Review: My Heart Is a Chainsaw

5 stars. Every time I finish a SGJ book I gasp. Then I cackle loudly in utter delight like an evil villain. His are the books that leave me unquestionably, thoroughly, deeply (and disturbingly?) satisfied. He's so, so, so, so, smart when it comes to writing these dark, heartfelt tributes to the horror genre and this one has to be up there in terms of my personal favorites. Jade has a fantastic voice and I really felt - and rooted - for her, in all her fierce and colorful glory. There's something so beautiful and emotional and touching about this story, something I recognize now as distinctly SGJ. It surprised me in The Only Good Indians, but I dove in ready here. Fucking legendary, mate.

My Heart is a Chainsaw... well, let's see. It's about a girl named Jade, failed and forgotten and feisty and a huge fan of horror. Slashers, specifically. They give her comfort and offer an escape from her small town life of poverty, betrayal and hardship. She's lonely, with only Michael and Jason and Freddy to keep her company. She uses the narratives and tropes she knows and loves so well to frame her own world and narrate her life, much to the amusement and judgment of her teachers, family and local law enforcement. She's seen an outcast. A loner. A weirdo.

But then something starts happening in her town. Suspicious deaths. Blood in the water. And Jade starts to sense that her love of slashers, her knowledge of the rules and the twists and turns, have landed her in a uniquely suited position to actually deal with one that is actually happening in front of her. All the ingredients have landed: the final girl, the red herrings, the blood sacrifice - now it's up to Jade to nudge things along. And nudge she does, till we hit one of the most electrifying, gruesome, heart wrenching third acts I've ever read.

SGJ understands why the father and son dinner table scene is so crucial in Jaws. My Heart is a Chainsaw is an incredibly graphic slasher, with terrible monsters and even worse humans. And there's as much deep emotional agony as there is gore. It's a scary book, but at its center there's a pulsing human heart, an unapologetically fierce Final Girl (whether she wants the label or not) who desires connection and acceptance. Under all the creative kills, the bloody backstories, and the twists and turns, Jade makes us care, and care strongly.

Even the more superficial elements are not to be ignored. SGJ absolutely saturates this novel with slasher film references, which was super, super fun for me. I've spoken before about how I'm not just someone who enjoys consuming horror; I also like reading/learning about horror, so this kind of felt like the perfect marriage between... I don't know, Stephen King and the In Search of Darkness movies on Shudder. This is my language, okay?! But he also takes a lot of the tropes and makes them sort of gorgeous and surprising again, meaning this work of metafiction is not just clever but also rich and vivid and infused with warmth. THAT ENDING.

Alright, I'm off to daydream about canoes and black cloaks in bathroom stalls and machetes. As one does.

My Heart is a Chainsaw on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky #1)

4 stars. SO FUN. So interesting. I highly recommend this new book from Rebecca Roanhorse, a fantasy set in the Pre-Columbian Americas as an important change of pace. It has all the complex world-building of, for example, ASOIAF, but it's accessible, fast-paced, inclusive, and much more fun. I'm really excited for the next installment, because this in a lot of ways did feel like a prequel; a set-up; a tease.

The story is multiple POV, set primarily right before the Convergence: a solar eclipse that marks the Winter Solstice. It is also meant to bring, for only some expectedly, the rebirth of the Crow God, set to emerge from a human vessel marked for this purpose since birth. This God will bring vengeance to those who betrayed his clan decades ago, and throw the world into a dark chaos brimming with magic old and new.

That all sounds really bloody and grim, which it is, sort of. But the characters navigating this dark premise are charming, funny, lovable, and determined, plus a slow-burning romance gives as many light moments as it does angsty ones. There's a disgraced sea captain, feisty and clumsy and struggling with her own identity. There's a savvy and smart priestess, focused on political strategy for good rather than personal gain. And there's the human vessel himself, powerful and dangerous and duty-bound to sacrifice the unimaginable.

It's quite a collection of characters, and I cheered for every single one, despite them all being on different sides (...for now). The world-building is pure and imaginative but not overly detailed or heavy - plus magical elements create some really sparkly moments. I docked a star for occasional preachiness and a somewhat amateur feel during certain moments, but please know that I highly recommend this book. I'm really looking forward to what happens next.

Black Sun on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Vanishing Half

3 stars. What can I say about this that hasn't already been said, more eloquently than I ever could? The Vanishing Half is another must-read from this author, a compelling study of race, family, and identity. Twins Stella and Desiree were born in a small town meant for light-skinned black people, and both of them carry this with them through their upbringing, adolescence, and eventual adulthood, veering in opposite directions until separate from each other, forging different lives. Their daughters, born into different worlds, bounce around each other through happenstance, tightening the tapestry's weave until a full and colorful picture emerges. It's thought-provoking, beautiful, and interesting.

I love Brit Bennett's writing. She takes these huge, thorny themes and writes about them with such ease. The Vanishing Half is so smooth, so flowy, it's almost a trick. I really rooted for her true and distinct characters, occasionally insufferable in understandable ways, as we all are. The way she writes about place, too, felt absolutely crucial to the story's success, from sunny L.A. to cold New York to the small town vibes in Mallard, Louisiana. These details and others, like the glimpses into drag shows and musical theater and medical school, make the snapshots of each arc even more vivid and bright.

Books like this are truly humbling and important. It's probable that I'm deeply underread, but I don't think I've encountered a book that so clearly and plainly explores the ties between race and family. Bennett is certainly not the first - and there were times I honestly felt like The Vanishing Half was a little referential - but that's where she stuck the pin for this one, and it really worked. I have my own thoughts about blood ties, kin, family, however you want to say it, but there's no doubt it does shape your identity, stamping you visibly or invisibly in ways that will never wear off.

So, why 3 stars? I loved the subject matter, the plot, the characters, the ending, the writing style ... but for me, it really came down to my personal reading experience. I dragged my heels a bit, losing interest halfway through. Bennett also tip-toes around using a device she used in The Mothers, writing as a sort of collective voice on behalf of a small town. That sort of thing is not for me, as a preference. I want to be clear though that I'm RECOMMENDING THIS, because it is masterful and worth studying and worth considering long after you finish it.

The Vanishing Half on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Empire of Gold (The Daevabad Trilogy #3)

5 stars. Absolutely incredible, breathtaking, gorgeous, well-written - this trilogy is an instantly classic piece of fantasy fiction that will captivate and inspire for years to come. As I mentioned in my review of book two, it's been awhile since I felt a full-on fanatic obsession for a piece of writing, and it's been so nice to feel it so deeply, gulping down a story at the risk of ignoring and forgetting everything else about my life.

First things first, I guess, which needs to be a bit of a disclosure: I'm pretty into all things Egypt, and have been since I was a kid. I read textbooks about Ancient Egypt for fun. I love trying to cook Egyptian recipes. I've watched all the National Geographic documentaries. I am fascinated by Egyptian culture and, well, blah blah blah, I know I'm not alone, or special. Egypt is fascinating. But I'm saying this because this trilogy scratched an itch for me personally, and that undoubtedly impacts my review.

All that being said, and I cannot emphasize this enough, Chakraborty's creation of a diverse historical fantasy world in this trilogy is really well-done. She respectfully incorporates - honors - a culture that is often twisted, skewed, misunderstood, and manipulated in today's modern world. I really admire the way she navigated this, threading that needle so well. In an interview, answering a question about writing outside of one's own culture experience, she said: "Is it your place? Sometimes the answer is no. We have to learn to be okay with that. If you love the history and culture enough to write about it, you have to respect the people enough to hear what they’re saying. What are you doing to lift their voices?" (Source)

I'm not the right person to weigh in on this with any sense of authority or expertise, but I learned so much from the way she wrote this story that I can't help but feel she clicked it all into place in a good way. A fair way.

Other things I'm obsessed with:

• The ending! A lot more hopeful that I was anticipating - my heart was in my throat for so many of the characters.

• The themes! As always, Chakraborty explores a lot of Big Stuff like religion, family, politics, heritage, power, and the cost of peace with an expert hand. I'll genuinely be thinking about the way she pokes around concepts like justice and free will for days.

• The characters! Characters who experience trauma and emerge totally traumatized, what a concept! Characters who are beyond comprehension yet beautiful and admirable in their own ways (Sobek ILY). Plus the room she creates for characters who are otherwise villainous.

• Nerdy stuff, like character names and structure and pacing and plotting!

• The world. Colorful and vivid and full of true history and lore. I still struggled with the various tribes and their backgrounds, but it doesn't matter. This world is so rich and it never feels too magic-y or too info-dump-y or too show-off-y (technical terms, every last one of them). I think often about how to marry a good idea with good execution, and I think many authors are (don't kill me) sort of rarely successful. There are always things to nitpick about one or the other and of course one directly impacts the other. But the narrative here felt really purposeful and beautiful at the same time.

I'm not ready to let go, but I actually do have to like, get back to work and do my job and take care of my responsibilities and stuff. Or maybe I could just start the whole thing over again. Decisions, decisions.

The Empire of Gold on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Kingdom of Copper (The Daevabad Trilogy #2)

4 stars. My never-ending quest to finish trilogies continues! And honestly, this one is so awesome. I'm really in love with these books and the way everything - the characters, the worldbuilding, the magical plot - comes together. I re-read The City of Brass so I'd be fully prepared, but I didn't expect to be so fully immersed. I'm about to dive into Empire of Gold and my biggest hope is simply that my heart survives it.

Five years after landing in Daevabad with Dara, Nahri has grown as a healer and has reluctantly embraced her status as a member of the royal family - for now. Ali is happily building a city far from his home, living at peace with his new abilities - for now. But in a city like Daevabad, full of tension among tribes, the status quo is fragile and cracking. With looming threats from abroad and within, each of the players in this game learn, unpleasantly, the enormous cost of change, and of peace.

Like the first book, this is truly a spellbinding whirlwind of beautiful colors and rich elements. The not-so-subtle exploration of themes like racism, religious persecution and inherited conflict continues, but it's still never preachy - in fact, it doubles down in its insistence that these things are as futile as they are ingrained and unavoidable, a tragic reality that each character has to learn and navigate.

I rolled my eyes at the romance in the first book, but I didn't mind it here, because it totally expands what "romance in YA/adult fantasy" can look like. (Or, I should say, what I want it to look like, which is a little less trope-y, a little less soulmate-y, and a little more malleable/non-monogamous). I docked a star instead because it's a little slow in the beginning/middle, and because for the life of me the tribe history and conflicts never clicked into place.

Regardless, these books are favorites. I think I might purchase beautiful hard copies, because I really see myself wanting to re-read. I'm fully invested and fully enamored by this world and want so much more. It's been so damn long since I felt myself in the first blushing throes of full fan obsession, but S.A. Chakraborty fucking hits it out of the park with every character, every development, every action-packed fight scene, every carefully-written line about oppression and social injustice. I can't not feel a little squeal-y, to be honest.

The Kingdom of Copper on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Plain Bad Heroines

3 stars. Inn-turr-ess-tinggg. I'm thrown. I didn't hate this, don't worry, but something about it was, well, excruciatingly annoying to me. Between the quirky footnotes, the flashbacks, the lack of horror, the sheer wordiness of it all... plus, character access felt shallow; toe-deep, and the viewfinder felt off-kilter, like we could only see one corner of the full picture, or we could only look at it sideways.

The whole thing just didn't come together in the right way, for me. And it's very possible that it all just went over my head, too.

Story 1: Present. Three young women, two actresses and an author, are brought together to make a movie about Story 2.

Story 2: Early 1900s. Three young women die under mysterious circumstances (two stung by a swarm of yellow jackets; one ate poisonous flowers) at a school for girls in Rhode Island, and the principal must deal with the aftermath.

Our questions: did something sinister lead to their deaths? Why do strange and unusual things still happen on the school's land? How will they make a movie about its hauntings, despite its hauntings? And WTF does Mary MacLane have to do with it, other than connecting all the main characters and being kind of an original badass herself?

And also, in addition to being about all that, it's about women in love with each other and the many different colors of being queer. Which is wonderful.

But back to that sideways viewfinder. Maybe it was sideways, maybe it was foggy. I just couldn’t bring it into focus. I just couldn’t figure out what I was looking at. Carefully built momentum took me nowhere. Deep dives seemed pointless. The author led us down rabbit holes that didn't seem relevant or resolved. It's full of excellent moments, for sure, but the connective tissue just wasn't strong enough, for me. I hate to say it, because this mood board has almost everything I love on it - it's just, when I step back and look at it as a whole, it's a mess.

And back to that shallow character access. Especially in Story 1, I never really got to know the three girls. For real, deep down. The narrator (anonymous? Did I miss something?) tells - it's very tell-y - a lot about their actions and thoughts but they somehow still seemed so ... flat.

Finally, though this is marketed as horror, it doesn't really hit in a scary way. There are creepy moments, and a lot of meta-exposition on the academia of horror (which I admittedly loved), but no true frightening moments. I couldn't even really tell if the stakes were that high, honestly. And the climax proved, unfortunately, that they weren't, canceling any delicious dread I felt as the mystery unfolded.

So there it is. No regrets, truthfully, because I was absolutely picking up what it was putting down about queerness and queer history and I loved the gothic tropes and the themes. And I can't rate this any lower because it is truly impressive and ambitious and like I said above, it's possible it just went right over my head. I would LOVE for someone to convince me what I missed and what it’s all about and why I should LOVE it. But here we are. Thanks for listening, anyway.

Plain Bad Heroines on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Only Good Indians

5 stars. Absolutely incredible. A surprising, thought-provoking, heavy metal level of scary book that really sticks. I slowed down on this so I could savor it and relish the unfolding of each dynamic, captivating chapter. I wanted to chew on it respectfully; wanted to really taste the creeping dread and brutal punches. Reading it this way - carefully, instead of barreling through - was an incredible experience and I feel kind of cleansed despite the buckets and buckets of blood (good horror does this to me?).

The Only Good Indians, borrowing its title from the infamous phrase, is about four Native American men living ten years after they experienced a strange and disturbing hunting trip on forbidden land. Two of them are eventually killed under brutally violent circumstances, and the others are haunted and hunted unaware as they continue to embrace and defy their cultural identities through fresh grief and old regrets. There's so much more, but I don't want to spoil anything.

This is a story that blurs lines all over the place. It's a slasher, but it's a twisty one - the monster may not be the monster after all. It's a mystery, but not to us as readers - to the characters who are largely oblivious of what stalks them. It's a cautionary fairy tale that teaches many lessons - with an unexpected take on good and evil. It's an exploration of Native American culture - but through a unique and fascinating and terrifying lens. It captures characters that suffer that internal battle within and around and about themselves so well: "He hates being from here. He loves it, but he also hates it so much."

It's a story about tradition and choices and the urge to chafe against your core identity; the urge to defy custom and ignore the rules; the urge to be wasteful for selfish reasons; the urge to resist the reality of your own making; the urge to escape what you can't; the urge to blame everyone and anyone for your decisions knowing that deep down it's you - it's your doing - and you'll pay for it in the end. It's a story about how outrunning the past is impossible. And it's about revenge. Deep, natural, solid, earthly, instinctual, all-encompassing, bigger-than-you-and-me vengeance that is ugly and beautiful at the same time.

It's also, wonderfully, about basketball and marriage and friendship and paperbacks and masculinity and motherhood at its most ancient and primal. It's full of delicious details that lighten up some super dark themes in entertaining ways. Second person is used brilliantly in the second half to a jarring and energetic effect. Pacing, plotting, dialogue - it's all there and it's all excellent. Also, there's a really clever play on the final girl trope.

And the ending brought it home in a way that made me cry, although I don't know if I can articulate why.

Random lines that jumped out to me: "The best jokes are the jokes that have a kind of message to them. A warning." and "They stand together, their doors closing at the same time, an accident of sound that makes the boy straighten his back, like it's bad luck."

By the way, there are two things in this world that I absolutely hate: reading/seeing/hearing about animals getting hurt or killed, and feeling hot, temperature-wise. This book has a lot of both. I don't usually issue trigger warnings but I AM WARNING YOU: if you, like me, were traumatized by Where the Red Fern Grows in fourth grade and can't even think the words Bambi or The Lion King without crying, this book is not for you.

In fact, I typically dock a star automatically for UDDs (Unnecessary Dog Deaths) because I often see it as a cheap shot to play on readers' emotions. I stuck with this book, though, because horror tends to wash differently into my brain than other genres, and it was worth it in the end. Plus it was written so perfectly, and (this is not a spoiler) the animal deaths were absolutely necessary IMO.

A must-read for horror fans - and I think for everyone. I'm obsessed with this and gutted in a good way.

The Only Good Indians on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Luster

3 stars. The hype is real, and the reviews are right: this book is a stressful, uncomfortable, unique portrait of a young Black woman trying to ... well, just trying to survive in a world designed to hold her back. It chronicles her affair with an older, married white man and the strange way she stumbles deeper and deeper into his life - tripped up by society and self-sabotage equally and at different times.

I think I should start by saying that what this book says is true. The concepts it captures are true. The depictions of racism and white supremacy and patriarchy and youth and Blackness and failure are true (and Such a Fun Age level of good). The articulations about art and sex and hair and bodies and success and capitalism are true. Part of what makes it an uncomfortable read is that even in its most unrealistic moments, it's still cringey in a real way, because it feels like the meaning snaking underneath the unreality is true.

It lost me in two ways: first, the style of writing. Probably a personal preference, but the words felt forced, like the author was trying too hard to be jarring or thunderous or impressive. The pseudo-stream of consciousness sentencing got weird at times. There are passages and quotes that absolutely sing in meaning but fail in style, and even those are strung together in a way that isn't quite successful. I think she'd be an incredible poet, by the way.

Second, the absolute strange way everyone behaved in this bizarre story. I've said before that we are all just fucking clueless, I know; we are just apes with phones and we've fucked any semblance of an advanced civilization into the ground of our dying planet, but I just cannot wrap my head around these three horrible individuals orbiting each other in horrible ways. Each of them has some sort of breakdown throughout this story, and their subsequent INSANE and unrealistic decision-making is sort of ... unaddressed.

Listen, I'm recommending this. Luster is a thought-driven, thought-provoking book that will leave you in a swirly fever dream of contemplation. We need more books like this. I'll be thinking about it for a while and would love to return to passages for study and reflection. That's only what I'd return to - certain passages and quotes that punched particularly hard; as a whole and as a narrative it didn't quite work for me. But those punches for sure left bruises that are going to linger.

Luster on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Burning God (The Poppy War #3)

3 stars. Oh god, summarizing this is going to be impossible. Ermm, okay. Freshly recovered (sort of) from the betrayal, heartbreak and violence of her failed tour with the Dragon Republic, Rin faces ... well, more betrayal, heartbreak and violence on her quest to unite the Nikara Empire against threats both foreign and domestic (heh). Unsure who to trust or where to go, she utilizes the intense power of the original shaman rulers, the blind obedience of the people from her Southern home and her own hungry, vengeful, trauma-laden instincts to ensure survival for herself and for her people.

Don't hate me. It is what it is. I absolutely adore R.F. Kuang and hold her in the highest regard. Her writing is spectacular and she's so talented - her intellect is obviously very high and I can't wait to read what she does next. I admire what she's done here - channeled buckets of Chinese history and lore and context into a story for readers like myself who shamefully know so little about it. She's carved a space for herself in an impossibly small and impossibly male group of military fantasy writers. She has unlocked so much about what the standard trilogy could look like. She's wonderful.

But for most of this book I lost a level of investment in reading and felt ... almost ... bored? I mean for all the battles and bloody mysteries and character revelations, I dragged my feet to pick it up. Which I think came down to this: Why? And after surviving multiple wars, calling a god, committing genocide, and switching allegiances multiple times, what exactly does Rin want? Does she want to rule? Does she REALLY? Does she really want to forge peace? She wants to be part of the action, of course, but I had a hard time following her true, long-term motives. She's always being sent here or carried there or going somewhere on an episodic rescue mission. Her loyalties always seem to be to people, or power, or petty "sides" that are ultimately arbitrary. Never goals or even, like, an end game. An end to the journey.

And maybe that's partly the point. Maybe I missed my cues due to lack of focus and energy because, lol, 2021. Maybe she's meant to be a little untethered, a little destined to make bad choices. Maybe she can't see beyond a single day of survival for herself and her friends because she's walking around with so much trauma and baggage. Maybe I'm reading this with a decidedly Western perspective. And also she's what, 20 years old? I get that she's meant to be an unlikeable, untraditional, impulsive, blood-driven, power-hungry, brutal protagonist. But for most of The Burning God I was totally adrift with her, and not in a good way. I just ... burned out. No pun intended. I truly expected to want to live and breathe these characters for one final act. Instead I basically skimmed, wondering - again - why and also get on with it.

So, only a 3-star read for me.

A couple of other things:

• The ending was perfect in premise, abrupt in execution.

• I really missed in The Burning God the deep exploration of the gods and the pantheon and shamanism in general. This was prevalent in the first book, a subplot in the second, and barely part of the third. The only part where I really perked up is when Rin trained the new shamans.

• I really loved this: amateurs obsess over strategy, professionals obsess over logistics.

• Kuang asks a lot of her readers (IMHO) in terms of the various multiple names for people and places. I relied on the map a ton and am still a little unclear on who is who in the Trifecta and that whole history.

• The Hesperians storyline is brilliant. Kuang demonstrates a unique if not super unveiled way of writing about colonialism, and for the most part it's successful. Petra's ending was ... delicious.

• This is going to make an absolutely excellent TV series. It's practically ready for adaptation. I'm in. All the way.

The Burning God on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War #2)

4 stars. Really, really impressed with this as a follow-up to The Poppy War. Not that she needs to hear it from me, but R.F. Kuang has officially burned down what fantasy should and could be and replaced it with something intellectual, entertaining, brutal and beautiful. This trilogy (final opinion pending) is a must-read for a wide audience and deserves the title of Epic in every definition of the word.

The Dragon Republic opens after battle, but for Rin the war is far from over. She is a shaman, and she is heartbroken by the loss of her kin, and she turns to drugs to cope. Lost in her personal trauma, she and her fellow shaman warriors side with the Dragon Warlord in an attempt to find purpose again, to bring stability to Nikan, and for revenge. They ride to conquest but she soon realizes that almost everything she thought she knew - about magic, about war, about politics, about her god - is far more complicated than she realized.

Unlike The Poppy War, which has two clearly defined narrative arcs, The Dragon Republic is essentially a collection of episodes. Rin goes through so many ups and downs it's almost hard to keep track; thankfully, each experience and revelation informs her character and moves the big plot forward. She does not bounce back so easily, mentally, which is refreshing and I appreciate her understandable mistakes. As the lens widens, so too does her confusion about context and what is good vs evil. Rin's identity and sense of self is central to this story's spiral and I look forward to unwinding it further.

Speaking of the widening lens - the worldbuilding, which happens almost literally as the landscape in question is open for grabs - is incredible here. Not just complex in all the right ways, but complex in a way that is within reach. That's part of what makes military fantasy successful, IMHO - letting the reader see the map. There are so many components to this story but I never felt overwhelmed.

I would say too that this could've been shorter, though I understand why Kuang wrote it the way she did. There's a lot of arguing about politics, and some threads that perhaps did not need to be pulled, which is why I docked a star. But the third book could change my mind. It probably will.

Fuck me up, Kuang. You know you want to.

The Dragon Republic on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads