My April in reading

April’s such a strange, transitional month—this year, especially. The weather doesn’t know what it’s doing. Some people are vaccinated, others aren’t. It’s hard to make concrete decisions—and I think my April reading list reflected that. It’s all over the place.

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

Deeply embarrassed to admit that this is the first Baldwin book I’ve ever read. And it was probably a weird one to start with, considering that Baldwin is primarily known for his writing on the Black experience in America. Giovanni’s Room takes place in France, and there are no Black characters; it is very gay and very sad. I loved it, though! Baldwin’s writing has that steady, straightforward midcentury quality to it that pierces right to the center of your heart. David, the protagonist, is a young American living in Paris, who has already proposed marriage to his girlfriend, Hella, when he meets the charming Italian bartender Giovanni (who I imagine as a young Pedro Pascal, for some reason). The two men begin a relationship, and though David is the self-loathing one who can’t bring himself to commit to what would truly make him happy (not necessarily surprising, given that this takes place in the 1950s), Giovanni is the one who pays the greatest price. I was a bit taken aback by the transphobia in the novel, though again, given the time period, perhaps I shouldn’t have been. Giovanni’s Room is one of three Baldwin novels I inherited from my Great Aunt, so I’ll have to continue on this journey soon.

Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Speaking of books that are gay and sad—although this one is suspenseful and adventurous and funny as well. After falling in love with the previous book in The Locked Tomb trilogy, Gideon the Ninth, I grabbed a copy of Harrow from the library, and I was not even a little bit disappointed. This book is told from Harrow’s point of view (or is it?) after she joins the Emperor on his space station and begins training to increase her necromantic powers, as well as some third-person chapters that take place in the past (or do they?). It’s honestly one of the most amazing novels I’ve ever read in terms of structure. It’s not as funny as Gideon, but that’s mainly because Harrow herself isn’t as funny as Gideon—and I don’t think this particular story would have resonated as well if it were funny. I don’t want to spoil anything; all I can say is that I’m head over heels for this trilogy, and I don’t know how I’m going to survive until the last book comes out in 2022.

Riviera Gold by Laurie R. King

After finishing Justice Hall, our mini Mary-Russell-Sherlock-Holmes book club decided to skip ahead to the most recent book in the series, to see whether King managed to stop being so problematic. And the answer is…kind of? Riviera Gold takes place on the southern coast of France, as well as in the small, wealthy kingdom of Monaco, where Holmes and Russell are investigating the mysterious criminal background of their longtime housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson. The novel has everything you’d expect from this series: cameos from famous 1920s artists, late-night heists, weirdly vehement hatred of communism. I have to say, the plot of this one was much more adventurous, much more of a concrete mystery, though it was a little slow to start. And Russell actually manages to challenge Holmes! One single time, but it’s better than nothing. However, it still feels like something that could have been written thirty years ago.

Milk Blood Heat by Dantiel W. Moniz

I believe this is the first short story collection I’ve read in 2021, and it did not disappoint. Moniz’s debut features stories that take place in Florida; I happen to love Florida books because I have relatives in the state and have spent a lot of time there—with the oppressive heat and the strange landscape, from strip malls to swamps, it always makes for a good setting. I was a little surprised at how traditional Moniz’s stories are in terms of style and structure—but they’re anything but traditional in terms of character. A few favorites: “Feast,” in which a woman who recently had a miscarriage keeps seeing fetal body parts in her daily life; “The Loss of Heaven,” in which the protagonist feels helpless and emasculated when his wife refuses cancer treatment. Milk Blood Heat is a solid collection, and I recommend it.

Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell

I read the first book in this series, Carry On, a few years back, and the sequel is just as delightful. Simon Snow—now without his magical powers but with wings and a tail—heads to America for a road trip with his best friend Penny and his vampire boyfriend Baz. At first the trip is only meant to be an adventure to repair their relationships, but when their friend Agatha falls in with a tech-cult in California, it becomes a rescue mission. From a Nebraskan renaissance faire to the bright lights of Las Vegas, Wayward Son is sweet and funny and heartfelt.

You Exist Too Much by Zaina Arafat

This novel has big Sally Rooney vibes. It tells the story of a queer Palestinian-American woman who, after spectacular break up with her girlfriend, heads to Kentucky for love addiction rehab at “The Ledge,” and later to the Midwest to pursue an MFA in writing. All the while this present-day plotline is interspersed with memories of her childhood in the Middle East and America, and of the mother she perpetually disappoints. It took me a few chapters to really fall into this book, but once I got there, I stayed there. It’s touching and often relatable—it seems a strongly Millennial novel to me. Even as you want to scream at the narrator, you can’t help but root for her, too.

This is What it Feels Like to Exist by 826CHI students

826CHI is a creative writing nonprofit for public school students, where I’ve been volunteering for a while now. I love working with the students because their creativity is so bold—no one has told them no yet in terms of what they can or should write. This 2019 collection from the Teen Writers Studio is a perfect example of that: poems about living in a simulation, sci-fi stories about imagined celebrity, essays about what an anti-work film might look like. It’s truly remarkable.

The Butterfly Effect by Rachel Mans McKenny

We published McKenny in a print issue of Split Lip a few years ago, so I was excited to dive into her novel about a grumpy entomologist who has to give up her PhD research in Costa Rica and come back to Iowa when her twin brother has an aneurysm. Sounds depressing, but it’s actually really funny and heartwarming. This is another novel where you regularly want to scream at the protagonist (JUST USE YOUR WORDS TO SAY YOUR FEELINGS OUT LOUD!!), but at the same time, it’s completely understandable why she’d be so reluctant to open up. Not only will you learn a great deal about butterflies, but you’ll also get swept into the protagonist’s dueling love interests. It’s a perfect read for Spring!