Mostly march Reads

Is this… does this qualify as a regular thing? Holy crow. Who woulda thunk it? 

Recently, I decided that, despite being busy with all the things, I was going to consciously make time to read everyday again, even if it was only for half an hour before bed or twenty minutes in the car (audio, obviously. Never have I ever read at a stoplight… not that anyone can prove). And I have to say, it’s improved the majority of my days markedly; one of those things you don’t realize you’re missing until you add it back into your routine. It also means I’m finishing books much faster and thus, reading more of them in a given period, which is good for my gray matter and, I hope, good for you in that it gives you a wider range of titles to choose from if you’re looking for something (which is, I’m assuming, why you’re here). 

This round, you’ll notice a heavy emphasis on Indigenous North American authors. That’s deliberate; it was an area of my shelf that was lacking and I’m working on rectifying that in 2023. If there are titles you think I should check out, have at it. I’m willing to give almost anything a try. 

Please note, the last book in this entry, Sisters of the Lost Nation, deals with violence against women, sexual violence against minors, and sex trafficking. If those are topics better for you to avoid, stop scrolling after The Wicked Bargain. 

Planted Performance: Easy Plant-Based Recipes, Meal Plans, and Nutrition for All Athletes by Natalie Rizzo, MS/RD (New Seed Press, March 28)

I spent many years as a vegetarian. If I had married someone else, I might still be one. Though it wasn’t just my husband who converted me back to omnivorehood. Bacon helped. As it stands, he and my son are basically obligate carnivores. The younger one and I could probably survive on a plant based diet pretty happily but I won’t deny enjoying a burger from time to time.

I mention this because I’ve recently instituted a rule in our house: when we meal plan on Sunday mornings, they each pick a recipe and the night they want to cook it. When that night comes around, they do as much of the work as is age appropriate and I’m their sous chef. And it’s Mr. Obligate Carnivore who’s picked recipes from Planted Performance to make on some of  his nights. 

We’ve tried the Cauliflower Tacos with Chipotle Crema, the Sweet Potato and Black Bean Enchiladas, and a couple of other mains. We’ve also made the Cinnamon and Sugar Roasted Chickpeas and the Key Lime Quick Bread. And everything has been a hit. 

The boy claimed to hate cauliflower until, like, six months ago and even then, he would, “eat it, but it’s not my favorite.” He sees it in this book, though, and he wants to make a meal featuring it. And then he asked to make it again. Points to Ms. Rizzo. 

I also appreciate that she takes the time to explain how to be a healthy vegetarian. And I know, to those who have never tried going plant based that sounds strange; how can focusing on fruit and veggies be unhealthy? The thing is, a lot of ready-to-eat veg and vegan foods aren’t super healthy. Focusing too much on dairy for your protein isn’t healthy. It’s easy to eat too much sugar if you’re focusing on calories rather than a well-rounded rainbow. It’s really helpful for a recipe book to also have an easy to read, easy to understand guide that’s encouraging rather than preachy or full of complex formulas.  

You don’t have to be veggie to cook here, just willing to have a little fun in the kitchen. 

My Heart is a Chainsaw and Don’t Fear the Reaper by Stephen Graham Jones (Gallery/Saga Press)

I wasn’t always a slasher fan. Not because they scared me but because I didn’t appreciate them and you know what, that was my failing. Because there is something to be said for a good splatter fest. A big something. And I finally learned to lean into it in 2018 when a friend and I watched every Halloween movie in the franchise made to that point (that was the year the first of the new Jamie Lee Curtis ones came out) during the month of October.

Let me tell you a thing: those movies are fucking great. Yes, even Halloween III. Not the Rob Zombie ones. Those are bullshit precisely because they completely disregard what makes the rest of the franchise amazing; being so over the top that you don’t just have to suspend your disbelief, you have to like, throw it out a tenth story window, back over with an eighteen wheeler, hit it with a grenade, and then stab it a bunch of times. And then make sure you go back and behead it, because it’s probably not dead. 

Stephen Graham Jones’s My Heart is a Chainsaw and Don’t Fear the Reaper are great slasher novels (slasher novels? What? Yes) because they have all of that. And then they stick around to see what happens afterward. Which forces the characters to interrogate why the massacres occurred in the first place. They weave myth and trauma together with history and politics to interrogate how stories germinate and grow, how they, literally, come to life. They poke at class expectations and what wealth can and can’t erase, how, in the end, nothing can protect you when a killer comes knocking. 

His interrogation of the Final Girl archetype is also a fascinating study in what society expects of Indigenous women and Black women versus what it expects of white women: the burdens white-dominant society expects each group to carry and how much heavier the loads it places on Indigenous and Black women are. The fact that same society expects Indigenous and Black women to sacrifice their lives to protect people it has ignored when possible and mocked, beaten, and even murdered themselves when forced to notice them at all. Who’s really the monster? The answer may surprise you, but not any of the women in Graham Jones’s books.

Come for the killer. Stay for everything that comes before and after and between. 

The Wicked Bargain by Gabe Cole Novoa  (Random House)

I was in at “non-binary pirate” and “deal with un diablo” but when I heard Vico Ortiz (yes, that Vico Ortiz) was doing the narration for the audio version of The Wicked Bargain, I am pretty sure I sprained my finger smashing the preorder button. 

Totally worth it. 

Yes, I am a grown ass adult. Yes, this is a middle grade book. That said, a good book is a good book and also, these books didn’t exist when I was a… middle-grader. When I was in 7th grade, there was the stuff you read in school (we read Clan of the fucking Cave Bear in 7th grade, that’s what I get for taking honors English). People read Sweet Valley High and shit for fun. I wasn’t allowed, which is hilarious because I read Flowers in the Attic when I was 8 and the alternative to the garbage books was adult sci-fi so everything I knew about sex for a lot of years came from places it should not have come from. All this to say, damn, I wish there had been books about non-binary teenagers and their bi dads when I was a confused, neurospicy, anxious, depressed, pansexual teenager. 

Anyhoo. 

The Wicked Bargain has great characters. It has a great plot. The magic system is rad. I love that it borrows from history and I love that it’s fantasy so it can take some liberties. I love that Cole Novoa clearly loves his subject and probably geeks out about it the way I do about Greek mythology and Frida Kahlo and Shirley Jackson and all of the other things I geek out about. You’ll see all of that when you read/listen to the book and you should experience it fresh the same way I did. Plus, plenty of other reviewers are going to talk about that and if you’ve been here for a minute, you know that rather than cover ground other people are going to cover, I tend to tell you what I think is special or important about a book. 

The Wicked Bargain is perfect for it’s target demographic because it deals with something that is so important to kids that age, and it’s the same reason it’s such good reading for adults who, like me, found themselves later in life: at its core, it’s a story about deciding who you want to be. Not what you’re going to wear or what career you’re going to choose or what you’re going to do for fun on the weekend. I mean reaching deep and deciding if you’re going to be the person who takes their freedom and runs or the person who, even if they’re scared, goes back for their crew. The person who tries to fit into the box the world opens for them or the person who kicks the box away and makes their own space. The one who hides their magic under sleeves and bandages or the person who lights up the night. 

Being different is hard. Making space is hard. Shining when everyone else stays in the shadows is hard. But for Mar, in the end, it’s the best, most beautiful thing in the world. 

And kids who read The Wicked Bargain (and adults) will see Mar’s joy and keep it with them until they’re ready to find their own. 

Sisters of the Lost Nation by Nick Medina (Berkeley, April 18th)

According to the Bureau of Indian Affairs, approximately 84.3% of Indigenous women in the United States have experienced violence in their lifetimes. 56.1% have experienced sexual violence. 

That’s the violence that is reported. 

Many Indigenous women aren’t willing to speak k to the government. I’m sure you can imagine why. 

 Medina’s Sisters of the Lost Nation is a difficult book. It is the story of one 17 year old’s discovery of a sex trafficking operation at the casino on their Louisiana reservation and their desperate efforts to convince the adults around them that the girls who have gone missing didn’t really run away to Hollywood; they were murdered once they became more troublesome than useful. 

No one will listen. 

Not to the teenager. 

Not to the one who believes a chief’s head, from his disturbed grave, chases her at night, devouring anything living thing he comes across. 

Not to Anne, who has two spirits and lives with both rather than choosing one over the other. 

Not until Anne’s sister, Grace, goes missing as well. 

Sisters of the Lost Nation is also a difficult book but it is also a beautiful book because even when all is lost, Anne still hopes. Even when all of the adults around her have given up, have given in, they turn to books in an old trailer, to the stories another missing woman left behind for them, some ancient, some new, all rooted in the fibers of Takoda history, all reminding Anne that no matter the misery inflicted on her tribe, something has always survived and it has survived in the form of stories. So long as someone remembers, something will survive, and as long as something survives, there is hope. 

Hope is hard. There are times it seems impossible. Maybe sometimes, it is. But before you give up entirely, don’t forget to check the corners of that dusty, abandoned trailer. There’s always a chance there’s a tiny spark you forgot. 

I also read The Firekeeper’s Daughter by Angelline Boulder. It’s a couple years old and not connected to anything else in this particular review so I’m not going to go too deep but it was also excellent and the narrator was fantastic. Do recommend. 

And there you have it. Several books not to read in the dark, pirates, and an odd person out cookbook. Hope there’s something for you to enjoy and I’ll be back with more soon!