laynemandros's reviews
248 reviews

“Sex with a Brain Injury” by Annie Liontas: 5/5

“Sex with a Brain Injury” follows genderqueer author and educator Annie Liontas as they detail the intimate, vulnerable, and traumatic experiences of incurring multiple concussions that resulted in disability. 

I picked this one up because I saw bestie reading and loving it (@autumnintheoaks) and the title (obvi). I have a huge amount of respect for Annie because they used a splashy, eye-catching title to kind of bait and switch (respectfully) readers into a really, really important topic. The title suggests the memoir is mainly about sex and disability— but it’s so much more than that. 

Annie begins by discussing their own experiences with brain injury, how they struggled to heal and to be understood after each concussion. They discuss shame and frustration around their recovery and, above all, how isolating recovery can be. So isolating in fact, that it almost ended their marriage. 

However, most compelling aspect was Annie’s well-researched, digestible, and intersectional commentary of cultural implications of brain injury. From gender discrimination in brain injury research, slapstick comedy relying on head injury as humor to make them so commonplace in media that we don’t event bat an eye (think the three stooges, home alone, tom & jerry), the widespread epidemic of head injury in the NFL, to the correlation between head injury and incarceration—especially when considering Black men. 

The book takes the time and care to tease out societal implications of brian injury and that set it apart from most memoirs for me. This book make me think so much about my own experiences (I’ve had three concussions in my lifetime) and so much more. 

If a book embodied a gut punch, then this would be it; and this book found me at a time that I feel is particularly poignant. 

I wake up after a full night’s sleep, uninterrupted by violence, and I think about Palestine. 

I cook food in the comfort of my own home and I think about Palestine. 

I call my parents and know they’re safe, and I think of Palestine. 

I read this book and all I can think about is Palestine. 

I think about the interconnectedness of oppression, struggle, and liberation. I really think this book found me at a time when its message would be the most impactful.

I loved this book— Adjei-Brenyah is a fucking mastermind. Even though the writing style was a bit jarring (wouldn’t recommend this one on audio because there are times where the POV switches within chapters) there are very few books where I feel like, as a reader, the author has reached through the pages of a book and slapped me in the face. When reading you follow so many characters and at the beginning it is not clear how their narratives will come together, but when they do it’s a chaotic, beautiful web. From a craft perspective, this is uniquely and creatively executed. 

This book will make you think deeply, critically about abolition. About our country’s relationship with money and profit over people. You’ll think about the way our society has become increasingly more desensitized (even further than that, like a collective bloodlust, a fascination) to violence. 

The scariest part about this book is that none of it was far fetched, none of it was out of the realm of possibility. It feels as though we’re actively teetering on the brink of something like “Chain-Gain All-Stars” becoming a reality. 

If you’re looking for hard-hitting fiction about the dark potential future of America then this is it. This novel deftly balances conversations about prison abolition, race, class, morality, and so much more. I will think about this one for a long, long time. 

Thank you @librofm for this gifted ALC copy! 

This book was fun, relatable, odd, and messy; I really ate it up. I’m not sure what I was expecting from this one because I haven’t read “Such A Fun Age” and I also did that thing where I didn’t read the back cover copy. 

However, I was delighted to find that one of the main characters, Millie, is a college RA. Millie’s experiences with residents was so painfully relatable and I loved reading every second of it. I also really enjoyed watching Millie full embody the meaning of chaotic bisexual. 

The reader is taken through multiple POVs in this book: Millie, a senior RA just trying to graduate and fulfill her dream of owning a home. Agatha, a visiting professor who is taking a break from her wife. And Katherine (I think that’s her name) and overly-anxious college student who desperately wants to fit in with her roommates. The book ends up culminating in a ridiculous climax that is both unbelievable and relatable (especially as a former RA, I look back at that job and honestly cannot believe the shit I did and saw lmfao). 

I will say that if you’re looking for a plot-driven read, this probably won’t be it. I found it to be less plot and more ~vibes~, but the vibes were good nonetheless. 

The book is lighthearted, chaotic, and smartly written while also commenting on racism, class, desire, consumption, and money. 

Reid’s writing is captivating, I found her style so detailed and witty— I really enjoyed this read! 

I’m sure you’ve seen reviews for this book floating around bookstagram, and if you haven’t then I fear you may be on the wrong side of the internet. 

“Minor Detail” is a harrowing novel about the Palestinian experience that took my breath away. The narration from Siiri Scott is exceptional— if you’re normally a 2x audiobook girly then you’re going to want to slow it down for this one to really take it all in. 

The novel follows two Palestinian women, alive decades apart, to demonstrate how the brutal Israeli occupation has insidiously persisted. Palestinians are violently killed, without reason or question, in the occupied areas of the West Bank and Gaza. 

There are so many layers to the brutalization of Palestinians inflicted by Israel and “Minor Detail” uses blunt writing that digs into the everyday acts of violence Palestinians face: losing access to history and family lineage, restriction of access via heavily militarized checkpoints, identification cards that relegate people to certain geographic locations, the anxieties Palestinian people feel when trying to complete normal, everyday tasks like commuting to work, and so much more.

There’s so much to say about this book that cannot fit neatly into an Instagram caption— but what I can say is that this book will stay with me forever. The stories of Palestinians will stay with me forever. 

Continue to read, honor, remember, and document Palestinian history. We owe Palestine our continued support, endurance, and activism. 

Resist! Protest! Boycott! Call your reps! Do not let our political decision makers know a single moment of peace while they aid in the slaughter of Palestinians. 

“The Vegetarian” by Han Kang: 3.5/5 stars 

I’m not sure what to make of this book and based on some of the reviews I’ve seen online, neither did y’all. 

The aspect of this book that was most poignant for me, and one that I noticed immediately, is that the book is never really told from the perspective of the main character, Yeong-hye. The reader sees Yeong-hye go through a series of mental health crises and I suspect the decision to never tell the story from her point of view is intentional, perhaps to convey that folks experiencing mental health crises feel a lack of agency? Or, maybe more largely a commentary about how women are seen as “hysterical” when making decisions that fall outside of the norms of the patriarchy? I’m not really sure. 

For parts one and two the novel is told from the point of view of her husband and then her brother in law respectively, both of whom reinforce patriarchal stereotypes. Her husband loses interest in her because she no longer provides him resources and comfort when she becomes a vegetarian and refuses to cook meat for him. Her brother in law gains interest in her when he becomes sexually fixated on her and exploits Young-hye for “his art.” Each of these men view their relationship with Young-hye in terms of what kind of service she can provide for them. 

Part three is told from the point of view of Young-hye’s sister and has a sharp tonal shift, likely because this is the only point of view we get from a character who actually cares for Young-hye’s wellbeing. This part shows a peek behind the curtain of someone struggling to care for a loved one who is experiencing a severe mental health crisis. 

I think this is the kind of book that the longer you think about it the more it reveals itself to you. It has layers and meat to sink your teeth into (haha, punny). Overall, I enjoyed the writing even if I don’t know that I fully grasped the message. 

This is such a sweet series, and for a Bookstagram darling this did not disappoint! 

Things that I enjoyed: 
-Loved the discussion of long distance vs. short distance in relationships when one partner goes to college. Nick is getting ready to take the plunge and apply to college and he’s faced with the decision about whether he wants to go to a college he’s really excited about or a school that’s closer to Charlie. This really reflected my experience as a high school students, so I loved this plot line. 
-The way that Alice handles sex and relationships with teenagers is so welly done. I appreciated the emphasis on consent, talking through feelings, and debriefing with partners after taking additional steps in a physical/ sexual relationship 10/10, no notes. 

If you like YA or have a teenager in your life that needs a read that will hit you right in your feels and also models healthy platonic and romantic relationships then this is absolutely for you. 

I cannot wait to see what Alice does in the last installment of “Heartstopper.” I was pleasantly surprised to get to the end of vol. 5 and find out that there will be another book; I thought that vol. 5 was going to be it! 

I listened to “Drunk-ish” in January on the trek from West VA back down to New Orleans and overall, I enjoyed it. One of my best friends in NOLA is a recovering alcoholic and I have another loved one who relapsed in their addiction this summer, so this book hit me right in my feels. I imagine it would for anyone who has a loved  one in active addiction or recovery. 

J, my aforementioned friend, has a lot in common with Stefanie. She’s Jewish, hilarious, and very matter-of-fact about her addiction. I saw so much of J in this book and after reading it I feel  like I understand J just a little bit more, even though I’ll never truly know what it is like to work through addiction. 

It is hard to rate and review memoirs because, well, how do you rate and review someone’s personal history, struggles, emotions, etc.? It’s hard. I will say something that was very apparent to me while reading is that this is a book that center’s the author’s identities (duh, Layne, it’s a memoir), but I say that to highlight that if you’re looking for an intersectional reflection of alcoholism and addiction, this isn’t going to be it. Wilder-Taylor delves into her experiences with being a mother and a woman, but reflects very little (if at all) on her whiteness and how that impacted her addiction and recovery. 

The chapters about motherhood were (surprisingly for me because I am generally uninterested in motherhood because I dislike children and don’t have a desire to have them) some of the most poignant. These passages will stick with me. I’m glad this book gave me more to think about in terms of how I can better support my loved ones who are in recovery for addiction. 

Glad I started off the year with such a banger, and if my first book of 2024 indicated how the rest of my reading year will go, then we’re off to a good start. 

One thing about me is that I love Jesmyn Ward, she’s hands down one of my top five favorite authors of all time. I expected to be blown away by this book because I’ve had visceral, emotional reactions to all of her work (I’ve read all of her books except “The Fire This Time), but I wasn’t. To be clear, I enjoyed this read, but I wasn’t as enthralled with this one as I have been with Ward’s work in the past. I guess it might be a little unfair to compare her books to each other when so many of them are my absolute favs. 

I have no bones to pick with this book, if you like beautiful, moving writing with layered prose and incredible plot execution then you’ll want to pick this one up. Overall, I enjoyed the book, but I felt the middle of the novel lagged for me a bit. I feel like this might be twofold, I’m not really a fan of historical fiction or magical realism— two things that dominate this novel. 

As always, the climax and falling actions of Jesmyn Ward’s writing absolutely captivated me. This is a beautiful and complex story of ancestry, particularly motherhood, of Black women who were enslaved in the south. The motif of water and the reclamation of water after the trauma of ancestors being forcibly transported to America via the Atlantic Ocean was particularly poignant for me throughout this read. 

Not much else to say about this one, Jesmyn Ward never misses. In 2024 I hope to check off the last book of hers that I’ve yet to read.