KN Reads: Girl Mans Up by M-E Girard

Goodreads rating: 4.10

Something you’ve probably noticed about me: I have a soft spot for stories where teenagers try to work out where they belong in the world. In Girl Mans Up by M-E Girard we follow the difficult transitional period from child to adult of Pen, a masculine girl who struggles with her gender identity and romantic interests. Despite what might seem like a complex subject, the story is a simple coming-of-age tale that resonates across its genre.

Pen wears her brother’s clothes and spends her days hanging out with a group of guys who pretty much forget that she’s a girl. This, in times past, would probably signal a romantic comedy where one of the guys realises that Pen is a girl when she takes off her glasses/goes to prom/etc and they live happily ever after, but that tired old trope is flipped on its head here. As Pen begins falling for another girl she fights to find her place among her friends, and even deciding if they were her friends after all.

I can’t imagine a book being published like this ten years ago. Maybe not even five years ago, honestly. As our attitude toward gender opens up as much in the mainstream as it has in LGBTQ groups, stories like this come out and give a wider range of kids the chance to see themselves reflected in fiction.

One day I’ll write about why that’s so important.

For now, we’ll stick to the book itself. Pen is a lovable character, brittle and sullen a she is (after all, she is a teenager). The supporting cast feel realistic and layered rather than standing as a backdrop for Pen’s adventures, and that gives the story richness. It is a quick, easy read, but there’s a lot of emotion packed into those pages.

Girl Mans Up by M-E Girard was one of my favourite reads in 2016. If you’re a fan of queer YA books or a generally good story, keep an eye out for the striking cover at your bookstore.

KN Reads: The House at the End of Hope Street by Menna van Praag

On Goodreads (rating 3.81).

There is a house that calls to women who have lost all hope in their lives and gives them the space and the time (99 days) to rediscover themselves. This house is in Cambridge, and is currently home to three troubled women and their landlady. The House at the End of Hope Street gives little away on its blurb, but the magic held within is worth a read.

I mean that literally, by the way. The magic realism is the most appealing thing about the book beside the cast of bizarre characters. The house gives its occupants handy quotes and life advice, and sometimes sewing machines. It does its best to guide the women to what they need rather than what they want, all under the watchful gazes of hundreds of women who have stayed there over the years who speak to them right from their frames like something out of Harry Potter. What I wouldn’t give to have a little chat with Agatha Christie.

The story starts when Alba turns up after the worst day of her life. As the youngest PhD student ever, she has had a lot of pressure, and now she discovers she made a huge mistake that has taken away her dreams. She moves into the house and starts a reluctant search for a new path built on dignity and honesty instead of the lie she had been living before.

Alba is a great character. She develops across the course of the novel away from the wet blanket she is at the beginning, and her growth is worth the time. Her housemates, a singer and a failed actress, are interesting in their own rights but it was Alba that drew me in.

The reason I justify so much that this book is worth the time and energy to read it is that the writing quality is not great. It’s not unreadable, but the sentences can be stilted, and it’s in need of a good editor. The ending didn’t thrill me (there are at least two giant plot holes, one of which destroys the integrity of an entire long-running side plot) but it was not unsatisfying. There are a few twists and turns that I predicted, but many that I did not.

The House at the End of Hope Street is not a perfect book. It is flawed, just like the inhabitants of the magical house. Yet I’m glad I read it; it’s a light read, easy to swallow in a couple of sittings, and I loved Alba enough to make her a good enough reason to enjoy it.

KN Reads: Style by Chelsea M. Cameron

Someone on Twitter mentioned this book in passing in a conversation that was nothing to do with me, but it looked intriguing enough for me to buy for my kindle right away. Since I was in the market for a sweet, fluffy queer romance anyway, I figured Style by Chelsea M. Cameron would do the trick.

A summary: Kyle (a young woman) and Stella (also a young woman) have been at school together for a while without noticing one another much. They’re paired together in a school project despite being apparent opposites: Stella is an ice-cold snow queen, while Kyle is your average awkward friendly nerd. Unsurprisingly – since this is a romance and all – they end up together despite their better judgment.

Now, Chelsea M. Cameron has written a lot of books. A lot of them. I haven’t read any except this one, but I gather she has some loyal fans in the romance world. She is also (as per her Twitter) super adorable and friendly so I can see why.

This book came at the right time for me. Like its author, Style is adorable. It’s fluffy and almost irredeemably sweet. In the aftermath of a horrifying month for queer people, is it any surprise that I felt the need to dive into something so light? It was a great balm for the darkness.

That said: while I recommend this book to anyone looking for something insubstantial and distracting, don’t go in it looking for some in-depth character development or complex plots. Nothing much goes wrong for these two (which was perfect for my mood), and at times I struggled to remember which character was which since they are remarkably similar to one another.

Despite that, the book flows nicely and it’s an easy read. Sometimes you need style over substance, and this time it’s all in the title.

KN Reads: Zahrah the Windseeker by Nnedi Okorafor

Imagine a child born with vines in her hair. From that first imagery I was hooked, and Zahrah the Windseeker by Nnedi Okorafor did not let me down. It’s an imaginative, bright, and addictive story. I read it in one sitting, eyes wide, and I recommend you do the same. (Usually I leave the recommendation to the end, but it’s too important today.)

Zahrah is born into the Ooni Kingdom in a community that fears difference and, as a result, eyes her unusual hair with suspicion. With the vines in her hair (called dadalocks) and difference marking her apart, Zahrah still fears the unknown as much as any of those around her, so walking into the Forbidden Greeny Forest to save her best friend Dari is almost beyond her.

Yet she does. She gathers up her nerves and ignores her own terror for the sake of her friend, and in doing so she discovers much about herself.

This coming-of-age story is satisfying and emotionally rewarding. Zahrah is not a simple character, but neither does she allow events to shape her. She shapes herself in the face of adversity and learns how much power a Windseeker can have as she abandons her preconceptions. She is loyal, fierce, and smart. A protagonist I look for in every book I read, but rarely find in a believable guise.

If the fascinating plot and compelling characters aren’t enough for you, well, how about those computers grown from seeds? The wise and dangerous creatures in the market who tell your fate? The buildings that are planted instead of constructed?

In 2016 I’m making an active effort to read more books written by and featuring people of colour, especially in my favourite genres of sci-fi and fantasy. Zahrah the Windseeker came to me through my hunt for more diverse fiction, and I’m glad it did since I will now be reading everything Nnedi Okorafor has ever written. It’s a quick read but it’s one that’s stuck with me and out of the twenty-two books I’ve read so far this year, this one is by far my favourite.

So yes, I recommend you read it.

–

My rating: 5/5

Goodreads average rating: 4.09

See it on Goodreads, or buy it on Amazon (UK, Canada, USA).

Bookish Knits: Jane Eyre Edition

Despite my love for the fibre arts that has since flourished, as a teenager I hated my Textiles class. Getting to spin some yarn on a wheel was interesting but I also had to sew myself an item of clothing based on the Sixties and, well, my resulting dress was not impressive. One thing I did take out of the experience was a new favourite book that remains close to my heart: Jane Eyre.

No, it had nothing to do with our class, but I would sometimes work there after school finished to avoid the unpleasant folk on the way home. My teacher was a kind soul and we talked about books; eventually she told me I would like Jane Eyre, so I tried it. By the time Jane confronted her Aunt I was hooked and I have read it many times since then, always gaining some new appreciation from it.

Jane Eyre sticks by her heart and her morals through all that happens to her. Sometimes she may waver but she doesn’t give in and I respect that. Let’s honour her today with some patterns inspired by Charlotte Bronte’s creation.

Jane Eyre Shawl

by Nikol Lohr

Image from the pattern page

Now, I’ve knitted this shawl and wear it quite frequently, so I really should get some pictures up on the blog. Perhaps Jane herself would rather I didn’t show it off; it is functional like her with its faroese styling but it has a flourish of something special, too.

Rosamund’s Cardigan

by Andrea Pomerantz

Picture credit through pattern link

Yes, they’ve spelled her name wrong, but it comes up in a search for ‘Jane Eyre knits’ so it must be inspired by her. Regardless, Rosamond is one example of the wonderful characterisation in the novel; a bit part, she nonetheless has depth in her longing for St. John Rivers.

Wandering the Moor

by Celeste Glassel

Picture credit through pattern link

Heartbroken and still on her feet, my favourite Jane is one who does nothing but survive. She leaves Rochester even if it nearly breaks her and she keeps going until she finds a new village, a new life which she carves out for herself. It’s in those chapters when she is wandering the moors that you truly see her worth.

Jane Eyre Tea Cosy

by Loly Fuertes

Picture credit through pattern link

Though I’m not certain I could imagine Jane with such an extravagantly embroidered dress, I had to include this for the sheer fact that it’s adorable. Not usually a reaction I have around this book!

Mrs Rochester of Ferndean

by Elizabeth Felgate

Picture credit through pattern link

Reader, she married him.

KN Reads: Moloka’i by Alan Brennert

When white settlers came to Hawai’i they brought leprosy. Now named Hansen’s Disease, at the time of Moloka’i a person found to be suffering from it was shipped out to a separate colony and pronounced legally dead. Rachel Kalama, a bright young girl with a dream of visiting far off lands, finds a little mark on her foot that tears her world apart.

From that summary you might think Moloka’i is a sad book, but nothing could be further from the truth. Though Rachel faces struggles beyond her young years she sees everything in her life with a brightness that never dulls. She is smart, adventurous, and loyal. Though her body took her away from the dreams she once had she never once loses the hope that pushes her along.

At the turn of the last century the world was in turmoil. The old ways were dying, replaced by industrialisation and the first twitches of globalisation. World-changing events happened over and again, each sending the status-quo into a tailspin. Rachel watches all of it happen from the colony on Moloka’i and as the waves of those events lap at the shore, she finds comfort and safety in the friends she makes around her.

Though there is tragedy in Rachel’s life, and though each even scars her in its own way, she never gives up. She fights with the conception that people with her disease are untouchable; she believes that she will never find love because of it. As the disease takes her friends but spares her year after year she carries the weight of their lost lives on her shoulders but doesn’t let it hold her back. There are few books that had me admiring the strength of a character without finding them obnoxious, but Rachel Kalama has quickly found her place on my ‘favourites’ shelf.

That said, this is a book to share. Like a meal rich with treasures and tastes, Moloka’i needs company to be truly finished. The moment I closed the book I passed it to another friend and I do not regret it. The book was a beautiful read, full of lushious imagery contrasted against tragedy and hope, and the best thing I could think of to honour Rachel was to offer a little happiness to someone else.

KN Reads: All The Light We Cannot See

Walled cities were once the safest of places, but World War II brought fire from the skies and turned everything on its head. Saint-Malo is an ancient city so independent that it once separated from the rest of France for three years; no surprise then that in All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr we watch a quiet resistance evolve through the senses of a blind girl with a hidden treasure.

It is not easy to tell you what Anthony Doerr’s Pulitzer Prize-winning book is about. The scope is as narrow as the hopes of a young French girl and a trapped German boy, and it is as wide as the universe. As the war takes both of their lives and warps them beyond recognition, each moment is lovingly held and released in Doerr’s sharp, short chapters, as poignant and brief as the forbidden radio broadcasts that bring purpose to them both.

When Marie-Laure goes blind at a young age her father builds a faithful replica of their Paris neighbourhood to help her learn its routes. War forces them out of the captured city and they make their way to Saint-Malo with a treasure hidden that may or may not be one of the most sought-after and dangerous diamonds in the country. Marie-Laure finds herself shut up inside a tall, mysterious home with her agoraphobic uncle and his rebellious housekeeper, but through the risks and the heartbreak, Marie-Laure never loses her sense of wonder for the world she cannot see.

In Germany, a boy named Werner escapes the promise of an early death in the mines of his hometown by joining the Hitler Youth. Uneasy with his choice, Werner nonetheless stays true to his path and uses his gift for radio technology to find and destroy resistance. His mission cuts him down to the bone as it leads him to Saint-Malo, where the two stories converge into one brief but poignant meeting between the two young people.

Before you pick up this book, you need to look at photographs of Saint-Malo. That walled town is a character of its own with his reliable storm drains, its rolling waves, its hidden hideaway. It is easy to understand why Doerr would pick such a unique spot for the story of Europe’s darkest hour. Tragedy and beauty complement one another so well.

There is tragedy enough in All the Light We Cannot See. It will leave a bitter taste on your tongue as you see how even those of us trying to do good in the world will work in our own self-interest and, in the end, may do more evil than anything else. This book shakes with the uncertainty of the characters as they grapple with whether their actions will do harm or good, and whether any of it matters anyway as they’re swept up in the tides of something so much larger than them.

The constant moral back-and-forth is exhausting, but it gives a heaviness to a book that might otherwise be nothing but well-written fluff. The metaphors are delicious, the settings are rich, the characters are three-dimensional. All of that is possible thanks to Doerr’s ability to cut past the common tendency to view the Second World War through our retrospective gaze. The morality is clear now as we continue to count the dead but in those difficult days, those caught in the middle of the fight could not have known the full extent of their actions. Few of us believe that our intentions matter in the long-term beyond our short lifespans, even when war forces us to face our demons.

Both Werner and Marie-Laure face their demons in their own way. Marie-Laure sums up the book’s true meaning, the whisper laced through every action and reaction through it, in one quick utterance.

“But it is not bravery; I have no choice. I wake up and live my life. Don’t you do the same?”

Perhaps some of her actions could seem heroic in retrospect. Some of Werner’s desperate attempts to get a grip on his own identity could even be placed in that category. However, neither of them are trying to be anything but themselves, right at a time in life when we all struggle with that question.

Some parts of the prose made me want to never stop reading, but I cannot deny that the book drags in places. The jump between time frames is confusing and those moments where I re-read the same passage two or three times to align myself in the story made it seem longer than it was. Though I often like that narrative construct, there were times when it seemed jagged here; the story did not always line up nicely as the scenes switched and changed.

All The Light We Cannot See is a rare treasure and one that will stay with you for a long time after you put it down. Add it to your to-read list if you haven’t already, though be ready to put a lot of time and effort into the story. It is worth it.

Originally posted over at Nerd Underground. Follow me on Goodreads for more reviews.

KN Reads: Empire Ascendant by Kameron Hurley

Empire Ascendant

by Kameron Hurley

There is something about picking up the second in a series. You already know you like the concept or you wouldn’t bother to continue, but this time it’s different. The story has to hold up not only to its internal standard but to your memories of the first book and it takes a skilled author to manage that. Luckily Kameron Hurley counts as a skilled author and in Empire Ascendant she unravels the story into something even bigger without once dropping the thread.

For you poor souls who haven’t picked up the first of the Worldbreaker series (The Mirror Empire), it is set in a multiverse where the worlds are dominated by stars in the sky that switch and change over time. Each one brings changes with its ascent and each one gives power to a certain group of people. When the most destructive and rarest star, Oma, begins its ascent the worlds are drawn closer together and the barriers grow thin. Those in dying worlds begin their attempt to conquer another to keep their kind going past all odds. Through a select group of varied characters we are shown through the complexities of war and loyalty from people trying to achieve their conflicting goals.

That’s what sets this book apart: complexity. Whether you’re talking about the unusual gender constructs between the different cultures or about the many motivations for slaughter and mercy, Empire Ascendant has you covered. Nothing is dumbed down. No morality is considered superior to another; they merely exist and are portrayed through the struggles of characters that cannot truly be taken as good or bad.

In other words, it feels real. Even with the stars and the magic and the windows between worlds, the characters are believable, though they are not comfortable.

Take Zezili. By far the most interesting character in the books so far, she is a horrible person. She abuses her husband in her chauvinistic entitlement. She is sexist to the lesser gender of men (brutally portrayed as weak in her culture, and even forced into girdles to keep their narrow hips). She has slaughtered countless slaves and others with no qualms. Yet although you may not agree with her methods, you understand her reasoning and want her to survive. Though I would hate to meet her down a dark alley she is an excellent mirror into a person twisted by circumstance and privilege.

Zezili and her husband twist ordinary fantasy sexism on its head. With a strong, violent wife and a weak, submissive husband it would be easy within the context of our culture to play them for laughs, but Kameron Hurley never does. The characters are not caricatures. They have motivations and conflict within themselves and are both doing the best they can in a rigid gendered society.

Though some people have decried the first book as sexist I believe that’s too narrow a view. Nothing in these books is given a moral judgment; it is portrayed as it would be in reality, often giving you some insight into how we in our own world view gender without shoving it too far down your throat. It’s a fascinating way to get new viewpoints across and never in my life would I have thought a gender neutral character might get hir own chapters. It is refreshing and should be celebrated, especially when it is done so well.

Usually I would have problems keeping up with so many characters; like A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin the chapters switch between characters and cities and worlds, but it’s never hard to follow. It is always a smooth transition even with the added characters of the second book. If you’re a fan of intense fantasy with an impressive death toll, Empire Ascendant by Kameron Hurley is the book for you.  Good news! It’s out in October, so preorder it now.

KN Reads: Yellow Crocus by Laila Ibrahim

From Goodreads

Yellow Crocus

by Laila Ibrahim

A wet nurse by the name of Mattie, a slave, is torn from her young son and brought to the white peoples’ house to nurse their newborn girl. This gorgeous story follows the relationship between Mattie and the baby girl, Lisbeth, as they both fight for their own version of freedom.

Mattie is a wonderful character. The latest in a long line of strong women, she accepts her place as a slave for as long as she must even as she keeps the horizon in her sights. Though she is ripped from her family to spend her milk on a white child, she does not let it beat her. She stands at the window every morning to see her family leave their homes in the slave quarters, and she gives all the love she can to Lisbeth, this loving young girl that has been forced upon her.

As for Lisbeth, she is portrayed honestly and that does not always mean kindly. She is, after all, a product of her family; she sees nothing wrong at first with the way slaves are treated, though she begins to realize early on that the cruelty is unnecessary. There is a lovely moment in the book where Lisbeth asks about ‘slaves and people’, to which Mattie explains that slaves are people. This understanding grows and separates her from her peers, and Lisbeth’s life moves in unexpected ways in part due to her love for Mattie.

I read this book in two sittings. It is a quick read, and my only complaint is that it could be so much longer; there are chunks of Mattie and Lisbeth’s lives that I would love to know more about even with the satisfying conclusion. Even the side characters have depth to them which could easily have been explored. It felt as though the book should be twice the length it is.

This book is as heart-breaking as it is touching. Mattie and Lisbeth are strong, interesting women and this book was the best impulse buy in months (and that includes a lovely skein of Manos del Uruguay).

KN Reads: Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

In 2015 my goal is to read 52 books: that’s one book for every week of the year. I have done this before and it’s not too much of a stretch considering the fact I tend to spend a lot of my time with a nose in a book, but this year I have been even more book-obsessed than usual.

That’s saying something, believe me.

I’ve already finished the goal and I’m on my 54th book at the time of writing, so I thought it would be fun to start of my regular weekly book post with a review of one of those. You’ll see me share a book every week now, and the first one is the best I’ve read out of all those 54 creations.

From Goodreads.

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

It is difficult to review a book I love as much as this one because it is tempting to fill the screen with key-smashes and gifs, but I will do my best.

Station Eleven is a rare story indeed. It is haunting and ethereal yet firmly rooted in the world around us. The characters are complex and their morality is not black and white. The world is falling to pieces and yet Emily St. John Mandel paints it as a spectacular place, somewhere you wouldn’t want to be but maybe you would want to spend a dream or two there.

An influenza virus of startling strength and speed kills almost all of the world’s population. We see the story from three main points: before the virus, during the worst of the virus, and a couple of decades after it. In the future we see a band of travelling performers bringing music and theatre to the destitute remains of the human population, all pushed on by a Star Trek Voyager quote: survival is insufficient. What a beautiful concept in its tragedy, because nothing is easy for those left behind and they still try to create a better world.

Station Eleven refers to a graphic novel mentioned many times throughout the story, though I won’t tell you much about that. The way that story weaves into the book itself adds even more layers to an already sublime tale.

Yes, this book jumps from one time to another and back again with little regard for linear progression, but it works. It really does. Every time a chapter jumps into a different time, the scene pushes the entire plot forward and gives you a new understanding of that which you’ve read before. By the end I had goose-bumps and tears in my eyes.

It doesn’t matter if you like apocalyptic fiction or hints of science fiction (though it is fiction too within the book’s universe), you should give this book a go. It is a true delight.