thebakersbooks's reviews
281 reviews

I had a hard time giving this book less than three stars, in part because I really like author Sierra Elmore (from what I've seen on Twitter; I don't know her personally) and she's done a lot of good mental health advocacy. However, as someone with the same mental conditions as the main character who has struggled with them for much longer, I take issue with a lot of how living with depression is represented in this book.

It would be doing this book a disservice not to talk about its many excellent aspects, so I'll start there. Firstly, I loved that main character Carter is a bisexual Black girl—and one who excels in and loves STEM, no less! It was also great that the main cast was all queer minus the token straight girl—there were enough queer characters that even the antagonist(s) could be queer. I liked how complex the antagonists were, and giving one of them an equal MC POV was a bold choice that turned out working well. It allowed insight into how people can be good in many regards (the main antagonist is committed to supporting Black people; another is head of the GSA) yet this doesn't redeem their other harmful actions.

Another excellent theme was the way adults, particularly school faculty, are unhelpful a lot of the time in situations where students are mentally ill and/or are being bullied. There's a really great passage: "He's one of the 'cool' teachers, the one who lets students get away with things we shouldn't in order to score popular points with the kind of girls he never had a chance with in high school," that I think most people who've gone to high school have experienced. All the girls' parents are also present in the story, and they run the gamut from Carter's mom (fiercely supportive but deliberately kept out of the loop by her daughter) to Abby's parents (divorced, often-absent Catholic Republicans Abby notes are racist). Basically, I liked how the narrative acknowledged how much influence adults have over teenagers' lives, even if the teens won't always admit it.

Now on to my major issue: how mental illness was treated (and it was the main theme of the book). Carter has severe chronic treatment-resistant depression and spends a great deal of her time actively suicidal. She attempts suicide about halfway through the book. And then, oddly, everything magically gets better for her. She finds a psychiatrist who works for her, she is prescribed meds that make most of her depressive symptoms fade, and other students who tormented her mercilessly will suddenly give her the time of day. In short, the book's framing makes attempting suicide seem like the answer to all life's problems. Further, Carter says/thinks things that indicate the author thinks depression is something from which one can recover completely. It's not, and any psychiatrist or therapist will tell their patients that meds and therapy can help manage symptoms, but they're never going to completely go away. In my personal experience, meds often become less effective over time and you have to try something else, which may or may not work. I think it's actively harmful that Carter's psychiatrist never challenges how Carter perceives this as it may give readers the wrong impression.

I also had a less major issue with how a number of the antagonists got redemption arcs. These are people who bullied someone to the point of her attempting suicide, yet the bullied person tolerates and even befriends them afterward. The parents of the antagonist-MC who she mentioned were racist? She grows closer with them over the course of the book despite no mention being made of them doing antiracist learning/work. The MC basically gives the antagonist MC a pass for all her bad behavior because it turns out they both have trauma—that's not how life works. Basically, I think there need to be consequences for that kind of thing and it felt disingenuous for the story to gloss over the consequences of people doing harm to others, often those with more marginalizations than them.

I wish I hadn't read this book. I don't know if I want others to read it. If so, I rec it with reservations and a recommendation to look at the content warnings first. I was severely triggered by the on-page suicide attempt and self-harm, so I hate to think how a depressed teenager (this book's presumed target audience) would react. The depressed MC also punches down/sideways at folks with "scary" mental illnesses, acting upset to be assumed one of them. As a person with depression whose parent has a scary mental illness, I'm never going to be okay with that. Intersectionality is necessary within our community and I feel it was irresponsible of the author to have a sympathetic character act this way.

Content notes: on-page self-harm; on-page suicide attempt including method; ableism; madphobia/misia; internalized fatphobia; food-shaming/dieting; intense bullying, including physical harm; discussion of racist microaggressions; repeated mention of child rape; PTSD from rape; anti-mad slurs (psycho, crazy); involuntary institutionalization; underage drinking; nascent alcohol abuse

This book didn’t do much for me, but it’s possible that’s because I always have a hard time immersing myself in the High Holidays. If the author was aiming to imbue readers with existential dread and fear that they’re not going hard enough at Yom Kippur, he succeeded. 

I was also a bit annoyed by the way the author made other people’s extremely personal life events about his own spiritual journey—and then publicized that stuff in a book. I assume he got permission from most of the folks involved, but some of them are dead, so clearly he couldn’t do that with everybody. One particularly frustrating section discussed some visceral details of his wife giving birth to to their first child, during which she had many complications, and he kept trying to meditate. Just, what? Also, every time he talks about divorce, for some reason he says “divorce our husbands” like he’s approaching it from a female perspective when he’s male and has himself been through divorce. Could’ve just gone gender-neutral and avoided difficulties. 

The book also—unsurprisingly but disappointingly—has a whole passage that frames Israel’s occupation of Palestine as a both-sides conflict where each side wronged the other. It’s a common opinion in Jewish spaces, but not one I support or condone furthering by publishing it in a book. In a similar vein, there’s some brief but very weird anti-indigenous and anti-homeless stuff. 

I did take away some helpful things from reading this, but most of it was quotes or thoughts from other people that the author was retelling. The one thing I really liked that seemed purely his was, “But I am a schlimazel, and sometimes I let people down”: acknowledging one’s imperfections and deciding to do one’s best to be a good person anyway. 

tldr; I understand that this is a popular book to read in the lead-up to the High Holidays, but I don’t see the big deal.

5/5 stars — I never wanted this to end and would barter away my own (nonexistent) firstborn for a sequel.

Rebecca Podos’ From Dust, a Flame explores complex family dynamics against a backdrop of unapologetically Jewish magic and myth. The story’s use of multiple timelines is impeccable, particularly in discussing the impact of generational trauma on parent-child relationships. The sibling banter is excellent; I’ve rarely seen a book so perfectly encapsulate how siblings will sacrifice anything for each other but still argue and disagree with each other. On a personal level, I also appreciated the main character’s experience of knowing nothing about her mother’s family because her mother won’t talk about or visit them. It’s a weird experience and one I’ve never shared with a fictional character before.

The depth of Jewishness in this book is absolutely delightful. There’s everything from routine life happenings like observing Shabbat and sitting shiva to traditional folk remedies and stories about glamim and shedim in Ashkenazi culture. The rabbi at the synagogue the main character’s family belongs to is a Black woman, which is nice to see given the amount of anti-Blackness present in modern Jewish communities. There’s also a solid stab at embracing converts even though the MC is Jewish by birth. This isn’t done perfectly (there’s still quite a bit of the ‘cultural Jewishness is in your history/blood’ talk that is often weaponized against converts) but it seems to be written in good faith, so I’m not requiring perfection to feel seen and represented.

Queerness is the final point that sold me on this book; a range of LGBTQ+ identities are represented, from the MC’s brother being gay to the MC’s new friend and unofficial guide being a lesbian. The MC herself grapples with her own sexuality over the course of the book. There’s even a character in the mother’s timeline who’s queer, which was a nice touch. Finally, the golem the characters meet is referenced with they/them pronouns since they don’t/can’t say which pronouns they use. These things might seem like barely more than the minimum for this kind of rep, but it was more the way they were written—relatably, respectfully, and with compassion and humor—that made an impression on me. On another personal note, it was cool to see two siblings who are both queer; this is the kind of thing that straight, cis folks might find unbelievable but aligns with queer lived experiences, including my own. Most of all, I liked that characters being queer was never treated as a source of conflict in their families or religious community.

Lamenting my inability to do books I really enjoyed justice in my reviews is a theme with me, but I hope I’ve conveyed my enthusiasm for this one. If you need further motivation to pick it up, I can add that the romance is cute and full of chemistry, the teens get to swear a lot, and spooky-supernatural-mystery atmosphere is unparalleled. If any of the above appealed to you, I’m literally begging you to read this book. It was so freaking good.

Content notes: Holocaust mentions and brief POV scenes of the early Nazi invasion; mild body horror; lots of f-bombs. There’s also a couple instances of the g-slur for Roma people in the context of the name of a species of moth. I wish the author had used the new name (spongy moth) instead.

Akwaeke Emezi's debut novel Freshwater was the perfect book to boost me out of a reading slump. The prose is beautiful, the characters full of energy and detail, the experiences visceral. This is a book of sharp and jagged edges that cut to the emotional quick. I don't have the skill as a reviewer to do this story justice, but I enjoyed it a lot, even the painful parts.

It's odd to call such a dreamlike book relatable, but the main character of Freshwater was easy to connect to even when her specific struggles weren't ones I'd experienced. Ada's exploration of gender and sexuality were particularly special to me as someone with similar experiences. I'd be remiss not to mention that intersections of cultural and sexual/gender identity are unique to those who live them; as a white U.S.ian reader, I'm sure much of the nuance of being Black, Nigerian, an immigrant, etc. AND queer went over my head. That didn't diminish my enjoyment of reading it at all, and I hope will add to the richness of the experience for readers who do share those identities as well.

Freshwater is a short book but not necessarily a quick read; it grapples with a number of serious topics including rape, trauma, and grief. Nevertheless, the hints of magic and myth, whether real or allegorical, add a bit of lightness and much-needed distance from events that happen to Ada. There is joy amidst the pain that overshadows much of Ada's life, and the payoff when she eventually begins to understand herself more and come into her own feels like its own kind of magic. This is a story that will stay with me for a long time, a standout as both a literary work and a fantasy novel. I highly recommend this book to adult readers.

Content notes: accidental child injury (graphic); self-harm throughout; rape; eating disorder/anorexia; abusive relationships; drug use; alcohol addiction; gender dysphoria; outing a trans character; mild/brief homophobia; child sexual assault; suicide attempt

I'm a completionist and usually have a hard time DNFing books, but this? This was a pleasure to stop reading. Maybe this book was enjoyable for a certain audience (fantasy romance readers) in 2007 when it was published, but it aged very poorly.

I don't intend to waste more of my time by writing an extensive review, but the crux of my issue with Magic Bites is that the female main character constantly judges other women. She's the epitome of pick-me, not like other girls, "strong female character" psuedo-feminism that actually puts women down. All the characters she respects and deals with as peers or superiors are male; female characters stick around just long enough for the MC to compare herself physically, find herself lacking (despite every male character propositioning her within an hour of meeting her), and smugly declare she'd rather be strong than pretty anyway. Cue eye roll.

There is also:
- overt fatphobia within the first couple of chapters ("an overweight slob" and "Gene Autry gone on a long Twinkie binge")
- two controlling love interests, the "nicer" one of whom is creepy as fuck (says he doesn't like to be startled "except by young, attractive women" in his first exchange with the MC; gets the MC's number from a co-worker after she refuses to give it to him)
- baked-in racism of the variety where the author describes characters' skin color only if they're Black or brown and the MC having no respect for in-world groups' cultures and traditions (the author frames this as funny/quirky)
- a passage where the MC is describing a vampire and she says, "Undeath had sharpened already delicate features, making it look like a concentration camp victim." Even if the author wasn't aware that European vampires were created based on antisemitic tropes, that would be a massively inappropriate thing to write. 

I happily wash my hands of this book and recommend that people actively avoid reading it. (Also, that's the last time I take book recs from one of my wife's co-workers.) 

So, I should not have read this book. I saw that Lili (USOM) had said it was hard to give comp titles for this, but if she had to choose one, it would be Middlegame by Seanan McGuire. I know lots of folks loved Middlegame and that it was a very well-written book, but it wasn't my cup of tea. The comparison between that book and this one was accurate as far as tone, mood, and (for lack of a better word) pretentiousness; I didn't care for it at all. I'm going to try not to let that influence my review (if I did, this would likely have been a 1-star read for me) and rather evaluate the book on its merits alone.

First, I'd like to say that while I didn't especially enjoy Middlegame due to the complexity of the plot structure and some of the terminology/jargon that I just didn't understand, I do trust McGuire to largely avoid including ableism, fatphobia, queerphobia, and racism in her books. Scott Hawkins? Not so much. This book was everything that didn't appeal to me about Middlegame with the additions of ableist terminology throughout, completely unnecessary homophobia by some characters, and a fair bit of mild fatphobia and racism as well. There were no openly queer characters in this book, and honestly, thank goodness for that. I don't want this author writing my community.

I'm aware that the content of a book and the things fictional characters do and say don't necessarily represent the views of the author. However, things like describing an Indian man's skin as "caramel colored"; making it so the only fat characters are bit roles, criminals, and/or die immediately; and having (unsympathetic) characters spew graphic homophobia? Those are authorial choices. And those were only a handful of examples; I could give several more in each category.

As I'm writing this, I actually knocked my rating down a star because this was a long book and I forgot, by the time I was through with it, how angry the things mentioned above had made me. I'm also having a hard time coming up with redeeming facts about the story, characters, etc.; I suppose the plot's complexity could interest some readers, as well as the amoral/villain-arc main character who was nevertheless somewhat sympathetic. The atmosphere and worldbuilding left a lot to be desired. I feel like a lot of the "magic" system was handwaved using obscure terminology, but it didn't seem consistent within itself. Basically, this felt like fantasy by an author who dislikes the fantasy genre and who used jargon and elision to avoid developing the setting well.

If you got this far into my review, you've probably guessed that I do not recommend this book. I'd also be reluctant to read anything else by this author based on the range of baked-in bigotries I covered above. Also, do male authors know that having a female character get raped isn't the only way of giving her trauma and a motivation for revenge? Just wondering. Anyway, go read Middlegame if you haven't, but look elsewhere for more of that vibe if you end up enjoying it.

Content notes: gore and violence; rape; child abduction and child abuse; violent homophobia and homophobic slurs; mention of wartime violence against civilians; suicide by hanging, poison, and self-immolation; mild cannibalism; animal death and graphic gore involving a dead dog

This was one of only two books I managed to read during Pride month, but it was definitely a "quality over quantity" situation; All the White Spaces is a masterclass in survival horror and offered up all the trans-masc feels. Set in the wake of WWI, the story features protagonist Jonathan Morgan, who talks his best friend into helping him stow away on the Antarctica-bound ship of a famous explorer. Jonathan's fascination with polar exploration is largely impressed on him by proxy: his two older brothers, who died in the war, spent their lives dreaming of going to Antarctica. The expedition is thus fraught with not only Jonathan's desire to prove himself in such a masculine pursuit, but his need to fulfill his brothers' dreams however possible.

The aspect of this book I liked most was that Jonathan maintaining his gender identity and concealing his assigned-at-birth sex was not a main plotline. He occasionally has to remind his friend of his correct name, etc., but the dire straits in which the expedition finds itself, coupled with everyone being perpetually bundled up against the cold, render it a nonissue. As such, this was a story that centered the survival-horror aspect, not the MC being transgender.

My second-favorite thing about the book is how the nature of the threat is left open to interpretation. In many books like this, the mysterious scary thing turns out to have a natural explanation, but in this case, the apparitions and voices in the wind are strongly implied to be supernatural.

Jonathan wasn't necessarily a relatable protagonist, but he was easy to root for. His sheer audacity and determination were a joy to watch. Author Ally Wilkes did a stellar job of establishing the atmosphere of the Antarctic (thinking about the aurora still freaks me out months later) and chipping away at all the characters' sanity over the course of their attempt to survive the winter. All the White Spaces is a fantastic read for lovers of survival horror, particularly in historical settings. Be ready for lots of gruesome deaths, though!

Content warnings: graphic depiction of death by frostbite; off-page implications of people eating dogs; setting-typical animal cruelty; accidental outing (not of main character); brief period-typical homophobia 

You don't have to be a creator of online content to know that any comments section past a certain size will be a cesspool. Don't Read the Comments, a story about the harassment and doxxing of a teen streamer named D1V (real name Divya) by a faction of trolls who think she, as a girl and a person of color, is "taking up space" meant for a "more deserving" streamer. The other MC is a boy named Aaron whose game-developer boss undervalues his labor and continually puts off paying him for the storywriting he's done for an upcoming release. At one point, a woman-centered con panel consists of three men, a male moderator, and one woman. Chef's kiss; very true to life, however unfortunate.

This book gripped me in the first chapter and didn't let go until the end; I stayed up until 2 a.m. reading it before making myself go to sleep and save the climax and ending for morning. Author Eric Smith's teenagers don't necessarily read as their correct age in all regards (increasingly an issue in YA books), but the friendships ring true for what I remember of being a teen, as does the emotional immediacy. I enjoyed how it brought up financial insecurity with Divya and her mom and parents projecting their dreams onto their kids with Aaron and *his* mom. Overall, this book deals well with a number of heavy issues.

I do, however, question the validity of making police the "good guys" in this plot. Particularly when juxtaposed with one of the MCs' parents being Palestinian, it's both unrealistic and not a good look. (For those who might be unaware, occupied Palestine is a testing ground for a lot of the weapons, gear, and tactics that U.S. cops use, often for police brutality against protestors and BIPOC.) Also, the book starts out mentioning how Divya's friend was assaulted and harassed yet the police couldn't/wouldn't do anything about her attackers, so it's weird to me that the same set of cops not only believe Divya and take her online harassment seriously, but take major steps to keep her safe.

Although the ending is slightly bittersweet because Divya ultimately decides to give up her streaming career, I found the resolution satisfying. All the antagonists get some form of comeuppance, and while I would've liked to see Aaron's boss get "canceled" on-page, it's implied that his career is in serious jeopardy as a result of his theft of employees' intellectual property. Largely due to the tone of the book (and a bit because I follow Smith on Twitter and know what he's about), I felt like I could expect a happy ending even during the worst lows for each character, which is something I really appreciate in YA contemporary novels.

Don't Read the Comments was a wonderful book; its few flaws didn't prevent me from enjoying it at all. It does feel a bit like it was written for adults rather than teens, but I think the older YA set would still find it enjoyable. Finally, the mention of the Desi Geek Girls podcast made my heart grow a million sizes and I'd rec this book based on that alone.

Content notes: mention of sexual assault, the perpetrators sharing a video of it publicly, and the victim's resulting trauma; sexual harassment; online harassment; doxxing and real-life threats; attempted harm by deliberately trying to induce a seizure 

Silvia Moreno-Garcia is one of my auto-read authors and I'm shocked it took me this long to get to Mexican Gothic, which is possibly her most acclaimed work to date. I'm not a big horror reader (can I still say that given how much horror I've read lately?) but this book wasn't overly scary, more creepy and gross in the vein of many gothic stories. It's clear to see Moreno-Garcia is both a scholar and aficionado of the gothic genre(s); in the post-book material she sums it up better than I could:

The book tells the story of Noemí Taboada and her travails while visiting her cousin in a very strange house full of even stranger people. It's also threaded with topics like colonialism, eugenics, and exploitation of several types. The narrative gets much darker than I expected, although with my new knowledge of gothic writing I'm now aware that's typical of this kind of novel.

I'm mostly impressed that despite the depths of horror and despair to which the plot descended, it managed to deliver a tentatively happy ending, complete with budding romance!

I finished this book in just over 24 hours *while in the middle of moving,* which is to say I got a bit swept up in the story and am having a hard time teasing apart exactly what made it so excellent. Some things I really enjoyed were the symbolism and the theme of modernity vs. decay, as well as the juxtaposition of upbeat, progressive MC Naomí and the moldering house and family with whom she stays. Naomí's personality made the book less scary than it might otherwise have been, I think, because she stays funny, determined, and outgoing through many awful situations.

I'm pretty sure I'm the last person to read this book, but to anybody who hasn't: I absolutely see why it's popular and I can't recommend it strongly enough. That said, I highly advise checking out the content warnings first because there are MANY. My cw list below involves a few spoilers, but they're nonspecific and don't directly ruin any major plot points. Anyway, Mexican Gothic reaffirmed my status as a Silvia Moreno-Garcia fan to the point that I'm tempted to break pattern and read another book by her ASAP when I'm supposed to be working through my TBR in order.

content warnings: body horror, cannibalism, spousal abuse, medical abuse, mentions of mass murder, gaslighting, incest, infanticide, eugenics, racism, sexual assault, mentions/implications of rape 

The Kindred, set in the same world as author Alechia Dow’s debut but slightly earlier, has the same powerful emotional core and ultimately hopeful tone that made The Sound of Stars an immediate favorite of mine. This is YA sci-fi at its best: light to medium worldbuilding, a beautiful romance, and several (interstellar, of course) journeys of self-discovery.

Early parts of the book where the characters are new to Earth have strong ‘Star Trek: The Voyage Home’ vibes, which was so much fun. I actually preferred the parts of the book that took place on fictional planets, but watching the main characters discover everyday human practices and items was entertaining. Landing on Earth also allows the main characters to grapple with some of the flaws in their own home, delving into issues of economic disparity and colonialism.

And of course, no review of this book would be complete without discussing the central premise: Kindred. A concept designed to combat but not eliminate harsh class divides, the Kindred system pairs each individual with someone born around the same time. They’re mentally linked for the rest of their lives, able to see and feel everything their Kindred does. The two protagonists, Joy and Felix, are an incongruous Kindred pair, and much of the tension in the story stems from their vastly different social statuses and upbringings.

Above everything else, I loved watching a girl who’s always been told to make herself smaller and quieter get attention from hot guys, receive compliments on her appearance and personality from peers, and generally be affirmed in her existence just as she is. This book is undoubtedly a love letter to anyone who’s ever been told their skin’s too dark, their body’s too big, or their laugh is too loud, to paraphrase a quote from Joy.

I highly recommend this book to folks who enjoyed The Sound of Stars and anyone who likes sci-fi that’s innovative but doesn’t have a big learning curve due to super complex worldbuilding. You’ll probably enjoy the book most if you’re a fan of romance, but I’m not especially and I liked it anyway!

content warnings: fatphobia (external and internalized), body shaming and food shaming, colorism, strong themes of classism, themes of colonization, socio-cultural misogyny