theskyboi's reviews
81 reviews

Every once in a while, you get lucky enough to find an author who so effortlessly writes the exact same way you think, and I was fortunate enough to bump into Alejandro Varela's debut novel. From its premise alone, The Town of Babylon seems like quite a simple, human tale of strolling down roads with memories best left unexamined, but Varela's prose manages to tackle the mundane and the emotional through a lens of public health that adds as much nuance as it does sincerity.

Through a fairly character-driven story with flawed humans just trying their best, this novel  follows Andrés as he reluctantly agrees to reconnect with his high school classmates at the most recent reunion. Amid old flames, past bullies, and gossip about some absent classmates, Andrés finds himself drowning his anxieties in alcohol and regret. Overall, a vulnerable narrator yet guarded protagonist is at the helm of the main plot line.

As stated before, public health plays a huge role in this book's style. From mortality and mental health to sociocultural stressors and public transportation, Varela manages to weave together the quotidian with the philosophical and scientific. As Andrés revisits his childhood town, he glimpses into the lives of others in such  an earnest way that captures the essence of what it means to integrate the past into our evolving sense of self.

Never have I read a work of fiction that so blatantly tapped into my worldview, inviting me to stay a while in the thoughts of its protagonist. Even in the moments where I felt my heart thumping at the choices Andrés made, I felt seen and heard as a gay Latino; it felt fulfilling to see another representation that didn't fit the typical, pre-approved mold. Each journey into the life and strife of Andrés, his classmates, and his family is reminiscent of what I've seen from some short story collections, yet it feels more unified through its continuous narrative.

The Sign for Home is one of those novels that lingers on your mind and immediately brings a grin to your face when you remember everything within its tenderly crafted prose. Blair Fell's first novel demands to take up space on your shelf, nestling itself nicely between fact and fiction. Equal parts endearing, enlightening, and evocative, this book captures the heart and mind in equal measure.

I'll start with Cyril, the gay, middle-aged ASL interpreter with a heart full of good intentions and not nearly enough executive decision making to back them up. His chapters both eased me into learning about a language and culture I've had next to no exposure to while also allowing me to see where I'd fit in among all the turmoil in the book—being gay myself and all.

Of course, there would be no novel without the pure, driven soul known as Arlo Dilly. What a protagonist! I cannot stress enough that I have never felt so proud for or enamored with a fictional character. As a DeafBlind college student, Arlo hopes to gain fluency in written English in order to assist with his mission trip in Ecuador. However, Arlo finds himself torn between his past and future when Molly, his lifelong interpreter, is paired with the downright sinful Cyril as part of his scholastic interpreting team.

I'd be remiss to not praise Fell for his decision to write Arlo's chapters in the second-person perspective while leaving Cyril's in first. Cyril's limited view of life, love, and relationships sits snugly within the first-person chapters while Arlo's every move is written so effortlessly in a manner that allowed me to place my hearing-sighted experience aside and immerse myself in this young man's world.

Without spoiling too much of what happens, I will guarantee that this book will make you giggle as much as it makes you shake your fist at the injustice of our troubled planet. Please make some space for this beautiful book among your most treasured tomes. For what it's worth, I hope this photo and review can capture even a fraction of how totally this book addresses the concept of the sublime.

The titular Ash is a new college student with a penchant for the expeditions of Xena, the warrior princess. As Ash acclimates to life in university, he finds himself torn between a fast-paced, exhausting friendship with the eccentric Ezra and the mysterious, closeted romance bubbling behind Jonah's closed doors. Within its first few pages, the book paints a rather clear picture of Ash's insecurities and doubts, but Max Deacon's clever writing wastes no time engaging readers with themes of self-discovery and the difficulty of navigating interpersonal relationships.

What drew me in the most was how raw and intense it felt to read about Ash's confrontations with his friends and with himself. As a former college student whose relationships suffered greatly at the hands of self-doubt and inexperience, I could relate so effortlessly to Ash's struggle to find his place among peers whose experience seemed far more vast than his own. Though not universal, Ash's love for Xena can strike a chord with anyone who has found themselves faced against the anxiety—or embarrassment—of showing others your deepest interests. We've all had a time or another where we felt like the odd one out.

As queer people, we seldom have any idea of how to balance relationships, both friendly and romantic, as we forge our own identities. Cold Like Ash adeptly and succinctly encapsulates the fears and stressors that come with young adulthood in the twenty-first century; I found myself crying and cheering for a past version of myself when I looked into Ash's life story. The mark of brilliance in an author is written all over this book, and I couldn't recommend it more highly.

TBR pile was too large.

I started too early; I'll pick it up later.

At its center, this novel's narrative centers on Isaiah and Samuel, an enslaved couple on the Mississippi plantation disaffectionately known as Empty. However, the narration travels between the lives of all the plantation's major figures, weaving a careful, complex tapestry of sorrows, histories, and identities. While this book did take me rather long to finish, I don't find it to be a flaw; rather, I consider it a slower story that envelops you and begs you to consider each and every character in their totality.

Part of the pacing comes from the emotional weight of assessing the relationship we have to past cultures erased and exploited in the name of greed and power. Part of the pacing comes from the lyrical prose and poetry that Robert Jones Jr. expertly crafted on the pages of his debut novel. As an author, he utilizes each character's voice for the purposes of an emotional about-face between terror and tenderness.

I absolutely consider this book an essential addition to my shelf, and I feel enriched after having delved into the world of these forbidden lovers. However, the brutality of slavery cannot be ignored, so I present a brief notice to readers who know themselves to be sensitive in regard to such acts of violence.

Thank you to Penguin Books and Paul Tran for the free book for review.

All the Flowers Kneeling is poet Paul Tran's debut collection, containing confessional, intimate musings on the links between emotion and fact. As challenging as they are enticing, each poem leads perfectly into the next, creating a work that begs you to view it piece by piece as much as it implores you to take the whole book in as a cohesive epic.

Rarely do I think that calling a work important suffices as a compliment; I do find this collection to serve a huge purpose in terms of representation, but I do believe it accomplishes more than just that. Seeing a queer artist's take on spirituality, science, trauma, abuse, and beauty published so widely is truly a magnificent sight for me. However, this is not to be overshadowed by how universal yet deeply personal each of these poems is. Being able to connect with Tran and their perspective of the world brings me joy as a reader along with the serenity of knowing that there is a wider queer community having their voices reflected in verse.

Given that the collection is so perfectly interwoven, I find it almost traitorous to isolate any of the poems as individual favorites, but "Endosymbiosis" leapt off the page and stared directly into the chambers of my memory, begging me to feel alongside Tran's perfect diction. A true marvel of modern literature, this debut is something I will cherish as a personal classic for years to come. If you do read any poetry this year, All the Flowers Kneeling comes with my highest remarks.

Thank you to the author for a free copy for review.

Petrified Women is a horror novella that follows the story of Harley, a woman who has had her fair share of bad memories when it comes to men. Aiden, Harley's current boyfriend, is an incurable prankster, prone to scaring her when he's not working on his wood sculptures. When Harley decides to try a prank of her own, she's left paralyzed in fear as she stumbles into a chilling surprise she hadn't ever expected.

As a new convert to the world of horror in literature, I was delighted to feel my heart thumping against my chest with every page I turned. Jeremy Ray masterfully injects the real-life effects of trauma into a world tinged by a dark, twisted magic, leaving readers no choice but to empathize with Harley's struggle to find her way out of terror. Without spoiling too much of what happens, I appreciated this story's dedication to personifying that sense that the demons of the past can follow us in the form of both trauma and acceptance; none of us is solely bound to inaction in the face of abject horror, but accepting our emotions is key to overcoming that sense of learned helplessness.

Apart from the content of the story itself, I need to praise Ray's care for the reader in crafting his work. From the content warnings that clearly outline the gravity of Harley's story to the micro-fiction preamble to set the scene, it is clear that this author cares for each soul who picks up his works. I had a little bit of every feeling follow me from page to page while reading Petrified Women, and for that, I highly recommend carving out some time to do the same.

Thank you to Book Club Favorites at Simon and Schuster for the free copy for review.

Documenting the essence of history as it truly happened befalls those of us with a keen intellect and a heavy heart; the stories most worth telling are the ones that require equal parts reflection and discussion.

For me, No Land to Light On reads somewhat like a modern-day Moby Dick. It is a story comprised of the story of human desire and resilience paired alongside scientific accounts of the migratory patterns of birds. As Sama and Hadi are separated by a travel ban that leaves them uncertain of their status as a budding family in the United States, chapters alternate between their courtship in Boston, their past in Syria, and their current dilemma across two continents.

At times too difficult to confront alone, the reality of insufficient measures for asylum seekers is at the forefront of this novel. For what I craved in terms of a solid resolution or more plot-driven scenes, this book was able to make up for in its approach to recording the effects of American policies on global affairs. Similarly, the candid expressions of doubt, frustration, and longing from the protagonists is definitely what propels the story forward.

Although I'm not certain that this book is for everyone, I know that its content is pivotal for both contemporary and future readers. History will be framed not only by the power players, but by the dreamers and writers who dared to pair fact with emotion.

Thank you to Book Club Favorites at Simon & Schuster for the free book for review!

At the novel's outset, Frida Liu has had a lapse in judgment on a hectic day, and she has decided to leave her daughter, Harriet, at home alone. From this point forward, Frida is forced to prove her worth as a mother, as a woman, and as an American citizen at the eponymous School for Good Mothers.

In this stunning debut, Jessamine Chan interweaves the fabrics of literary and speculative fiction by telling a tale that some may call paranoid while others may feel is more aptly deemed prescient. Amid the tools of modern-day surveillance, these so-called bad mothers are given the chance to regain the lost custody of their children upon completing an experimental curriculum within the fenced-in confines of a dystopian learning center. Faced with the disappointment of watching her ex-husband and his new girlfriend raising her daughter, Frida is more determined than ever to put her whole heart into learning how to become the ideal caregiver.

Without spoiling too much, I'll say that the ways in which Chan dives into the genre of speculative fiction through The School for Good Mothers took me by surprise. Equal parts commentary on race, class, mental health, prejudice, and misogyny, this story is thoughtful in the way it draws and redraws lines between good parenting and unfair sentencing within the American justice system. Even given the dense and emotional themes, Chan still finds a way to capture a reader's imagination with a near-future feel to the mechanisms at play in Frida's life. By far, this was the perfect way to start my first read of 2022, and I can't recommend it enough!