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Book Review: The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde
This witty farce cleverly comments on romance and class while offering a glimpse into the sharp mind of a writer who was silenced by society for his homosexuality.
Summary:
Cecily Cardew and Gwendolen Fairfax are both in love with the same mythical suitor. Jack Worthing has wooed Gwendolen as Ernest while Algernon has also posed as Ernest to win the heart of Jack’s ward, Cecily. When all four arrive at Jack’s country home on the same weekend the “rivals” to fight for Ernest’s undivided attention and the “Ernests” to claim their beloveds pandemonium breaks loose. Only a senile nursemaid and an old, discarded hand-bag can save the day!
Review:
I wasn’t sure if a play from 1895 could still make me laugh out loud, but this had me literally laughing out loud throughout. Wilde’s sharp wit transcends time, offering humor that still feels fresh and fun.
The bulk of the humor revolves around romance and relationships, themes that are just as relatable today. One of the young women insists she can only marry a man named Ernest because, well, it’s just such a perfect name. Honestly, it feels like something an influencer might say now. Ridiculous? Yes. But her love interest plays along—an endearing and absurd romance that hits just right. The second couple’s drama, involving letters and the oddity of never having met in person, feels like it could be pulled straight from a modern reality TV show like 90 Day Fiancé. It’s both comical and oddly relatable, even today.
Then, there’s Wilde’s satirical take on class—an aspect of the play that’s still tragically relevant. The scene where the two young women exchange polite (but cutting) quips over tea is perhaps my favorite. The tension between societal expectations and personal desires couldn’t be more brilliantly portrayed.
The final twist? Whip-smart and unexpected, it’s a game-changing moment that had me thinking, “This could fit perfectly into a psychological thriller.” It’s brilliant… and hilarious.
I listened to this as an audiobook (with a live reading featuring James Marsters—swoon!), and I highly recommend experiencing plays this way. The clever dialogue really shines in an audio format, bringing Wilde’s wordplay and humor to life in a way you can’t always capture on the page.
As for diversity, it’s worth noting that Wilde’s characters are overwhelmingly upper-crust white English folk. However, it’s important to remember that Wilde wrote this play before being imprisoned for “gross indecency” (a term used at the time to criminalize homosexuality). The Importance of Being Earnest was his last play, and it showcases his sharpest writing before homophobia curtailed his career. Reading it today offers a poignant reminder of his legacy and the oppressive forces that silenced him.
Overall, this remains a clever, sharp, and incredibly funny play—one that continues to satirize the British class system with a witty edge. It’s a must-read for fans of intellectual humor, fans of Wilde, and anyone who appreciates supporting LGBTQIA+ writers who defied the odds in their time.
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5 out of 5 stars
Length: 89 pages – novella/short nonfiction
Source: Audible
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Book Review: Model Home by Rivers Solomon
When Ezri’s parents die under mysterious circumstances, they return to their Texan childhood home—possibly haunted—in a gated community where their family is the only Black family.
Summary:
The three Maxwell siblings keep their distance from the lily-white gated enclave outside Dallas where they grew up. When their family moved there, they were the only Black family in the neighborhood. The neighbors acted nice enough, but right away bad things, scary things—the strange and the unexplainable—began to happen in their house. Maybe it was some cosmic trial, a demonic rite of passage into the upper-middle class. Whatever it was, the Maxwells, steered by their formidable mother, stayed put, unwilling to abandon their home, terrors and trauma be damned.
As adults, the siblings could finally get away from the horrors of home, leaving their parents all alone in the house. But when news of their parents’ death arrives, Ezri is forced to return to Texas with their sisters, Eve and Emanuelle, to reckon with their family’s past and present, and to find out what happened while they were away. It was not a “natural” death for their parents . . . but was it supernatural?
Review:
I’ve read most of Rivers Solomon’s books—they’re auto-reads for me at this point. I love their unique perspective and creative twists on speculative fiction. Solomon’s books always challenge me, so even though haunted house stories aren’t my favorite subgenre, I picked it up—and I’m glad I did. This turned out to be a queer psychological thriller that was hard to put down, keeping me up late reading.
The mystery starts early, with Ezri receiving texts from “mom,” but they suspect it’s the “other mother”—the ghost that haunted the family home in a gated community when they were children. It doesn’t take long before Ezri and discovers their parents dead in the backyard in what initially seems like a murder-suicide—but the siblings suspect it’s something far more complicated.
I appreciated how Solomon depicted the family dynamics under stress—three siblings thrown together for an unexpectedly long visit during a family tragedy. It’s the messy, real stuff of love and tension between people who care about each other but don’t always get along perfectly in a pressure cooker situation. The haunting also impacted each sibling differently, not just because of their age but due to the way their parents parented them, shaped by birth order.
I can’t discuss the most shocking part of the book without spoiling the twist. Suffice it to say, it was dark, gritty, and far less supernatural than anything else I’ve read by Solomon. That’s what made it so powerful—it felt so close to being like other psychological thrillers I’ve read but conveyed something profoundly different. It was deeply rooted in the Black experience in America, and it left me almost breathless.
Along with being a story about a Black family, Ezri is nonbinary, and both they and their child have diabetes. I really appreciated how Ezri’s gender identity was never an issue for their family—even when they were a child. This was refreshing and grounded in a sense of acceptance and love.
Please note that this book includes an explicit sex scene that is consensual. It also discusses predation on a minor and child sexual abuse (CSA).
Due to these sensitive topics, this was not a five-star read for me. While the book was beautifully written, I reserve five-star ratings for books I feel personally connected to. Books with such content usually don’t end up in my favorites category. (Grown by Tiffany D. Jackson was a big exception for me.)
Overall, this is a unique take on both the haunted house and psychological thriller genres. It offers a scathingly insightful analysis of being Black in America, while giving voice to a nonbinary sibling. Highly recommended for readers looking for a Black perspective on the haunted American house.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 304 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
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Book Review: How Far the Light Reaches: A Life in Ten Sea Creatures by Sabrina Imbler
A powerful blend of memoir and marine biology exploring environmentalism, queer theory, and biracial identity through the lens of deep-sea creatures and personal reflection.
Summary:
A queer, mixed race writer working in a largely white, male field, science and conservation journalist Sabrina Imbler has always been drawn to the mystery of life in the sea, and particularly to creatures living in hostile or remote environments. Each essay in their debut collection profiles one such creature: the mother octopus who starves herself while watching over her eggs, the Chinese sturgeon whose migration route has been decimated by pollution and dams, the bizarre Bobbitt worm (named after Lorena), and other uncanny creatures lurking in the deep ocean, far below where the light reaches. Imbler discovers that some of the most radical models of family, community, and care can be found in the sea, from gelatinous chains that are both individual organisms and colonies of clones to deep-sea crabs that have no need for the sun, nourished instead by the chemicals and heat throbbing from the core of the Earth. Exploring themes of adaptation, survival, sexuality, and care, and weaving the wonders of marine biology with stories of their own family, relationships, and coming of age, How Far the Light Reaches is a book that invites us to envision wilder, grander, and more abundant possibilities for the way we live.
Review:
A queer memoir intertwined with fascinating ocean facts? Yes, please! This is a beautifully written exploration where each chapter examines a unique sea creature and, surprisingly, connects it to the author’s own life.
I learned so much about marine biology in an easily digestible way, and here are three of my favorite facts:
- Octopuses die after spawning and starve themselves while incubating their eggs.
- Hydrothermal vents come and go across the ocean floor, creating temporary ecosystems.
- Selps, a type of jellyfish, move together, but at different speeds.
What really stood out to me, though, was Sabrina Imbler’s introspective and self-aware reflections on their life. As a white person, I was moved by how candid they were about their experiences of being biracial. I appreciated how they expressed that being mixed-race is an identity that doesn’t need to be “resolved”—“I am Chinese. I am white.” This honest exploration of their mixed-race identity resonated with me far more than their exploration of queerness, which, while meaningful, didn’t linger as strongly in my memory. If you’re drawn to memoirs that delve deeper into queer identity, check out my review of A Queer and Pleasant Danger.)
Please be aware that this book addresses the sensitive topics of racism, environmental injustice, and animal abuse. Sabrina also explores an instance of sexual violence they experienced as a youth, reflecting on how it shifted from being a “joke” to something they realized was deeply troubling.
I listened to the audiobook version, narrated by Sabrina themselves, which was stellar. Their narration felt like listening to a close friend, making the experience even more immersive.
Overall, this is an incredibly moving and educational memoir. It’s a unique blend of personal reflection and marine biology, offering readers a fresh way to explore the world. Highly recommended for those interested in memoirs with a scientific twist and a deep dive into the complexities of identity.e of the author’s favorite subjects – marine biology. Recommended to those interested in a unique storytelling method in a memoir, as well as those with a personal interest in marine biology.
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5 out of 5 stars
Length: 263 pages – average but on the shorter side
Source: Library
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Book Review: Darling Girls by Sally Hepworth
When bones are discovered beneath their childhood home, three adult, Australian foster sisters are forced to confront their past as key witnesses—or prime suspects—in a dark family secret.
Summary:
For as long as they can remember, Jessica, Norah, and Alicia have been told how lucky they are. As young girls they were rescued from family tragedies and raised by a loving foster mother, Miss Fairchild, on an idyllic farming estate and given an elusive second chance at a happy family life.
But their childhood wasn’t the fairy tale everyone thinks it was. Miss Fairchild had rules. Miss Fairchild could be unpredictable. And Miss Fairchild was never, ever to be crossed. In a moment of desperation, the three broke away from Miss Fairchild and thought they were free. Even though they never saw her again, she was always somewhere in the shadows of their minds. When a body is discovered under the home they grew up in, the foster sisters find themselves thrust into the spotlight as key witnesses. Or are they prime suspects?
Review:
I’ve read most of Sally Hepworth’s books and enjoyed them, so I was excited to receive a review copy of her newest release.
The story features three narrators, each alternating between the present and their childhood. While that could be confusing, it’s actually well-executed, with the shifts between timelines feeling seamless. The timing of these shifts works well, never feeling contrived for the sake of holding back secrets for a twist.
And those twists? They’re big, and one in particular made me gasp out loud. While they were surprising, they made perfect sense, leaving me thinking, “I should have seen that coming.” That said, I did feel a bit frustrated by the final twist. I’m starting to tire of a specific depiction of women that seems to be a recurring theme in psychological thrillers, and this book doesn’t escape that trope.
In terms of representation, there’s a lack of racial or ethnic diversity. However, the book does feature one bisexual sister pursuing a relationship with a woman, and one sister dealing with substance use issues, while another has anger management struggles. I found the portrayal of foster care and the foster system is both realistic and sensitive, and especially appreciated learning that Hepworth conducted research with adults raised in the foster system. As someone who works in addiction and recovery, I found the representation of substance use disorder to be authentic and tasteful.
Overall, this is a gripping psychological thriller set in Australia, with enough twists and intriguing characters to keep you turning the pages. While readers may not relate to all of the characters, the juicy plot is sure to keep them engaged. Recommended for fans of psychological thrillers.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 359 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: NetGalley
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Book Review: A Botanical Daughter by Noah Medlock
Imagine Frankenstein’s monster as a woman made of plants, with two gay dads and a woman love interest.
Summary:
It is an unusual thing, to live in a botanical garden. But Simon and Gregor are an unusual pair of gentlemen. Hidden away in their glass sanctuary from the disapproving tattle of Victorian London, they are free to follow their own interests without interference. For Simon, this means long hours in the dark basement workshop, working his taxidermical art. Gregor’s business is exotic plants – lucrative, but harmless enough. Until his latest acquisition, a strange fungus which shows signs of intellect beyond any plant he’s seen, inspires him to attempt a masterwork: true intelligent life from plant matter.
Driven by the glory he’ll earn from the Royal Horticultural Society for such an achievement, Gregor ignores the flaws in his plan: that intelligence cannot be controlled; that plants cannot be reasoned with; and that the only way his plant-beast will flourish is if he uses a recently deceased corpse for the substrate.
The experiment – or Chloe, as she is named – outstrips even Gregor’s expectations, entangling their strange household. But as Gregor’s experiment flourishes, he wilts under the cost of keeping it hidden from jealous eyes. The mycelium grows apace in this sultry greenhouse. But who is cultivating whom?
Review:
I absolutely loved the concept behind this retelling. It offers a biopunk take on Frankenstein with a blend of Victorian elements that’s both intriguing and thought-provoking.
As a gardener (and botanical garden member), I found the descriptions of the greenhouse and botanical garden both realistic and captivating. It was charming to see the couple living inside the greenhouse—who hasn’t daydreamed about that as a gardener? The contrast between the m/m and w/w relationships was also a standout, especially since neither would have been accepted in the historical time period.
However, the writing style didn’t suit my tastes. It was much too flowery (pun intended!) for what I typically enjoy reading. In fairness, I’m not particularly fond of Victorian literature, which this retelling modernizes while maintaining that tone. I struggled to connect with the two main characters and never quite understood their motivations. Though I’m a queer person and this is queer literature, I found myself disagreeing with the book’s overarching themes—it’s okay for queer people to have differing perspectives, and this is where I do.
Diversity is limited to sexuality. There is no diversity of race, ethnicity, or ability.
There are several violent scenes, including on-screen blood splatter, which is fairly graphic. There’s also a lengthy, explicit description of the w/w relationship, which was too intense for my taste, so I skimmed that section.
Overall, this is a unique take on Frankenstein with queer characters and a botanical twist. If you’re intrigued by the premise, I recommend reading the first few pages to see if the writing style resonates with you. Just be aware of the graphic violence and intimate chapter.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 384 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: NetGalley
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Book Review: Welcome to Forever by Nathan Tavares
Two men trapped in looping artificial realities, always find each other—maybe even save the world.
Summary:
Fox is a memory editor – one of the best – gifted with the skill to create real life in the digital world. When he wakes up in Field of Reeds Center for Memory Reconstruction with no idea how he got there, the therapists tell him he was a victim in a terrorist bombing by Khadija Banks, the pioneer of memory editing technology turned revolutionary. A bombing which shredded the memory archives of all its victims, including his husband Gabe.
Thrust into reconstructions of his memories exploded from the fragments that survived the blast, Fox tries to rebuild his life, his marriage and himself. But he quickly realises his world is changing, unreliable, and echoing around itself over and over.
As he unearths endless cycles of meeting Gabe, falling in love and breaking up, Fox digs deep into his past, his time in the refugee nation of Aaru, and the exact nature of his relationship with Khadija. Because, in a world tearing itself apart to forget all its sadness, saving the man he loves might be the key to saving us all.
Review:
This book is one to read if you’re after gorgeous writing. The prose is immersive, with sentences that invite you to sink into them and reflect.
The character of Fox is rich in complexity. Each chapter peels back another layer of his personality, revealing depth and nuance. However, Gabe doesn’t receive the same level of development. While this is understandable—since we spend far more time in Fox’s mind than we do with Gabe in the present—it still makes their dynamic feel uneven.
Each chapter and memory journey felt like its own vignette. I found myself struggling with the overarching story, as so much time was spent on each memory that, by the end, I found myself asking, “What was the set-up again?” The book’s pacing, which focuses heavily on memory, made it hard for me to connect with the main plot.
At first, I felt the ending was spot on, but then the “Coda Excisions”—a chapter after the final one—left me confused. For me, it diminished the emotional impact of the conclusion.
Diversity is a standout feature of this book. The primary relationship is m/m, and there’s a secondary wlw relationship. All three of the main characters are people of color, and one speaks with a stutter, adding further nuance to the representation.
In terms of content:
- There’s some swearing.
- Intimacy is handled artistically—focused more on emotions than explicit details.
- One character experiences childhood exploitation, and it’s treated with the appropriate weight and sensitivity.
- Both main characters are orphaned.
- There are a few intense scenes: a bomb threat, a natural disaster resembling a hurricane, and a workplace shooting.
Overall, if you’re less concerned with plot structure and more interested in the emotional journey and immersive writing, this book may resonate with you. I recommend reading the first few chapters to see if the style suits you, and then deciding whether to continue.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 435 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: NetGalley
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Book Review: Land of Milk and Honey by C Pam Zhang
An elderly woman recalls the time in her 20s as a young chef living through a worldwide food shortage.
Summary:
A smog has spread. Food crops are rapidly disappearing. A chef escapes her dying career in a dreary city to take a job at a decadent mountaintop colony seemingly free of the world’s troubles.
There, the sky is clear again. Rare ingredients abound. Her enigmatic employer and his visionary daughter have built a lush new life for the global elite, one that reawakens the chef to the pleasures of taste, touch, and her own body.
In this atmosphere of hidden wonders and cool, seductive violence, the chef’s boundaries undergo a thrilling erosion. Soon she is pushed to the center of a startling attempt to reshape the world far beyond the plate.
Review:
The central conflict in this book is that a young chef on the cusp of her career finds herself suddenly inhabiting a world full of food shortages thanks to smog. Day in, day out instead of cooking the food she wanted to, she’s having to find new ways to use the mung bean powder the government is providing. When an opportunity comes up for a high-paying job working as a chef at a wealthy newly formed, secretive nation-state with the promise of using traditional ingredients, she jumps at the chance. It’s a beautiful set-up for a book.
Another strength of this book is its depiction of Asian-American and Asian-European women. In a book with limited characters, one is Asian-American and one is Asian-European (biracial). These two women love each other and also face racism. One of them from her own father who is white. This book contains one of the most impactful depictions of the harm of exoticizing Asian women I’ve seen.
This is also a sapphic book. The main character has a relationship with another woman for part of the book. It’s not exactly a healthy relationship. It is not explicit. This isn’t a romance novel. It’s a scifi novel with a relationship in it.
What did not work for me was that the tense the story was told in removed all the tension. It’s told in first person past tense. It’s an elderly woman recalling her life, primarily during a great environmental crisis. But because she’s telling the story as an elderly woman, we know she survives everything. Right from the first page. It removed all tension for me.
Also, this is another book where quotation marks aren’t used. What is going on with this trend? It’s not for me. (This one uses italics for everything – whether it’s spoken or thought – making it difficult to understand certain scenes.)
Overall, this is an interesting set-up for a book exploring sustainability and what it is to exist as an Asian woman in a Western society. Recommended to those who are ok with a lack of tension in this type of read.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 240 pages – average but on the shorter side
Source: Library
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Book Review: Rouge by Mona Awad
When Belle’s semi-estranged mother dies falling off a cliff in California, she comes from Montreal for the funeral and soon finds herself sucked into the same “spa” her mother was frequenting before her death.
Summary:
For as long as she can remember, Belle has been insidiously obsessed with her skin and skincare videos. When her estranged mother Noelle mysteriously dies, Belle finds herself back in Southern California, dealing with her mother’s considerable debts and grappling with lingering questions about her death. The stakes escalate when a strange woman in red appears at the funeral, offering a tantalizing clue about her mother’s demise, followed by a cryptic video about a transformative spa experience. With the help of a pair of red shoes, Belle is lured into the barbed embrace of La Maison de Méduse, the same lavish, culty spa to which her mother was devoted. There, Belle discovers the frightening secret behind her (and her mother’s) obsession with the mirror—and the great shimmering depths (and demons) that lurk on the other side of the glass.
Review:
Imagine a woman gets pulled into the world of Eyes Wide Shut, only there’s a lot less clarity about what exactly is going on.
The first 10% of the book and the last 25% had me very interested. The middle felt a little repetitive and slow. On the plus side, this book put me to sleep so easily. I can’t remember the last time I fell asleep so quickly when reading. Maybe not a huge positive to say about a horror book, but something about the language and the setting lulled me right to sleep. I only started to be able to make progress when I began to skim. I think the lengthy descriptions of the skin care routine just wasn’t particularly interesting to me as someone who simply doesn’t do skincare.
The main character is half Egyptian, half white. Her Egyptian father died so she lives with her white mother. A lot of the book is about the conflicts that arise for her as a woman of color with a white mother. I liked how the book illuminated the mistakes Belle’s mother made as a white woman raising an Egyptian daughter while also showing how she still loved her daughter and was trying. It’s a delicate balance to strike, and it was well done. She is also bisexual. This is established by her dating two siblings, which wasn’t my favorite way of revealing that. It’s a little too close to the bisexual as cheater trope.
What exactly was going on at the spa and how it ties back to Belle’s childhood remains a little confusing to me, even after reading the ending. I think I understand it. But I suppose what confuses me the most (minor spoiler) is how this society could target people from the other side of the continent many years in advance, and what made them target those specific people. That was a bit fuzzy to me. (Read more about what others thought about the confusing bits here. Be warned – there’s a lot of spoilers in that link!) I also agree with others who say the romance subplot wasn’t needed. I would have been quite happy with full focus on Belle and her mother.
I really enjoyed the way the sentences were put together, even if I thought the story overall could have been tightened. The story itself is interesting, although definitely drawing inspiration from others that I felt were creepier and with a more straight-forward big bad.
Recommended to those willing to dive into scenes of a character’s skin-care routine and atmospherically vague reveals that let you choose what you think happened. I am certain these readers are out there, and I hope they find this book. It feels almost like a love letter to that audience.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 384 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
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Book Review: Death Valley by Melissa Broder
A woman dealing (or not dealing) with her husband’s and father’s medical conditions arrives in the desert to research her newest novel and has a fantastical experience.
Summary:
A woman arrives alone at a Best Western seeking respite from an emptiness that plagues her. She has fled to the California high desert to escape a cloud of sorrow—for both her father in the ICU and a husband whose illness is worsening. What the motel provides, however, is not peace but a path, thanks to a receptionist who recommends a nearby hike.
Out on the sun-scorched trail, the woman encounters a towering cactus whose size and shape mean it should not exist in California. Yet the cactus is there, with a gash through its side that beckons like a familiar door. So she enters it. What awaits her inside this mystical succulent sets her on a journey at once desolate and rich, hilarious and poignant.
Review:
I didn’t expect this to be a book that kept me up late at night because I needed to know how the plot resolved. I have not personally tended to experience much forward momentum in magical realism. But this was such a perfect mix of adventure plot and emotional magical realism that I simply couldn’t stop reading.
I love a cactus. This is a fact I don’t usually admit to because they’re so popular in design nowadays, and I’d rather support an underdog.
location 206
The main character was easy to bond with initially, which is critical to a plot that relies on the reader believing her experiences in the desert – even when they become fantastical. She’s a bisexual woman in long-term recovery from drugs and alcohol. She’s trying to finish her novel. Her husband has had a mysterious chronic illness for several years, and her father has been in the hospital for a long time after a car accident. The hospital keeps telling them that he’s dying, and then he wakes up and improves (only to have something else go wrong.) It’s a lot for anyone to handle. She has a dry wit that we hear inside her head but that rarely makes it outside. We can see how she’s barely keeping it together, and yet she continues to try because of how much she loves her loved ones.
Since my husband got sick, my words don’t mean what they are supposed to mean.
location 289
It’s interesting what a beautiful depiction of a marriage this book is when so little in it features the spouses together. Yet through the main character we see how her marriage and loving her husband, as she would say, isn’t just a feeling. It’s a choice. Perhaps some people would find it gauche to have a whole book focusing in on the impact of a chronic illness on the spouse who doesn’t have it. But that’s the rub of a marriage. What happens to one person is happening to both.
The setting of the book is also gorgeous. I’m not sure I’d have appreciate it as much as I did if I had never been to the desert. The beauty and danger and overwhelmingness of the desert is all encapsulated so beautifully from the coolness of her room in the Best Western to the magical cactus and everything in between. (Plus there’s both desert bunnies and multiple types of cactus from saguaro to teddy-bear cholla.)
If I was reading a review of this book, my main question would be – ok, ok, but how about the magical realism? Does it work? Yes, it works really well. By the time I finished the book, I couldn’t imagine the main character’s arc happening any other way. It makes sense in the context of that trip and that world, and that’s all that really matters. I wasn’t questioning it. I was on board from the first magical moment partway into the book.
Overall, this is an engaging story of one woman’s trip into the desert intertwined with her inner journey of continuing to choose to love her husband every day. It’s beautiful representation of the complexities of in sickness and in health. Recommended to readers interested in that journey with an open mind to magical realism.
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5 out of 5 stars
Length: 240 pages – average but on the shorter side
Source: NetGalley
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Book Review: The Haunting of Alejandra by V. Castro
Alejandra, deep in the throes of postpartum depression, starts to see the specter of the Mexican folk demon La Llorona.
Summary:
Alejandra no longer knows who she is. To her husband, she is a wife, and to her children, a mother. To her own adoptive mother, she is a daughter. But they cannot see who Alejandra has become: a woman struggling with a darkness that threatens to consume her.
Nor can they see what Alejandra sees. In times of despair, a ghostly vision appears to her, the apparition of a crying woman in a ragged white gown.
When Alejandra visits a therapist, she begins exploring her family’s history, starting with the biological mother she never knew. As she goes deeper into the lives of the women in her family, she learns that heartbreak and tragedy are not the only things she has in common with her ancestors.
Because the crying woman was with them, too. She is La Llorona, the vengeful and murderous mother of Mexican legend. And she will not leave until Alejandra follows her mother, her grandmother, and all the women who came before her into the darkness.
But Alejandra has inherited more than just pain. She has inherited the strength and the courage of her foremothers—and she will have to summon everything they have given her to banish La Llorona forever.
Review:
The concept for this book is super original. A family with a genetic predisposition to postpartum depression is also haunted by an interdimensional being who takes advantage of that among the first-born daughters. It tackles both intergenerational trauma (especially of the colonized) and postpartum depression through a speculative lens. This speculative horror book also shows the main character going on a healing journey.
I particularly appreciated that the postpartum depression wasn’t a mere symptom of the haunting. Alejandra has postpartum depression. The being essentially targets the negative things Alejandra’s brain is already telling her. An example from the very beginning of the book is Alejandra is crying in the shower because she is so sad, and the being shows up and starts suggesting her family would be better off without her. An idea Alejandra has probably already had, but now she’s hearing it from this being that she thinks only she can see. This strategy becomes clearer when we see the flashbacks to Alejandra’s ancestors. The being also sometimes takes advantage of physical ailments but it primarily targets mental ones. I appreciated how this meant the story still took the reality of postpartum depression seriously while also tackling the issue of the multi-generational haunting. The story is told both in the present and through extended flashback chapters to previous generations.
The main character is Chicana married to a white man. In the flashbacks to the previous generations we see the racism her grandmother endured in the 1950s, and we also learn some about Mexican history (both recent and in immediate colonization by the Spanish) through two ancestors further back. The main character is bisexual, and there is a significantly important trans side character in a historic time period flashback. I particularly appreciated seeing a trans person represented in a historical time period.
The writing was at times a little clunky, especially towards the end. It just felt like I was reading a book, as opposed to getting lost in it, and it felt like different characters sounded the same. Again, this wasn’t throughout the book but limited to occasional scenes especially toward the end of the book. I also found it an odd choice to inform the reader the present-day was 2020 and then never acknowledge any of the 2020 issues. (For example, expected the mother with postpartum depression to end up dealing with distance learning for her two school-age children. But nothing ever came up.) Everything else could have stayed the same and been in 2019, so I’m not sure why it wasn’t 2019. I also felt that the husband character was treated in a two-dimensional way, as was the marriage. Marriage is very complex and yet complexity was only allowed to the postpartum depression and not the marriage. While I enjoyed this read, I did prefer the author’s previous book, The Queen of the Cicadas / La Reina de las Chicarras (review). One reason that is also evident in the title, was that book had more Spanish in it, which let me practice my Spanish more.
Overall this is a really unique read that explores postpartum depression and intergenerational trauma through a speculative lens. It’s a plot that will keep you guessing and intrigued.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 272 pages – average but on the shorter side
Source: NetGalley
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This work by Amanda Nevius is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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