Spring Is for Growing… Your TBR

I did some genre and medium hopping in the last bit of March and beginning of April so hold onto your butts. Or don’t; this is the fun kind of whiplash in my personal opinion, because it reminds me (like the piles of books all over my house don’t, lol) that I will never, ever, ever run out of fascinating things to shove into my eye holes whether I’m in the mood for a few words, lots of words, pictures only, or any combination thereof.

Breakable Things by Cassandra Khaw (Undertow)

I generally shy away from body horror but Khaw’s is an exception; Nothing but Blackened Teeth was one of my favorite reads of 2021 and it continues to be one of my most recommended horror titles. It’s so visceral, so terrifying, and so gross and yet so… satisfying, I couldn’t  help but let it penetrate my defenses, seep into my cracks, and invade my brain as an exception to my rule. It possessed me and I’m not sorry. 

I expected more of the same when I grabbed Breakable Things off the end cap at the library when I went to pick up some other holds and I was a little surprised when I the flash fictions and short stories in Khaw’s newer collection to be very much not that. I was not, however, disappointed because I loved every tale between the covers, whether it was fantasy, sci-fi, or other, because each was tinged with Khaw’s signature, insidious tension, their very special brand of visceral shock, awe, and panic you don’t know has crawled into your gut and made a home until it burst out of your chest and licks your face. 

Khaw can write anything and we, as readers, are very lucky they do. 

Starman: David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust Years by Reinhard Kleisidt (English Translation by Self-Made Hero, 05/02/2023)

This is not a biography. It is a… vibe? Vibe. A moon-age daydream, if you will. It is a psychedelic monument to one of the many personas David Bowie wore during his long (not long enough) career as one of the most celebrated misfits to grace stage and screen: Ziggy Stardust, the savior from space. 

Does that mean none of the events Kleistdt marks in this graphic memoir really happened? Many of them probably did in some shape or form. Exactly as recorded on these pages? Likely not, but that’s okay because  memoirs aren’t about the truth; they’re about developing a sense of their subject, their shape, the space they took up in the world, and in history. And Bowie’s space was most certainly colorful, distinctive, unique, ever-changing, and uncompromising, just as Kleisidt’s palettes are bright and variable, his dialogue fresh, his Bowie perfectly exaggerated, and the rest of his cast both larger-than-life and so very human. 

Starman is also, in a very fundamental way, a literary heir to German surrealist film in a way that helps an often static genre learn to move and flow - odd considering that books are usually considered to be made of still frames and film strung together to convey motion. Everything is a little too bright, a little too loud, a little too much yet combines in a way that creates a perfect blend. 

Definitely one of my new favorites. 

Translation State by Ann Leckie (Orbit Books, 06/06/2023)

Have you read Leckie’s Imperial Radch series? You don’t have to enjoy Translation State (I’m sure there’s a Wiki) but it will make the experience far more intimate and you’ll get a few inside jokes that might otherwise leave you hanging; always satisfying for book nerds like ourselves. Plus, all three of the books in the series are fantastic, which is a stretch for a lot of authors; the second might even be the strongest which we all know is a rare treasure in the land of trilogies. Translation State fits in really nicely - naughty younger cousin vibe, a little more sly, a little more sarcastic, independent but definitely a member of the family.

While the action in Leckie’s newest novel doesn’t take place in the Radch, it does involve the Empire and some of its most interesting citizens; the Presgar Translators. Oh, and their sentient ships which play a secondary, but important and hilarious, role in the absolute space dumpster fire sparked by governments being lying liars who lie. We also have, perhaps, one of the most interesting ensemble casts of POV characters I have ever encountered: a lady of a certain age on her first adventure realizing she still has a whole lifetime ahead of her; an individual in his 30s realizing he’s not who he thinks he is at all (or maybe that he’s exactly who he thinks he is); a juvenile Presgar translator who is realizing that maybe everything they’ve ever been told is bullshit; a queer mom throuple; a government rep with too much skin in the game; and an ambassador from another planet who has absolutely no skin in the game and just wants to watch it all burn. 

Perfection. 

As usual, I don’t want to give away too much about the plot; finding out is the whole point of reading a book. But aside from the above, what I really loved about Translation State is what it had to say about choices: that it’s never too early or too late to make your first one. That the same goes for becoming the guide of your own life. And that it’s never too early, or too late, to change your mind about how you want to live no matter who, or what, you are. 

Wrath Becomes Her by Aden Polydoros (Harlequin, 10/10/2023)

“I would become the Jew the Nazis couldn’t kill.”

I finished Wrath Becomes Her on Erev Pesach (the night Passover started) and this line resonated. For obvious reasons and maybe those not so obvious. 

Passover is our salvation story.

There’s no proof that the Exodus happened as described in the Tanach. There’s no material evidence of the Jews wandering in the Sinai desert for forty years or, for that matter, any period of time. And the Tanach was written by people, not by God; several of them according to centuries of textual analysis. Definitely not one person. And honestly, you’d think that, had a deity been involved, there would be far fewer mistakes and inconsistencies. Also, that deity would have made sure that the eventual Greek translation had fewer glaring errors. 

But none of that is important. 

The story is what’s important. 

The story is always what’s important. 

This story is important. 

Because survival is not always beautiful. 

The things we have to do to survive are not always the things we would choose to do if we had a choice. Sometimes they are cruel and ugly. Sometimes we are ashamed. Sometimes we speak when we would rather remain silent. Sometimes we remain silent when we would rather speak. 

Sometimes there is blood. Sometimes we must shed it or give our own.

Why do we have to do these things? All we want to do is exist. We just want to be left alone. It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. 

But it is. 

And so we do what we must. 

Because we deserve our stories. 

Aden deserves his. 

And Vera deserves hers.

Bitter Medicine by Mia Tsai (Tachyon)

Y’all know I don’t read much het romance but Bitter Medicine’s world and backstory caught my attention so I decided to give it a go. 

It is really good. 

This new literary universe is a great blend of different mythological and magical systems, with the characters navigating between said without any colonizer bullshit; Luc and Elle actually work together and between them without any conflict on that front. No gender bias either, holy crap. Luc even admits that he admires Elle’s magical fortitude and her knowledge of the Chinese pantheon as well as her connection to it as any good romantic lead should but few actually do. 

Elle and Luc also avoid my massive pet peeve of a pitfall: the “I didn’t tell you because I was trying to protect you” superhero nonsense that makes me want to pull my hair out. Are either of them immediately forthcoming vis a vis the dangers in their lives/their complete backstories? No, and that’s fine. Anyone who trusts a virtual stranger with their own lives and those of beloved family members without proof of sincerity is an idiot. Once they do learn to trust one another, however, they start to share and, when a danger pops up unexpectedly, neither of them hesitates to explain to the other so that they can combat the problem in the way most likely to ensure everyone’s survival. Who knew that could work? 

Everyone except every superhero ever, apparently. 

Insofar as the romance itself  goes, this one is missing some of the most typical beats found in the majority of romance novels and that’s why I liked itt. The big blow up? The near-fatal lack of communication? The “I realized my mistake when it was too late?” Nah. Because the couples whose relationships hinge on those big moments? Those are Disney couple romances and they’re not going to last. True romance doesn’t hinge on fireworks. Lasting love is made up of tiny gestures. Everyday realizations. The moments when one member of the party catches a facial expression and puts their book down to focus on the “why.” Or takes the time to cook a favorite meal. Or heads to a cafe to doodle when their partner needs space. That’s what  Elle and Luc learn to understand. Make an effort to figure out about one another. What they both make time for. 

We stan them because they notice each other. Because they take notice of eachother. Because it isn’t simple but it isn’t hard. 

Because we know they’re gong to make it. 

The Cuban Heiress by Chanel Cleeton (Berkley)

I love when people play with history whether they translate to straight up historical fiction or co-opting a historical event and remaking it for one’s own purposes. And while I have a few questions about the veracity of some of the nitty-gritty details in Cleeton’s new novel, The Cuban Heiress, overall, I really enjoyed this tale of ladies teaming up to make sure a dirt-bag man gets what’s coming to him. I especially love that, by the end, we’re in the literary version of a telenovela, which fits both the characters and the setting beautifully, that is both unbelievably dramatic and so super satisfying, I just wanted it to keep climbing the hill so the wrap up could be ridiculously delicious. 

And it was. 

Kaiju No. 8, Vol. 6 by Naoya Matsumoto (Viz)

Well, well some backstory on both the stoic director  and his ass-kicking daughter, Kikoru. I love the play on standard manga tropes we continue to get in Kaiju from the titular monster to his creepy brethren to the officers with whom he fights but Hikari, the director’s wife and Kikoru’s mother, is a fantastic new favorite; when you finally read this newest volume (and if you’re not caught up, why not, I keep telling you this is one of the best manga out there right now) you’ll see why.  We also get to see a fantastic new side of the erstwhile, teenage dirtbag Namuri and watch Hibino really come into his Kaiju abilities. I can’t believe I have to wait until July for more. 

I really need to learn Japanese. 

Stay tuned. I have a pile of comics and manga and some fall spooky stuff for preview on the Kindle. Plus the library books I insist on taking out even though my pile is already taller than me. No such thing as too many books. I mean, how am I supposed to know on Monday what I’m going to want to read on Friday?