read beyond, though, was the constant use of "female" as a noun. At least it goes both ways here—male characters are also referred to as "males" (on occasion)—but the barrage of "females" feels constant. It's 2024; 37 uses of "female" as a noun is 37 uses too many and makes not just Nicholas but all the characters (including the women, who also use "female" as a noun) sound like raging misogynists (to say nothing of Santa's casual classism or racism or whatever it is when he thinks that Nicholas pursuing an elf for anything beyond sex is beneath him). Don't think I'll be reading future books set in this universe.

Review: "Leap" by Simina Popescu

Leap by Simina Popescu
Published November 2024 via Roaring Brook Press
★★★★

The contemporary division of a performing arts school in Romania: Ana is good at what she does, but she isn't sure she wants it anymore—somewhere along the line, her passion for dance has gotten lost. She's spending more and more time with Carina, her girlfriend, who is in the classical ballet track and is deeply closeted. And while Sara's enthusiasm for dance hasn't wavered, this year is stirring feelings in her that she isn't sure what to do with. The good news: This is the year that Ana and Sara become friends, giving each girl some extra support just when they could use it.

I love that this is set in Romania and also that it focuses on contemporary dance rather than ballet; Carina dances ballet, of course, but we see a lot less of her trajectory; mostly, when we see ballet in the book, it's in the context of ballet being more restrictive and image-focused than their experience in contemporary dance—not a criticism of ballet but perhaps a (valid) criticism of some of the culture around it.

A bit more about Romania would have been nice, because it's a place I know very little about, and other than occasional comments about, e.g., Bucharest still being quite conservative (in the context of Ana being queer), this more or less could have taken place in New York or Toronto or...I don't know...Milan and needed very few changes. Not that it's the author's obligation to make this a lesson, of course, but I love it when books are rooted in place; Leap feels more like it just happens to take place in Romania.

That's a quibble, though—the book was super satisfying. Not everything is fully resolved, but in a way that makes sense; it just feels like the characters are moving on with their lives. I don't think this will be going out of print anytime soon.

Review: "Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons" by Sam Steiner

Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons by Sam Steiner
Published November 2015 via Nick Hern Books
★★★★

A play about power and communication and restriction of speech, literally: In Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons, the government imposes a limit on the number of words a person can speak in a day. (How this limit is enforced is unclear—some degree of suspension of disbelief is necessary, I think; let's just say that the limit is absolute.) There are exceptions, of course...but those exceptions really only apply to the people making the laws. And one of our characters sees this for what it is, while the other thinks it won't be so bad.

That paragraph is 96 words; in the world of that play, I'd have 44 left for the day. How do we communicate when our power to do so is taken away? How do we fight, and how much does it help?

Lemons, lemons, lemons.

Children's books: "The Rock in My Throat", "My Bright Shining Star", and "Clara's Curiosity & Her Foxy Friends"

The Rock in My Throat by Kao Kalia Yang, illustrated by Jiemei Lin (Carolrhoda Books)
My Bright Shining Star by Fatima Whitbread, illustrated by Rhian Wright (Quarto Publishing Group)
Clara's Curiosity & Her Foxy Friends by Karen Belanger-Richmond, illustrated by Paul Mathews (Mascot Kids!)

Back into the world of children's books!

In The Rock in My Throat, Yang gives voice to a story that had stayed trapped inside her for far too long. As a young child, having recently immigrated to the US, she stopped speaking—to speak was to invite criticism from (white) native English speakers, or worse, to become like them. But as a child, this was too hard and mysterious to articulate, and so now Yang is returning to this story to, perhaps, help other young readers understand.

This is beautifully done, both in the intentionality of the text and in the full-page illustrations. The ending is a little abrupt, but I find the choice to leave the story where it ends intriguing; I imagine there was some amount of back-and-forth and consideration about how far the narrative should go. Maybe in the 2020s a child in Yang's position would have more resources available to her and better understanding from the adults around her, but then again...maybe not. I'm glad that this book can be something of a resource in itself.

I'm left wanting to read Yang's memoir Latehomecomer—how much story she must have stored up, in those years when she could not yet express herself fully!

In My Bright Shining Star, Fatima's future is uncertain—but her present is secure. Living in a children's home, she might not know if or when she'll find a new family, but for the time being she has the security of Aunty Rae, the bright shining star who carries her through.

This picture book is informed by the author's experiences growing up in the care system, but more than that it's a tribute to a woman who provided a sense of stability in Whitbread's childhood. After finishing the picture book I looked up an old interview with Whitbread, and safe to say that (appropriate for the age group) this is a much, much happier version of events than her lived experience. When she got older, Whitbread was a very successful athlete, and I love that she has chosen here to focus not on athletics (there are lots of books about sports and success stories) but instead on children who might feel forgotten; I can imagine this being a reassuring gift for a child entering the foster care system.

The art is simple and playful, with a lot of warmth and color. An excellent addition to a library or classroom.

In Clara's Curiosity & Her Foxy Friends, the titular protagonist is entranced by a small family of foxes living nearby. With the encouragement of the adults in her life, she learns as much as she can about their habits and lives—and I think we have a budding scientist here.

This makes for a sweet and informative book, perhaps especially got for children who are living at the intersection of city and nature. Clara is encouraged in her curiosity, but also in her respect for nature—she learns to keep a respectful distance and to satisfy at least some of her curiosity with books. The illustrations are bright and cheerful—I love Clara's rain boots, and I love that in the pictures we really see her being a kid. For the most part I like the simplicity of the writing, though I'm not so keen on the dialogue (doesn't always feel super realistic, I think), but that's a relatively small part of the book. At any rate, nice to see realistic books about kids adventuring outside and learning about the world around them.

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

Review: "The Accidental Plus One" by Alison Ripley Cubitt

The Accidental Plus One by Alison Ripley Cubitt
Published September 2024 via Lambert Nagle Media
★★★

Cubitt had lived in the UK for decades when she spotted a job ad that would change the trajectory of her life: not a job ad for her, but for her husband. He got the job, and when they moved to New Zealand, they set of a series of moves from house to house and country to country.

I love travel memoir and moving-abroad memoir and, yes, trailing-spouse memoir, so I was eager to pick this one up. The Accidental Plus One kept me engaged for a while, but eventually I realized that there wasn't a ton of through-line or tension beyond "moving to the next place and finding a house to buy there." (I also love house memoirs, as it happens, but usually I want quite a lot of detail about said houses to qualify books about houses as house memoirs!) This ends up being quite anecdotal; lots of specific details about various experiences, but few of those stories go anywhere or come up again later in the book. (Also, Cubitt took on a job as a relocation specialist, helping to find other people places to live and so on—which is great—but she lost all relatability for me when she described a family as having a "limited budget" (51)...and then it turned out that while they were hoping to keep it to $725,000 or so (52), they could stretch beyond that. I know real estate prices are wild, and were even twenty-odd years ago, but three quarters of a million dollars as a "limited" budget just breaks my poor little brain.)

Still fun, but I think you'll get out of this if you go in expecting anecdotes than if you're looking for more character development and rooted sense of place.

Review: "I Will Scream to the World" by Jaha Marie Dukureh

I Will Scream to the World by Jaha Marie Dukureh
Published December 2024 via Dafina
★★★

In another time and place, Dukureh's story might have been simple. She grew up with a fair amount of privilege in The Gambia, and for the most part the odds were in her favor. Except: her community practiced female genital mutilation (FGM),* and when she was pushed into an arranged marriage at the age of 15, she learned just how devastating the results could be.

I've read a reasonable—not huge—amount about FGM before, and I always appreciate memoirs that are by people who are working to change things within their own communities; there's nothing wrong with a well-done outsider memoir, but truths hit differently when they're written by people who have lived them. And Dukureh has done a lot with her life: after not one but two child marriages (in the US, it should be noted, lest you think that this is not a western problem), she started speaking out to raise awareness of, and laws against, FGM and more generally to improve the lives of girls in her communities. I'll note again that the issues she talks about are not unique to one region, and that she did not get the support she needed as a teenager: When I told the school guidance counselor...in New York City what was going to be done to me, she did not believe me. (loc. 445**)

The material is gripping and the activism powerful. The writing and the structure of the book are neither of those things. Dukureh is not a trained writer, of course, and sometimes it's worth it to just tell the story anyway, but I think a ghostwriter could have helped here. Significant events are covered in rapid fire, often with litanies of awards bestowed and important people met; there's a chapter in the middle that would be better suited as part of an Acknowledgements section; the structure shifts between chronological and thematic; we hear over and over how grateful Dukureh is to have received so many accolades...and just, I'm not that interested in awards received and famous people befriended. I'm interested in the work that she's doing, and the conversations that she's having, that get skimmed over in the book.

I'd also have loved to see more discussion of what it means to ban FGM vs. what it means to end FGM; Ashley Judd notes in the foreword that there is a shocking prevalence of FGM even in [the United States], despite the fact that FGM is illegal here (loc. 57), but most of the discussion in the book is more about what it takes to ban FGM elsewhere, not what conversations have to be had with the people and communities practicing it to get the community support to end it rather than just pushing it deeper into the shadows.

This wouldn't be high on my reading recommendation lists, but I expect to hear more about Dukureh in the future—she has ambitious plans.

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

*Some sources prefer the term "female genital cutting" (FGC) in the interest of keeping lines of dialogue open with those who support the practice; for the sake of this review, I'll follow Dukureh's lead and call it FGM.

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

Review: "I Have Wrestled with the Way Clouds Weep" by Judy Nahun

I Have Wrestled with the Way Clouds Weep by Judy Nahum
Published December 2024 via Querencia Press
★★★

you are what I feel / when my mouth puckers with tartness, / when the sentence comes out flawless, / when I see the word celestial. (loc. 72)

Chapbooks are such an odd beast of a thing: short and sweet, so much packed into so few pages. I'm not a poetry connoisseur (I know what I like but can't always articulate why, and poetry analysis is not my forte), and in spite or perhaps because of that I find chapbooks useful—enough to get a taste of the poet's writing but not so much that if it's not your cup of tea it drags.

I picked this one up largely for the title, taken from one of Nahum's poems:

From above, and in my throat, sparrows. From above, I have wrestled with the way clouds weep. In dreams I take flight, soaring over city blocks, patchworked rowhouses fathoms below. (loc. 91)

The poems are a little over my head at times (again, I don't speak fluent poetry), but the imagery is lovely. It's probably a step too much wrestling for me, but that's okay—I'd rather a poem be a step too complex for my understanding than a step too simple to challenge. Would recommend this for those with a strong grasp of metaphor and impressionism.

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

Review: "City of Night Birds" by Juhea Kim

City of Night Birds by Juhea Kim
Published November 2024 via Ecco
★★★

Natalia dreams of a return to dance—maybe. Sidelined by an injury that forced her early retirement, she didn't expect another chance. But here she has it, back in St. Petersburg, where she trained and where she did not plan to return. And she isn't sure she wants it.

City of Night Birds takes us through Natalia's training and career, and gradually we learn more about what led to her injury and her broader choices and why she is back in St. Petersburg. Let's talk about the book, and let's talk about the book in the context of Russia in 2024.

The book:
I'm intrigued by the contemporary setting here. More on that later, but most of the fiction I've read about Russia, ballet or no ballet, is historical fiction about the USSR. For Natalia, though the state still plays a...significant role...in her life, it does not quite have the overt fingers in every pie that Soviet Russia did. That interests me in part, I think, because theoretically Natalia has options; she basically goes into ballet as a strong dancer and never falters, but if she had quit ballet at some earlier point, she wouldn't be punish-assigned to a life of drudgery; she'd be able to at least attempt a new career path.

I'm less interested, it must be said, in her success after success after success. Having read dozens of contemporary ballet memoirs, and a fair amount of fiction besides, I'm finding that what interests me more are the books about dancers who are good but not great, or even who are great but not celebrated. Natalia never has to choose between two second-rate job offers, or to come to the realization that she just can't reach the heights she hopes for (even returning from injury, her capabilities are limited more by depression and grief than by anything else.

This is a fairly slow-moving book. I'd say that it's character-driven, but I really wished we had character development from more characters than Natalia. Her romances fell flat to me, partly because her paramours are never really developed beyond a sketch and a prayer—we get an impression of who they are, and then I think we're supposed to trust that that's enough. (The man with whom Natalia spends a huge chunk of the book: What is their relationship based on? Is Natalia supposed to be flattered that he dicks around until he meets her and decides to make her an exception, seemingly because she is more talented than his short-term flings?) A later romance strikes me as quite sad in the way neither character is interested in (or interested in hearing about) their partner's interests; there's a point to be made about not being in the same claustrophobic world, but it's not fleshed out, so it feels more pointed than...than natural extension of the story, I guess.

The other thing I'm intrigued by: I remember this day. Every moment of one's life is the beginning of the end in some way; every decision you make is a death of other possibilities. But this is the point that divides my life into before and after, a cleave line that easily breaks a diamond in half. When all the dominos of my life were lined up, ready to fall. (loc. 2247*) It's a nice quote, but I'm interested mostly because while the language is very different, the sentiment is almost exactly the same as one expressed in Maya and Natasha, another Russian (USSR, in this case) ballet book coming out soon. No weird implications here—no reason to think it's anything other than coincidence—but fascinating how similar the sentiments yet how different the circumstances in the two books.

The book in the context of Russia in 2024:
Kim's first book was published in December of 2021, shortly before Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine. I can't say when she started writing City of Night Birds, but if I had to guess I'd think it was either before that invasion and the ensuing war, or it was early enough in the war that Kim thought it would all be long over by the time the book was published. That...is not the case.

On the one hand it's interesting to see something about ballet in contemporary Russia. On the other hand, it is really, really hard to write fiction in the shadow of an ongoing conflict—ongoing in real life and ongoing in the book—in a way that feels intentional and respectful. And this does not hit the mark.

Again: I'm guessing that Kim did not set out to write a book dealing directly with war. And people are not state, and the characters in this book are not generally aggressors, and I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with writing something that is...let's say set in a politically problematic place. But it's hard to see a major character stubbornly express public support for Russia in (I think) 2014 in the book, and to see Natalia's reaction be, basically, "This is not great but can't art be apolitical?" The way that character's arc plays out, and the casual mention at the end of the book of "the end of the war" (which, in the book, has apparently come to pass), leave me with the impression that the war was shoehorned into the book late in the day because, well, it hasn't ended yet.

Can you write a book set in an aggressor country in and about a time period when that country is doing terrible things? Sure. Writers in the US do it all the time. Some of them even do it well. But...I am left wishing Kim had gone for a different timeline here, or set the book somewhere else altogether.

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

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

Review: "Xmas Break" by J.E. Rowney

Xmas Break by J.E. Rowney
Published November 2024 via Little Fox Publishing
★★★

A quickie holiday thriller: Isla isn't eager to spend Christmas with her sister, not after Everything That Happened, but she tentatively accepts Clara's olive branch anyway. But when the power goes out and the blood starts to flow, she regrets her decision...

This is fun, but I think the novella length is working against it. It's clear almost from the moment Isla walks in the door that things are not quite right—and while the reader should know this, because the book is marketed as a thriller, I wished I'd had a bit longer before Isla (and thus I as a reader) saw some of the things that weren't right in the house. Hide that from me, not the backstory. Again in part because of the length, the villain is clear early on—I did wonder whether the hints being dropped were red herrings, but things ended up being pretty straightforward (and not a little bit over the top). And Isla is...not the brightest bulb in the box. How is her reaction to everything "I should make cocoa" rather than "I should call emergency services with my perfectly functional cell phone"?

(Oh: and would someone please tell me what kind of untrained fool of a police dispatcher would break into the villain's monologue to warn said villain that the conversation is being recorded?)

Still fun, and a very quick read, but not something to keep me up at night.

Review: "Mystery on the Fourteenth Floor" by Dorothy McKay Martin

Mystery on the Fourteenth Floor by Dorothy McKay Martin
Published 1980
★★★

Gosh. Okay. This was a childhood reread, and one I remembered fondly—I bought a secondhand copy when I was a teen or preteen and sympathized, I think, with Vickie's boredom and inability to rein in her imagination. But rereading it as an adult is...a bit odd.

It goes like this: Vickie has recently moved to "the city" with her parents and older sister Francine, a rookie reporter who is, among other things, following a case about a kidnapped young boy. Vickie hasn't made friends in the area yet, and she's bored—so when she starts seeing SOS signs in the building across the way, she's convinced that they're from the kidnapped boy...and that it's up to her to save him.

I still genuinely love the way Vickie lets her imagination run away with her—part of her knows that there are many more reasonable explanations for the signs than that this one kid the entire city is looking for happens to be in a swanky apartment building. A bigger part of her pushes that knowledge down, because it's the only interesting thing that's happened all summer; she convinces herself of it so thoroughly that not only does she disguise herself to go investigate, she makes multiple (rather endearingly bungled) calls to tip lines to get the police looking in that direction too. Also kind of love that the reason they've moved to the city is that Vickie's mother has had enough of playing the good suburban housewife; while it's a move that suits the whole family, it's Vickie's mother's art career that has the biggest step up in the city.

But.

I missed a few things as a kid: first of all, turns out this was published by a Christian publisher, which is of course fine but in this case means that a bunch of religious conversion material is shoehorned in—Vickie's father, for example, decides on a whim to read the Bible and to take every word as fact (seems odd for a lawyer to just accept it all without question, but okay), concluding that Jesus is God; also, Francine's boyfriend at one point basically goes "well, I'm not really religious, and golly gee, my religion teachers would have a laugh to think about little old me teaching someone about Jesus—but Vickie, have you thought about Jesus?"

All in all, it's not the worst early-80s example of unsubtle religious conversion attempts (the book, I mean, not the sister's boyfriend's clumsy golly-gees). But other things trouble me more. That same boyfriend (again: Francine's boyfriend) tells Vickie, more or less unprompted, that she's fat and should go on a diet to be more attractive; he's presented as the totally ideal guy, perfect for Francine, so it's not meant to be creepy or inappropriate, which is in some ways worse.

Vickie chewed and swallowed the big bite of pizza, not looking at Pete. After a moment she said in a small voice, "What you mean is that I am too fat."

"I wouldn't have put it that bluntly, but yes, you are." (104)

While the book has to be read within the context in which it was written—in this case, the 80s—it still feels gross and sad. Like, here's this lonely kid who briefly feels seen by her sister's boyfriend (who, incidentally, does not apply his diet advice to himself; he eats like a carnivorous horse)...and his advice is "buck up, kid; take the one joy you currently have out of your life and you might someday be hot too."

And then there are Vickie's investigations, which I doubt I thought twice about when I was her age but which as an adult trip a "yikes" factor. At the risk of spoiling a 44-year-old book that does not seem to have retained any kind of cult popularity...at the end of the book she follows the instructions on the signs in the window across to the other apartment to finally learn who communicating with her. It's (surprise!) not the missing boy. Perhaps more of a surprise: it's also not an adult who has been working to lure her into his clutches. I know I've become an Actual Adult because there are all these moments when Vickie thinks "should I leave a note to tell someone where I've gone?" and then decides "nah, it'll be fine." And because this is the end of a 1980 teen novel, not the beginning of one, it is fine, but it's not the smartest message ever.

I'm one part happy to have found this again and two parts bummed that it doesn't live up to my memory.

Children's books: Science: "Forest", "Sharks! Sharks! Sharks!", and "Human Body"

Forest by Christie Matheson (Princeton Architectural Press)
Sharks! Sharks! Sharks! by Susan Martineau, illustrated by Vicky Barker (Happy Fox Books)
Human Body by Isabel Thomas, illustrated by Damien Weighill (Wide Eyed Editions)

Into the world of children's books...this time, with science!

Into the woods! Forest is a quiet introduction to the wonders of the forest for young readers. With minimalist prose and watercolor illustrations, children are introduced to some of the creatures they might see in the forest, and some of the purposes those trees serve.

The forest (broadly speaking!) is just about my favorite place, so I'm always delighted to see books encouraging young kids to explore in nature. Forest places an emphasis on treading softly and leaving space in nature for the animals that call it home, and I could see it either as a general book in a kindergarten library (probably not older than kindergarten; it's definitely a book for early readers) or something to read with city kids who are going to get their first exposure to real nature soon. And if it makes kids excited about the woods...I'm all for it.

Shark attack!

...but no, Sharks! Sharks! Sharks! is not about shark attacks; rather, it's about the diversity of sharks, and how their bodies are built, and why they're fascinating creatures. I find sharks kind of terrifying (in the same category as zombies—dead behind the eyes, cannot be reasoned with), but I love the enthusiasm with which sharks are approached here, and the fact that the book calls out some misconceptions about sharks. (They don't generally want to attack humans—most shark "attacks" are really a shark trying to figure out if a human is food.) There's a wide, wide variety of sharks under discussion here, and my favorite is definitely the Greenland shark, which I'd never heard of—did you know that a Greenland shark is estimated to live hundreds of years, and they don't procreate until they're 150 or so? (And—this per Wikipedia—when they do procreate, the gestational period is 8–18 years long? Jeepers creepers.)

This is not the sort of children's book with a lot of story or plot, and it's probably best suited to more advanced readers who have recently come home with a lot of questions about sharks, or about the ocean in general. But if you have one of those kids in your life...? This is definitely a book for them.

Human Body is an in-depth exploration of (you guessed it!) the human body for young readers. Think a more science-focused version of Where's Waldo?—the book asks kids to peer closely at each illustration to find pictures-within-pictures and better understand how different processes work.

I'm all for books that make science more accessible to kids, and this has plenty of information and interest to keep a kid busy for a while! This is probably best given to kids with an accompanying magnifying glass, both to look more closely at the illustrations and because the text is quite small. (I read an ebook version on my computer—physical copies will likely be a bit bigger and thus easier to read.) It's a good book to jump around in, though, especially if a child is expressing interest in a certain bodily part (e.g., the ear or mouth following an ear appointment or dentist visit). Another good one for elementary-school bookshelves!

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

Review: Short story: "The Answer Is No" by Frederik Backman

The Answer Is No by Frederik Backman, translated by Elizabeth Denoma
Published December 2024 via Amazon Original Stories

Lucas's solitary, orderly life is turned upside-down when someone leaves a frying pan outside the building's recycling room, and the building board comes a-calling. And things only get stranger from there...

This makes for a whimsical, absurdist read—and by midway through the story, one can't really blame Lucas for wanting to close himself away from his neighbors and the rest of the world. Go into this expecting common sense and you will be sorely disappointed, but...perhaps go in expecting common sense anyway, as that will keep things more interesting.

Just to be clear: It's not that Lucas hates other people. He just really enjoys being where other people aren't. He works well in groups as long as it's groups of fewer than two people. (loc. 67)

Sometimes people are enough to make a person want to investigate the sort of coma the green-shirt woman has, aren't they?

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

Review: "The Rules of Royalty" by Cale Dietrich

The Rules of Royalty by Cale Dietrich
Published December 2024 via Wednesday Books
★★★

Princess fantasies!*

Jamie has every expectation of a normal life, until his mother drops a bombshell: his father is king of the small European country Mitanor, making Jamie a prince—and his life will never be the same. Meanwhile, as the second prince of Sunstad, Erik has never had or expected a normal life—but things get a lot more interesting when the king of Mitanor asks him to provide some informal support to Europe's newest prince. They'd both young, gay, single (more or less), and pretty...and even if getting together is risky,** neither of them can help the mutual interest.

This is described as a modern (gay) take on The Princess Diaries, which in a lot of ways feels about right. It's wish fulfillment: Jamie suddenly has everything under the sun(stad) that he could dream of, including the full support of both his families and an apartment suited for, well, a prince. There are very few expectations placed on him—while in The Princess Diaries Mia groans over her princess lessons (and, frankly, has a lot fewer eyes on her, growing up before the age of cell phone cameras and social media), when the news breaks about Jamie he's just asked to take some tips from Erik. Despite the sudden scrutiny, Jamie makes very few faux pas,*** which I'm actually glad of; I get tired of books in which characters are thrust into the spotlight and it never occurs to them to brush their hair or think before they speak.

It's...not a super realistic book, or a subtle one. A lot of things are glossed over: Jamie is basically told that he can step into the life of a prince and do whatever he wants (or, not quite, but that's the general vibe), or he can go back to the US and continue his life there (never mind that he'd probably never have a moment of peace again); he's routinely encouraged to speak to the media and stand up for things he believes in. There's very, very little standing on ceremony, including when security protocols are broken and Jamie is allowed to decide to brush it off and continue into an unsecured situation. Mitanor has somewhat flexible inheritance laws, but there's neither conflict nor really interaction with Jamie's half-brother (who might suddenly have competition as presumptive heir to the throne), and instead the villain of the book is a homophobic politician who leaves a trail of slime in his wake. I also thought it was quite sad how quickly Jamie takes to calling his biological father (the king) "Dad" because "He's earned it" (loc. 4000****)—never mind that Jamie has a stepdad who's been in the picture for five or six years and has actually helped raise Jamie, but never gets beyond first-name status. (There's nothing wrong with first-name status! But it has to hurt to see a kid take the attitude of "well, you raised me, but he gave me DNA and is a king, so we all know who gets 'dad' status".) I also rather wished that we'd stayed in one POV throughout, as I couldn't tell Jamie and Erik's voices apart, down to Erik using casual American slang.

But it's a princess fantasy book. I know I'm not supposed to be looking for something super realistic here—better to look for the fancy apartment and polite princes and suddenly limitless possibilities. (And, of course, for a queer Princess Diaries.) Check your practicality-o-meter at the first page—it'll be waiting for you at the end of the book.

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

*Never mind the general lack of princesses here—this sort of book is always going to be a princess fantasy book for me.

**Risk/risks/risky count: 31

**Yes, I looked it up, and both singular and plural are faux pas, with a slight variation in pronunciation.

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

Review: "Noises After Dark" by John Tomlinson

Noises After Dark by John Tomlinson
Published May 2023 via Matador
★★★

In the 80s, not long after qualifying as a doctor, Tomlinson secured himself a spot with Save the Children in Somalia. Along with other local and international staff, he'd be responsible for the medical care for the impoverished population of a town on the border of Ethiopia. The challenges immediately became clear: lack of funding, lack of consistency, tensions spilling over the border and endangering everyone.

This is not a time or a place about which I know much, though I am clearly not the only one:

I went for an initial interview at a large hospital. I sat in front of the panel, answering their questions. One member of the panel lowered his glasses to the end of his nose, and he peered across the table at me. "I see your CV says that you have been working in Somalia. Where in India is that?" (230)

(I'm reminded of a time I gave blood after I had been to Nicaragua, and when I was going over travel history with the nurse she told me that I couldn't give blood if I'd recently been to Africa...)

At any rate, Tomlinson knew very little going in either, though a great deal more when he came out. I appreciate that he talks so extensively and positively about (many) of his local colleagues, acknowledging that they were the core that held the hospital together. He might have had more medical training, but he tells story after story of the locals he worked with closely gently steering him in the right direction when cultural or political clashes seemed likely. The writing doesn't knock my socks off, but it's competent, and I'll take an interesting perspective with respect for local colleagues over Pulitzer writing anyway. One thing that fascinated me was Tomlinson's use of papaya as a dressing (something he learned in Jamaica), partly because it's such a surprising use of fruit and partly because Richard Villar describes using sugar as a dressing in Gaza Medic (that is: less surprising to see a second mention of something like that than a first mention, but odd to see those first and second mentions in books about very different times and places but read around the same time!).


Borama—where Tomlinson was posted—is now one of the biggest cities in Somaliland, though how much it has grown since the 80s I don't know. I imagine he hasn't been back since the 80s (if he has, he doesn't mention it), but I'd be curious how much has changed...and where Tomlinson worked following this experience.