Review: "The Dos and Donuts of Love" by Adiba Jaigirdar

The Dos and Donuts of Love by Adiba Jaigirdar
Published June 2023 via Feiwel & Friends
★★★

Puns and Bake-Off-inspired YA! I'm here for that.

I've read more than my fair share of YA rip-offs (not a criticism) of the Great British Bake-Off, and they've been hit or miss. The thing I love most about Bake-Off is how relaxed it is—the bakers are all highly competitive, yes, but mostly they're competitive with themselves. The stakes come from wanting them all to succeed rather than pitting one against another. (It probably helps that there's no cash prize—people get a different kind of aggressive when there's money involved.) For that reason, I tend to find it disappointing when bake-off rip-offs lean heavy on the manufactured drama. I'm here for the cake descriptions and to be sad when any contestant goes home, not for food fights and hair-pulling.


For the most part The Dos and Donuts of Love strikes a nice balance. I love that Shireen's ex is never portrayed as evil—Shireen wants to cast her that way, yes, but it's more complicated than that. There's some ~~kitchen drama~~, but a lot less than there could be, and while it definitely looks like the producers are trying to add turmoil, they never really succeed. It's maybe worth noting that while this is marketed as YA, it could go down to MG without too much trouble—as it is, it feels on the younger side of YA.


In other places I'm not really convinced. There's...not a lot of creativity in the food? It's a very short competition, with about as many multiple eliminations as single eliminations, but even then most of the dishes are skimmed over at best, leaving the pacing feeling uneven. It kills me that, tasked with making something chocolate, Shireen and her partner settle on chocolate cake and then...consider their planning done. What kind of chocolate cake? Vegan? Flourless? Double chocolate? Filled with hazelnut mousse? Chocolate orange? What kind of frosting? There are literally thousands of options, and the fact that non-foodie me knows this but Shireen doesn't seem to consider it is...concerning. With few exceptions, her baking choices are all pretty basic, and I wish I'd gotten a better idea of where any of the contestants might go with a bit more creativity. What Bangladeshi inspiration could Shireen—as she says she wants to—bring to her baking? Tell me what a Bangladeshi-inspired donut would taste like! I want to try it!

But then, the judges don't seem to mind. Two contestants make macarons twice over the course of the show, and two others make donuts twice, and even though the entire thing is...five or six episodes long? (I could probably work this out, but I'm just going to guess), nobody comments on the repeats. They're planning everything from scratch, apparently, without any knowledge of what to plan for (to my understanding, not how baking shows usually work—usually you at least have a sense that you'll have to make, e.g., a cake and a bread and a pastry, so that you can plan to infuse your bread with basil or whatever and the crew can buy any specialty ingredients needed for your recipe), but I can't help thinking that the 'top' junior bakers in Ireland should be able to think a bit more creatively, even on the fly.

So overall...cute enough, and I'm thrilled to see more Bake-Off rip-offs (no joke. Someone write more! I might run out!), but not quite hitting that sweet spot. Fill in the donut plot holes, and then we can talk...

Review: "Lovingly Abused" by Heather Grace Heath

Lovingly Abused by Heather Grace Heath
Published 2021 via Palmetto Publishing
★★★

I've been reading a lot about conservative American religion of late, especially Evangelicals and the Quiverfull movement. It's not a new reading interest of mine (it's a very, very different world from the one I grew up in), but a few things have made this not-so-fringe group get more publicity of late, and consequently...more reading material. So I picked up Lovingly Abused after watching the Amazon docu-series Shiny Happy People, for which Heath was interviewed. Heath was raised in the Institute in Basic Life Principles and its Advanced Training Institute, which is to say that she was homeschooled using the IBLP's so-called Wisdom Booklets—which in turn is to say that her education was, ah, lacking. Real school curriculums don't hand out actual tests asking "How do show love to a homosexual?" or show a video of a man limping and ask "What do you think is causing this man to limp?" (40), Heath writes. (The answers, if you're curious: you become a 'prayer warrior' for the homosexual—but not a prayer partner, because that could lead to temptation!—and the man is limping because of his extreme bitterness caused by Satan.)

These were the cult classics. I later learned this is an actual term for media geared towards a specific audience, but I mean it in the literal sense. This would have been convenient to know when I spent an embarrassing amount of time arguing with outsiders that films such as Monty Python and the Holy Grail or Clockwork Orange weren't even approved cult movies, let alone classics. (82)

IBLP is not in and of itself a religion: it's an organization that peddles its services to any number of conservative churchgoers. Heath describes attending conferences with Calvinists and Mennonites, Amish people and Baptists. But it has all the hallmarks of a cult: a leader taken as charismatic; a highly authoritarian structure with one leader at the top; an us-or-them mentality; a distrust of the outside world; suppression of questioning. Heath was taught that sexual abuse was the victim's fault, that dinosaurs and humans coexisted, that a seven-year-old girl sharing a hymnal with a seven-year-old boy was slutty and inappropriate, that touching a dead body would defile her, that her role as a woman was to be wife, mother, subservient.

You know that quote from Billy Graham's wife, "I don't believe in divorce, but I belive [sic] in murder?" I'm surprised none of my relatives have that cross-stitched on throw pillows. Throughout my whole family tree, we have rapists, incestual pedophiles, child molesters, spouse and child abusers, thieves, drug addicts, and a murderer. But I was the first one ever to get a divorce. My family simply didn't believe in divorce because, you know, it's important to have standards. (159)

Health is very clear about the disservice her homeschool 'education' did to her and the damage it wrought, but she's also clear-eyed about her parents' motivations—in particular, that her mother was trying to do right by her kids, and IBLP/ATI presented a path forward with what felt like security, a contrast to her mother's unstable childhood. It's a story that seems to be common: parents getting their families into IBLP because it sounds better than their stressed situations; kids bearing the brunt of the consequences. Heath tried, year after year, to fit into the mold—but eventually, the straws piled upon the camel's back became too much, and she started to choose her own future over the one her upbringing demanded of her.

As a book, it's somewhat hit or miss. Heath has a wry, dry humor, and it's very necessary in the face of the abuse, neglect, and control she describes. She also has the evidence to back it up: she's not talking just about 'here's my memory of this experience' (which would in itself be valid, to be clear), but she also has the materials from her homeschooling 'education' and an entire trove of IBLP references to pull on. It's entirely worth checking out her social media accounts after reading the book to get more visuals. That said, I would love it if Heath's role in Shiny Happy People led an established publisher (Lovingly Abused is self-published) to reach out and work with Heath on polishing an updated version of this. It's such a powerful story but sometimes feels all over the place—the structure is sometimes chronological and sometimes thematic, and at times repetition feels more like catharsis than like something that best suits the story. It makes a great deal of sense in the context of Heath not having had access to formal education until she was an adult, and to me it was worth it for the combination of context and personal story that the book offers, but I suspect that there's a potential version of this book that could reach, and resonate with, a much wider audience.

Review: "Disobedient Women" by Sarah Stankorb

Disobedient Women by Sarah Stankorb (@sarahstankorb)
Published August 2023 via Worthy Books (@worthypub)
★★★★

When girls are taught "Biblical womanhood" equates with purity and submission, they are trained to feel responsible for protecting men from their allegedly God-ordained sexual appetites—dress modestly, avoid front-to-front hugs, vow virginity until marriage—but also obliged to yield to authority figures: their pastors, fathers, men. Through one lens, they are delicate, precious. But through another, easy prey. (loc. 870*)

For decades, the Southern Baptist Convention has been a conservative stronghold in the US, holding firm to a patriarchal view of religion. Think purity culture, think fighting against marriage equality, think forbidding women to preach. And think sexual abuse: for decades, the SBC covered up abuse by leaders and more generally men in the church, blamed women (and girls) for men's crimes, and told survivors over and over again that their voices were not to be heard.

Not all women listened. And it's that story that Stankorb documents in Disobedient Women: sometimes it started with a blog post, and sometimes with a tweet, but over the years a growing number of decided that it was time for something to change. They started sharing their stories, swapping information, and building databases of the men the church had, again and again, protected from the consequences of their crimes.

If you're familiar with the IBLP (think: the Duggar family, Bill Gothard, and the recent docuseries Shiny Happy People) and the way it has contributed to change in the American religious landscape, a lot of this will feel familiar. Stankorb did not grow up directly in it, but she felt the reverberations in her own upbringing, and her research is meticulous. This is not a book about religion or faith—it's about one of the ways that religion has been used to mask grabs for power and to abuse those with less power. I'm fascinated by the points Stankorb makes about blogs and social media doing things that traditional journalism could not:

Wartburg Watch covered the extreme theologies of popular pastors and broke abuse cases journalists couldn't touch. It is immensely difficult for journalists to get editorial approval on a story about sex abuse allegations without charges; it requires deep fact-checking, a willing editor, and a publication taking on potential liability risk. But reporters have more readily covered the fact of a blog post making such claims, and in this way, Parsons helped create an end-around for getting media coverage of the stories she worked to corroborate. (loc. 1160)

Eventually, these voices added up, reaching a critical mass loud enough that they could no longer be ignored. And yet this can only be the beginning: Over the course of these years that started with reporting on the bloggers and then following my sources' advocacy on social media, writes Stankorb, the countermovement for reform has changed shape too. This book, in many ways, represents a snapshot in time. Much as the reckoning begun with those in this book has rocked the church, in other ways, a needed shake-up is only beginning (loc. 3125).

This is one of many recent books that are continuing that shake-up, and it's a good one to have on your shelves.

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

*I read an ARC, and quotes may not be final.

Review: "The Blonde Identity" by Ally Carter

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

German review here.

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.