Tag: Fiction

Book Review

Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

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Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé is a terrifying young adult thriller that crosses Pretty Little Liars with Get Out. Chiamaka and Devon, the only two Black students at their private school, begin their senior years as prefects, putting them both in the running for valedictorian. But when Aces, an anonymous bully, starts to release damaging secrets about them both, they must figure out who’s targeting them before their bright futures are completely out of reach. It isn’t long before Chiamaka and Devon discover the conspiracy isn’t as simple as locating one random bully. Their entire high school perpetuates a system of racism built to tear them down.

Book cover for Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé.

I realized quite quickly that people hate being called racist more than they hate racism itself.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, Ace of Spades

I have to be honest and say I groaned a bit at the Pretty Little Liars premise before I started reading Ace of Spades because what’s interesting about that? Beautiful people misbehaving at a fancy school with enough networks and funds to ensure continued success and wealth for all who walk those hallowed halls? Yawn. But I’ve never been more pleased to be proven wrong.

Àbíké-Íyímídé masterfully builds tension and suspense as Aces preys on her characters, slowly tearing them down, making readers just as anxious waiting on the next bombshell.And just when you think you’ve got it figured out, you realize the great mystery is you weren’t thinking big enough. This novel exists at the intersection of race, class, gender, and sexual politics, and it sheds light on the nefarious microaggressions society uses daily to plant seeds of doubt that make us question the existence of any of it. Protagonists Chiamaka and Devon are complex and interesting, and they’re so much more than they appear on the surface as Àbíké-Íyímídé carefully shows us the way each character has built themselves up over the years, and how a prickly disposition, an aloof personality, or something as simple as a hairstyle is actually armor. And it’s a good thing, too, because it turns out they needed it.

They treat my Black skin like a gun or a grenade or a knife that is dangerous and lethal, when really, it’s them. The guys at the top powering everything.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, Ace of Spades

The most striking part of this novel is the doubt the protagonists experience, particularly when they guess quite early in the plot that institutional racism is at the heart of the conspiracy against them. Both Chiamaka and Devon dismiss the possibility immediately, given the reality of racism is so prevalent in their lives that it seems almost too obvious a threat to single out since it touches every part of their lives already. Chiamaka’s family is wealthy, yet she hides the parts of herself that highlight her Nigerian-Italian heritage in order to change herself into what she believes will get her ahead in a society with predetermined ideals for success and worth, while Devon strives to escape the parts of his upbringing and sexual identity that he believes will prevent him from achieving his dreams. Both characters have spent so much of their lives fighting to escape the pitfalls of systemic racism that they blamed themselves—their past actions, sexual preferences, and histories—before ever considering they were victims of a system built specifically to target people who look like them, who dare to be great.

Ace of Spades never shies away from how all-encompassing and rotten the system is at its very core, no matter how much the characters or even the readers may want to reject or deny that horror. That thought distortion is a product of the very system. And still, I found myself constantly taking a step back to wonder if every person and thing involved in the conspiracy was too much, but really, it’s not. The novel features an abundance of bad actors, like the truly insidious Ace of Spades campers and the Niveus students; some, like Belle and the legacy families, are guilty of continuing to reap benefits from established systems even though they recognize it’s wrong; and others, like Terrell, are pulled into these larger plots because other parts of the system (like health care) already hold them hostage. In spite of their varying levels of involvement, every character played a part in propping up the current systems that perpetuate harmful, outdated narratives. That only means everyone must work together to dismantle and rebuild institutions that perpetuate systemic racism so that they no longer disadvantage some people in order to elevate others.

I have to stop myself from apologizing—because what would I even be sorry for? Existing too loud?

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, Ace of Spades

When a novel includes an epilogue, I’m typically already done with the story and seldom feel the need for follow-up, but Ace of Spades surprised me here as well. Without spoiling the end, I’ll only say that I like how all the problems Chiamaka and Devon identified throughout the course of the novel did not simply vanish. One victory alone cannot so easily vanquish injustice and inequality kept alive by hardened roots that have been strangling our society for centuries.

Ace of Spades is an explosive debut from Àbíké-Íyímídé that uses the high school landscape as a model for the very institutions that continue to shape the world after graduation. If at times it seems sensational, that’s only because you’ve allowed yourself to forget it’s all real. It’s a quick read, both eye-opening and validating, and an excellent way to encourage discussions among young adult readers about the injustices of systemic racism and the importance of fighting against it.

Thank you to NetGalley and Feiwel & Friends for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Arsenic and Adobo by Mia P. Manansala

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Arsenic and Adobo by Mia P. Manansala is a cozy mystery featuring Lila Macapagal, who’s just moved back home to put her life back together and help save her Tita Rosie’s Filipino restaurant. Navigating the drama she thought she’d left behind in her small town, as well as a revolving door of old flames, nosy relatives, and matchmaking aunties keeps her busy enough until an ex-boyfriend literally drops dead while eating food she serves him. With the police convinced she’s the prime suspect, Lila must leverage her network of family and friends in order to solve the murder mystery so that she can save herself and her family’s business.

Book cover for Arsenic and Adobo by Mia P. Manansala.

A “real” Filipino…As a second-generation member of a colonized country, born and raised in the Midwestern United States, what did that even mean?

Mia P. Manansala, Arsenic and Adobo

The premise of this novel is great! The execution? Not so much. This was my Book of the Month selection for April, so I especially wanted to love it. There were several problems that prevented me from enjoying this mystery, but three elements especially stood out: plot, characterization, and dialogue. (Okay, a secret fourth issue too: My edition goes back and forth between calling the murder victim Derek Winter and Derek Winters starting about halfway through the novel. Sloppy and annoying since I noticed it enough to stop reading about a handful of times. I don’t want to be in editor mode when reading a fully published novel.)

While I understand cozy mysteries are meant to be light, easy reads, I’d argue they still need to make sense. But so much of the plot in this novel just happens at random. Nothing seems natural. There is no flow. For instance, when Lila drops off something at the dentist, she goes there on a Sunday, expects it to be open, and it is simply because it’s narratively convenient, like the author just needed to tick something off a list of plot points, so she shoved it in where she could. And when Lila’s accused of assaulting someone and actually has an airtight alibi that could clear her of the crime, the police don’t bring it up because they find her to be a convenient scapegoat. What’s worse is Lila doesn’t even fight for that airtight alibi that is seriously airtight. It doesn’t even make sense! It’s a problem that shouldn’t even be a problem! I’ve heard of bumbling cops, but the ones in this book are so incredibly incompetent it literally gave me a headache.

No one seems appropriately spooked or somber about all the crime that takes place either. The police attempt to pin every murder and assault on Lila, and multiple people try to ruin her family’s business, yet she really doesn’t seem to be concerned enough about any of it. Stumbling upon a dead body actually slips her mind at one point, a murder victim’s family simply wanders away from the wake, and everyone is constantly more worried about hospitality or commenting on the quality of any food that happens to be around. It’s all so weird. No one’s actions make any sense. None of it is believable.

And I know Lila’s supposed to be sarcastic and somewhat glib, but that only comes across half the time. Other than when she can make herself be grateful for her family (but only until she figures out how to repay the bail money her family put up!), she’s rather boring and has no personality beyond her appreciation for Filipino cuisine and belief that every man in town has or had a crush on her. Lila’s backstory contains some interesting elements, but it’s only referenced to establish her as a character troubled enough to warrant suspicion from cops who are otherwise terrible at their jobs anyway.

In typical Filipino fashion, my aunt expressed her love not through words of encouragement or affectionate embraces, but through food.

Mia P. Manansala, Arsenic and Adobo

Also, people just don’t talk the way these characters do, and I think that’s largely because the novel needed a round of edits for show/tell issues. No one casually drops decades old history and family drama into fleeting conversations with random people all over town. And I know the amateur sleuthing in cozies is meant to be a little clumsy, but the dialogue with suspects was too redundant since everything was repeated back to Lila’s friends, family, or her lawyer. And I must point out that during one part of Lila’s investigation, someone witnesses two Japanese people having a conversation in Japanese, and he’s able to understand what’s communicated because he watches a lot of anime. I don’t care how much anime you watch. That’s not how that works!

Finally, all of Lila’s aunties and godmothers were difficult to tell apart, so I wish their personalities were more distinct. As a diaspora kid boasting my own network of aunties, I understand the importance of including this element in the novel, but again, the execution was off. I couldn’t bring myself to care about anyone other than Lila’s grandmother, and only because I’m not a total monster.

I was so excited for Arsenic and Adobo because the premise seemed promising and hilarious, but overall, it really, really missed the mark for me. I don’t want to feel like the author thinks I’m an idiot, whether it was intentional or not. After a while, it became a chore to read. I am curious to try the recipes at the back of the book, though. I enjoyed all the food porn, but a well-plotted book that doesn’t rely on so much suspension of disbelief could’ve included the same culinary adventures too.

Book Review

Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan

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Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan is a can’t-miss young adult contemporary romance. When Karina Ahmed’s conservative parents visit Bangladesh for a month, she uses it as a chance to test their strict rules. She starts by tutoring Ace Clyde, resident bad boy. Her parents would disapprove of her being alone with a boy, and they’d frown on her wasting time with a non-STEM subject like English. But those are the least of her concerns when Ace tells everyone Karina’s his girlfriend! When her fake romance with Ace isn’t so fake anymore, Karina must decide if she wants to return to her sheltered existence at the end of the month or embrace the people, dreams, and ideals that spark the fire in her soul.

Book cover for Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan.

You’re pretending to date Ace Clyde? In exchange for books?

Tashie Bhuiyan, Counting Down with You

The romance between Karina and Ace is so endearing and sweet, and it subverts what you might expect to see from characters like them. In spite of her sheltered upbringing, Karina is a lionheart, so earnest and brave; and Ace, misunderstood for his bad boy reputation, is deeply thoughtful and has a gentle heart as large as his sweet tooth. It’s the romance you know you deserve, no matter your age—one where your partner sees you, where you meet each other in the middle, and help each other grow. The tenderness with which Bhuiyan builds their relationship is enthralling and invites readers to remember the magic of first love.

The wholesome heart of the novel rests with Dadu, Karina’s grandmother, a nurturing, open-minded influence who truly just wants Karina’s happiness. As enchanting as it’d be to have adorable Ace Clyde doting on me, I’d rather have Dadu’s unyielding support and truly unconditional love, particularly when I’m feeling insecure or anxious. She’s a comfort character if there ever was one, but Dadu also illustrates the importance of evolving traditions and expectations as the times change. Her cultural and religious beliefs are not anchors that weigh her down; instead, they function as a north star that guides her towards the right decisions to best care for her family. Her many conversations with Karina validate the way I lead my own life as a diaspora kid who will never quite fit into either of the cultures I claim as my own, so I must carve out my own path daily.

Bhuiyan’s careful attention to creating nuanced, fully realized side characters is a boon to her world building. Karina’s best friends, Nandini and Cora, could never be mistaken for one another, even though they’re rarely apart from one another when Karina interacts with them. Nandini is steady and pragmatic, often acting as the mother hen of the group, while Cora is a chaotic wildflower with major “let me at ‘em!” energy; their characterizations are informed by their respective cultures and identities. Together, they form a diverse girl gang you wish could be yours. Karina’s support network is unrivaled, but it is so necessary given the stress she experiences with her mental health and family dynamics.

I’m not a bad person for wanting a life different than what’s expected of me. I’m not a bad person for wanting to pursue something I love. I’m not a bad person for wanting. But I feel like I am.

Tashie Bhuiyan, Counting Down with You

Karina’s struggle to balance what she wants with what her parents want for her is the element of this novel that speaks to me most. To a certain extent, everyone can relate to this predicament, but it’s a particularly scarring experience in South Asian diaspora communities, where careers rooted in math/science are championed above all. English or literature, while important merely for their ability to tank a GPA just as well as any other subject, is often viewed as a hobby or side interest at best—certainly not a viable career option. But Karina’s deepest desire is to major in English, and she spends much of the novel conflicted over disappointing her parents or doing what she knows is best for her. Fretting over a college major might seem silly, but not when you consider the western world demands sixteen-year-olds map out the rest of their lives before they’ve even finished high school. Throw in the customs, norms, and parental expectations from a second culture, and you’ve got double the anxiety.    

Speaking of which, Karina occasionally suffers from anxiety attacks, and they don’t simply vanish when narratively convenient. During a particularly jarring episode, Karina runs out of class because she needs to physically distance herself from a situation that’s triggered her. She’s still figuring out the best techniques to help her manage her anxiety, and Ace and her friends are so patient and open to learning how to make the situation easier for her. It’s a wonderful example of how to support a friend who might be experiencing any of a number of mental health issues.

Being seen is the most tender form of love, and I see you. I do.

Tashie Bhuiyan, Counting Down with You

I relate to so much of this Own Voices story because it features a Muslim Bangladeshi-American character whose culture, family dynamics, food, language, religion, and worldview so closely mirror my own teenage experiences. Karina navigates a hybrid existence as a person who loves her Bangladeshi customs but was raised in a world full of American traditions. It’s so challenging at times to know which side of the divide is the right side to be on, depending on who you are and what you need. I even had that moment where I had to tell my parents STEM just wasn’t for me (I ended up getting a PhD in English literature, so it worked out!). The parallels between my life and Karina’s experiences still have me reeling, and for that reason alone, I need everyone to read this book. The Own Voices genre is just magic, y’all. I’m so glad it exists.

Counting Down with You is a striking debut novel that employs the fake dating trope to explore themes about family, culture, and self-actualization. It’s a quick read with memorable characters, witty banter, a unique mix of Bangladeshi cultural and family dynamics, and a dreamy teen romance that’s sure to brighten your day and melt your heart. You deserve to read this book. Make it happen!

Thank you to the author, Tashie Bhuiyan, for sharing an advanced reader copy of her book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

The Shadow in the Glass by J.J.A. Harwood

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The Shadow in the Glass by J.J.A. Harwood is a dark, gothic retelling of Cinderella set in Victorian England. After Eleanor Hartley’s wealthy benefactor dies, Mr. Pembroke, her new guardian, relegates her to service as a maid in the same household where she was being trained to be a lady. Now she spends her days doing grueling, thankless work while also protecting herself and the younger maids from Mr. Pembroke’s drunken advances. The library is her only respite, where she finds comfort and hope locked inside books. One night while reading about Doctor Faustus, a mysterious figure appears to offer Eleanor seven wishes to change her life. The price? Only her soul. What could possibly go wrong?

Book cover for The Shadow in the Glass by JJA Harwood.

It was not like losing a finger, or an eye, or a lock of hair—she knew what she would be without them. If she bartered her soul away, what would she become?

J.J.A. Harwood, The Shadow in the Glass

Despite the fact that Eleanor delights in the magic, mystery, and escape her favorite fantasy novels offer, her real life simply does not compare, so she’s understandably hesitant to believe her wishes might actually come true. She tests the waters by wishing for the fabled glass slippers first, and in doing so, discovers each wish has a price: life. Horrified by this revelation, Eleanor wants to back out of the bargain, but it’s too late. She decides not to make anymore wishes, but a number of unfortunate events force her hand. Instead of making extravagant wishes that might truly change Eleanor’s circumstances, her wishes end up being relatively small, focused only on individual aspects of immediate, arguably temporary problems.

One of my favorite parts of reading this novel is critiquing Eleanor’s wishes: Should we fault her for her surgical approach to wish-making? Would it have been better to make one giant wish that might truly help Eleanor to rise from her station? Maybe. But these questions reveal far more about the reader. Eleanor’s sold off her soul in pieces, and we’re compelled to wonder how she might have done it better. How deliciously horrifying to implicate us in her descent!

A truly good person is a rare and glittering thing—and you, dear girl, are by no means saintly.

J.J.A. Harwood, The Shadow in the Glass

Eleanor rationalizes her actions, even as they hurt innocent people, and she’s repeatedly stunned to learn people don’t actually like her much once they get to know her true nature. She claims all she wants to do is protect her friends, liberate her fiancé from those wishing to control him, and make her way in society as a respectable lady, but she never actually manages to do any of it successfully, in spite of all her wishes. She constantly insists she’s a good person who deserves good things, especially as her decisions become increasingly chaotic and morally ambiguous. In proper gothic fashion, other events that occur over the course of the story can explain the wishes granted, so at certain points, I wondered if there was even a fairy godmother at all. Perhaps the dark spirit that appears to Eleanor is actually a reflection of her own soul.

They say the best villains view themselves as the heroes of their own stories, and without even realizing it, Eleanor transforms into a villain. This forces us to reassess our read on her: Can we still root for her? Are we obligated to hope for her redemption now? Certainly, Mr. Pembroke is a vile character, and a couple young women in the novel are despicable enough to be wicked stepsisters, and the fairy godmother isn’t sweet and doting at all, but what does it mean when our hero can be lined up in their ranks? And what does it mean when we want her to triumph anyway?

It is not love you crave, nor wealth, nor all your pretty dresses. It is power.

J.J.A. Harwood, The Shadow in the Glass

A twisted fairy tale told in seven parts, The Shadow in the Glass is a fast-paced fantasy with familiar characters and themes cast in a dark new light. Enjoyable, surprising, and engaging, Harwood’s spin on Cinderella is sure to stay with you. Eat your hearts out, Brothers Grimm!

Thank you to NetGalley and HarperVoyager for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review

Skelton’s Guide to Suitcase Murders by David Stafford

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Skelton’s Guide to Suitcase Murders by David Stafford is a cozy historical murder mystery set in 1920s England and based loosely on a real case. Although it’s the second title in the series (preceded by Skelton’s Guide to Domestic Poisons), audiences can enjoy it without reading the first. Known for his propensity to win hopeless cases, Suitcase Murders follows barrister Arthur Skelton as he sets out to defend Dr. Ibrahim Aziz, who’s been accused of murdering his wife and packing away her remains inside a discarded suitcase. Armed only with a quirky array of characters and unconventional etymological forensic evidence, he’s got his work cut out for him to prove his client’s innocence and prevent a British-Egyptian diplomatic scandal.

Book cover for Skelton's Guide to Suitcase Murders by David Stafford.

Foreigners, unless they conformed to one of the acceptable stereotypes, rarely played well with juries.

David Stafford, Skelton’s Guide to Suitcase Murders

Despite the grisly details of the murder, Stafford’s whimsical voice and clever prose immediately set a light, easy tone. Skelton and Edgar, his long-suffering clerk, spend much of their time traveling to and from locations in their quaint little town to meet clients and discuss their findings, resulting in many memorable, hilarious exchanges. Their familiarity with one another also leads to several frank conversations about racism and international relations in post-World War I England. Stafford demonstrates a clear awareness of the problems with the rise of the British Empire while still portraying likable characters living within a system defined by it. On several occasions, Skelton must come to terms with strategies that work in favor of his European clients but simply won’t do for Dr. Aziz, regardless of his innocence.

Skelton’s role as a barrister is an interesting choice since most mysteries feature professional or amateur investigators solely focused on solving a single mystery. Skelton, however, juggles many cases over the course of the novel—the titular suitcase murder almost completely forgotten at certain points. It’s difficult not to view this as a flaw since readers are primed to parse through the text for clues about Dr. Aziz’s case only. Furthermore, Skelton’s role as a lawyer also means he seldom takes an active role in the investigation; clues seem to fall into his lap, and he receives conveniently relevant correspondence from friends precisely when he needs it. It is only in retrospect that readers can make sense of the various cases, letters, and acquaintances scattered throughout Suitcase Murders, but the process of getting there is tedious for those unaware of this reward waiting at the end of the novel.

Perhaps the ‘criminal mastermind’ was as much a myth as the ‘fair trial.’ Something we like to believe in because it makes the world a more comfortable place in which to live. The myth that there are good people and bad people. And bad people aren’t like ‘us.’

David Stafford, Skelton’s Guide to Suitcase Murders

While Skelton and Edgar are jovial and sweet with their bumbling ways, the diverse cast of female characters is the true highlight in Suitcase Murders. From Skelton’s wife Mila, who teaches archery and fancies flying a plane to Africa, to Rose, a bright young lady training to be a lawyer, to Phyllis Pitt, a positively ghastly woman who revels in causing trouble, Skelton manages to showcase a robust cast of women who anchor the story to the minutiae of everyday life. I only wish Stafford had included a similarly nuanced portrayal of Dr. Aziz and his Egyptian heritage. Unfortunately, readers never learn more than the fact that he’s Egyptian.

A charming, surprisingly funny murder mystery romp with memorable characters and dialogue, Skelton’s Guide to Suitcase Murders is perfect for unwinding after a long day. It’s a quick, engaging read, and the inviting setting of a quaint English town will draw readers in and leave them excited to visit again for Skelton’s next great adventure.

Thank you to NetGalley and Allison & Busby for sharing an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.