theskyboi's reviews
81 reviews

Although the information presented was factual and very thoroughly explained, I found the tone and pacing to drag on for too long, leading in repetitive circles of outrage that provided me little in the way of understanding how this crisis could be effectively averted.

Honestly, it was so limiting to be inside Joe's head the entire time; it felt like there was no interaction happening, and there was no lead-up to the intense scenes. Simply put, the TV show was much better executed.

I simply lost interest in the book due to poor organization and lack of depth behind the story being told. Additionally, the audiobook reader made it difficult to feel enraptured by the scenes being described.

When I say that this book had everything, I feel as though I'm not exaggerating in the slightest. Overall, I had such a fantastic time with Brit Bennett's impactful second novel.

Desiree and Stella Vignes are two identical twin sisters who grow up in Mallard, a town too small to have ever made it onto the map. Perhaps too big for their britches or too ambitious for their surroundings, they let out for greater destinies: Desiree as a Black woman and Stella passing for White.

At the center of this novel lies the struggle that Desiree faces in trying to find her long-lost twin, yet there are so many interlocked stories that sprout from this search. Jude, Desiree's daughter, inevitably sparked my interest with her lifelong journey of love and self-discovery.

Although I will refrain from revealing too much of the intrigue contained between the covers of this magnificent book, I will say that I was delighted to read a story that so effortlessly weaved its way through the intersecting identities of its characters: Black, White, trans, gay, and cis.

Bennett's care for these characters shines brightly on every subsequent page, and the attention that she paid to crafting such a satisfyingly connected, intergenerational exploration of identity formation was much more than I could have ever hoped to find.

Honestly, I had expected so much from this book. A man is battling with the devil, and he wonders whether he should be hospitalized for a psychotic episode. On the surface, the story seemed to be delivering a powerful, meaningful message, but I cannot help but wonder if I was the ideal audience member for this spectacle.

What I will commend the author for is the quality of the short stories interspersed within the novel; these are not at all directly related to the story, but they were so much richer and more well developed than any of the scenes starring the protagonist, Jacob. It seemed that there were too many storylines competing for my attention in order for me to truly enjoy this work. 

 Another portion of this book that did seem redeemable to me were the tales of Jacob's childhood, where he was raised by the women of the brothel that his mother worked at. Sad and tortured though it was, this story carried with it hope for a better future and the candid vulnerability of life seen through a child's innocence. Were the novel entirely based upon this, I feel it would have faired better. 

 Adding to the mix of fictional stories penned by Jacob, his life's retrospective, and his conversations with the devil are the memories of his lost family. First, he details how he lost connection with his mother, and later as an adult, he grapples with the devastating loss of his partner and his closest friends during the AIDS crisis. As powerful as this message should have been, it suffered the same fate as other portions of this busy book.

Least effective of all were the tales of Jacob's masochistic sexual exploits, which bordered on abuse, and the inclusion of various whimsical and somewhat queer interpretations of Christian saints for the devil to volley back and forth with as he determined what to do with Jacob's soul. I feel that these two gruesome and boring segments, respectively, were the final nail in the coffin, killing any chance of artistic impact.

To someone else, this novel might have served as some abstract experimentation of the written word, but to me, it was an unfinished draft that left me questioning whether the author had too many simultaneous ambitions for his own good. While I still had a good time with some of the aforementioned sections, I still wish I had not been dealt a string of unfinished books that were poorly stitched together.

Red Clay Suzie is Jeffrey Dale Lofton's debut novel, and I am more than grateful to have been gifted a signed copy of such an extraordinarily candid and heartwarming book. I was immediately enamored with Philbet's pure way of seeing the world around him.

As a fairly character driven novel, Philbet's story spans from his earliest memories of time spent with his grandaddy to his life later on in school and every little detail in between. I would be doing any potential readers a disservice by not mentioning how genuinely conversational this book's tone is; every moment feels like peeking into a personal diary.

Obsessed with Matchbox cars and his own pedal car, Philbet learns the ways of life among his closest family and friends, recounting memories inevitably tinted by the rich, red clay of his hometown. Quite simply, this tender novel is so incredibly atmospheric in the way it weaves together seemingly unrelated memories to create a tapestry of recollection.

Based on Lofton's own uprbinging in Georgia, he states that Philbet's story is, at its core, a version of his own life's story. Given this preface to the book, it is so evident that every page was painstakingly pruned to show the truth behind a unique upbringing of a gay boy within a seemingly rigid yet caring culture.

Since much of the book is best left unspoiled, I will simply mention that I immensely recommend it to anyone who likes to feel good when they read. Of course, Red Clay Suzie isn't without its own share of drama and sorrow, but what good story is? Hop to it, and rev your engines up for this must-read debut!

Through the candid view into the lives of others, memoirs often allow us to glean something deeper about our own experiences. I'm Glad My Mom Died is no exception to this maxim. As Jennette McCurdy unfurls a life spent in the shadow of her mother's unfulfilled dream, she transparently outlines the struggles that come along with recovering from a life of abuse.

Where words fail to explain the traumatic weight of being abused by a parent, McCurdy employs quite a punch with well crafted chapter endings that leave the reader contemplating yet eager to keep pushing onward. This book's strength lies in its sincere attempt to document her thoughts regarding costars, managers, family, and close others. However, the timeline of McCurdy's life was too difficult to follow at times, which made it difficult to fully conceptualize her life story.

It should not come as a surprise that a book with this title delves into the lifelong abuse that McCurdy experienced under her mother's care, but it should be noted that there are extensive, detailed descriptions of sexual, verbal, and emotional abuse, which she credits as the point of origin for her alcohol use and eating disorders. While these do not detract from the memoir itself, it is fair to warn any readers with particular sensitivities.

Overall, there was much to be learned in my reading of this book. McCurdy's life served as something of a mirror through which I could understand the limits of the human soul, as well as its persistence. No one thing can define us in this world, and I believe that this book encapsulates the importance of mental health treatment, as well as child welfare, especially within the context of the entertainment industry. This read will stay with me for quite some time.

What can my review possibly add to a book that is celebrating its 40th anniversary? The House of the Spirits fits snugly into the moniker of "debut novel," given the old adage to "write what you know." As a patchwork history of Chile in the 20th century, as well as a saga of the purportedly fictional Trueba family's women, this book weaves magical realism and historical fiction into an unforgettable read that any author would feel lucky to consider their first foray into fiction.

Having read the novel in Spanish, I feel both blessed and cursed to have had access to the original text; I was enchanted and haunted in equal measure. While the book deals largely in political and historical themes, the legacies of the women within the Trueba family are at the crux of the story. From Clara's clairvoyance to Blanca's indecision and to Alba's tenacity, this book illustrates the power that comes with sharing the stories that are most personal to us.

Often taking a circuitous path between past and present, the prose of this novel is what enchants the reader most of all. From the moment that Clara has her first premonition until the narrator utters that final phrase, reading this book is a challenge rewarded with mischief, absurdity, solemnity, and satisfaction. However, that flowery language Allende seems predisposed to include in her story did result in a rather slow-paced read, so consider yourself warned.

In light of warnings, the content of this novel, while fictionalized, does align with the true struggles of the life of 20th-century Chileans. The violence perpetuated across lines of gender, class, and race is far too prevalent in this book for me not to warn any potential readers. While typically dealt with in ways that I find historically accurate to the spirit of many lived experiences, I do note the very graphic nature of this novel.