Dragonwriter edited by Todd McCaffrey

Dragonwriter edited by Todd McCaffrey

When Anne McCaffrey passed in November 2011, it was not only those closest to her who mourned her death; legions of readers also felt the loss deeply. The pioneering science fiction author behind the Dragonriders of Pern® series crafted intricate stories, enthralling worlds, and strong heroines that profoundly impacted the science fiction community and genre.

In Dragonwriter, Anne’s son and Pern writer Todd McCaffrey collects memories and stories about the beloved author, along with insights into her writing and legacy, from those who knew her best. Nebula Award winner Elizabeth Moon relates the lessons she learned from Pern’s Lessa (and from Lessa’s creator); Hugo Award winner David Brin recalls Anne’s steadfast belief that the world to come will be better than the one before; legendary SFF artist Michael Whelan shares (and tells stories about) never-before-published Pern sketches from his archives; and more.

Join Anne’s co-writers, fellow science fiction authors, family, and friends in remembering her life, and exploring how her mind and pen shaped not only the Weyrs of Pern, but also the literary landscape as we know it. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG, 4 stars
Trigger warnings: none

As I mentioned in my review of Dragonsong, I am a huge Anne McCaffrey/Pern fan. I’d been looking for an excuse to move Dragonwriter to the top of my to-read list for awhile, and since I had to present on Dragonsong in one of my classes, I thought that was the perfect reason.

I have to say, this book isn’t quite what I’d expected. I’d been anticipating essays on the importance of Anne McCaffrey’s place in science fiction and analyses of how her world and writing work. What I found instead was much more personal, and it really made me appreciate Anne McCaffrey’s legacy more from a personal standpoint than a writing standpoint. I did end up learning quite a bit about the world that McCaffrey started writing in--a world where women didn’t really write science fiction (or at least where they weren’t recognized for writing science fiction). I learned that McCaffrey’s novel The White Dragon was the first hardcover sci-fi novel to make it onto the New York Times bestseller list, period. Not the first woman. The first author. Ever.

That sort of information provided important context for me. I started reading the Pern books in the early 2000s, while most of the famous ones were published in the 1970s. That’s a lot of time for things to change, both in the world in general, and in the writing and publishing worlds specifically. When I started reading Pern books, there were a plethora of other speculative novels on the market that featured strong female protagonists. By reading essays by women who saw themselves in science fiction for the first time in characters like Lessa and Menolly, I gained a new appreciation for the importance of the Pern novels.

I suppose my biggest disappointment with the book is that the essays barely touched on the Harper Hall Trilogy, which is one of my favorite parts of the series. Most discussion of female empowerment centered on Lessa, which makes sense as she is the protagonist for most of the series as a whole, but I was bothered by the unintentional slighting of Menolly, who I think is an invaluable character for people who come to Pern at a younger age. As a kid, Lessa intimidated me in ways that Menolly never did.

All in all, this book is a must-read for fans of the Pern books or McCaffrey’s other work. It would also be interesting for those who are interested in the history of the science fiction genre and how much one person’s legacy can impact that history.

Dragonsong by Anne McCaffrey

Dragonsong by Anne McCaffrey

Every two hundred years or so, shimmering threads fall, raining black ruin on Fern. The great dragons of Fern hurl themselves through the beleaguered skies, flaming tongues of fire to destroy deadly Thread and save the planet. It was not Threadfall that made Menolly unhappy. It was her father who betrayed her ambition to be a Harper, who thwarted her love of music. Menolly had no choice but to run away. She came upon a group of fire lizards, wild relatives of the fire-breathing dragons. Her music swirled about them; she taught nine to sing, suddenly Menolly was no longer alone. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG, 4 stars
Trigger warnings: familial abuse

This definitely isn’t the first time I’ve read Dragonsong. The Pern books have been one of my favorite series since I was in middle school, and I’ve read Dragonsong many times. Re-reading it for class during this semester has only reminded me of my love for the series. Dragonsong has its flaws, but it is definitely a good book.

One thing that’s frustrating about Dragonsong is that it isn’t particularly friendly to people who are new to the Pern world. When I first read the book when I was in middle school, I wasn’t particularly bothered by being thrown into the world without explanation, but after re-reading the book for class, I definitely see how people who are unfamiliar with the world could be lost. Dragonsong was my first Pern novel, but generally I recommend starting with Dragonflight.

Re-reading this book, I was struck again by how well-written Anne McCaffrey’s characters are. They are developed to feel like real people, even in a book as short as Dragonsong (compared to other Pern books). Although my favorite character in the series, Masterharper Robinton, only makes a brief appearance, my love for him was reiterated just in those few pages.

Another thing that really struck me about Dragonsong during this re-read is how the women in the book (and in the series in general) really exhibit different kinds of strength. While I would argue that all of the women characters exhibit strength, not everyone is the no-nonsense leader that Lessa is. McCaffrey makes an excellent case for the inherent strength found in so-called maternal activities.

Overall, I would say that fans of Pern need to read Dragonsong, as well as the rest of the Harper Hall Trilogy. Those who are new to the series might be more advised to start with a different book, but then they should quickly move on to Dragonsong.

And Then There Were Nuns by Jane Christmas

And Then There Were Nuns: Adventures in a Cloistered Life, by Jane Christmas

Bestselling author Jane Christmas decides to enter a convent to discern whether she is, as she puts it, "nun material." But just as she convinces herself to take the plunge, her long-term partner, Colin, surprises her with a marriage proposal. Determined not to let her monastic dreams get sidelined, Christmas puts her engagement aside and embarks on an extraordinary year-plus adventure to four--one in Canada and three in the U.K. Among these communities of cloistered nuns and monks, she (and occasionally rails against) the silent, reverent, pared-down existence she has sought all her life. With insight and humour, she provides a glimpse into a seldom-seen lifestyle. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: R, 4 stars
Trigger warnings: sexual assault, sexism

I thought the premise for this memoir was really interesting. I was raised Catholic, and for awhile when I was a kid, I thought that maybe being a nun was the path for me. Add to that the fact that I spent some time last year at a Buddhist monastery with a bunch of nuns, and you can tell that nuns interest me a lot. I thought the idea and perspective were really unique in this book, and I love that it did include some interfaith dialogue, since the author spent time among both Catholic and Episcopal nuns.

Where I had trouble with the book was with the inclusion of Christmas’ backstory and her experience with sexual assault. Her coping with her assault and her time spent among nuns are completely interrelated, but the way the book was written, I felt that it was either too short, and more time needed to be spent on both the past and the present, or that it needed to be two separate memoirs entirely. I recognize that the author spent a lot of time coming to terms with what happened to her while she was exploring a monastic life, but so much of it was glossed over that the emotional balance of the book just felt off. Also, the book’s blurb mentions nothing about the sexual assault, and I would caution anyone who picks up this book that there is a huge trigger warning for that aspect of the book.

Overall, this book was really interesting, and it was very thought-provoking for me. Again, having grown up Catholic, I learned a lot about other denominations of Christianity (I didn’t even know other denominations had monastic communities!), and I learned a lot about monastic communities in general. Having spent some time in a Buddhist monastery, I was surprised by some of the similarities and differences between Buddhist monastics and Christian monastics. I’d recommend this book to anyone who is interested in monastic life and would like to get an insider look from an outsider.

The Elementals by Saundra Mitchell

The Elementals by Saundra Mitchell

Kate Witherspoon has lived a bohemian life with her artist parents. In 1917, the new art form of the motion picture is changing entertainment—and Kate is determined to become a director.

Meanwhile, midwestern farm boy Julian Birch has inherited the wanderlust that fueled his parents’ adventures. A childhood bout with polio has left him crippled, but he refuses to let his disability define him.

Strangers driven by a shared vision, Kate and Julian set out separately for Los Angeles, the city of dreams. There, they each struggle to find their independence. When they finally meet, the teenage runaways realize their true magical legacy: the ability to triumph over death, and over time. But as their powerful parents before them learned, all magic comes with a price. (blurb from Goodreads)

Ratings: PG-13, 4 stars
Trigger warnings: homophobia, ableism

I read this entire novel without realizing that it was the final book in a series. Oops. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel like I was missing anything except perhaps a little bit of background information about Kate and Julian’s parents. It’s my understanding that The Elementals is a little bit more of a companion novel than the first two books in the trilogy, as it deals with the children of the protagonists of the first two books. I was a little confused about the motivation of the main antagonist, but it didn’t really detract from my enjoyment of the novel.

*SPOILER ALERT* Before reading this book, I’d heard quite a bit of buzz about this book because Kate is bisexual and it’s a period book, which is so rarely done, especially in YA fiction. I found this buzz to be a little...misleading. Kate never fully articulates her feelings towards the woman she is assumed to be in love with, and while I didn’t expect to actually see the word “bisexual” in a text set in 1917, I had hoped for more specific acknowledgement of her feelings. However, I do still appreciate the inclusion of potential bisexuality, and I thought what little was there to be appropriately handled. *END SPOILER*

In general, I really enjoyed the world building in this novel. I thought the period details were really well done, and the magic system was incredibly intuitive. I never questioned it, which is even more impressive considering that this is the final book in a trilogy. I appreciated that the book was more focused on introspective and character relationships than action, despite the magic and menacing antagonist. Even the ending, which could have been very action-y, played out almost gently.

And speaking of the ending, I am speechless. I’ll admit it: I bawled like a baby. I have a weird feeling about the whole thing. I’m not happy about the ending, per se, but I think it’s very fitting and was very satisfying. Prepare yourself for the ending.

In general, I really enjoyed this book, and I recommend it without reservation. As you might expect from a book set in 1917, some characters exhibit homophobia and ableism, but these instances are always framed negatively. I think fans of the Gemma Doyle trilogy might be particularly interested in The Elementals.

God: A Story of Revelation by Deepak Chopra

God: A Story of Revelation by Deepak Chopra

In Deepak Chopra's powerful, groundbreaking, and imaginative new work, a unique blend of storytelling and teaching, the New York Times bestselling author explores the evolution of God. By capturing the lives of ten historical prophets, saints, mystics, and martyrs who are touched by a divine power, Chopra reveals a riveting portrait of a constantly changing God. Our belief—and therefore God itself—transforms with each passing century. In this new novel, Chopra brings to life the defining moments of our most influential sages, ultimately revealing universal lessons about the true nature of God.

Job in the Old Testament experienced something completely different from Paul in the New Testament, Socrates chased a mercurial spirit almost unrecognizable to the strange voice that called to Rumi, and Shankara moved from town to town sharing the truth about a God that stood in marked contrast to the one that guided Anne Hutchinson—yet one sees an undeniable pattern. These visionaries took the human race down unknown roads, and Chopra invites us to revisit their destinations. Tearing at our hearts and uplifting our souls, God leads us to a profound and life-altering understanding about the nature of belief, the power of faith, and the spirit that resides within us all. (blurb from Goodreads)

Ratings: PG, 4 stars
Trigger warnings: violence

This book was not at all what I expected, and I’m not even sure what, exactly, I was expecting. I suppose I was anticipating either a straight novelized narrative, or a nonfiction analysis of the mystics in this book. What I got was a strange mixture of both. Each chapter in this book starts out by narrating a scene or two from the mystic’s life. It starts off very specific--for example, the chapter on Anne Hutchinson starts with her seeing a beached whale with her children. After the specific scenes, the narrative continues on for a bit in a more general light. The second half of each chapter provides analysis about what that individual can tell us about God, both in general and in context of their life and historical era. I suppose, in a way, it was little bit like the gospel and homily part of Catholic mass--first you get the story, then you get the application of the story.

This unexpected formatting did make the book slow-going at first, but once I got into it, I really enjoyed the format. The chapter-by-chapter focused allowed Chopra to introduce the reader to a wide variety of mystics from a wide variety of religious traditions. Each individual that the book covered caught my interest, often for different reasons.

I know that Deepak Chopra has written other books in a similar vein to God, and I now look forward to reading them. God is an interesting read from both spiritual and historical perspectives, and if the format doesn’t bother you, I highly recommend it.

The Chaos of Stars by Kiersten White

The Chaos of Stars by Kiersten White

Kiersten White, New York Times bestselling author of Paranormalcy, is back with The Chaos of Stars—an enchanting novel set in Egypt and San Diego that captures the magic of first love and the eternally complicated truth about family.

Isadora's family is seriously screwed up—which comes with the territory when you're the human daughter of the ancient Egyptian gods Isis and Osiris. Isadora is tired of living with crazy relatives who think she's only worthy of a passing glance—so when she gets the chance to move to California with her brother, she jumps on it. But her new life comes with plenty of its own dramatic—and dangerous—complications . . . and Isadora quickly learns there's no such thing as a clean break from family.

Blending Ally Carter's humor and the romance of Cynthia Hand's Unearthly, The Chaos of Stars takes readers on an unforgettable journey halfway across the world and back, and proves there's no place like home. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG-13, 4 stars
Trigger warning: violence, familial dysfunction

I had some really mixed feelings about this book in the beginning. For awhile, particularly in the middle, it seemed as though Isadora was suffering painfully from “oblivious protagonist is oblivious” syndrome. Towards the climax of the book, that aspect of her character is resolved in a way that I totally didn’t expect. I won’t spoil anything, but I will say that I was really impressed when my frustration was nullified.

I also had a little trouble relating to Isadora for most of the book. She is incredibly stubborn, and I had a hard time empathizing with how strongly she was trying to break away from her family. However, that isn’t necessarily a detriment to the book. I don’t want to read books with protagonists who I totally and completely understand, because that means that they’re all the same, and they’re all like me, and that doesn’t sound like fun at all.

When I started this book, I was immediately drawn in by the writing. It’s not consistently the best, but there are moments where the language really shines, and as a poet, I always appreciate that. It also did a good job of surprising me with plot twists that I definitely didn’t see coming, which I find often doesn’t happen with YA paranormal romance novels.

Overall, The Chaos of Stars had some flaws, but it also used mythology in an innovative way (look, they’re not all Greek!), and used interesting language to boot! I recommend it if you like mythological tales and are looking for something that takes mythology in a different direction.

Bi: Notes for a Bisexual Revolution by Shiri Eisner

Bi: Notes for a Bisexual Revolution by Shiri Eisner

Depicted as duplicitous, traitorous, and promiscuous, bisexuality has long been suspected, marginalized, and rejected by both straight and gay communities alike.

Bi takes a long overdue, comprehensive look at bisexual politics—from the issues surrounding biphobia/monosexism, feminism, and transgenderism to the practice of labeling those who identify as bi as either "too bisexual” (promiscuous and incapable of fidelity) or "not bisexual enough” (not actively engaging romantically or sexually with people of at least two different genders). In this forward-thinking and eye-opening book, feminist bisexual and genderqueer activist Shiri Eisner takes readers on a journey through the many aspects of the meanings and politics of bisexuality, specifically highlighting how bisexuality can open up new and exciting ways of challenging social convention.

Informed by feminist, transgender, and queer theory, as well as politics and activism, Bi is a radical manifesto for a group that has been too frequently silenced, erased, and denied—and a starting point from which to launch a bisexual revolution. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG-13, 4 stars
Trigger warnings: see review

This book took me a long time to get through, but not because I didn’t like it. I found it absolutely fascinating. The problem was, with school and all, I often found it hard to focus while I was reading it. In those moments, I would call it fascinating, but dense. From the perspective I have now, from having finished it over Thanksgiving break, I recognize that it wasn’t so much that it was dense, but more that it was more similar to the books I was reading for classes than the books I read for fun. So it took me awhile, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

In a way, I’m glad it took me so long to finish this book, because that gave me plenty of time to process. When it comes to ideological stances, I find that I often either accept or reject the whole of the ideology almost immediately. Not so with this book. I found there were things I definitely agreed with, but there were also things that I definitely disagreed with, and there were even things that I was (and am) on the fence about. It wasn’t comfortable, but I’m glad about that. This isn’t supposed to be a comfortable book. It asks tough questions about what it means to be bisexual, and the answers are no more comfortable than the questions.

This book was incredibly user-friendly. Like many textbooks from my primary school days, it highlighted “vocabulary words” right in the text and defined them in a separate box on the same page. This is very handy for people who might not be familiar with feminist and queer jargon. Trigger warnings were placed before the sections of the book that were relevant, even down to the paragraph, and there were additional “warnings” placed at the end of the triggering sections. I absolutely loved this idea, and I wish more writers (or editors?) took this approach. The availability of trigger warnings within the text is why I didn’t include them above (mostly because I’m slightly lazy and didn’t want to look up specific trigger warnings, because many of them were very specific). All I can say is that Eisner covered her bases when it comes to potentially triggering passages.

One aspect of the book that I definitely have mixed feelings about is the type of parallels she draws between bisexuality and other social issues/oppressed groups. While Eisner always makes clear that true parallels really don’t exist, and that one oppressed group isn’t better/worse off than any other (because you can’t compare them like that), she does often compare the bisexual movement to other movements, and she often chooses movements that she has connections to or experience with, such as trans* movements and movements specific to Israel/Occupied Palestine. This is where the mixed feelings come in. It was often hard for me to make the connections, because she used movements that I really have no familiarity with. This frustrated me, but I also recognize that Eisner isn’t an American author, so it wouldn’t even make sense for her to solely use American social movements, not to mention the fact that movements besides mainstream American social movements deserve attention. I recognize that my frustration comes from a place of privilege, and part of me enjoyed learning about social movements that I really had no prior knowledge of. But I was also frustrated quite a bit. Hence my mixed feelings.

Overall, this book is an excellent, both for bisexuals and those who identify on the queer spectrum, but also for feminists and anyone who is open to learning about bisexual issues. Be prepared to be uncomfortable while reading, maybe even angry--but hopefully you’ll take that discomfort the way I did by appreciating how relevant it is to the discussion this book is starting.

Note: I received a free ebook copy for review, but I also purchased a copy when I was financially able to. 

Open Letter to Quiet Light by Francesca Lia Block

Open Letter to Quiet Light by Francesca Lia Block

Open Letter to Quiet Light will make readers feel as if they are peering at secret writings meant for the eyes of a lover alone, but these carefully crafted lines somehow transcend the personal to touch everyone who has experienced this kind of consuming, wrenching love.

In these fiercely passionate, devastatingly revealing, sometimes spiritual, and often painful poems, Francesca Lia Block describes in fiery detail the rise and demise of a year-long love affair. Her rich use of language infused with the power of sex and spirit finally paint a transcendent, almost mythic portrait of the way two wounded people—both searching for connection—find each other, collide, and eventually separate. The words seem to bleed onto the page and even the most graphic moments have a devotional quality filled with nuanced expression and unbridled intimacy. (Blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: R, 4 stars
Trigger warnings: Sexual content, miscarriage, cancer

So, as part of my honors thesis, my advisor and I have agreed that I’m to read one book of poetry per week. “Book” is to be defined at my discretion, since obviously I can’t read an entire anthology in a week. Most of these books I likely won’t review, because for whatever reason, I find it really difficult to review poetry. However, Francesca Lia Block is definitely an exception, because I love her work.

I didn’t really take a look at what this collection was about before I selected it. I already owned it, and had been meaning to read it, so it struck me as an obvious choice. I’m glad I picked it, for a variety of reasons. First, the book has a loose (very loose) narrative arc, and my thesis poems are (ideally) going to be based around a narrative. It was really interested to look at a collection of poems that was bound by a cohesive structure while not being as confining as a novel in verse. Something I’m struggling with in my own writing is the idea of balancing between poetry and narrative arc, and Open Letter to Quiet Light made me think about possibly loosening the arc of my collection until it is more implied than told, which is something that I think Block really excelled at in this collection. At all times, I was able to follow the developing relationship without feeling like I was bogged down by the connections between each poem.

At first the book surprised me with it’s sexual content, but I’m really not sure why--it’s not new to me that Block’s writing can be sexually charged, even her poetry (see my reviews of Nymph and Fairy Tales in Electri-City). If you’re already familiar with much of Block’s work (though admittedly more than Weetzie Bat), the sexual content won’t be much of a surprise. For those who are new to Francesca Lia Block, there’s sex, quite a bit of it, in fact.

My one complaint with the collection is that when writing about sex, some words just aren’t poetic, and in certain contexts, they even took me out of the poem a little bit. I’m not exactly sure what she could have done to prevent that besides being less direct, and I did like the directness--so often erotic poetry is wrapped up in innuendo and subtext, and sometimes it’s nice to have everything out in the open. Still, those moments did pull me out of the poetry a little bit.

Un-poetic wording aside, however, I did enjoy this collection. I found myself underlining a lot of particularly enchanting lines or phrases, which is always a sign of love with me and poetry. For fans of Francesca Lia Block, this collection is a must-read.

PS--Sorry for the lack of an update on Wednesday. I’m considering cutting back to one post a week, but hopefully I’ll get a backlog of reviews ready to go soon.

Wild, Weird, and Wonderful by F.W. Glasier

Wild, Weird, and Wonderful by F.W. Glasier

In both glory and grit, these remarkable photographs give us the American circus during the most vibrant period in its history, capturing both the intensity of the routines and the spirit of camaraderie of the performers. Glasier's work was unique in many ways, not the least of which was the offhand elegance he allowed his subjects, even the wonderful animals. His striking portraits make us recall the sober and revealing work of August Sander. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG, 4 stars
Trigger Warnings: racist/ableist language

There’s probably going to be an influx of circus-related books on the blog, as I’m writing an honors thesis about the circus this coming school year and have to do lots of research. I was really excited when I found this book, because it covers the time period I’m working with (turn-of-the-century) in photographs. It’s surprisingly hard to find old photos of the circus, particularly the kind of photos I want from the time period I want.

These photographs were all really cool, and the captions, when possible, gave a lot of details about the who, what, where, when, and why of each photograph. It was not at all a text-heavy book, but it’s a good companion to reference books and books like Queen of the Air, which I hope to read and review in the near future.

In the captions there is some language that could be considered racist or ableist. I appreciate the efforts to keep early 1900s circus jargon intact, but I did wonder sometimes about the manner in which that was done.

If you have any interest in circuses, or even turn-of-the-century Americana, this book is worth a look through. It won’t take too long, and the photographs really are a fascinating look at daily life for circus employees of that era.

Quiverfull by Kathryn Joyce

Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement by Kathryn Joyce

Kathryn Joyce's fascinating introduction to the world of the patriarchy movement and Quiverfull families examines the twenty-first-century women and men who proclaim self-sacrifice and submission as model virtues of womanhood—and as modes of warfare on behalf of Christ. Here, women live within stringently enforced doctrines of wifely submission and male headship, and live by the Quiverfull philosophy of letting God give them as many children as possible so as to win the religion and culture wars through demographic means. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG-13, 4 stars
Trigger warnings: misogyny, domestic abuse, religious abuse

After being fascinated by the culture of the Westboro Baptist Church in Banished, I thought I’d give Quiverfull a try to look into the Christian patriarchy movement. This is a movement that gets surprisingly little attention, despite its increasing numbers and downright subversive potential. Quiverfull did an excellent job of satisfying my curiosity about this movement.

One thing that I loved about the book was the sheer number of interviews that Joyce managed to get. By using direct quotes from those within or formerly within the Christian patriarchy movement, Joyce not only gave herself more credibility, but I felt that the book was more balanced. Clearly, the author did not agree with the movement, but I also didn’t feel like she was just ranting against it the whole time. By providing quotes from people on both sides of the movement, I felt like the author left some room for the reader to come to their own conclusions.

I was also intrigued to see detailed reasons for why the Christian patriarchy movement believes what it believes. Through the interviews and Joyce’s own research, I was exposed to the biblical passages that these families most often follow to the letter, along with interpretations of what those passages mean in today’s society. It was nice to get all that background information laid out in such a detailed manner.

I do think the title of the book was a bit misleading, since not all Christian patriarchy families also follow the quiverfull philosophy, and there are only a few chapters that discuss the quiverfull lifestyle. I would have been interested to hear more about that, but the lack of information and interviews there may have been outside the author’s control.

I think this book could be triggering for anyone who has had particularly nasty experiences with organized religion, particularly with Christianity. There are several women interviewed in the book who discuss being advised to “fix” a marriage by being a proper wife even when their husbands were abusive. The book is also chock-full of misogyny from those in the movement--the evils of feminism are brought up several times in both interviews and quotes from pamphlets and books from within the movement. Joyce herself is clearly feminist, and these sexist notions come from the movement and not the author.

I recommend Quiverfull to anyone who is concerned about extremist Christianity or who is merely curious about American Christian culture and the different forms it can take. Quiverfull is a fascinating glimpse into a culture that is all the more interesting because I disagree with its tenants so much. It is a well-researched and gripping read.

Fear by Thich Nhat Hanh

Fear by Thich Nhat Hanh

 Without fear, we are able to see more clearly our connections to others. Without fear, we have more room for understanding and compassion. Without fear, we are truly free.
—from Fear

 Most of us live in a constant state of fear—of our past, of illness and aging and death, and of losing the things we treasure most. But it doesn't have to be this way, promises Zen master and Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh.

 Drawing on a lifetime of mindfulness in action, Thich Nhat Hanh shows us how to use the practice of living in the present to acknowledge and embrace our fears, recognize their origins, and render them powerless. The world-renowned Zen teacher guides us through practical exercises for transforming fear into clarity. The worries of the past and the anxiety of the future disappear as we discover the power of the present moment. Not only are we are able to handle challenging emotions as they arise, but we can summon feelings of well-being and contentment, no matter what the unknown may bring.

 Rooted in the moment, we have the capacity to restore balance and happiness and be present with what is beautiful and affirming inside us and around us, every day. (blurb from Goodreads)

 Rating: G, 4 stars
Trigger warnings: none

 This has been a summer of reading several Thich Nhat Hanh books. What can I say: I love the guy. I love his peaceful demeanor that is clear even in his writing. I love the strides he’s made to make the mindfulness practice more accessible to non-Buddhists. After living in his monastic community for a week, I’ve gotta say that I love that, too.

 One of the things that I love about Thich Nhat Hanh’s books is how similar they all sound...they all have the same calm tone that makes it feel like you’re reading a section of an incredibly long work. Others may dislike the quality, but I like it.

 Fear, as you may have guessed deals almost entirely with fear and anxiety in life. I loved Thay’s focus on acknowledging the child within us, a practice which I believe should be employed more often, whether that is calming the child or embracing the child and doing something fun and silly.

 I find myself continually frustrated with the way that books like this seem to ignore the realities of emotional states caused by mental illness--sadness caused by depression, fear caused by an anxiety disorder, that sort of thing. I think it’s too easy for a book like this to insinuate that if your anxiety isn’t being helped by the advice in the book, then you aren’t trying hard enough. I will say that the book kept me engaged enough that I didn’t feel that anxiety while I was reading. Once I had finished, I still felt frustrated that the fact that it’s ok to be anxious was never brought up. There is still a lot of stigma to mental illness, and books dealing with a topic like anxiety that don’t even bring up diagnosable illness aren’t helping to erase that stigma.

 That being said, I give mad props to Thay for not making me frustrated while reading. And really, that’s my only criticism with the book. I loved the tone and the gentle nature of the writing. I never felt attacked or blamed for feeling the way I feel. It was a short, enjoyable, and thought-provoking read. I recommend Fear to anyone who likes Thich Nhat Hanh, his writing, or Buddhism in general. I issue a note of caution (though not *quite* a trigger warning) to those suffering from an anxiety disorder...it’s likely you’ll still enjoy the book, but you may find yourself frustrated once you’ve finished.

 Again, Fear is an excellent book, and its short length makes it a quick read, although it’s message will definitely last a long time.

The Novice by Thich Nhat Hanh

The Novice by Thich Nhat Hanh

Bestselling author and Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh transforms an ancient folktale into a timeless parable of a young woman who dares to risk her life for her faith.

Born to an aristocratic family in rural Vietnam, Kinh Tam’s uncommon beauty and intelligence were obvious to all she encountered. From an early age she was drawn to the teachings of Buddha and the rewards of a monastic life, but to please her family she agreed to walk the traditional path of marriage.

Throughout her marriage, Kinh Tam’s mind was devoted to her husband but her heart never waivered from her true calling. She wanted to be a monk. And yet Buddhism was still new to Vietnam and temples accepted only men for ordination. Making a decision that would forever change her life, Kinh Tam left town, disguised herself as a man, and joined a monastery as a novice.

Despite the many challenges of living as a man, Kinh Tam thrived and became a beloved member of the community. Years of profound joy and peace passed until a local woman accuses the novice of fathering her unborn child. Kinh Tam is torn between two impossible choices: keep her secret and endure brutal punishment or reveal the truth that would prove her innocence but put an end to her spiritual path.

Facing the unbearable with the boundless heart of Buddha, her choice forever changes her life, her country, and her faith.

In spare, elegant prose, Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us that we, too, face our own injustices and suffering, and by connecting with love, we can, like Kinh Tam, discover a mind and heart that are peaceful, happy, and free. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG, 4 stars

Trigger warnings: brief mentions of familial abuse (from in-laws)

I’ve read several of Thich Nhat Hanh’s books in my life. When I saw this novel in the bookstore at Plum Village Monastery, I was surprised, for I hadn’t known that he had written any fiction. As soon as I got back to the States, I reserved The Novice at my local library and eagerly waited for it to come in.

One of the many things I love about Thich Nhat Hanh is his writing style, something that I’ve recognized in every book of his that I’ve read, and The Novice is no different. At first, it was a little disconcerting, since this is a novel and not non-fiction like his other works. In fact, I almost stopped reading before I finished the first chapter. I’m really glad I kept reading, though, because the writing style and tone grew on me. The Novice was inspired by the life of a real Vietnamese Buddhist, and the book definitely stayed truth to the folk-legend roots, particularly in tone. I enjoyed the balance between conversational and detail-rich.

The story itself was interesting, but it was pretty much what the blurb describes; there weren’t a whole lot of twists and turns or subplots. This book is more in the telling, and in the Buddhist philosophies that Kinh Tam lived, which brings up another point: several times throughout the book, the narrative is interrupted to briefly explain certain Buddhist concepts. I’m somewhat familiar with these concepts, so I didn’t particularly like them, but others might appreciate their inclusion.

This is a book that really isn’t hiding much, and its simplicity is what makes it so wonderful. In some ways, it brings to mind the Christian parables that I’ve heard since I was little. The characters aren’t so simple that they’re flat, but I wouldn’t call them complex in the way that you normally well-written characters in novels. They’re more like fairy tale characters, almost allegories in themselves.

I thoroughly enjoyed this little book, despite my misgivings during the first chapter. If you don’t like Thich Nhat Hanh’s writing style, you probably won’t like this book, but it is an excellent read for those who already enjoy Thay’s writing.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth

The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M Danforth

When Cameron Post's parents die suddenly in a car crash, her shocking first thought is relief. Relief they'll never know that, hours earlier, she had been kissing a girl.

But that relief doesn't last, and Cam is soon forced to move in with her conservative aunt Ruth and her well-intentioned but hopelessly old-fashioned grandmother. She knows that from this point on, her life will forever be different. Survival in Miles City, Montana, means blending in and leaving well enough alone (as her grandmother might say), and Cam becomes an expert at both.

Then Coley Taylor moves to town. Beautiful, pickup-driving Coley is a perfect cowgirl with the perfect boyfriend to match. She and Cam forge an unexpected and intense friendship--one that seems to leave room for something more to emerge. But just as that starts to seem like a real possibility, ultrareligious Aunt Ruth takes drastic action to "fix" her niece, bringing Cam face-to-face with the cost of denying her true self--even if she's not exactly sure who that is.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post is a stunning and unforgettable literary debut about discovering who you are and finding the courage to live life according to your own rules. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG-13, 4 stars

Trigger Warnings: homophobia, ex-gay camp, familial death, drugs, transphobia, sexual content

This was another one of the books that I read while at Plum Village monastery, and like Wildthorn, it eerily paralleled my experiences...must be something about following a more rigid schedule (if you can call a mindful, monastic schedule rigid) while reading about someone following a rigid schedule.

Like Ash, I feel like the blurb to this book was slightly misleading. I expected the majority of the book to take place at the pray-the-gay-away camp and for the book to have a much darker tone overall. I was pleasantly surprised at the lighter tone of the novel and at the depth of the characters. I did not expect to see Cameron struggle so much with her identity or with the death of her parents, and I’m glad she did. It’s refreshing to see a novel with a gay protagonist who struggles not with coming out, but accepting her identity and coming to terms with how that will affect those around her in both positive and negative terms. It was also nice to see that the main focus of the novel was not a romance. There were some flings throughout the course of the novel, but they absolutely were not the main plot.

Given that this is essentially a book about a lesbian teenager in the 80s subverting her aunt’s conservative Christian culture, I wasn’t surprised at the swearing and drug content, but some might be bothered by it. Nothing stronger than marijuana is ever used in the book, but there is swearing left and right, as you might expect from the rural Montana setting. There are also some rather sexual dream scenes that culminate in a non-dream sexual scene.

All in all, this was a really pleasant read full of realism and well-developed characters. The Miseducation of Cameron Post does an excellent job of dealing with some heavy topics while still remaining a moderately light-hearted novel. I recommend it for fans of contemporary YA, (recent) historical YA, and gay protagonists/sexual identity novels.

Wildthorn by Jane Eagland

Wildthorn by Jane Eagland

Seventeen-year-old Louisa Cosgrove longs to break free from her respectable life as a Victorian doctor's daughter. But her dreams become a nightmare when Louisa is sent to Wildthorn Hall: labeled a lunatic, deprived of her liberty and even her real name. As she unravels the betrayals that led to her incarceration, she realizes there are many kinds of prison. She must be honest with herself - and others - in order to be set free. And love may be the key... (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG-13, 4 stars

Trigger Warnings: institutional abuse, familial abuse, death

When I first heard about Wildthorn a few years ago, I got a vibe that it hit a subgenre that I rarely see covered: lesbian historical YA. YA novels featuring gay characters are becoming more and more prominent, but most of them seem to focus on gay males, and historical fiction with LGBTQ characters is still rare. So when I got this vibe, I was instantly intrigued and snagged the ebook when I had the chance.

I really appreciate the way everything unfolded in Wildthorn. I thought the concept of Louisa knowing everything and not telling the reader worked really well, even though it could have failed drastically. Fortunately, it didn’t, and I enjoyed not knowing things before the protagonist for once.

I had an interesting experience reading this book, because I read it while I was on a retreat at a Buddhist monastery. In many ways, my routine was similar to Louisa’s at the asylum, although my experience was entirely positive: I had set wake up times and meals; there were afternoon activities and chores; and all the laypeople had very different reasons for being there. So it was really different to read this book in circumstances that were so similar and yet almost the opposite of Louisa’s.

The setup of the book surprised me. The vibe I got was that the book would be entirely about Louisa’s sexuality, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that that wasn’t her only characteristic, and wasn’t what her family saw in her at all. I think there’s a risk in these sorts of YA novels for sexuality to be the protagonist’s only defining feature, and I was pleased that Louisa was a fully fleshed-out character.

In general, I thought all the characters were well-developed and realistic. I had some slight issues with how accepting Eliza’s family was, given the Victorian time period, but it didn’t seem out of their characters, just out of place for the time.

I think Wildthorn is a fascinating novel for readers today, particularly for female readers. *SPOILER* Considering that Louisa is locked up for reading, wanting to go to college, having priorities other than perfecting her appearance, among other things, female readers will likely really empathize with her based on these potential similarities. I know I did. *END SPOILER*

Wildthorn is a dark novel, and institutional abuse is prevalent, as is some familial abuse at the hands of Tom, Louisa’s brother. However, I’ve certainly read darker novels, and no part of Wildthorn was so intense that I actually had to put it down. It’s a good work of historical fiction, and it opens up some new perspectives for the reader.

Ash by Malinda Lo

Ash by Malinda Lo

In the wake of her father's death, Ash is left at the mercy of her cruel stepmother. Consumed with grief, her only joy comes by the light of the dying hearth fire, rereading the fairy tales her mother once told her. In her dreams, someday the fairies will steal her away, as they are said to do. When she meets the dark and dangerous fairy Sidhean, she believes that her wish may be granted.

The day that Ash meets Kaisa, the King's Huntress, her heart begins to change. Instead of chasing fairies, Ash learns to hunt with Kaisa. Though their friendship is as delicate as a new bloom, it reawakens Ash's capacity for love-and her desire to live. But Sidhean has already claimed Ash for his own, and she must make a choice between fairy tale dreams and true love.

Entrancing, empowering, and romantic, Ash is about the connection between life and love, and solitude and death, where transformation can come from even the deepest grief. (blurb from Goodreads)

Rating: PG, 4 stars

Trigger Warnings: some violence, familial/domestic abuse (à la Cinderella)

For the record, Cinderella retellings are my thing. My favorite books as a child include Ella Enchanted, Just Ella, and The Glass Slipper. I don’t know anyone else that has even heard of The Glass Slipper (please shout out if you have!). So when I found Ash on sale over a year ago, I was super pumped. A new Cinderella retelling! Unfortunately, I think it is misleading to bill Ash as a Cinderella retelling. I can definitely see parts of the story that were taken from Cinderella. Ash lives with her stepmother and stepsisters. She works like a servant for them and endures their ridicule and abuse. The prince holds a ball for every eligible maiden in the kingdom. That’s about the end of the Cinderella parallels, though. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; to the contrary, I really enjoyed this book. I just think it shouldn’t have been marketed as a Cinderella retelling. Because that’s not what it is. More on exactly why it isn’t to come.

But if it’s not a Cinderella retelling, what did I like about it? So. Much. Ash felt so real, so human. Her emotions were so raw, which is something not often found in stories that take inspiration from Cinderella. It was really refreshing to see a fairy tale base made so human and genuine. I enjoyed the world-building. I felt the culture was well-integrated, and the role of the King’s Huntress made me really happy. So many fantasy worlds either stick with the status quo and have their military and influential figures male or equally male and female, and here was a martial position that was for women. I really enjoyed that.

I think one of Malinda Lo’s strong suits in writing is writing the gradual development of relationships. It’s something hard to do, and yet I think Lo captures it beautifully in Ash.

I also enjoyed her adaptation of common Cinderella elements. The use of the name Ash plays to both the novel’s Celtic influences and a synonym for cinders. I enjoyed her substitution of a fairy for the fairy godmother/tree/whatever.

Now for complaints. Er, complaint, since I already went over the not-fairy tale thing. I said I loved the world building, but there was one aspect that was frustratingly missing. *SPOILER?* When Ash starts to realize she has feelings for Kaisa, she is concerned about what people will think. Kaisa is clearly not concerned. Since Ash was a little sheltered from people, I assumed that she just didn’t understand the culture’s view of homosexuality, but I wanted a definitive answer on that. I wanted someone to say something or do something that revealed the general acceptance or lack thereof of homosexuality. This was a major frustration for me. *END SPOILER*

Now, for why this isn’t a fairy tale retelling to me. *SPOILER* For me, Cinderella stories are a lot about the prince. In the original tale and most retellings, he is the catalyst for change. He changes the Cinderella figure’s life, whether that is in a good way or not. In Ash, he’s basically a background character. This isn’t “the prince falls for Ash and she chooses the Huntress anyway.” This isn’t “the princess falls for Ash and she falls for the princess.” This isn’t even “the prince falls for Ash but she likes his sister.” No. The prince is there, but Ash dances with the Huntress and then her fairy boy gets pissed. To me, this departure from the how and the why of Cinderella is why Ash isn’t a fairy tale retelling. It is inspired by Cinderella, but no more than that. *END SPOILER*

All in all, I really enjoyed Ash. There were some moments of frustration, but they didn’t really cloud my enjoyment of the book. I thought the writing was beautiful and the characters well-developed. It’s definitely worth reading.