My May in reading

Now that it’s very nearly July, I suppose I ought to write about the books I read in May. Lots of good ones! They’re worth the wait.

The Sandman Vol. 4: Season of Mists by Neil Gaiman

In the latest installment of my Sandman re-read: Morpheus is forced to admit that he treated a former human lover badly, and Lucifer abdicates the throne of Hell, leaving it to Morpheus as punishment. Dream has to contend with all the gods and other immortals who want Hell for themselves. It’s funny that I read volume 4 at this particular time, because soon after I started watching the TV show Lucifer, which is a (very) loose adaptation of the spinoff comics that follow the Devil after he leaves Hell behind. After the short story format of volume 3, it was nice to return to a more cohesive arc that spanned the whole book.

La Comandante Maya by Rita Valdivia

Translated from the Spanish by Margaret Randall, Rita Valdivia’s poems were inspired by her time in Bolivia’s Army of National Liberation (ELN), struggling alongside the likes of Che Guevara. She died in combat when she was only 23, so her body of work is hardly extensive—this chapbook contains only a few poems, along with a brief essay about Valdivia’s life. I enjoyed her poems; they weren’t always polished, but they were unwaveringly passionate. They felt almost like reading a primary document in a history textbook—which I suppose is true.

The Mothers by Brit Bennett

I’ve had this one sitting on my shelf for ages, and now that I’ve read it, I’d describe it as a slow burn. It took me a while to get into the story—that of Nadia Turner, a beautiful teenager about to head off to college, and the secret she shares with Luke Sheppard, the pastor’s son, which will eventually threaten her friendship with Aubrey, her religious best friend and Luke’s eventual wife. Narrated as a group by the gossipy church mothers of Upper Room Chapel, the love triangle between the three characters becomes more tightly knotted as it goes, until you’re just dying for someone to slice through the rope and let it all come crashing down. I’d recommend it—it’s a good book for summer.

Libertie by Kaitlyn Greenidge

A work of historical fiction, Libertie tells the story of a young Black woman whose white-passing mother is one of the few Black female doctors in the state of New York—let alone the country—during the Reconstruction period. Libertie’s mother wants her to study medicine at college and join her practice—but Libertie has other notions about what’s important in life, about passion and how it can serve a cause. When a young doctor from Haiti proposes marriage, she joins him on the island, where he promises her equality. That’s not what she finds. Recently we published a review of Libertie in Split Lip Magazine, and I agree with Jane Link’s assessment: this is a novel that interrogates the concept of Black exceptionalism, and argues that Black people—specifically Black women—don’t need to be extraordinary in order to lead a worthwhile life. Sometimes I find historical fiction a bit dull when it focuses on accuracy over plot, but that didn’t happen here. You should definitely pick this one up.

Hull by Xandria Phillips

Here’s another one I’ve had sitting on my shelf for a while. Phillips is a Black queer poet whose work examines what it’s like for someone like them to move through a historically white-dominated world. Many of their poems are fairly sparse, but they refer to specific historical events and commentate on them with just a few choice words arranged carefully. For example, several poems begin with “we” speakers, and then as time moves forward throughout the poem, an “I” speaker slowly emerges. This collection made me use my whole brain, turning each piece over and over—always a good thing.

Bunny by Mona Awad

I love voice-driven work, so it’s no surprise that I loved Bunny. It probably also helps that the novel is set in a prestigious MFA program for Creative Writing, so I can knowingly laugh at that aspect from my own experience (though I think UNLV is hardly as prestigious as the fictional Warren University is supposed to be). Protagonist Samantha Heather Mackey is having a tough time going into her final year of the program. Not only does she have writer’s block, but she also has to deal with the Bunnies—four cutesy, inseparable rich girls who can do no wrong in the eyes of their professors. But when the Bunnies invite her to one of their private, off-campus “workshops,” she learns that their creations are a bit more powerful than fiction. Think Donna Tartt’s The Secret History meets the movie Heathers. It’s delightful. Even when the plot leaves a little to be desired, the voice keeps punching you in the face. Can’t recommend this one enough.

Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Y. Davis

In this slim volume, Davis describes the history of incarceration in the United States, explains how it disproportionately impacts people of color, and argues for abolition. If you’re interested in prison abolition and you’re looking for a book that tackles the basics, this is a great place to start. I wish she’d spent a little more time discussing prison alternatives, but there are other books for that. This is my first time reading anything by Angela Davis—it was nice to finally encounter the words and ideas of someone I’ve heard so much about.

Dear Twin by Addie Tsai

I bought Dear Twin at Malvern Books in Austin, Texas—my last trip before the pandemic began. What I appreciated most about this YA novel is Poppy’s voice—it really felt authentic to how an actual teenager might speak. In the book, Poppy has put off going to college after her twin sister, Lola, vanished without a trace. When she’s not meeting her girlfriend Juniper for clandestine dates, she’s writing letters to Lola—eighteen, one for each year of their lives—hoping to convince her to come home. It’s a tender story, and the queer relationship is so sweet. But I have to issue some GIGANTIC content warnings for physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. That said, I think it’s well worth the read.