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booksamongstfriends's reviews
738 reviews
Allegedly by Tiffany D. Jackson
3.0
Tiffany D. Jackson is an author I always appreciate for tackling heavy, vital topics with a gripping narrative style. While I may not love every book she writes, her ability to balance weighty themes with intrigue is undeniable. With Allegedly, Jackson dives into the broken child services system and the devastating ways it perpetuates harm, particularly for children who are deemed guilty or undeserving by society. Unfortunately, while the premise held immense promise, the ending fell short for me, undermining the impact of the message she aimed to deliver.
This is my third book by Jackson. I absolutely loved The Weight of Blood, but, much like Monday’s Not Coming, I found myself frustrated by the way the story was executed here. The book’s direction became predictable to me about halfway through, and while I hoped to be proven wrong, the ending landed exactly where I feared it would. For me, the twist felt less like a revelation and more like a cheap attempt to shock the reader.
The story centers on Mary, a young girl in a juvenile detention home after being convicted of killing baby Alyssa, a child under her mother’s care. From the start, it’s clear that Mary is withholding significant parts of the truth, and as the narrative unfolds, so do the layers of her story. However, by the midpoint, when key details about Alyssa’s death and Mary’s mother’s involvement are revealed, it still feels like an incomplete account—one that strongly suggests Mary isn’t as innocent as she’d like others to believe.
One of the more intriguing aspects of the book is its commentary on white saviorism, which is subtly woven into Mary’s relationships and perceptions. She often looks to white individuals, such as Alyssa’s mother, Ms. Richards, or the “white father” she imagines, as potential rescuers from her mother’s abuse. This dynamic added a layer of complexity to her character, but it wasn’t explored as fully as it could have been.
Where the book faltered for me was its pacing and payoff. The slower moments felt like they dragged on toward an ending that was both predictable and unsatisfying. I almost wish Jackson had committed fully to Mary’s character and the conclusion rather than trying to pull the rug out from under the reader at the last minute. A more decisive approach could have allowed for deeper exploration of Mary’s intelligence, resourcefulness, and moral ambiguity, making her a more compelling character overall.
Additionally, some aspects of the plot strained credulity, such as the introduction of a lawyer whose career was supposedly deeply impacted by Mary’s case but who only reconnects with her after Mary reaches out. This inconsistency made it harder to stay fully invested in the story.
That said, Jackson’s writing does hold your attention, even through the slower parts, and her willingness to spark difficult conversations about systemic failures is commendable. I appreciate the focus on underdeveloped systems, poor care, and the corruption that stifles the rehabilitation of abandoned and troubled kids. However, the message here eventually felt like a vehicle for the mystery rather than the other way around, which weakened its impact.
I’m giving this book three stars. While it wasn’t my favorite, I respect Jackson’s ability to hold a reader’s attention and her dedication to raising awareness of important issues. Allegedly will undoubtedly spark conversations, even if it didn’t fully land for me.
This is my third book by Jackson. I absolutely loved The Weight of Blood, but, much like Monday’s Not Coming, I found myself frustrated by the way the story was executed here. The book’s direction became predictable to me about halfway through, and while I hoped to be proven wrong, the ending landed exactly where I feared it would. For me, the twist felt less like a revelation and more like a cheap attempt to shock the reader.
The story centers on Mary, a young girl in a juvenile detention home after being convicted of killing baby Alyssa, a child under her mother’s care. From the start, it’s clear that Mary is withholding significant parts of the truth, and as the narrative unfolds, so do the layers of her story. However, by the midpoint, when key details about Alyssa’s death and Mary’s mother’s involvement are revealed, it still feels like an incomplete account—one that strongly suggests Mary isn’t as innocent as she’d like others to believe.
One of the more intriguing aspects of the book is its commentary on white saviorism, which is subtly woven into Mary’s relationships and perceptions. She often looks to white individuals, such as Alyssa’s mother, Ms. Richards, or the “white father” she imagines, as potential rescuers from her mother’s abuse. This dynamic added a layer of complexity to her character, but it wasn’t explored as fully as it could have been.
Where the book faltered for me was its pacing and payoff. The slower moments felt like they dragged on toward an ending that was both predictable and unsatisfying. I almost wish Jackson had committed fully to Mary’s character and the conclusion rather than trying to pull the rug out from under the reader at the last minute. A more decisive approach could have allowed for deeper exploration of Mary’s intelligence, resourcefulness, and moral ambiguity, making her a more compelling character overall.
Additionally, some aspects of the plot strained credulity, such as the introduction of a lawyer whose career was supposedly deeply impacted by Mary’s case but who only reconnects with her after Mary reaches out. This inconsistency made it harder to stay fully invested in the story.
That said, Jackson’s writing does hold your attention, even through the slower parts, and her willingness to spark difficult conversations about systemic failures is commendable. I appreciate the focus on underdeveloped systems, poor care, and the corruption that stifles the rehabilitation of abandoned and troubled kids. However, the message here eventually felt like a vehicle for the mystery rather than the other way around, which weakened its impact.
I’m giving this book three stars. While it wasn’t my favorite, I respect Jackson’s ability to hold a reader’s attention and her dedication to raising awareness of important issues. Allegedly will undoubtedly spark conversations, even if it didn’t fully land for me.
Untethered by Angela Jackson-Brown
4.0
3.5 rounded up. 3.5 stars rounded up. I have mixed feelings about this one, but I’ll start by saying I’m excited to read more from Jackson Brown. This book convinced me that whenever I’m in the mood for a character-driven story, I’ll be reaching for her work.
What this book does well is dive deep into the life of its protagonist, Katia—a grieving, vulnerable, and, at times, self-loathing woman. She’s relatable and recognizable, while also displaying immense strength and care for those around her, often to both her benefit and detriment.
The story tackles heavy topics, including grief over losing her father, supporting her mother, longing for her missing twin brother, and caring for her other brother, who has returned from war. Katia is also the director of a foster home for young Black children, all while navigating her dating life and grappling with her inability to have children. I expected heavy themes, especially with the foster care system and the systemic failures that often affect children.
While I was drawn to the these deeper topics, the execution left me torn. By the end, the heavier moments didn’t land as strongly as I’d hoped, and some felt underexplored. The story leaned heavily on Katia’s feelings of inadequacy, particularly around motherhood and her relationships, which sometimes felt repetitive. When a character dies, for example, it felt rushed and almost unnecessary to the narrative making it hard to fully grieve them.
I also struggled with the genre blending. At times, it felt more like a romance novel disguised as something else. The ending—a sappy romantic resolution—felt out of sync with the rest of the book. While some readers will find relief in seeing Katia finally appreciated by someone who recognizes her value, it didn’t entirely work for me.
That said, Katia’s connections with the young boys in her care, her family, and her friends are deeply felt. I just wish we’d gotten perspectives from other characters, like her brother Mark, whose experience with war and its aftermath is only shown secondhand. The same goes for Mason and Chad, whose voices brought innocence and vulnerability to the foster care storyline.
Lastly, the historical fiction aspect didn’t always feel convincing. Without a few dated references, much of the story could have taken place today. While the author touched on racism and abuse in Katia’s work environment, as well as the stacked challenges faced by Black children in foster care, I think there was room to expand on these themes and firmly ground the story in its intended era.
Overall, while I didn’t love the book, I did like it. It’s rich in emotion and complexity and would make an excellent book club pick. I’ll definitely be reading more from this author in the future.
Thank you much to NetGalley for this egalley!
What this book does well is dive deep into the life of its protagonist, Katia—a grieving, vulnerable, and, at times, self-loathing woman. She’s relatable and recognizable, while also displaying immense strength and care for those around her, often to both her benefit and detriment.
The story tackles heavy topics, including grief over losing her father, supporting her mother, longing for her missing twin brother, and caring for her other brother, who has returned from war. Katia is also the director of a foster home for young Black children, all while navigating her dating life and grappling with her inability to have children. I expected heavy themes, especially with the foster care system and the systemic failures that often affect children.
While I was drawn to the these deeper topics, the execution left me torn. By the end, the heavier moments didn’t land as strongly as I’d hoped, and some felt underexplored. The story leaned heavily on Katia’s feelings of inadequacy, particularly around motherhood and her relationships, which sometimes felt repetitive. When a character dies, for example, it felt rushed and almost unnecessary to the narrative making it hard to fully grieve them.
I also struggled with the genre blending. At times, it felt more like a romance novel disguised as something else. The ending—a sappy romantic resolution—felt out of sync with the rest of the book. While some readers will find relief in seeing Katia finally appreciated by someone who recognizes her value, it didn’t entirely work for me.
That said, Katia’s connections with the young boys in her care, her family, and her friends are deeply felt. I just wish we’d gotten perspectives from other characters, like her brother Mark, whose experience with war and its aftermath is only shown secondhand. The same goes for Mason and Chad, whose voices brought innocence and vulnerability to the foster care storyline.
Lastly, the historical fiction aspect didn’t always feel convincing. Without a few dated references, much of the story could have taken place today. While the author touched on racism and abuse in Katia’s work environment, as well as the stacked challenges faced by Black children in foster care, I think there was room to expand on these themes and firmly ground the story in its intended era.
Overall, while I didn’t love the book, I did like it. It’s rich in emotion and complexity and would make an excellent book club pick. I’ll definitely be reading more from this author in the future.
Thank you much to NetGalley for this egalley!
Mister Magic by Kiersten White
2.0
A lot of talking and not enough showing. This book had so much potential, and I was genuinely excited to dive into it. I mean, you’ve got a creepy ’90s kids' show, an exploration of the Mandela effect, cult-like programming, paranormal elements—so many intriguing ideas that could have made for an amazing read. Unfortunately, the delivery falls flat.
My main issue with this story is that nothing feels shocking—not to the reader and, strangely, not even to the main character, Val. Every time something blatantly obvious happens that signals something sinister is going on, Val just seems numb to it. She goes along with things, even though her questions aren’t being answered and it’s clear that something darker is lurking beneath the surface.
Now, I can partially understand her determination to push forward. She’s desperate to learn more about her past, especially since she’s the only one who seems to have forgotten everything, while the other cast members are eager to reconnect with her and reclaim this part of themselves tied to the show. But as a reader, the lack of depth in these characters makes their actions feel predictable and, honestly, unenjoyable.
I kept reading, hoping something would finally shake me or catch me off guard, but it never did. The story becomes easy to follow when you can already predict where it’s going. Even when we delve into the lore—the invitation back, the revival of the show, and the history of Mister Magic—it all feels disconnected. It failed to hold my interest and made the ending painfully obvious.
The biggest issue for me is that so much of this book could have been improved with better execution. A flashback scene or a deeper dive into what actually happened on the show would have been incredible. Instead, we’re constantly hearing about the show, and it’s clear the cast members have wildly different perspectives on how it affected them compared to Val. But we never see this dynamic play out—we’re just told about it. This is where the “telling instead of showing” problem really drags the story down.
For instance, the house where much of the story takes place has an eerie, off-kilter vibe. Something dramatic clearly happened there, but the depth of those events is never revealed. Instead, the story lays other things out so blatantly that it diminishes any sense of thrill or suspense. It’s obvious every character has secrets—they outright tell you they do, in a way that feels exaggerated and cavalier.
Ultimately, so much of this book relies on implication when it should have let readers experience the suspense and horror for themselves. It feels like a wasted opportunity for such a solid concept.
My main issue with this story is that nothing feels shocking—not to the reader and, strangely, not even to the main character, Val. Every time something blatantly obvious happens that signals something sinister is going on, Val just seems numb to it. She goes along with things, even though her questions aren’t being answered and it’s clear that something darker is lurking beneath the surface.
Now, I can partially understand her determination to push forward. She’s desperate to learn more about her past, especially since she’s the only one who seems to have forgotten everything, while the other cast members are eager to reconnect with her and reclaim this part of themselves tied to the show. But as a reader, the lack of depth in these characters makes their actions feel predictable and, honestly, unenjoyable.
I kept reading, hoping something would finally shake me or catch me off guard, but it never did. The story becomes easy to follow when you can already predict where it’s going. Even when we delve into the lore—the invitation back, the revival of the show, and the history of Mister Magic—it all feels disconnected. It failed to hold my interest and made the ending painfully obvious.
The biggest issue for me is that so much of this book could have been improved with better execution. A flashback scene or a deeper dive into what actually happened on the show would have been incredible. Instead, we’re constantly hearing about the show, and it’s clear the cast members have wildly different perspectives on how it affected them compared to Val. But we never see this dynamic play out—we’re just told about it. This is where the “telling instead of showing” problem really drags the story down.
For instance, the house where much of the story takes place has an eerie, off-kilter vibe. Something dramatic clearly happened there, but the depth of those events is never revealed. Instead, the story lays other things out so blatantly that it diminishes any sense of thrill or suspense. It’s obvious every character has secrets—they outright tell you they do, in a way that feels exaggerated and cavalier.
Ultimately, so much of this book relies on implication when it should have let readers experience the suspense and horror for themselves. It feels like a wasted opportunity for such a solid concept.
The House of Cross: Meet the Hero of the New Prime Series Cross--The Greatest Detective of All Time by James Patterson
3.0
I won’t lie—I picked this up because of the TV show announcement (which, by the way, is fantastic). The show only made me more excited to dive into Patterson’s work. My intrigue was always there, especially since he’s one of my dad’s favorite authors. However, my previous attempts with his collaborative novels didn’t resonate with me, so I wanted to ensure I read a book solely written by him.
I decided to explore the Alex Cross series, but unfortunately, I feel like I should have started from the beginning since this is, I believe, the 33rd installment. While the story was easy to follow, it was clear that these characters had a lot of history I wasn’t familiar with, which likely made the pacing and momentum feel off to me as a new reader.
For Patterson fans and longtime followers of the Cross family storyline, this will likely be another enjoyable installment. Personally, I found it a bit boring. It reminded me of a Mission Impossible movie—except instead of just following Tom Cruise, you’re also following all the supporting characters. There’s a superhero-like energy to it, with the world on the brink of collapse and a select team of individuals tasked with saving it.
I think this book might translate better as a movie or TV show, which is why I enjoyed the Cross television series so much. I’ll definitely go back and read the first Alex Cross novel, as I suspect that starting at the beginning will help me better appreciate the pace and storylines Patterson has developed.
I decided to explore the Alex Cross series, but unfortunately, I feel like I should have started from the beginning since this is, I believe, the 33rd installment. While the story was easy to follow, it was clear that these characters had a lot of history I wasn’t familiar with, which likely made the pacing and momentum feel off to me as a new reader.
For Patterson fans and longtime followers of the Cross family storyline, this will likely be another enjoyable installment. Personally, I found it a bit boring. It reminded me of a Mission Impossible movie—except instead of just following Tom Cruise, you’re also following all the supporting characters. There’s a superhero-like energy to it, with the world on the brink of collapse and a select team of individuals tasked with saving it.
I think this book might translate better as a movie or TV show, which is why I enjoyed the Cross television series so much. I’ll definitely go back and read the first Alex Cross novel, as I suspect that starting at the beginning will help me better appreciate the pace and storylines Patterson has developed.
I Done Clicked My Heels Three Times by Taylor Byas
5.0
This collection deserves all of the praise and then some.
Master of Me: A Memoir by Keke Palmer
3.0
3.5 Keke Palmer is truly a gem of a human being, and I always appreciate how she brings her full, authentic self to everything she does.
I don’t have too much to say about this book. If you’re a fan of Keke Palmer and follow her podcast or interviews, this feels like a natural extension of those. I would definitely recommend the audiobook version because hearing it in her voice further cements the authenticity of this work as another piece of her ever-expanding portfolio.
That said, the book doesn’t delve into many new topics, and, as others have noted, it straddles the line between being a memoir and a self-help book. Once I adjusted my expectations and recognized that this isn’t an in-depth exploration of Keke Palmer’s life, but rather an effort to turn some of the most intricate moments of her journey into lessons for readers, I was able to enjoy it.
Keke Palmer is undoubtedly a force, and I’m always happy to support her endeavors. I think this book serves as a great introduction for readers who may not be familiar with her. It offers insight into her experiences in showbiz as a child, how they shaped her adulthood, her relationship with celebrity, and the choices she makes about what to share with the world.
I don’t have too much to say about this book. If you’re a fan of Keke Palmer and follow her podcast or interviews, this feels like a natural extension of those. I would definitely recommend the audiobook version because hearing it in her voice further cements the authenticity of this work as another piece of her ever-expanding portfolio.
That said, the book doesn’t delve into many new topics, and, as others have noted, it straddles the line between being a memoir and a self-help book. Once I adjusted my expectations and recognized that this isn’t an in-depth exploration of Keke Palmer’s life, but rather an effort to turn some of the most intricate moments of her journey into lessons for readers, I was able to enjoy it.
Keke Palmer is undoubtedly a force, and I’m always happy to support her endeavors. I think this book serves as a great introduction for readers who may not be familiar with her. It offers insight into her experiences in showbiz as a child, how they shaped her adulthood, her relationship with celebrity, and the choices she makes about what to share with the world.