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Kelly’s Favorite Reads of 2020

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Maybe little else went according to plan for 2020, but one thing was true for me: I read a lot of good books. As of this writing, I’ve crested 150 reads for the year, which is about average, and I spent far more time reading books I like and knew I’d like while letting go of the ones I felt I should read or couldn’t connect with.

As always, rather than offering up a “Best of,” I prefer to write about the books that were my favorite for one reason or another. These are all 2020 releases — save the one which came out at the tail end of 2019 — and each one was a reading experience I deeply enjoyed. Interestingly, I found myself gravitating toward science fiction, magical realism, and fabulism more this year than in the past, and that’s reflected here.

This isn’t an entirely comprehensive list, as I didn’t include my pick for best book of 2020 that I noted on Book Riot, nor did I include the two picks I had for best children’s book of 2020, also noted on Book Riot.

My Favorite Books of 2020

 

The Falcon Thief: A True Tale of Adventure, Treachery, and The Hunt for the Perfect Bird by Joshua Hammer

Talk about a breathlessly-paced adventure story that is 100% true. This is the kind of bloodless true crime I find utterly fascinating and engaging, and this book would be a perfect one to pass along to fans of The Feather Thief.

In May 2010, Jeffrey Lendrum was arrested in the UK at an airport after a security guard in one of the lounges thought something suspicious was going on. Lendrum had left his partner in the lounge while he went into the bathroom for twenty minutes. The guard went in after and noticed nothing had been touched while he was in there — no shower, no running water. But there was a suspicious looking egg in the garbage can. Before long, it was discovered Lendrum had numerous eggs secured to his body, along with numerous eggs in his luggage. These were the eggs of falcons, each of which — were they to make it alive to his destination in Dubai — would net him a lot of money from political leaders in the region who practiced the art and sport of falconry.

From here, the book follows the rise of falconry in the middle east and how it ties into their history, as well as how it is Lendrum got caught up in the theft of some of the world’s most rare raptor eggs and how he traversed some of the most dangerous places in order to steal the eggs and make a profit. It’s a fascinating and infuriating story, not only because of how it plays into disturbing nature and causing further harm to hurting species, but also because of how Lendrum’s passion for nature went so off-course from his boyhood days in South Africa.

Books that marry true crime and history like this scratch such an itch for me. This one, besides its obvious exploration of theft of eggs, has some moments of animal harm, but it’s one I think those who are sensitive to that might be able to stomach without too much problem. Hammer offers a fair assessment of why Lendrum would partake in such illegal acts, while balancing the history and legacy of falconry in the middle east. It’s not an apology nor excuse for his behavior; rather, it’s context and conjecture for the whys, particularly where Hammer was unable to get the information first-hand.

I blew through this one and will forever look at birds in a new way.

 

Goldilocks by Laura Lam

Thirty years after the Atalanta took five pioneering women to space in hopes to settling a far-away planet named Cavandish, Naomi, one of the Atalanta 5, is finally telling her story. It begins with grand theft spaceship — yes, the spaceship was stolen — and ends with Earth’s humans falling victim to a pandemic that may have been started purposefully.

Naomi, who’d been raised by Valerie Black after the deaths of her mother and father, is deeply in love with the smart woman who invites her to be among the five women who will travel to the new planet in order to set up a new world, free of the flaws plaguing Earth. Right now, women’s rights have been decimated, the environment is collapsing, and the reality is there aren’t more than a few dozen “good” years left for it. Naomi, along with three other women, embark on the journey without permission from the government, but they believe in their heart of hearts they’re doing the right thing.

Then Naomi finds out she’s pregnant, and the father is one of the people who might be able to help change the course of the future of planet Earth. But it won’t come easy and it won’t come without the power of these women to steer the ship right.

Wholly immersive and dark, this book is about what leadership is — and what it is not. Lam’s writing is captivating and engrossing, evoking a scarily close-to-home scenario of a global pandemic destroying the planet in conjunction with human consumption, climate change, and the revoking of liberties for women across the globe. What sounds like will ultimately be a utopian setting at Cavendish, though, isn’t: instead, the story takes a ton of twists and turns that are surprising and ultimately change what it is these women perceive to be good and flawed about human nature.

When you’re destined to start something new, do you go for it? Burn down the past and try to forget it? Or do you learn from that past and build with the materials you have at hand to do better?

 

My Eyes Are Up Here by Laura Zimmermann

I’m not going to spend much time talking about this one because I wrote a lengthy piece about it over on Book Riot earlier this year. The long and short is this is a hilarious and painfully real book about growing up with big boobs and how challenging it is to navigate your body and adolescence when you can’t just buy a bra at the store. Greer was so relatable to me, down to where she grew up, to loving sports but realizing that uniforms and bras won’t fit a large chest, and having a snarky sense of humor about  it all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid

I listened to this one on audio and cannot recommend that route enough. Nicole Lewis is a phenomenal performer. Her voices are great, intonation spot on, and she makes the entire experience even more immersive than the book already is. This is one where the hype is real.

What I loved about this book is how it’s the perfect snapshot of what the phrase “the personal is political” means. It’s also a mirror to white people to look at where and how you’re being a savior to people of color, be it in micro or macro ways. It’s contemporary and timeless.

I loved Mira deeply, and she embodies what it means to be a young adult coming into her own in a world not made with her in mind. Though this book is marketed for adults, Mira is in her 20s, and I suspect YA readers looking for a good adult book that has a YA feel to it will dig this one.

 

 

Tigers, Not Daughters by Samantha Mabry

A clever twist on King Lear and Little Women, this story about four Latina sisters in San Antonio desperate to escape their home — one of patriarchal standards, oppression, and pain — is laced with a story of what it means to grieve tremendous loss. Lush and evocative, Mabry writes three achingly beautiful sisters, each dealing with the loss of their oldest sister Ana in a different way. Jessica, by trying to become Ana; Iridian, reading her sister’s books and attempting to write those stories; and Rosa, trying to connect deeply with the beating hearts of the living world of creatures around her. But Ana isn’t gone, not really. It’s her ghost which keeps the girls connected and fighting the power attempting to keep them down.

Readers who love Nova Ren Suma will love this, not only for the writing, but for the weaving of a ghost story with a story of sisterhood. This is a book about desire to escape but the pull — both chosen and not — that keeps girls tied to the places where they are. Fans of Mabry will see this as such a natural next book for her, as it is a “true” ghost story, as opposed to a story which toys with ghostly spirits in other ways.

There’s a clever subplot here about the escape of a wild animal, and the way it parallels the desire within the Tores sisters sings.

Many may not see this as a clear Lear retelling because it’s not. It subverts Lear, utilizing a line from the story “tigers, not daughters,” to catapult it to something else entirely. They’d make a fascinating pairing for study.

 

 

Turtle Under Ice by Juleah del Rosario

This absolute gem of a book fell totally off the radar this year and I really hope more people pick it up. It’s a brilliant portrayal of grief and sisterhood.

Ariana has disappeared. Her sister Row is first to discover this, but she can’t find any clues as to where she might be. Told in two voices in verse, this is a heart-felt story about grief and the ways it can manifest and emerge so differently for everyone.

When Row and Ariana’s stepmother loses her 12-week pregnancy, Ariana spirals into grief as the wounds of losing her mother six years prior — and being the person with her as she died. Row, too, finds sadness welling up inside her again, but she takes it out by turning deep into her love of soccer. For her, whenever she’s on the field, her mother is right there with her.

With the help of her friend Kennedy, Row begins to look for her sister, and it’s here we see the wells of her sadness emerge, particularly as Kennedy gets overbearing in relation to why it was she didn’t know Row’s stepmother had been pregnant.

Ariana’s voice is present in this story, though it’s told primarily through flashbacks. She’s hopped on a bus, and we know there’s a piece of artwork in her lap. A few stops in, a former best friend gets on the bus, and she begins to share the story of the dissolution of their once-close connection. Ariana wanted to be so mired in her grief she couldn’t understand that other people, including this friend named Alex, deal with their personal losses in different means.

Row finds Ariana, and the end of the book is a beautiful reflection of friendship, sisterhood, and the ways that loss and sadness can tie and unite people, as much as hurt and divide them. Rosario nails grief so perfectly, offering up the ways we can be cruel and isolating toward others, as much as the ways we can seek the comfort of a loved one through the things we cherish. For Ariana, it turns out, art is therapeutic in a way that she never anticipated until Row shares how much pouring herself into soccer has meant her mother is with her always.

The verse is well written and the story is tightly told over a period of less than a single day. But within that day, we see a large expanse of life for both Row and Ariana. Both are girls of color who are part Filipino, and their ethnicity is something that furthers the power of exploring grief here — it’s not something palatable, clean, easy, and consumable like the white media and “research” suggests it should be.

This one hit me in some tender places, as I deal with a big loss in my own life. I felt both girls’ pains deeply and saw their methods of working through it as part of my own, too. This is a quick read, but it is in no way a slight one.

 

Watch Over Me by Nina LaCour

I’ve been meaning to write more about this book, as well as Mabry’s, and how these types of ghost stories are far more about the ghosts we carry inside ourselves than about the ghosts outside us. It’s a concept I cannot get enough of and one reason I love ghost stories so deeply.

No one writes loneliness and grief quite like Nina LaCour. This book is about the ghosts we live with in our minds, the ghosts of our bodies and past selves, and what it takes to piece together each part of us so we may find the true whole of who we are.

Mina’s grief is palpable, as is her desire to find peace with the decisions she’s made in her life that lead her to where she is. It’s a book about loss, but it’s equally a book about finding and being found, both by others and yourself.

Moving and thoughtful. This has ghosts in it, but they’re ghosts of the past and the present, as opposed to ghosts out for vengeance. LaCour carefully balances realism with the otherworldly in a way that packs a punch.

Quiet but immensely powerful. There is an older protagonist in this one — Mina is 19, and she doesn’t go to college — and there’s no romance, for readers who seek those things out in their reading.

 

We Ride Upon Sticks by Quan Barry

I almost feel bad about how frequently I’ve recommended Barry’s book this year and yet, I don’t feel bad because it’s such a delightful romp of a read. It’s adult but has tremendous teen appeal and plays out a bit like the movie Now and Then insomuch that it’s adults reflecting upon their high school experience.

The story follows a team of field hockey players in Danvers, Massachusetts, who believe they’re imbued with the power of witchcraft as bestowed upon them by Emilio Estevez. Each of the main characters tells one of the chapters from a third person POV, and it all rounds back to the team revisiting one another on their hallowed ground 30 years later.

Inclusive, soaked in late-80s pop culture references, and downright hilarious at times, this is also a surprisingly thoughtful story of the power of being a teen girl, the ways our society has shifted in the last 30 years, and what it means to make your own type of power.

Here’s just a peek at the kind of humor to expect: there are two rabbits in the story, and their names are Marilyn Bunroe and Luke Skyhopper.

 

 

Now tell me: what were your favorite books of 2020? 

My Favorite Books of 2019

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I’m so glad I didn’t write my favorite books post earlier this month because one of my favorite reads came very recently. I’m glad I don’t have to skip including it, since it’s one that got a bit of buzz but maybe not as much as it should, and certainly not in the format I read it. I’ve listened to a significant number of audiobooks this year, and while some of my favorite audio titles will be included here, I’ll pull together a list next week with some of my favorite listens of 2019.

This list includes books I read this year which published this year. I read a lot of back list titles, especially in audio, but I wanted to put the spotlight on the newer titles. My final tally on books will likely be in the neighborhood of 190, which is about what my reading averages tend to be every year. These are in alphabetical order by title and cover a little bit of everything: YA, literary fiction, and nonfiction.

I could have easily doubled this list, but I limited myself to just ten.

Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking The Stress Cycle by Emily and Amelia Nagoski

If there’s one book I recommended more than any other in 2019, it was this one. I listened to it on audio and while I cannot recommend that experience enough — these sisters are so great at performing their work! — I think this is a book I’ll go back and purchase in print because I want to be able to reference it.

Let me begin by saying that, if you know anything about how stress works on the body, you won’t be surprised at the information in this book. But it’s the way the Nagoskis are able to explain why we need to have a release of our stress to complete the cycle that makes this book so good. We always hear that when we’re stressed, we should work out. Yes, we should, but the why is lost in that. The Nagoskis give the why.

The book really digs into the importance of rest, as well. Resting allows our brains to do a ton of work. I was kind of blown away by the fact we’re to rest 40% of our days, but when they break down what that entails, it’s really not that challenging (they are good about the caveats, of course).

The chapter on the “bikini industrial complex” and about how women choosing to be liberated from body hatred is so good. It’s not about body love or acceptance, which is something I really dislike. You can’t go from one extreme to the other without whiplash, and frankly, it’s just not realistic. But they offer up ways to think about having and operating within a human body that are really worthwhile. As someone who cares deeply about body stuff, I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear the history of some of the medically-ingrained biases, and yet, I still was.

The Honey Bus: A Memoir of Loss, Courage, and A Girl Saved By Bees by Meredith May

I think about this book almost daily.

May’s memoir is about growing up in a dysfunctional series of homes and how she came to find beekeeping a way of not only working through her familial challenges but also as a means of finding hope.

When she was young, May’s parents went through a messy divorce following her mother’s outbursts and abuse toward her father. Her mother took her and her brother from their home in Rhode Island to the home of her grandparents in Big Sur, California. Mom disappeared into herself, leaving May and her brother to grow up under the watch of a demanding and unfriendly grandmother and a man that they only ever know as their grandfather — a kind, generous, loving man who had a penchant for beekeeping and encouraged May to join him while he taught her about the ins and outs of the honeybees. This man was not May’s grandfather by blood though; he was a step-grandfather, and the discovery of this unravels into the history of abuse that plagued her family for generations. May’s father never quite reemerges except for one excellent trip back to Rhode Island for her, and her mother becomes more abusive toward her as she grows up. There is a lot of fear and anger throughout the story, but it’s tempered beautifully with the magic of bees and May’s grandfather.

We can’t rank dysfunction, but the level of fear and terror in this memoir isn’t as pronounced as EDUCATED or THE GLASS CASTLE, but readers who find those books to be captivating will find this to be one worth picking up. May’s writing is stunning, and her passion for bees comes through, both in her own voice and in the voice of that unbelievable grandfather in her life.

I grew up in a family that, although not like May’s, was one where I found myself close with my grandfather, too, so this one hit home in a lot of ways. It’s a lovely homage to the people in our lives who give us hope and love, even when we don’t know we need it. Likewise, the naturalist aspects of beekeeping and the incredible power bees have in the world made this bee-lover satisfied. The bulk of this book happens during May’s childhood and teenage years, so it’s totally appropriate for teens who eat up these kinds of true life stories.

Nothing To See Here by Kevin Wilson

This book absolutely surprised me, and it’s the one I referenced above. I didn’t read it until this month and was blown away by it — and this is one I could not stop listening to on audio, with great credit to Marin Ireland’s performance and spot-on southern accent.

Lillian and Madison went to a private high school together for a short period of time, and when Madison was caught with drugs, Lillian took the fall. She was kicked out of the school, and it further cemented to her what it meant when someone has financial privilege and when someone else doesn’t (she doesn’t). Years later, when Madison offers her a job and security, Lillian takes the opportunity because she wants to get out of the rut that her life has been in since she was young.

That job? Taking care of the children from Madison’s husband’s first marriage. His ex-wife has died, and since he’s running for political office, he needs to present a certain image that those kids don’t project.

Those kids start on fire.

Though this is a book about fire kids (what a hook!), it’s really about class and what privilege can do. It’s also a book about friendship and family, and Lillian is such a complex, compelling, and easy-to-love character, even when she gets prickly. The children are well-drawn and way more than simply kids who have a condition that causes them to become engulfed in flames. It’s heartening, it’s sad, and it’s also quite funny.

The Revolution of Birdie Randolph by Brandy Colbert

My new tradition to begin every year is to start with a Brandy Colbert book, and I love how even 12 months later, they’re on my mind. It makes me sad that this book seems to have fallen off many reader radars, as it’s maybe her strongest work yet. This is a book about following the rules and breaking them, as well as a book about the family we’re born into and the families that we make along the way.

Birdie’s aunt shows up at her family’s apartment right before the summer begins, and that’s when everything changes; it’s at this same time Birdie is secretly dating a boy she knows her very strict, proper parents wouldn’t like. Despite never pushing boundaries before, these two new people in her life encourage her to take some chances and learn some lessons she never would have on her own.

Colbert depicts her aunt Carlene’s alcoholism with tenderness and offers up the whole range of emotions people experience both as those who are addicts and those who are friends and family of addicts. There is support, but there is also caution exercised around Carlene that showcase hope for her to find recovery but also experience in knowing that this is a disease that is challenging to manage.

The Chicago setting is vibrant and real, and isn’t also afraid to highlight the racial challenges within the city, in terms of violence, racism, and bigotry, and the places and spaces where those do and don’t overlap.

Also handled really fabulously is anger and anger management, recovery from trauma and what that does and doesn’t look like, and it offers such a refreshing perspective on teens, especially teens of color, who’ve been in the juvenile justice system.

The Saturday Night Ghost Club by Craig Davidson

This little book was an absolute surprise to me when I read it, and like the others on this list, it comes back into my mind frequently. Note that in discussing this title, I’ve included the spoiler because that’s ultimately what made this one stand out.

Jake Breaker is a neurosurgeon and he knows how complex the brain can be. The story begins with him talking about the delicacy involved in surgery, and it weaves in the history of one summer in his youth in 1980s Niagara Falls, Canada. He’s been the victim of a vicious bully, which puts him in contact with Billy, the Metis boy who becomes a long-time friend. Over the course of the summer, Jake and Billy, as well as Billy’s older sister Dove (who struggles with bipolar disorder) become close to Jake’s eccentric uncle Cal, who runs an occult store in their small town. Cal suggests that they create a weekly ghost club, taking the lead on treating and terrorizing his nephew and nephew’s friends to stories of the ghosts that haunt their small town. The stories are horrific, though they’re far more about loss and sadness than they are about being scared. They’re stories of death, of people gone missing, of the relics of lives that never got to become what they were meant to be.

But one night, Jake learns that everything his uncle has taught him is simply reconstructed memories from Cal’s own horrific experiencing of losing his wife and unborn child. Cal, who has no recollection of these things, believes these to be ghost stories and not the facts of his own life. Jake wrestles with knowing the truth, both at his youthful age and now, as a neurosurgeon reflecting upon that summer which changed everything he thought he knew.

It’s heartbreaking and heartwarming, as it’s a story about love and loss and the things that we do when we’ve experienced tremendous pains and powerful highs. It’s a short story but one that packs a punch. For readers who are put off by horror, this would make an excellent read in the genre, and the comparisons to Stranger Things and Stand By Me are excellent. It reminded me, too, of the children’s sections of Stephen King’s It, minus Pennywise. This has some great crossover appeal — which isn’t surprising, given that Davidson’s other writing alias has become a Canadian horror writer with huge appeal to teen readers. Gorgeous, poetic, nostalgic writing.

Thirteen Doorways, Wolves Behind Them All by Laura Ruby

I’m not going to talk about this one in depth, in part because I wrote a whole piece about this book over on Book Riot. It’s a tragedy that it did not take home the National Book Award (I don’t think it’s fair to compare books, but I also read 1919, this year’s winner, and I had a number of issues with it that made me wonder why that was the ultimate winner). This was also one of Kimberly’s favorites of the year.

One of the things I started doing this year was dedicating one day a week to writing dates with fellow author Alyssa Wees (her The Waking Forest is a fabulous dark fairy tale, a la Pan’s Labyrinth). As soon as I finished Ruby’s book, I told Alyssa she needed to read it ASAP because I knew she’d love it. I wasn’t wrong, and we spent one of our two-hour dates raving about it.

 

 

Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino

I never would have picked this book up or become an impassioned fan of Tolentino’s writing were it not for a friend who told me to pick this one up and read the first essay about Twitter, since it’d likely articulate a lot of feelings I had about the platform after I chose to leave it. She was right. But more than that, this entire book was an outstanding, challenging, and thoughtful exploration of a number of social and cultural phenomenon explored through the lens of a millennial feminist of color. I told everyone I could to read it, and nearly every one of them also put this book on their favorites list this year. This is a book of meaty, challenging essays that takes time. I read it over the course of months.

I selected this book as my favorite for Book Riot’s Best Books roundup this year. Here’s the short blip I wrote: “Tolentino’s debut essay collection sinks its teeth deep into what it means to be a Millennial in today’s capitalist, hustle-focused culture. Whether it’s Twitter, athleisure, $12 salad lunches consumed at one’s work desk, weddings, or reality TV, each piece shines a feminist lens on what they mean on both the micro and the macro level. Meticulous and critical, Tolentino’s essays challenge readers to think deeply and broadly. This collection is humorous and erudite and offers a sense of relief to fellow Millennials feeling over and under whelmed with the current state of the world.”

We Set The Dark On Fire by Tehlor Kay Mejia

The only thing I did not love about this book was that I was half-way through before realizing it was a duology. I felt like salt was added to this wound when I got a package from the publisher not too long ago and there was a publicity one-sheet for the second book but the book itself wasn’t actually in the package (I have it now!).

On the Island, there are the privileged and those who aren’t privileged. But, if you play the system a bit, you can rise above your status and become an elite. This is what happened to Dani, whose parents sacrificed everything for her to attend the Medio School for Girls, where she trained to become a Primera, one of the two wives a man of status takes. She keeps her status as a lower-than-low class girl quiet, and she regrets ever telling Carmen when she believed them to be friends years earlier.

So when Carmen is named the Segunda to her Primera for one of the most powerful men in the country, Dani panics. Can she trust her? How awful will it be living her life with Carmen and this boy forever?

But Dani had been offered something she couldn’t refuse just before the marriage. And it sets her up on a course as a spy from inside the grounds of her new home and not only does it mean defying all of the social mores of her elite status, but it means choosing loyalties. It also means she has to decide whether to harm another girl to get what she needs. Carmen, too, seems to becoming closer and closer to her, too, and Dani becomes more paranoid she’s the target of a ruse.

There’s no secret this book is super queer, and it’s pretty evident from early on who will fall for who. It isn’t a surprise — and it’s really a wonderful relationship. Mejia develops full, round female characters who are caught up in a patriarchal system and choosing to act as they do to not only better themselves, but to also better their sisters. And more, this is a book about class, about borders, and about why it is the elite hate those who are of a lower class than them. It’s about resistance, about power, and about using your voice and your status to make the world better, as opposed to worse.

Compelling, immersive, and beautifully written, this book is feminist as hell, it’s a book that would be perfect to hand to readers who are not necessarily fantasy readers, and those who enjoy mythology, stories of taking down power, and the dynamics of female relationships as they exist in a world meant to keep girls as enemies, rather than as friends or lovers.

We Speak in Storms by Natalie Lund

Genre-blending books — particularly those which blend ghost stories with contemporary stories — have stood out to me this year. Lund’s debut checked literally every box I have when it comes to books that are catnip for me: it’s about tornadoes, about ghosts, small midwestern towns, and it’s set about 20 miles from where I live (not a necessity, but a bonus, as I could picture so many of these places and could read up on the history of the real events that inspired the book).

Fifty years after Mercer’s infamous, deadly tornado, another tornado rolls through, waking the ghosts of those who died in the first storm. The ghosts become close companions to Callie — currently losing her mother and so much of her stability to cancer; to Joshua — coming out as gay, in a fat body, with a stepfather who won’t accept him at all; and to Brenna — struggling post-breakup to reconcile her Latina heritage with her current life with a single mother in a small town where she’s one of a mere handful of people of color.

Their voices are interwoven with the ghosts, which speak like a Greek chorus.

The language is lush, imagery evocative, and the characters are all rich. This reminded me so much of Jenna Blum’s The Stormchasers, another book I absolutely loved.

Who Put This Song On? by Morgan Parker

If there’s a book I can point to on this list and say it was wildly overlooked. . . I could point to a lot, actually. But Parker’s debut YA novel may be at the very top. This book is one of the best depictions of depression and anxiety I’ve read, and it’s especially noteworthy that Morgan, the main character who is based on Morgan the author, is black, as her mental illnesses intersect directly with her experiences being black.

By turns funny and heartbreaking, this book is a slice of life into Morgan’s ups and downs in her conservative Christian school and very white suburban southern California youth. She doesn’t apologize for her experiences, nor feel the need to make excuses for them. She struggles, and it’s honest.

Morgan’s faith plays a big role in the story. She wants to believe in Christianity, but wrestles with what some of the teachings say and how they go against her own beliefs. It’s neatly juxtaposed with how she lays into being an emo kid, despite the fact she is the antithesis of what people believe an “emo” kid to be — white, sad, and covered in eyeliner. She instead loves herself some vintage fashion, is black, and just enjoys (as much as she can!) feeling her feelings to intense music.

One of the criticisms I’ve seen of this book is the thing that makes this such a REAL depiction of depression: Morgan isn’t likable all the time, and she’s not sympathetic all the time. Depression does this. It makes you a monster, even though deep down, you’re hoping to be anything but; we see this tension tugging at Morgan page after page.

The climax of the book is a moment where Morgan puts on a public art performance/activist project and it’s one that really seals the way her mental illness intersects with her blackness, as well as the history of black activism in the United States.

This is one of those books you’ve got to also read through the author’s note and resources. Those are as vital to the story — to Morgan — as every other chapter in the book.

Best of 2019

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As of this writing, I’ve read 88 books in 2019. This year, most of my reading was once again done via audiobook, but it trended toward more adult fiction and nonfiction than it has in the past. This is a list of my top seven reads of 2019, in no particular order.

Thirteen Doorways, Wolves Behind Them All by Laura Ruby

I didn’t write an official review for this one, but I loved its 1930s Chicago setting, its dual points of view (one living, one not), and how the many different story threads Ruby wove came together in the end. Check out Kelly’s review at Book Riot for a personal and moving account of this lovely book.

 

 

 

Birthday by Meredith Russo

The only strictly contemporary realistic novel to make my list, Russo’s sophomore novel is something special. It’s got a great hook: two friends are born on the same day in the same hospital, and each chapter tells of their birthday from 12-18. It’s a friendship story and a romance and, above all, a story about loving people for who they are. It’s a supremely hopeful book that centers a trans teenage girl, and if you loved If I Was Your Girl, you may love this one even more.

 

 

Recursion by Blake Crouch

As I approached the end of this book, the tension was so high that I had to get up and walk around, the book held open in my hands as I paced in the kitchen. I loved Dark Matter, but Recursion is on a whole other level. It’s a fantastic science fiction thriller for adults that plays with time in a completely unique way. It’s one of those books where so much is going on, and at such a breakneck pace, that a reader may wonder how the author is going to pull it all together – and yet Crouch does in such a satisfying and surprising way. It’s also a deeply thoughtful book, more so than Dark Matter was, and really pushes at the concept of changing the past and what the ultimate consequences would be. I loved this book so much I read it in a single day.

 

Fireborne by Rosaria Munda

You know I really love a book when my review of it is this long. This is a YA high fantasy based on Plato’s Republic that features dragon riding and dragon fighting, but still manages to feel fresh and unique. It’s about the aftermath of a revolution, and how we build a new, more just society – if that’s even possible. It features two very different leads with different goals but equally impossible choices. It’s full of magic and political intrigue and twists you won’t see coming. You will read this book with your heart in your throat.

 

 

American Kingpin: The Hunt for the Criminal Mastermind Behind the Silk Road by Nick Bilton

This year, I discovered a love for true stories about white collar criminals who get busted. This one – about Ross Ulbricht, the 26 year old founder of the Silk Road, a site on the dark web that took advantage of the burgeoning cryptocurrency market to sell illegal drugs, guns, and a myriad of other unsavory things (including murder) – was particularly intriguing to me because Ulbricht grew up in Austin, so I recognized a lot of the references. Bilton connects the dots for his readers, making what could have been an overly complicated tale about a criminal investigation easy to understand, and tells a truly thrilling story (with a happy ending).

 

Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup by John Carreyrou

This was the other white collar criminal book I read in 2019 that really fascinated me. I knew very little of what Elizabeth Holmes and Theranos actually did and hadn’t paid much attention to the whole saga while it was ongoing, as big news about medical technology wouldn’t have naturally caught my interest. But Holmes’ story is fascinating, and like Ulbricht’s, demonstrates just how easy it was for these young egotistic criminals to get away with really terrible things for a very long time – and do it in plain view.

 

The Turn of the Key by Ruth Ware

Ruth Ware is one of my favorite writers, and is definitely my current favorite mystery writer. Her latest is a reworking of The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, complete with a truly creepy setting in a fancy technology-forward smart house gone wrong. Unlike Ware’s previous books, I’d say this one is a bit more of a thriller than a mystery, but I still raced eagerly to the end to see if I was right about whodunnit. And as is usual, Ware still got me with one major twist halfway through.

 

Top 10 Reads of 2018

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My annual Goodreads goal is 100 books, which I normally hit with no problem. Alas, this year was an off year for me in terms of pure numbers. By the end of the day on December 31, I estimate I’ll have read 80 books total. Still, my 2018 reading year was full of really great stuff. Here, in no particular order, are the ten titles I loved best, the ones that most affected me and that I find myself recommending to friends, family, and library patrons over and over again.

Books for Teens

Blood Water Paint by Joy McCullough

McCullough’s debut novel is about Artemisia Gentileschi, a real painter from 17th century Rome who was raped as a teenager by a painter her father hired to tutor her. She  chose to prosecute her rapist, participating in the trial – an even more rare and difficult thing then than it is now. The transcripts of the trial survive to this day. Blood Water Paint is mainly a verse novel, but McCullough skillfully threads prose sections featuring Artemisia’s mother, who died when she was a small child, telling her the stories of Biblical heroines Susannah and and Judith throughout. The real Artemisia painted these two women many times, in ways that show their strength and autonomy rather than their victimhood or vulnerability. The technique is successful, placing Artemisia in a context where she believes she, too, can choose to embrace her power where she can find it.

The book is not all about the rape, though. It’s also about art, specifically painting, and about Rome in the 1600s and how women and girls navigated the limited paths available to them. Artemisia’s voice is young, sometimes naive, but never oblivious. She’s intelligent, angry, unsure, and enormously talented. McCullough never makes her too “modern;” she was really as remarkable as the book makes her out to be. McCullough’s verse is a just reflection of Artemisia’s artistic ability: technically excellent, expressive, and innovative. Readers who finish the book wondering what happened to Artemisia afterward will be happy to know that she lived a long time, that she continued to paint, and that her work hangs in museums all over the world.

 

The Astonishing Color of After by Emily X. R. Pan

This book is so good, it’s the only title that can be found on both my and Kelly’s lists. I loved Pan’s writing, which is so lovely and lyrical and literary without becoming so dense that it’s a struggle to read. Her protagonist Leigh’s story of grief, infused with magical realism amidst her search for family and identity, is beautifully drawn. This is a thick book that flies by, a good crossover pick for literary-minded teens who don’t normally read genre fiction and vice versa.

 

 

The Place Between Breaths by An Na

An Na’s book is an example of the idea that the shorter a novel is, the more difficult it can be to unpack. The Place Between Breaths has a lot in common with The Astonishing Color of After on the surface: it’s about a mother with mental illness who disappeared or died, and the daughter left behind to heal. Na’s protagonist, Grace, helps her father in his work at a lab that’s dedicated to finding a cure for schizophrenia, the illness that took her mother away from her. But the story is also about a lot more, and it’s told by Na in pieces, out of order, from contradictory perspectives that require the reader to re-read and puzzle things out. The book’s structure is meant to be a reflection of the illness itself, and while I don’t have any personal ties to anyone with schizophrenia (that I know of), the feedback I’ve received from readers who do have the disease is positive. This is a book for someone who likes a challenging read, one that will surprise them and move them in equal measure.

 

Mirage by Somaiya Daud

I loved so much about this book: the irresistible hook (a girl from a conquered people is taken prisoner to be the body double of a hated princess), Daud’s lovely writing, the gradual deepening of the relationship between protagonist Amani and the princess Maram, the Moroccan-inspired setting in space and Amani’s people’s culture (clearly drawn from Daud’s own experiences but still unique to this story). It manages to be an exciting story that also tackles big themes of the evils of colonization and the possibility of redemption and change. And that cover is a stunner.

 

Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer

When it comes to horror, I’m much more likely to read books for teens than adults. I’m a bit squeamish (no horror movies for me at all!), and I find that YA horror novels usually have the right amount of scares for me. Rebecca Schaeffer did her best to prove me wrong – Not Even Bones is pretty gruesome, and it doesn’t shy away from describing in detail its setting of a market that sells body parts of unnaturals (humanoids with special abilities) and how those body parts are removed from and then used. The book is essentially an escape plot as our protagonist, Nita, finds herself imprisoned, awaiting sale in the market after freeing an unnatural her mother had planned to kill and sell for parts. I loved the relationship between Nita and her sometimes-ally Kovit, an unnatural who must eat human pain in order to survive. The plot is tense and exciting, with a fantastic twist near the end. Read my full review here.

 

Give the Dark My Love by Beth Revis

Revis’ book, a fantasy about an alchemist-in-training named Nedra who desperately searches for a cure to a wasting plague that is decimating her homeland, is a meditation on grief, and it’s heartbreaking and tragic and beautiful. Her writing is gorgeously mournful, telling the story of a good person’s descent into darkness in the midst of almost unbearable pain. Good speculative fiction always functions as a metaphor for things that are real, and Give the Dark My Love is a prime example of this. We as readers follow Nedra’s journey from hardworking girl with a purpose into obsession and finally into a darkness from which she cannot return. All the while, she is propelled by something very real and very human that affects all of us. Revis’ writing is such that we feel everything right alongside Nedra – and alongside Revis herself. Don’t skip reading her acknowledgments at the end. Read my full review here.

 

Black Wings Beating by Alex London

I loved this fantasy about a culture that reveres falconry and birds of prey and the pair of twins caught up in a treacherous quest to capture the Ghost Eagle, the most majestic and valuable bird of all. Their quest is fraught with many different dangers: a matriarchal society of Owl Mothers that live in the mountain they must traverse who want the twins for their own purposes; the de facto rulers of their town who threaten them with death if they fail in their quest; a warring sect of religious killers who intend harm upon anyone who worships the birds; and more. The relationship between the twins, a brother and sister who are very different from each other but are bonded by love and common experience, is well-wrought, as is the culture that has developed around the birds, whom readers will come to respect almost as much as the characters in the story. Read my full review here.

 

 

Books for Adults

The Death of Mrs. Westaway by Ruth Ware

Ruth Ware has published four books so far, and she’s yet to write a dud. Her mysteries are nail-biting thrillers with compelling characters and twists I almost never see coming. The Death of Mrs. Westaway, her most recent, might be my favorite of hers to date. It’s about a woman, Hal, who receives a letter in the mail stating that her grandmother has died, and she is to report to her grandmother’s house to learn what she’s inherited, along with her other relatives. The only problem is, Hal knows that she’s not the intended recipient of the letter; it’s an unfortunate mistake due to a mix-up with the names. But Hal is desperate, unable to make ends meet on her own, and decides to impersonate this other person and see if she can claim the money after all.

Ware’s latest requires a lot of careful thought on the part of the reader. One main plot point relies heavily on the way certain things are said by certain people, and judging from some of the Goodreads reviews, it threw a lot of readers for a loop, and they’re still trying to puzzle it out. But for the careful reader, one who is perhaps willing to flip back and analyze and try to figure things out on her own as she reads, this is a real treat. I recommend this for fans of intricately-plotted mysteries.

 

The Looming Tower by Lawrence Wright

Lawrence Wright published this in 2006, five years after the September 11, 2001 attacks on the United States. I was a teenager when the attacks happened and in college when the book was published; at the time, the whole event was so awful for me, I avoided most mentions of it for years aside from very surface-level mainstream news sources: brief reports on nightly news, headlines on CNN. But this is not a great way to learn about any topic with any sort of depth or nuance, particularly one so important and world-changing as 9/11. Seventeen years later, I found myself able and willing to read Wright’s book, the standard-bearer in scholarship on 9/11 and a very readable, challenging, and even fascinating book. I read this on audiobook, which Wright himself narrates, and he does a good job. I got the sense that he was telling me the story of 9/11 as he wrote it, as he discovered it, and it drives home just how much the United States government and its various intelligence agencies knew, how inadequate the attempts were to prevent such an attack (when the focus was on it at all), how much misinformation was spread afterward, and how catastrophic the United States’ response was. This should be required reading for all Americans.

 

The Salt Line by Holly Goddard Jones

Ever since I read Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, I’ve been on the hunt for a great literary sci-fi novel that matches it. While The Salt Line doesn’t quite measure up, it comes close. Jones is a master of the ensemble novel format. She gives multiple characters their own third-person points of view, engendering sympathy on the part of the reader even for those characters who are hard to like or commit detestable acts. She’s interested in the themes of parenthood or the lack thereof (motherhood most strongly, but fatherhood as well), as most of the characters’ motivations involve their children or their desire to not have children, as well as surrogate parent-child bonds. As someone who isn’t particularly interested in having children myself, I liked the focus Jones placed on one character’s decision to not have kids. This character’s reasons go beyond the stereotypical and dig into themes of sacrifice and how a person claims ownership of her life. It’s rare to find a book that treats lack of motherhood as an equally fulfilling avenue for its female characters.

 

12 Of My Favorite Books of 2018

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I read an unbelievable amount of great books this year. As I begin brainstorming this post of favorites from 2018, I’m at nearly 200 books read. Engaging in audiobook listening, which I wrote about earlier this year, really added more reading to my life, especially in the way of adult nonfiction. Winnowing down my favorites from this year was a challenge because the more I read, the more I’m better able to only read books I suspect I’m going to like. At the end of the year, having enjoyed nearly 200 books? Makes picking just a few really tough.

My criteria for favorites isn’t scientific or brilliant. Rather, these are books that stood out to me for one reason or another and that I wanted to highlight as ones worth remembering as among my best reads. I’ve stuck to books published this year, since I could easily add dozens more when I look at backlist titles I read this year.

Along with audiobooks playing a significant part in my reading life this year, I’ve once again utilized the amazing spreadsheet one of my Book Riot colleagues created. This allowed me to really see the landscape of my reading life in new and useful ways. I don’t use every functionality it offers, choosing instead to customize and pay attention to the things that matter most to me. I also make a lot of notes in the final column, especially in regards to interesting aspects of a book that wouldn’t mean much in a review but could be useful for me in writing or recommending specific titles for readers.

Some of the notes below are ones I shared on Goodreads while others are fresh, reflective insights months after finishing the books. Some are longer, some are shorter, but all of these books are ones that I’ll remember as highlights from my 2018 year in reading.

 

All That I Can Fix by Crystal Chan

Ronney is 15, and he’s got a lot of baggage to carry around. While he loves his family — his little sister in particular — he’s utterly frustrated and angry with his father. His father attempted suicide two years ago, and since, everyone in the family has carried the weight of what they saw in the aftermath. Father doesn’t work and rarely leaves home. It looks like he’s not moving forward at all.

Then there’s Ronney’s best friends George and Jello. Turns out, even though Ronney has a little bit of a crush on George, she’s been secretly dating Jello. Both have been lying to Ronney about this.

And then there’s the kid who is stalking him. Begging for his jeans. What young kid follows you and begs for your jeans? It’s one of Mina’s friends, whose older brother went missing. Those jeans? They’re the product of his family sending everything of his brother’s to the resale shop. Ronney and the boy develop a bond, despite Ronney’s best efforts not to. The goal? Find Nick, the older brother, who had an alcohol problem and ran away from home to avoid an abusive father.

That’s not everything though.

A backyard zoo full of animals escaped during a major storm, and cheetahs, camels, pythons, and more are on the loose. Oh, and then the gun control advocates and gun rights advocates are in town, too. Each jockeying for stage during this animal outbreak.

In many ways, this book reminded me of John Corey Whaley’s Where Things Come Back. But the voice in this book is really what stands out. Ronney is full of love and compassion, but he’s also very angry and very hurt by those he cares most about. He’s young and carrying so much pain inside him that it’s impossible not to understand where his attitude and behaviors come from. But at the same time, it’s impossible not to want to shake him and tell him let go and move on.

What resonated most for me was the way this book looks at depression from the point of view of an outsiders. Ronney is angry with his dad and doesn’t understand why he doesn’t “do” anything. Why he tried to hurt his family. Meanwhile, in the moments when we see dad, we’re given insight into how hard he really is trying to be better. Even when he can’t be because his illness is in charge.

There is a lot of smart and at times snarky commentary about race, about small town life, and about the current political climate throughout the book, but it’s all written in a way a 15-year-old boy would look at those things. More, Ronney’s feelings about relationships and romance are all spot on, and they serve as a nice contrast to those big-picture challenges.

 

 

The Astonishing Color of After by Emily XR Pan

There is not a single thing in this book I did not love. The lush writing. The use of color. The exploration of family secrets and stories. Of culture. Or belief.

But the thing that hit hardest was the way depression is rendered. This is a book about grief in the wake of suicide that comes from a depressive episode (or series of them, in this instance). There is no “reason” here. There’s no boogeyman moment, wherein we get the why of suicide. Rather, we’re forced, like Leigh is, to wrestle with the lack of answers. We’re forced to understand not everything makes sense. That magical thinking is both a good thing — when it can help you work through grief, when it can help you find the things you’re looking for, the dreams you want to achieve — and a bad thing — when you believe what it is your brain tells you about your worth and value.

I’m going to hold on to this for a long, long time. One of the best YA books I’ve read this year, and certainly one of the best I’ve read in a long time. Perfect for fans of Nova Ren Suma or Laura Ruby. Our main character is a Taiwanese/Chinese American girl, and her story involves a trip to Taiwan to meet her grandparents for the first time.

But it is so, so much more than that.

 

Creative Quest by Questlove

I listened to this title on audiobook after poring over it in a local Barnes & Noble. I didn’t buy it in print that day, choosing instead to pick up a few other books. But I used my audible credit to try it on audio and frankly, that was the better decision.

This is a book about creativity, and the way it was performed aurally was outstanding. It was a piece of art. It takes risks and chances, which is one of the key takeaways of the book. It’s okay to try and to fail and to try without any end goal in mind.

So what’s it about? It’s about the creative process. About how there’s no single way to get it right when it comes to being creative. It’s about the ways famous and less-famous creatives have worked, have thrived, and have had down times. It’s inspiring and heartening, and it’s the kind of book that actually encourages, rather than discourages, since there thrust of the book is that there’s no one way to get it right. Too many books about creativity and art focus on what works and how to work that way for maximum productivity. This one isn’t that — it’s about the ugly stuff, too.

I know little about Questlove, and that didn’t matter one bit. He shares pieces of his own experiences that makes his story universal, regardless of the level of success or talent towards which one may aim.

 

Dare To Lead by Brene Brown

Brown is one of the best thinkers on leadership and confidence, and this book is no different. There are strategies here for being a better person, for developing empathy (which is a wonderfully deep section in the book — a lengthy discussion of empathy vs. sympathy helps conceptually define the two ideas and showcases actions that define each). I’m a big believer that part of success comes from understanding people are people, and Brown’s big mantra throughout the book is “people, people, people.” Everyone has a story and everyone’s minds make up stories to help them get through the day. When we remember this simple thing, it becomes easier to be a leader and to be an advocate for what it is you want, what you need, and where you fit into the grander scheme of your life. Because this book isn’t about leadership in organizations only; sure that’s there. But it’s a book about being a leader in your life and showing up, day after day, for yourself.

Maybe my favorite of hers so far. It incorporates a lot of what research she did in previous books but adds even more depth to them. I also enjoyed being reminded to reconsider what my core values are and I’m itching to get into her worksheets to suss those out. We all operate from a set (and yes, SET) of core values and when we can remember them, we can show up for ourselves again and again.

Brown reads the audio and performs it less like a stiff reader and more like she’s giving a TED talk or having a conversation with a group of people in an organization. There are good breaks and laughs, and I just really like hearing these ideas and seeing what sticks from the verbal explanation. I’m eager to revisit this in a year or so in print and read it with pen in hand.

 

 

Darius The Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram

Perhaps the closest novel I’ve read which captures my own feelings and experiences living with depression. But even more than that: this book is just freaking great.

Darius has always felt like the wrong piece of a puzzle. His dad is white and not like him at all. His mom is Iranian, but she’s fair skinned and doesn’t “look” Persian. Though he doesn’t look like his heritage, Darius is an outsider because people know he’s “not like them” in his Portland school. When his mother’s dad is nearing the end of his life, the family chooses to take a trip to Iran to reconnect. And it’s here where Darius really comes to understand he is an important piece of the puzzle in her family, in his community, and in the bigger world. Sohrab, the new friend-more-than-a-friend Darius makes in Iran, calls this what translates from Farsi into “your place was empty,” and that sentiment really resonated not only for Darius and his place in the world, but also, his place inside himself.

The relationship that develops between Darius and Sohrab is powerful and moving. It’s a best friendship, but it’s also something more. It’s not a physical romance, but there’s absolutely an emotionally romantic part of it for both of them, even if we only see it through Darius’s eyes. It was hard not to root for them through and through.

This book reminded me of a blend of Here to Stay and All That I Can Fix — two excellent books out this year that deal with race and culture, as well as feeling like an odd shaped puzzle piece (and ATICF also takes on mental illness and the way it can challenge a father/son relationship, while HTS has a similar flavor of humor as this title).

An outstanding read and unbelievable debut novel. Can’t wait for more from Khorram.

 

Devils Unto Dust by Emma Berquist

This book ticked every one of my boxes by description and then delivered on each.

Set in west Texas in 1877, the story follows Willie (real name: Daisy, but that’s too dainty for her) as she has to find her father, as he’s stolen a load of money from McAlister. McAlister promises revenge if that money is not returned.

The thing is: no one steps out of Glory alone. Outside of the gates are the shakes. The shakes are hungry, vicious, and will turn you into one of them in an instant. Willie has little money, but needs to hire herself a hunter to help her track down her father in another town. Enter the Garrett brothers.

Willie leaves behind her brother and twin brother and sister as she goes, but not for long. Micah can’t stand the idea of her venturing alone, even with the hunters, and he, along with neighbor Sam, catch up with the crew on the journey.

Enter the shakes.

Berquist’s first novel is the perfect blend of western and horror. The pitch “True Grit” meets “28 Days Later” is absolutely spot on. From page one, I was riveted and loved the entire arc of Willie’s story and character. The exploration of grief and guilt is thoughtful and thought-provoking, particularly as Willie sees herself to blame for a lot of the mess that occurs. Saying more would be a spoiler, of course.

The writing is pitch perfect, with descriptions of desolation in the desert palpable. Every minute I was not reading this, I was thinking about it and thinking about Willie.

Bonus: there is not a romance in this book. Sure, there’s a kinship that emerges between Sam and Willie at the end, but we know nothing more will be coming of it.

And then there’s what happens when they find Pa and ask him what happened to that money. And what happens when they return to Glory to face McAlister again.

Mega appeal to fans of westerns, of zombie stories, and to books that are fast paced and action-packed (but without making your head spin). The 500 pages speed by, and it’s a stand alone, perfectly contained read.

 

Dream Country by Shannon Gibney

This is an incredible story of a family impacted by the African diaspora. The book is told in a non-linear fashion, as seen through the eyes of one of the contemporary members of the family. We begin in today’s Minneapolis area with a boy named Kollie, whose parents send him back to the land from where he was a refugee — Liberia. From there, we travel back to family that grew up in Liberia, then back even further to family which had been indentured servants in the US prior to the Civil War; their freedom came when they left the US and headed back to Liberia. We move, then, to the parents of Kollie and what they endured in Liberia.

What’s remarkable about this book, aside from the heartache and hope seen through the characters, is the history that we never learn about. Gibney’s extraordinary research (& powerful author’s note) explain how when black freed people went back to Liberia, they brought with them the same tools used against them to harm, enslave, and colonize the native Liberians. This book shows that through this family.

I couldn’t stop thinking about pairing this book with Homegoing. Like with Gyasi’s book, some characters will resonate more than others for readers; I found Kollie and Angel’s stories (especially her’s, despite being the smallest part — done purposefully) to be the most compelling. Note that some of the characters are a bit beyond their teen years, and in many ways, this book read to me as less YA and more adult. That doesn’t mean YA readers won’t love it, but rather, it’d be an awesome and easy sell to adult readers, too.

Powerful, moving, vital, and one that is going to mean a LOT to a lot of readers.

 

The Feather Thief by Kirk W. Johnson

I loved every single second of this true crime book about a man who becomes so obsessed with fly-tying that he breaks into a museum to steal their rare birds to sell the feathers for profit. The premise of this sounds like it might be boring, but it’s anything but. Johnson’s attention to details and passion for cracking the mystery of the still-missing birds is propulsive, and the way this looks at a very specific community’s passion — in this case, the fly-tying community’s passion for very specific bird feathers — was fascinating. There’s a lot here, too, about ethics and about the ways people throughout history have sought what’s not theirs, starting with how those birds and feathers ended up in the British Museum of Natural History in the first place.

Highly recommended, especially for readers who want to love true crime but can get put off by blood, guts, and human death. None of that is here!

The images in this one, tucked near the back of the narrative, added a ton. I was surprised to see images of Edwin himself, who wasn’t at all what I expected (like Johnson himself had said just pages earlier), and seeing what these fly-ties looked like and the birds that drew such lust from those hobbyists made the crime all that more fascinating.

 

Girls Burn Brighter by Shobha Rao

I wrote about this one over on Book Riot’s Best Books of 2018!

This is about friendship: the fierce, fiery kind of friendship that exists between two girls who understand their place in the world as girls, their place in society as girls in India of a lower class, their place in society as girls who can only rely and depend upon one another. Savitha and Poornima only spend a small portion of the book together, but it’s the spark between them that keeps them connected through tragic event after tragic event.

What I loved most is what they carried of one another inside them. Poornima saw Savitha as the brave, self-assured girl, but in the end, Poornima pulls that same energy to find Savitha again, who has found herself in a situation not unlike the one Poornima was in during her marriage. Lost. Adrift. Alone.

Great writing and great voices really make this one sing. Not a YA book, but it likely has some great YA crossover appeal to readers eager for a book set primarily outside of America — it’s India for over half of the book — about female friendship.

 

Give Me Your Hand by Megan Abbott

Secrets go many, many ways, and Abbott explores this in her deliciously dark, twisted prose. Kit and Diane form a quick bond, but when Diane drops a bombshell secret on Kit, Kit distances herself. Until, that is, many years later, when Diane is back in her life. The two of them, once great lab partners and excellent science students in high school, earn prestigious places on a research project about PMDD with a renowned scholar.

Kit can’t be lured back in, but she is. The secret she knows still swirling inside her. The secret she knows that she’s not always kept secret, but that’s led to more secrets. The way secrets can spiral out of control, just like that. The way friendships sometimes turn toxic, but you’re too drawn in to turn away without consequences. Without a body count.

Two complex female leads, neither of whom are particularly “likable” nor “good,” Abbott’s prose sears and her storytelling is compulsively engaging. I’d have read this in a single sitting if I hadn’t had to do things like work.

Excellent crossover appeal for young adult readers and something that fans of Gillian Flynn will love.

 

A Heart In A Body In The World by Deb Caletti

*Spoiler on this one! But the spoiler is a big reason why this book resonated with me, so I’m keeping it there.

An all-too-timely feminist YA novel about the ways toxic masculinity harms each and every one of us. Annabelle has been victim of a controlling boy who believes she belongs to him and only him and she’s triggered in an incident months after his attack at a party. To clear her head and try to do something, she begins to run. And suddenly, she decides her goal is to run from Seattle to Washington, DC. She has no real plan but knows this is deeply what she needs and what she wants.

Along the way, Annabelle connects deeply with her grandfather, who follows along in an RV. She connects deeply with the country and the people populating it. There’s a fantastic scene in Marengo, Illinois, just minutes from where I live, and the love and heart there was so palpable.

This is a tough-to-read book because it’s too real. Caletti populates the book with such authentic, well-rounded characters, even the smallest ones throughout. It’s a book that girls today will relate to deeply and intensely. They shouldn’t have to.

As much as this is a book about tough things and real life and how awful the world is, it’s also a book complete with hope and humanity.

I just attended a Florence and the Machine concert, and one of the things Florence said during the show was that hope is an action. I couldn’t stop thinking about that line throughout this. Annabelle takes action on a physical, spiritual, and mental level. But her actions, as small as she feels they are (she doesn’t think her run is a big deal or anything special), have this massive ripple effect on the world around her. She takes back her power.

A great look at mental health, too, including anxiety and PTSD. There is no resolution. There is only working your way through, day by day.

 

The Seven Torments of Amy and Craig by Don Zolidis

This is the epitome of the kind of love story I love in YA: there’s an ending that feels utterly deserved and that you’re told right away would happen (it’s not a romance with a capital R), and both of the characters have good and not-so-good qualities to them. Zolidis tells this story in a nonlinear fashion, taking us from the middle of Amy and Craig’s rocky relationship, then to the beginning, and then through to the end. We see both characters become well-fleshed, and we see their flaws in powerful ways.

Craig is funny, and throughout, his humor shines through. It doesn’t feel forced nor does it feel fake. This is a dude who really loves Amy but also knows he’s imperfect and immature and in a family that’s struggling financially, so some of his plans for the future are in question. Amy is adopted, and one of the through lines in the story is about her close relationship with her adoptive mother, as well as her toying with the idea of connecting with her birth mother.

The book is set in Janesville, Wisconsin, which is a community I’m really familiar with. It’s spot on in describing things and for hitting real great Wisconsin humor (the Perkins! The cow! Parker Pens and their layoffs! The GM plant!). It also is a love story to gaming and D&D, which began just a few miles down the road from Janesville and it also highlights Gen Con, back when Gen Con was still in Milwaukee (but after Lake Geneva, of course!). It was refreshing to see this all through Craig’s eyes, especially, because I knew so many people who grew up in Janesville not too many years after this story is set, and I know how much it rings true.

The dialog here is great, and both characters feel like actual teens. Zolidis writes plays for high school performers, and his eye for staging, for speech, and for mannerisms shines through.

Pass along to readers who like love stories told in non-linear ways, who love books with a funny male protagonist at the helm, and who like a book that makes them laugh and feel sadness throughout. It’s set in the 1990s, so it’s one that’ll appeal to readers who love that setting. It reminded me a big of A SHORT HISTORY OF THE GIRL NEXT DOOR, which would be a nice pairing. Readers who pick this up and love and/or are fascinated by the setting would do well with reading JANESVILLE, which highlights things like GM and the Parker Pen company and their role in building Janesville to being what it is; it’ll also give insight into the off-handed comments Craig makes, particularly about how Janesville is very white (it is, and that’s by racist design).