binge-read: Book Reviews

Book Review: ‘How to Organize a Library’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Sat, 04 Oct 2025 07:02:06 GMT

Portuguese translation by Edições 70. I didn’t find an English one. Just the original, in Italian.

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
How to Organize a Library, by Roberto Calasso
Despite its title, this slim volume isn’t a step-by-step manual for tidying up your shelves. Instead, it gathers four essays where Calasso thinks through the life of books in the world. The opening piece, “How to Organize a Library”, is a playful, personal meditation on what it means to arrange (and constantly rearrange) one’s shelves. Then comes a sweeping anthropological study of the golden age of European literary magazines. A third essay unearths what might be the very first work of literary criticism—a newspaper article from 1665. The final text turns toward the present, examining the fate of physical bookshops under the shadow of Amazon. Together, the essays form a small but potent reflection on the circulation of literature, from the seventeenth century to the algorithmic present.

Born in Florence in 1941, Roberto Calasso is an Italian editor, critic, novelist and essayist. He joined the prestigious publishing house Adelphi in 19621 and took over its management in 1971 following the death of one of its founders, Roberto Balzen. In an interview with The Paris Review in 2012, he said that his approach to his work had remained consistent over the decades: “Reading, choosing, and preparing books.” He has published a dozen titles between fiction and essays, including two collections dedicated to his greatest passion: the craft of books. These are How to Organize a Library and The Art of the Publisher.

The title of the first collection suggests a manual or, at the very least, a methodical reflection on the act of organising books. However, How to Organise a Library is not exactly that — in fact, it is almost anything but that. The slim volume contains, alongside the eponymous essay, a critical anthropological study of the golden age of European literary magazines, as well as two shorter pieces: one on a 1665 newspaper article believed to be the earliest example of literary criticism, and another on the challenges facing physical bookshops in the face of Amazon’s dominance2.

THE IDEAL LIBRARY IS THE ONE WE CREATE FOR OURSELVES

Calasso’s fascination with books as enduring objects is clear. He observes the ways in which works circulate, are preserved and grouped together with an almost loving care, and considers the decisions — sometimes editorial, sometimes personal — that shape what reaches our hands. However, there is an inevitable contrast between the methodical approach suggested by the title and the fragmentary nature of the book itself. This is not a problem of writing — the prose is elegant and contains luminous observations on reading and editing — nor is it a problem of any other kind. Rather, it is a choice: the choice not to fulfil the initial expectation.

Calasso states:

“The best order for the books can only be plural, by less so than the person who uses the books. (…) It is clear that the juxtaposition of these criteria tends to create a riddled order, very next to chaos. And this can raise, depending on the moments, relief or discomfort.”

To get into the spirit of the book, it is therefore necessary to read it despite the expectations that the title creates. This is particularly pertinent given that the longest chapter, which shares the same name, is also the most averse to any logical organisation. In it, far from attempting to tame chaos, the author repeatedly rejects any conventional notion of order. The text progresses through free associations, jumping between themes and quoting authors, while leaving its own purpose open — as if true organisation lies precisely in the freedom to deviate.

(Reading about what an ideal library would be like made me think about my own home library and how I organised my books, but that’s a story for another time.)

Like Calasso’s library, the ‘ideal bookstore’, which the author discusses in the final chapter, is also “one where you always buy at least one book — and very often not the one (or not only the one) you intended to buy when you entered”.

“The important thing is that you can easily find the books you are looking for and discover those you didn’t know you were looking for. It should also be located in an appropriate area, away from background music. After all, nowadays, people can listen to whatever they want on their devices without disturbing others. This is how you recognise a good bookshop, today as yesterday. If this is not enough, it suggests that the book itself is no longer enough. If the book itself is no longer enough, it suggests that the world is turning another unfortunate page in history.”

However, Calasso suffers from a certain analogue nostalgia, which is reflected in his distrust of online bookshops and their algorithms3 — although this is understandable for someone who has always been surrounded by physical catalogues and bookshops, such as La Central in Barcelona. However, serendipity, which the author exclusively associates with physical spaces such as bookshelves and bookshops, does not disappear in the digital environment; it simply takes on different forms. Experienced readers know that chance encounters also occur in infinite scrolling, forums, public wish lists and the ‘if you liked this, you might also like...’ sections. Discovery has not been abolished, merely reconfigured4.

However, when we transpose this debate to the Portuguese context, Calasso’s criticism reveals another limitation: it stems from a privileged position. In Portugal, people still read little, and access to books is unequal. Proximity to bookshops or public libraries, purchasing power and the time available for reading can vary significantly from person to person. For many, online bookshops do not diminish the pleasure of discovering books; in fact, they may be the only means of access. Unfortunately, Calasso forgets that not all readers are avid readers with access to well-stocked bookshops or libraries.

Another factor that distances the book from the average reader is the choice of themes in two of the essays: literary magazines and criticism published in the cultural press5. It’s a pity, of course. These media have undeniable historical importance — they functioned as true pollinators of literature — but the audience that pays attention to them today is tiny. In contemporary Portuguese culture, despite veteran publications such as LER6 and independent projects like Mamute7 and Limoeiro Real8, the ecosystem is far from having the reach or influence it once had. In 2016, writer José Eduardo Agualusa wrote an essay entitled Can literature survive without criticism?, denouncing the crisis in literary criticism.

Ultimately, How to Organise a Library does not teach us how to organise books. Instead, it encourages us to embrace chaos with curiosity and accept that order may be merely a pretext for deviation. Even if this weren’t the case, what other justification do we need besides life itself? This short yet dense book prefers to suggest rather than conclude, and to evoke rather than explain. Reading Calasso is like entering a library where the arrangement of the shelves obeys not the logic of the librarian, but the whims of a reader who has made peace with chance. Some will find this frustrating, while others will find it liberating. Perhaps deep down, organising any library is just that: trying to contain the untamed territory of books without ever succeeding.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

Would I hand How to Organize a Library to a new mom? Sure—right after she finishes reorganizing the diaper drawer for the fifth time. The title promises salvation, but instead of telling you where to shove ‘Goodnight Moon’ when it’s mysteriously sticky, Calasso meanders through essays about bookshelves, long-dead literary magazines, a 1665 proto-book review, and why Amazon is the villain we already knew it was. It’s a slim little book, perfect for holding in one hand while the other supports a milk-drunk baby—but beware: you’ll need to reread every sentence twice, thanks to both Calasso’s density and your baby’s perfectly timed shrieks. Basically, it’s proof that no library—whether in Milan or in a nursery—is ever truly organized.

READ IF YOU:

Love books about books
Enjoy wandering tangents that connect a shelf of novels to centuries of literary culture
Think reorganizing your library is both a domestic chore and a metaphysical act
Like your essays short, sharp, and a little eccentric

SKIP IF YOU:

Want a practical guide with clear advice on cataloguing or shelving
Prefer straightforward arguments over digressive, essayistic musing
Have zero patience for bookish romanticism

⭐ RULING

How to Organize a Library is less a manual than a mirror: your shelves will remain in chaos, but you’ll feel oddly comforted knowing even Calasso believed disorder has its own secret order. A slim, erudite companion for bookish souls — not essential, but quietly dazzling if you like essays that wander.

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YOUR TURN

So, I want to know:

👇 How do you organize your home library?

If you enjoyed this issue, don’t forget to spread the word — the more, the merrier! I’d also love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to reach out. It helps keep this community growing and thriving.

If you’d like to support my writing, here are a few lovely ways to do it (thank you so, so much):

He was 21 years old at the time. Imagine, at 21, starting a career that would prove to be brilliant. Especially at a newly created publishing house.

And even, although Calasso does not mention it, in light of new digital book and audiobook streaming services such as Kindle Unlimited and Kobo Plus.

According to the author, the algorithms of online bookstores push readers towards redundant and predictable choices that are incapable of inspiring true wonder.

If there is mourning to be done, perhaps it should be for the good booksellers. After all, there are no booksellers on the internet — are algorithms their digital substitutes? But let’s face it: anyone who still visits bookshops knows that these figures are increasingly rare, even in physical spaces. They can be found, at most, in independent or specialised bookshops. Outside of these niches, customer service tends to be generic and formal — ultimately as automated as the algorithms Calasso criticises.

I find the second chapter, which is dedicated to the birth of criticism, the least interesting. However, I did find it amusing to realise that the first literary criticism was probably nothing more than cronyism, resembling a letter of recommendation more than a critical review.

This quarterly magazine was founded in 1987 by the Círculo de Leitores Foundation.

This is a literary non-fiction magazine, now in its second series, which was founded in 2020. It is edited by Gonçalo Mira, who is a writer, editor, translator, proofreader and critic, and Susana Moreira Marques, who is a journalist and writer.

This biannual magazine, dedicated to fiction, essays, poetry and illustration, was founded in 2022 by the illustrator and author Inês Viegas Oliveira, and the poet and translator Mariano Tomásovic Ribeiro. The publishing project also debuted this year with the Portuguese release of Camanchaca by Diego Zuñiga (128 pages, €16.90).

Book Review: ‘Who Knows You By Heart’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Sat, 23 Aug 2025 07:01:08 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

Who Knows You By Heart by C. J. Farley
Octavia Crenshaw, a talented Jamaican-American coder, joins Eustachian Inc., a flashy Big Tech company promising to reinvent how people connect through audio entertainment. Struggling financially and emotionally, she’s lured by the glamour of tech wealth, but it soon becomes clear that all is not what it seems.
The first warning signs come from Blue, a perceptive co-worker who helps Octavia notice the company’s suspicious undercurrents. Then, as she teams up with the sharp (and infuriatingly attractive) Walcott to develop Zion, an AI storytelling project designed to be free of bias, sparks fly both romantically and intellectually.
But when toxic secrets at the heart of Eustachian Inc. begin to unravel, Octavia is forced to confront what justice, loyalty, and trust mean in a world ruled by algorithms.
Editor’s note: I received an eARC via Edelweiss+ and William Morrow, but as always, this review is 100% honest and entirely my own doing.

C. J. Farley’s Who Knows You By Heart is a novel that refuses to fit into a neat box. It’s part social thriller, part love story, and part urgent meditation on technology, race, and identity in the digital age. At its core, though, it’s a deeply human story, told in a risky but exhilarating second-person narration that throws you directly into Octavia’s mind.

Set in the glittering yet alienating world of Eustachian Inc. — a composite of Silicon Valley’s most powerful players —Farley peels back the facade of corporate culture to reveal the hidden floors, microaggressions (or “technoaggressions”), and relentless pressure that come with being one of the few Black professionals in a predominantly white workplace.

The novel shines brightest in how it braids tech dystopia with cultural history. Farley spotlights overlooked figures like Al-Khwarizmi, the father of algebra; Phillis Wheatley, a poet whose genius was questioned in ways chillingly similar to modern “tests” of AI; and even Thomas Jefferson’s obsessive record-keeping, slyly linked to IBM’s darker chapters. These threads give the book a richness and urgency, reminding us that the biases baked into technology are rooted in centuries of exclusion and erasure.

The second-person narration — “you did this… you felt that…” — is a gamble that pays off. It makes Octavia’s grief, ambition, and humor visceral, and it pulls the reader into complicity. Octavia herself is sharp, messy, funny, and painfully real — a woman navigating loss, love, and a career that could consume her whole. It also anchors the novel’s larger inquiry: in an age where algorithms predict what we think, buy, read — even whom we love — what does it mean to have a heart that’s truly your own?

The romantic and intellectual friction between Octavia and Walcott is another highlight. Their collaboration on Zion, an AI designed to tell stories without prejudice, offers a tantalizing glimpse of hope — only to be dismantled by the realities of profit-driven tech. Meanwhile, Octavia’s dynamic with Blue reminds us that connection is rarely simple, especially in environments designed to commodify it.

Thematically, the book lands in the here-and-now: Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion efforts under attack, technology threatening to displace human labor, and the terrifying possibility that what makes us human — our voices, our stories, our hearts — could be flattened into data points.

That said, the book isn’t flawless. The middle can drag, the tech jargon may intimidate some readers, and the tonal shifts between sharp satire and raw grief occasionally jar. Still, these feel like small bumps in a work that’s ambitious, witty, and full of bite.

And the final chapter? Mind-blowing. The thought-provoking finale questions not just the future of AI but what it ultimately means to remain human in a hyper-digitized, surveilled world. This is a book that invites discussion, self-reflection, and perhaps a little discomfort — and that’s its greatest achievement.

Starting this book, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was quickly transported into something both fresh and urgent, multifaceted and fiercely discussable.

Who Knows You By Heart is not just a novel about technology or racial inequity or even love—it’s about recognizing what it means to be truly human in a world increasingly defined by algorithms. It’s an often unsettling read, but also an incredibly generous one. It offers both suspenseful storytelling and fertile ground for debate, the sort of book that makes you want to text a friend and say: we need to talk about this.

I highly recommend reading it—you might just discover something vital about yourself along the way.

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MOM BRAIN FILTER

Reading this while rocking my baby girl, I kept worrying about the world she’ll grow up in—a world where algorithms already decide what we see, hear, and even love. By the time she can read on her own, will stories be written by machines? Will friendships be mediated through apps and metrics? Who Knows You By Heart sharpened that unease but also reminded me that what makes us human—our messy, beautiful, stubborn hearts—can’t be coded, no matter how powerful the software. Right now, the only algorithm she cares about is how quickly I can warm her bland soup—but someday, I hope she knows that she doesn’t need to be optimized, she just needs to be herself.

READ IF YOU:

Loved The Circle by Dave Eggers
Are fascinated (or horrified) by Big Tech’s influence on daily life
Want a novel that makes you think as much as it makes you feel
Appreciate second-person narration done well

SKIP IF YOU:

Have zero patience for tech jargon
Dislike books that blend genres or experiment with form
Want a light, escapist read with a neat bow on top

⭐ RULING

Ambitious, urgent, and thought-provoking, a must-read for anyone interested in the collision of technology, race, and humanity. A little dense at times, but well worth the ride.

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YOUR TURN

So, I want to know:

👇 Share your favourite (or most frustrating) romcom moments!

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Book Review: ‘The Proposal Project’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Mon, 07 Jul 2025 07:01:03 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
The Proposal Project by Donna Marchetti
Priscilla is an event planner who lives for other people’s happy endings. So when her best friend asks her to help plan the perfect proposal, she’s all in. The hitch? The boyfriend is planning one too—and he’s enlisted his best friend, Oliver, to help. Oliver: smug, smugly handsome, and not exactly Priscilla’s idea of a dream collaborator.
To keep the double surprise under wraps, Priscilla and Oliver agree to fake date while secretly co-planning the proposals. It’s the perfect cover story… until all that pretending starts to feel a little too real.
Editor’s note: I received an eARC via NetGalley and One More Chapter, but as always, this review is 100% honest and entirely my own doing.

You know when you’re watching a romcom and halfway through you’re yelling at the screen, “Just talk to each other!”? That was me, holding my Kobo like it was a mic I wanted to drop. I went into The Proposal Project with high hopes—Marchetti’s Hate Mail had charmed me with its banter and bite—but this time, I’m left somewhere between mildly swooning and mildly suspicious.

The writing? Still lean, witty, and compulsively readable. The premise? Cute and promising—a fake dating scheme to plan a double proposal, all while keeping it secret from their best friends. The execution? Let’s just say I had feelings—and not all of them were heart-eyes.

The first chapters didn’t quite grab me, and I had trouble warming up to the leads. Priscilla felt shockingly juvenile for someone I’m guessing is in her 30s (though the book never says). The story opens with her arguing about a tape dispenser shaped like a high heel, right after she’s fired. Childish? Unbelievable? Check and check.

And Oliver… oh, Oliver. I was ready for swoon, but some of his behaviour hovered in Red Flag Territory™ (I kept circling it in my head like, should I be concerned or is it just in my head?). Plus, the chemistry with Priscilla felt more forced than flirty at first.

And can we talk about the girl code? Totally out the window. Priscilla’s bestie, Tina, openly discussing Priscilla’s sex life in front of Ryan and Oliver? No, thank you. Tina’s texts? Ugh, selfish, pushy, and zero support. Their “friendship” was flat and increasingly irritating as I read on.

Plot-wise, there were also a few loose threads. Oliver’s mysterious notebook got mentioned once and then forgotten. The subplot about Priscilla’s former boss had potential, then fizzled out. What happened after Priscilla stood him up? Was he really behind her job loss? The whole thing dropped off, which was a shame—Malcolm had great villain vibes that could have added some juicy tension.

But then, something clicked. The pacing smoothed out, the banter clicked into place, and I found myself rooting for this chaotic, secretive, fake-dating duo despite my better judgment. The proposal and epilogue were genuinely sweet, showing that the core idea was solid, even if the journey there was bumpy.

That said, the communication-or lack thereof—drove me up the wall. Romcoms live on tension, sure, but there’s a fine line between “charming miscommunication” and “we’re seriously still not talking about this in Chapter 22?” This one camped too long in the latter, and my patience wore thin.

Reading this as a new mom meant I was dipping in and out in 10-minute bursts—between naps, feeds, and rescuing a giraffe-shaped teether from under the couch. And maybe it’s the sleep deprivation talking, but I found myself yelling, If I can carry on a coherent conversation with my four-month-old, surely you two adults can manage a basic emotional check-in. And yet… I still found myself rooting for them. Damn it, Marchetti.

Despite the frustration, there’s a lot to like. The tone is light and escapist—no major thematic weight or sociopolitical undercurrents—but it does give us a heroine who’s not defined by romance alone. Priscilla’s competence as an event planner is front and centre (give me more Type A heroines with spreadsheets and emergency kits), and Oliver, to his credit, never tries to bulldoze her ambitions.

Was this a perfect romance? No. Did I stay up reading it with one eye open while nursing? Also no. But it entertained me, made me snort at least twice, and reminded me that sometimes even flawed love stories can leave you smiling at the end.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

There’s something about watching two adults fake a relationship to protect their friends’ happiness that hits differently now that I’m a mom. I kept thinking: we do this too, don’t we? We pretend we’re fine, we smile through the hard days, we orchestrate joy for the people we love, even when we’re running on fumes. I used to read romcoms just for the swoon. Now I notice the quiet sacrifices, the effort behind every “I’ve got this.” I found myself more drawn to Priscilla’s competence than her chemistry with Oliver, because sometimes being the one who holds it all together feels more romantic than any kiss. Someday, I hope Teresa understands the work it takes to get to the “happily ever after”.

READ IF YOU:

Crave fake dating, close quarters, and enemies-to-lovers vibes
Have patience for characters who take a while to figure it out
Enjoy your romcoms with a good dose of spicy, graphic scenes

SKIP IF YOU:

Expect your male leads to be red-flag free from the get-go
Internally scream at the messy communication in romance stories
Crave emotional depth over drama and fluff

⭐ RULING

While The Proposal Project is undeniably bingeable—thanks to Donna Marchetti’s trademark wit and a premise bursting with potential—the juvenile heroine, shady friendships, and relentless miscommunications left me more frustrated than charmed. It’s a light, escapist read that can fill a few hours, but don’t go in expecting the emotional depth and sharpness that made Hate Mail such a standout. That said, I’m still eager to see what Marchetti cooks up next—hopefully a romance that’s a bit smarter and a lot stronger.

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YOUR TURN

Romcoms thrive on tension and those moments when you just want to shake the characters and yell, “Why won’t you just talk to each other?!” Sometimes, that slow-burn miscommunication is charming and addictive. Other times, it’s downright frustrating.

So, I want to know:

Have you ever read a romcom where the miscommunications drove you absolutely nuts? Which book made you yell, “Just talk already!” at the characters?
And on the flip side, what fake dating stories won you over?

👇 Share your favourite (or most frustrating) romcom moments!

If you’d like to support my writing, here are a few lovely ways to do it (thank you so, so much):

Book Review: ‘This One Summer’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Wed, 02 Jul 2025 07:00:54 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
This One Summer by Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki
Every summer, Rose and her parents retreat to the same sleepy beach town of Awago. It’s meant to be a tradition — a pause from real life. But this summer isn’t like the others. Her parents are fighting, her mom is slipping into silence, and Rose and her friend Windy are suddenly eavesdropping on teenage drama that’s a lot messier than they’re ready for.
This One Summer is a coming-of-age story that takes place in the in-between: between girlhood and adolescence, between family and friends, between knowing just enough and not understanding anything at all.
Also, it’s beautiful. Like, achingly, want-to-frame-every-page beautiful.

I stumbled upon This One Summer in a tiny bookshop in Óbidos when I was in college. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular — just killing time between events at the literary festival — but this graphic novel practically called to me from the shelf. I read it in one sitting that night, and it’s stayed with me ever since.

On the surface, this is a quiet book. Not much “happens,” plot-wise. Rose and her best friend Windy return to their families’ summer cottages, as they’ve done for years. But something has shifted. Rose is on the cusp of adolescence, her worldview stretching and cracking. The grown-ups around her are sadder, more complicated. She and Windy are still kids, but not quite — a liminal space that the Tamaki cousins capture with aching precision.

There’s so much texture to this book: from the lazy-day lake swims and late-night horror movies, to the way conversations meander, fizzle, or sting. Rose is observant, often judgmental, and not always likeable — which is to say, she’s real. Windy is her wonderfully weird foil: loud, buoyant, and full of the kinds of observations that sound silly until they’re suddenly profound.

But what sets the book apart is how the emotional weight sneaks in. There’s a teen pregnancy subplot Rose doesn’t fully understand, a simmering tension between her parents, and an undercurrent of grief that goes unnamed but is felt in every silent panel. Jillian Tamaki’s indigo-hued illustrations stretch, float, and linger — the art doing so much of the storytelling. The full-page spreads are stunning, but it’s often the tiny, quiet frames that hit the hardest.

There’s a lot of space in this book — for interpretation, for emotion, for breath. It’s a masterclass in restraint. And it perfectly captures that hazy, in-between summer when you start to realise the world is messier than you thought, and growing up isn’t something you can schedule.

It’s not a warm-and-fuzzy read. It’s more like a low tide: it pulls back slowly, and what’s left behind is a little melancholic. But for me? That’s part of why it remains one of the best graphic novels I’ve ever read.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

There’s a scene where Rose’s mom stands alone in the kitchen, back turned, unreachable — and something in me just… cracked. Because now that I’m a mother, I see her not just as a parent in pain, but as a woman trying desperately to hold it together in front of her kid. I used to relate to Rose. Now, I flinch when she’s harsh with her mom — because I know what that silence might be hiding. I want Teresa to read this someday and see how messy growing up can be. And that’s okay.

READ IF YOU:

Love gorgeously illustrated graphic novels with emotional depth
Crave stories about girlhood, friendship, and the murkiness of adolescence
Appreciate a book that doesn’t spell everything out, but shows you just enough
Want to cry a little (or a lot) without being fully wrecked

SKIP IF YOU:

Prefer fast-paced plots over slow, meditative storytelling
Need everything resolved by the final page
Don’t vibe with introspective, atmospheric reads

⭐ RULING

This graphic novel is a quiet thunderstorm. It doesn’t shout. It simmers. It captures that slippery feeling of growing up: how your world expands too fast, and you’re left squinting at the blurry edges. The Tamaki cousins (Mariko writing, Jillian illustrating) are an absolute dream team. The artwork is lush and loose, awash in dreamy indigo hues that perfectly match the story’s liminal vibe.

What This One Summer does so well is show, not tell, what it means to be a girl caught in transition. Rose is observant but also wildly judgmental (realistic, honestly). Windy is chaotic, loud, and oddly wise. They’re both annoying and endearing, and they don’t always get it right. That’s the point.

There are undercurrents of so much here: body image, sexuality, mental health, miscarriage, class, small-town inertia, and how none of it is explained directly because this is how kids absorb the world — half-heard, half-guessed, fully felt.

It reminded me of being thirteen and thinking I knew everything — only to find out, very suddenly, that I knew nothing. And it left me with that ache in the chest that means a book has wedged itself somewhere permanent.

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YOUR TURN

Sometimes I wonder if the books we find by accident are the ones that know us best. This One Summer wasn’t on any list or recommendation thread — it just happened to be there, waiting. And maybe that’s the magic of certain stories: they arrive not when you're looking, but when you're ready. Years later, I’m still learning from it — not just about growing up, but about what it means to be watching someone else grow. I flinch at the silences between Rose and her mom. I notice how heavy everything feels, even when no one says a word. It’s a story that grows with you, and maybe that’s what makes it so special.

So now I’m curious about you. Let’s sit in the shallows a bit:

Do you remember a summer that changed you, even if you didn’t realise it at the time?
Have you ever reread a book years later and seen it through a completely different lens?
What’s a book that captured adolescence so well it made you wince (or weep)?

👇 Spill the tea.

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Book Review: ‘The Only Black Girl in the Room’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Wed, 25 Jun 2025 07:01:33 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
The Only Black Girl in the Room by Alex Travis
Gen is a Black journalist in a white newsroom, trying to do her job while everyone around her quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) makes it harder. She’s tired. She’s brilliant. She’s stuck in a system that wants her talent but not her truth. When an old flame reappears — Jude, a recovering alcoholic and unexpectedly tender tech CEO — she’s forced to face how much she’s been pushing down: her grief, her ambition, her anger.
It’s a story about voice. About the quiet, corrosive power of microaggressions. About what happens when you start speaking up. And it’s about love, too — not just romantic, but the one you reclaim for yourself when you decide you’re done shrinking.

There’s a particular kind of book that feels less like escapism and more like a quiet confrontation — the kind that sits you down and says, you need to look at this. That’s what reading The Only Black Girl in the Room by Alex Travis felt like.

This is Gen’s story — a Black journalist in a predominantly white newsroom, trying to do her job while also navigating constant, casual bias and the weight of being the only one. The only Black girl in the room, on the pitch, in the meeting. The story is contemporary, yes. But the themes? Deeply structural. Exhaustingly real.

This book is both soft and sharp. It’s about microaggressions and missed opportunities. About the invisible weight Black women carry at work, in relationships, in silence. And it’s about what happens when you start to name those weights — and decide you’re done carrying them alone.

As a white reader, it wasn’t comfortable. It’s not supposed to be. Gen’s inner world is sharply drawn — full of dignity, frustration, fatigue, and brilliance — and through her, the book asks its readers (especially white ones) to reckon with how racism shows up in insidious, everyday ways.

But this isn’t just a workplace novel. It’s a coming-of-age story for someone who’s already technically come of age. It’s about identity, loneliness, and finding your voice again after the world has tried to shrink it. There’s a romance, too — a second-chance one — but it’s not the centrepiece.

Gen reconnects with Jude, a wealthy ginger CEO (yes, really) who’s dealing with his own grief and sobriety. I wasn’t sure what to make of him at first. There’s a hint of White Knight Complex1 in his early appearances, and I bristled. But to my surprise, he steps back. He listens. He grows. And Gen doesn’t let him take up too much space — in her story or her healing. Their relationship isn’t the spark that sets her free. It’s a flicker of possibility, which is enough2.

This is the kind of book that won’t be for everyone, and it’s exactly the kind of story that could set off a hundred different conversations in a book club. Probably some arguments, too. And honestly? That’s the sign of a good book.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

I want Teresa to grow up knowing that being the only one in the room doesn’t mean staying quiet. And that her voice matters — even when it shakes — and she’s allowed to take up space. But I also want her to uplift the voices of those too often talked over or shut out. I want her to read stories like this, where speaking truth to power is hard but necessary, and strength looks like softness, solidarity, and showing up for yourself and others.

READ IF YOU:

Want a grounded, contemporary story about what it actually feels like to be the only Black girl in the room
Are up for a romance that simmers in the background
Are ready to examine your own biases, even if it stings
Miss newsroom dramas

SKIP IF YOU:

Prefer romance front and centre
Aren’t up for confronting white privilege, systemic bias, or workplace microaggressions
Are looking for a feel-good escape — this one leans more thoughtful than cosy

⭐ RULING

This one got under my skin. The Only Black Girl in the Room doesn’t coddle its reader, nor should it — especially if you’re white, like me. It’s not a story that wraps itself up neatly or offers easy catharsis. Instead, it holds up a mirror. And if you’re paying attention, you’ll find yourself sitting with some uncomfortable truths. That said, it’s never cruel. Alex Travis writes with compassion and clarity, and refuses to let her characters (or readers) off the hook.

It’s not a perfect book — the romance teeters on the edge of cliché at times — but Gen never loses her agency, and that kept me grounded. I finished it feeling cracked open and quietly grateful. A bold, timely, necessary read.

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YOUR TURN

Haven’t read this yet? No worries — I still want to hear from you:

Do you tend to read books that challenge you?
Ever felt like the “only” in a room?
What’s a book that made you think differently about identity or belonging?

👇 Let’s talk. I’m listening.

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Jude has a bit of a white saviour complex, a concept that refers explicitly to the damaging effects of white individuals, upon a place of power, trying to help BIPOC. You can read more about What Is White Savior Complex and Why Is It Harmful?, in Colleen Murphy’s article, from Health, a publication focused on health and wellness.

Their chemistry confused me more than once, but you know what? Not everything needs to sizzle. Sometimes slow, awkward healing is the vibe.

Book Review: ‘A Study in Drowning’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Wed, 18 Jun 2025 07:01:06 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid
Effy Sayre, anxious architecture student and lifelong devotee of the book Angharad, wins the chance to redesign the crumbling seaside mansion of the (now dead) author she idolizes. But when she arrives at Hiraeth Manor—a house that feels like it's rotting from the inside out—Effy discovers a whole tangle of secrets surrounding the author’s legacy, his eccentric son, and a smug literature student named Preston, who’s convinced the author was a fraud. What begins as a dream-come-true quickly morphs into a haunting mystery involving buried truths, academic elitism, and a fairytale that might be far darker than she ever imagined.

There’s a crumbling manor on a cliffside, a storm rolling in off the sea, and a girl who’s been told all her life that she’s too fragile, too foolish, too female to belong in the rooms where knowledge is shaped and stories are written. But she walks in anyway. That’s where A Study in Drowning begins.

This is a deeply atmospheric, gorgeously written dark academia novel that feels like falling into a fever dream—equal parts gothic fairytale and literary mystery. Set in a fictional country shaped by mid-20th-century Wales and steeped in Welsh folklore, the story follows Effy Sayre, an anxious, quietly brilliant architecture student who’s always taken solace in the mythic novel Angharad. When she’s selected to redesign the home of its reclusive (and now deceased) author, it feels like a dream come true. But Hiraeth Manor is no refuge—it’s a decaying, salt-wrecked estate full of secrets and half-truths, and nothing about the late author’s legacy is what it seems.

What sets this novel apart isn’t just the bone-deep eeriness of its setting or the literary puzzle Effy is unravelling—it’s what Ava Reid dares to confront beneath the gothic trappings. A Study in Drowning is a sharp, fearless critique of institutional sexism in academia: how women are seen as too decorative to be taken seriously, yet somehow always to blame for the misdeeds of powerful men. Effy isn’t a sword-wielding heroine or a quick-witted firebrand. She’s tender, terrified, and traumatised—and her quiet survival is revolutionary.

And then there’s the romance: slow-burning, antagonistic, and utterly earned. Preston Heloury—an infuriatingly pragmatic literature scholar with his own axe to grind—starts as a thorn in Effy’s side. But as they team up to uncover the truth about Myrddin and the sinister history buried in the manor’s walls, mutual respect slowly blossoms into something more. Their relationship is built not on instant chemistry but on shared values, vulnerability, and the difficult work of unlearning what the world has taught them about power and trust. It’s a romance that doesn’t save the heroine, but gives her room to save herself.

This is a book that asks not just who owns a story, but who gets to survive it? It’s about the narratives we inherit, the ones we resist, and the ones we dare to write for ourselves.

Reid’s prose is lyrical and haunting, the mystery is twisty and immersive, and the emotional impact? Devastating in the best way. A Study in Drowning is tender, furious, eerie, and empowering—a story for anyone who’s ever been told they were too much or not enough, and dared to keep going anyway.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

I didn’t read A Study in Drowning as a mother—but now that I am one, it reshapes how the story sits with me. I think about Effy differently. Her softness, which I once saw as vulnerability, now reads as strength in survival mode. She’s not dramatic—she’s enduring. She doesn’t yell—she observes. And that has its own power.

Back then, I related to her on the level of anxiety, of being told you’re too much and not enough all at once. Now, I see the broader picture: the way women are taught to second-guess themselves, how institutions manipulate that doubt, how claiming your space—even shakily—is revolutionary.

I also can’t help thinking about how many girls grow up like Effy, and how much I want to raise a daughter who knows better. Who won’t have to unlearn the idea that fragility is failure, or that she’s responsible for how others wield their power. This book reminds me how much the stories we tell—and retell—matter. Especially when we’re trying to raise braver, freer little humans.

READ IF YOU:

Love haunted houses
Want to hug a girl who’s been told to sit down and shut up one too many times

SKIP IF YOU:

You’re not in the headspace for dark themes, including mental illness, sexual assault, and parental abuse

⭐ RULING

Gorgeously written, unflinchingly angry, and utterly immersive. Reid doesn’t just write gothic fantasy—she wields it like a scalpel. Would I press this into the hands of every girl who’s ever been told she’s “too sensitive”? In a heartbeat.

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YOUR TURN

I’ve gushed, I’ve grieved, I’ve screamed into the gothic void—now it’s your turn.

Whether you’ve already wandered the eerie halls of Hiraeth Manor or are just now intrigued by the promise of crumbling cliffs and creeping dread, I want to hear from you:

Is A Study in Drowning already on your TBR?
Does a gothic mystery wrapped in myth, academia, and a slow-burn romance sound like your kind of read?
And while we’re at it—what’s your favourite dark academia novel that absolutely wrecked you (in the best possible way)?

👇 Drop your thoughts in the comments—I’m always collecting recs and emotionally devastating plotlines.

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Book Review: ‘The Fall of Whit Rivera’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Wed, 11 Jun 2025 07:00:41 GMT

About The Fall of Whit Rivera
The Fall of Whit Rivera by Crystal Maldonado
Whit Rivera has a plan for everything—except maybe how to survive being forced to co-chair the Fall Formal with her ex–middle school boyfriend turned academic nemesis, Zay. She’s a perfectionist with a flair for themed playlists and fall aesthetics; he’s a chill skater who broke her heart and couldn’t care less about centerpieces. But as they bicker their way through committee meetings and hot-glue emergencies, Whit starts to wonder if maybe their enemies-to-something-more energy is worth pursuing. It’s messy, it’s awkward, it’s very feelings-forward—and it might just be love.

I didn’t love the writing. There, I said it. Some of the prose leans heavily on exposition, and the pacing wobbles in places. But here’s the thing: The Fall of Whit Rivera still had me hooked — because the story? The characters? The chemistry? All the yes.

Let me preface this by saying: I’m not in high school anymore (far from it…). My last locker combo is long forgotten, and if anyone tried to pass me a note these days, it would likely be a crumpled receipt from the bottom of a diaper bag. But oh, The Fall of Whit Rivera brought me right back.

Whitney Rivera and Zay have been frenemies since middle school — and not the flirty kind. We’re talking full-on history here: he dumped her in the most humiliating way possible (cue second-hand embarrassment), and she’s never forgiven him. So when they're forced to co-chair the Fall Formal Committee together? It’s a logistical and emotional nightmare.

Whit is everything Zay is not: she’s type-A, planner-obsessed, Pinterest-board passionate, and blessed with intense Autumn girl energy (think: cosy sweaters, pumpkin spice lattes, and a deep, possibly spiritual, connection to Gilmore Girls). Zay is chill, skater-boy nonchalant. Obviously, sparks fly. Some are full-blown “I can’t stand you” rages. Some… decidedly not.

There’s an undeniable charm to how Crystal Maldonado writes their rivals-to-lovers arc. The banter is tight, the tension slow-burning, and their dynamic nails that delicious teen pining vibe — all without ever veering into “spicy.” It’s all yearning, no steam, which feels both age-appropriate and narratively satisfying.

But what really sets this book apart is how it layers that rom-com goodness with real, complex issues. Whitney isn’t just dealing with ex-drama and prom decor — she’s navigating a fresh PCOS diagnosis (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, a hormone disorder that affects everything from periods to skin, weight, and fertility1). Maldonado doesn’t relegate this to a quiet subplot; it’s an integral part of Whit’s journey, portrayed with honesty, vulnerability, and — crucially — without letting it define her.

One of the most touching elements is witnessing Whit struggle and her (eventual) willingness to open up about it to her loved ones. It sends a crucial message: that seeking support when facing health challenges is not only brave — it’s necessary. Whit’s friends Sophie and Marisol were fully fleshed out characters and had some very sweet moments.

I also loved that Whitney is unabashedly girly. She loves sparkles, pretty things, planner stickers, all of it — and Maldonado lets her have that without mocking it or using it as shorthand for weakness. Femininity isn’t something Whit outgrows. It’s something she owns.

Then, there's Lily, Whitney's little sister. She’s autistic2, funny, sharp, and fully herself — never reduced to a stereotype or an afterthought. Her character is a reminder of how important — and still far too rare — it is to see neurodivergent kids portrayed with complexity, joy, and dignity in fiction. Representation like this matters, especially in books that teens will see themselves in.

So, is The Fall of Whit Rivera the most dazzlingly written YA novel I’ve ever read? No. But it is a blisteringly heartwarming one — and for anyone who’s ever had a complicated diagnosis, a high school crush they couldn’t quite shake, or a sibling who lights up their world, it just might be exactly the comfort read you need.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

I want Teresa to read books like this when she’s older. Stories that reflect softness as strength and show girls like Whit being emotional and worthy of love without conditions.

READ IF YOU:

Want more thoughtful rep of PCOS and neurodivergence in fiction
Love a slow burn with genuine emotional stakes
Think romance should come with both butterflies and honesty
Miss high school formal drama, but not too much
Crave a tight-knit family dynamic full of love and support

SKIP IF YOU:

You’re here for high literary style over emotional resonance
Are allergic to tropes (because this is delightfully full of them)

⭐ RULING

Romcom chaos
meets
real-life curveballs
— and sticks the landing.

No, The Fall of Whit Rivera isn’t the most lyrically written YA novel on the shelf — but it is one of the most emotionally sincere. It’s tender, tropey, and full of heart, with a heroine who embraces glitter, girliness, and vulnerability without apology. Crystal Maldonado gives us a messy, heartfelt slow burn wrapped in tulle and real talk. Come for the rivals-to-lovers tension; stay for the nuanced rep, soft sisterhood, and the reminder that you don’t need to harden to be taken seriously.

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YOUR TURN

Whether you’ve already fallen for Whit or you’re just here feeling tempted… Tell me in the comments:

Does this sound like your kind of read?
What’s the last book that made you feel all the feelings?
Do you remember your own “Whit moment” — that messy, unforgettable first love?

👇 Let’s talk. I’m listening.

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Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) is a pervasive hormone problem for women of childbearing age. Women with PCOS may not ovulate, have high levels of androgens, and have many small cysts on the ovaries. PCOS can cause missed or irregular menstrual periods, excess hair growth, acne, infertility, and weight gain (read more about it on the Johns Hopkins Medicine website).

If you want to know more about how and why so many more boys than girls are diagnosed with autism, you can read the article Why Many Autistic Girls Are Overlooked, by Beth Arky, on the Child Mind Institute website. There’s also a good article about Understanding Undiagnosed Autism in Adult Females on the UCLA Health website.

Book Review: ‘The Wolf and The Woodsman’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Wed, 04 Jun 2025 07:00:33 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
The Wolf and The Woodsman by Ava Reid
In Ava Reid’s haunting debut inspired by Hungarian history and Jewish folklore, a young pagan woman with no discernible magic, Évike, is cast out by her village and forced into a journey that begins as a sacrifice and turns into something else entirely. Her unlikely companion? Gáspár, a one-eyed captain of the king’s holy order and a man burdened by his faith, family, and a long list of moral quandaries. Together, they travel through a brutal, magic-infused land torn apart by religious persecution, nation-building propaganda, and gods who may—or may not—intervene. What follows is a grim and often brutal exploration of power, faith, and identity—as well as a slow-burn alliance between two characters who should be enemies.

This is a book I wanted to devour. And I probably would have—if I’d read it on my Kobo. The tiny font and marathon-length chapters made for slow reading, and the pacing didn’t help: the first half moves at a crawl. But looking back, it makes sense. Reid builds a world steeped in myth and politics, and she takes her time. What we get is dark, atmospheric fantasy with high emotional stakes. And you feel the cold, the rot, the weight of generations of violence. The forest is alive, the myths feel old and dangerous, and the way storytelling is used to manipulate reminded me just how political fantasy (and even romantic fantasy, like this one) can be when done right.

Reid doesn’t shy away from heavy themes: religious persecution, ethnic cleansing, weaponised mythology, and how stories—especially sacred ones—can be twisted into tools of power. It’s a brutal, unflinching look at how nations are built (spoiler: not with kindness). The world she’s created is steeped in tension between the Yehuli (a Jewish-coded people), the Patritians (Christian-coded), and pagans, with faith and magic functioning both as lifelines and battlegrounds.

As for Évike… She’s angry, raw, sometimes cruel, and often frustrating. (Honestly, I spent a lot of the book muttering “Girl, please.”) But she’s also a product of the trauma and rejection she’s faced, and Reid doesn’t ask us to like her—just to understand her. Still, I often wanted to shake her, especially in her interactions with Gáspár, the one-eyed captain. He’s gentle, principled, and (surprise!) not the monster she expected. Watching their relationship shift from hostile to hesitant to something almost tender was one of the most rewarding arcs.

There were elements I wish had been expanded, though. Gáspár’s experience as a mixed-race man in a rigid, religious state; Évike’s strained, tender relationship with her Yehuli father; the mechanics of the magic system (some pray and get power, others bleed for it—why?1). And while the second half is thrilling, the ending felt a little too neatly tied up for such a complex tale. And honestly? I wouldn’t have minded a sequel. There’s even enough political intrigue and lore here for a trilogy.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

The slow burn of this book is like those moments where I try to carve out time for myself between nursing sessions and baby cuddles—feeling like progress is taking longer than it should, but knowing I just have to stick with it. When Évike feels the weight of her responsibilities, I get it. The mental load of surviving in a world that seems to bend toward cruelty and exploitation? Yeah, that hits differently now. There’s also a lot of waiting in this story, which now makes me reflect on how much of life—and motherhood—is spent in anticipation, whether it’s for a breakthrough, a shift in perspective, or, in my case, some quiet.

READ IF YOU:

You love fantasy steeped in real history and folklore
You appreciate rich world-building and morally complex characters
You’re in the mood for slow-burn everything—plot, romance, personal growth

SKIP IF YOU:

You need fast pacing or short chapters to stay engaged
You get frustrated with abrasive protagonists
You're not in the mood for heavy themes (religious trauma, genocide, torture)
You get cranky when a book leaves some questions unanswered

⭐ RULING

The world Reid builds is gorgeous and complex, but the pacing and rushed ending leave me wanting more. It’s a book that will captivate you if you’re patient, but not without a few frustrating moments.

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YOUR TURN

Would love to hear what you thought if you've read this one, or if you have other Jewish folklore-inspired fantasy recs. Also, would love to know:

How do you feel about books that mix history with mythology—are you into that?
Do you prefer fast-paced action, or do you like a slow-burn world-building experience?

👇 Let’s talk.

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I found myself haunted by this—why must some bodies bleed while others are simply believed? Is it theology? Magic tax brackets? I need answers, Ava. The question lingers, unanswered but potent.

Book Review: ‘The Haunting of Hill House’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Sun, 01 Jun 2025 07:00:18 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
The Haunting of Hill House by Sherley Jackson
Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House is often praised as a gothic horror classic — a masterclass in slow-burn suspense and psychological unease. At its core, it’s the story of Eleanor, a fragile, lonely woman who joins a paranormal study at the ominous Hill House with a small cast of strangers. What follows is a descent into ambiguity: is the house haunted, or is Eleanor?
That’s the idea, anyway.

I finally read The Haunting of Hill House, and… sigh.

I know, I know — it’s a cornerstone of horror, the blueprint for psychological thrillers, a revered classic. But as I turned the last page, I mostly felt like I’d been invited to a very famous party where everyone forgot to show up.

The premise is enticing: four strangers arrive at Hill House to investigate its eerie reputation. The haunted house trope? Deliciously promising. So I went in expecting to be thoroughly unsettled, ready for a creeping, atmospheric experience that would get under my skin.

What I got instead was… dialogue-heavy meandering, theatrical characters who felt plucked from a slightly offbeat stage play, and a vibe that never quite made it past “mildly eerie.”

💡 Halfway through and still waiting for a ghost? Girl, same.

The halfway point came and went with barely a chill. The house was more drafty than dreadful. The famous sense of dread? Tepid at best. (Where’s the chill? Even the house seemed bored.)

There are glimpses of Jackson’s brilliance — a chilling turn of phrase here, a haunting image there, the slow, tragic unravelling of a lonely woman — but they’re muffled beneath layers of quirky banter and vague unease that never quite lands.

And then there’s Eleanor.

She is fragile, lonely, and deeply unreliable. Jackson does something really clever with her: Eleanor doesn’t witness the haunting; in many ways, she is the haunting. Her perception distorts reality, and her inner world, filled with longing and repression, warps the narrative in subtle, insidious ways.

💡 Eleanor is one of literature’s great unreliable narrators. But instead of making me feel unease, she made me feel… vaguely irritated.

There’s something tragic about her yearning to belong, her fantasy that Hill House might finally be “home.” But it’s also hard to stay invested in a character who’s this passive — so much happens around her, but she rarely does anything. I wanted to root for her, but I mostly just wanted her to get a hotel room and a therapist.

💡 Eleanor: “Journeys end in lovers meeting.” Me: Unfortunately, my journey ended in eye-rolls and unmet expectations.

Besides, Jackson’s dialogue is quirky in a way that almost feels like theatre — not creepy theatre, but community theatre. Every character sounds like they’re in a separate play, occasionally reading each other’s lines by mistake.

Yes, there’s tension under the surface, and if you squint, you might feel the slow drip of dread. But for me? The promise of gothic horror and psychological depth gave way to tedium. The elements were all there — the mansion, the mystery, the madness — but the execution left me cold.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

As a mother, this book reminded me of the way loneliness can warp perception — how unacknowledged grief or invisibility can manifest in strange, desperate ways. Eleanor is a woman so isolated, so hungry for connection, she’ll let herself dissolve into a house that doesn’t love her back. I want Teresa to know: your worth isn’t defined by who accepts you, or where you feel “invited.” You don’t have to haunt yourself to be seen.

READ IF YOU:

Love gothic horror more for its vibes than its plot
Enjoy ambiguous, psychological narratives where the line between mind and haunting blurs
Appreciate literary prose and character studies over scares
Want to say you’ve read a classic, even if it’s more whisper than scream

SKIP IF YOU:

Crave fast-paced horror or actual ghostly encounters
Need a strong plot to stay invested
Get impatient with quirky, overly mannered dialogue
Want your haunted houses to do more than creak and groan
Crave payoff after a long build-up (because, spoiler: there isn’t much)

⭐ RULING

A gothic classic that didn’t quite haunt me. I admire Jackson’s ambition and prose, but this one felt more like a whispered suggestion than a full-bodied ghost story. If you’re hoping for chills, you might be better off watching the Netflix adaptation — at least that one brings the shivers.

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YOUR TURN

Have you read The Haunting of Hill House? Did it work for you, or did you, like me, spend most of it waiting for the lights to flicker and the walls to bleed?

👇 Tell me your thoughts (especially if you loved it — I’m open to being convinced!).

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Book Review: ‘The Heartbreak Years’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Wed, 28 May 2025 07:01:23 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
The Heartbreak Years by Minda Honey1
Minda Honey’s memoir charts a decade-long journey through heartbreak, self-discovery, and the ever-shifting pursuit of love. It begins in the wake of a breakup with her high school sweetheart and follows her as she navigates the emotional terrain of early adulthood as a Black woman in America. Her cross-country moves—from Louisville to Los Angeles to Denver—become more than geographic shifts; they mirror the internal changes that come with healing, growth, and reinvention.
Set against the charged backdrop of 2008 and the political ascent of Barack Obama, Honey’s story offers more than a personal narrative. It lays bare the universal complexities of modern relationships while candidly exploring the unique challenges Black women face in shaping their identities and seeking love in a country that often fails to see them clearly.

What makes The Heartbreak Years truly unforgettable is the unflinching honesty that pulses through every page. Minda Honey doesn’t just recount the trials of romance—she delivers a sharp, heartfelt commentary on societal expectations, the pressures placed on Black women, and the raw, often painful journey toward self-love.

As she moves from the familiarity of life with her high school sweetheart to the uncharted territory of independence, Honey infuses her memoir with both humour and vulnerability. It’s the kind of book that makes you pause, reflect, and nod along, its emotional truth keeping you hooked from start to finish.

What’s remarkable is how seamlessly Honey weaves the personal with the cultural. Her reflections feel like a late-night conversation with a friend who gets it—tender, wise, and refreshingly real.

I especially admired her refusal to sugarcoat the realities of modern love. She dismantles the fairy tale, tackling the complexities of dating, the role of technology in our romantic lives, and the quiet ache of being misunderstood. Her journey becomes a mirror for anyone who’s ever loved, lost, or lingered in the limbo of “what went wrong?”

The personal growth she charts is nothing short of inspiring. There’s a quiet beauty in how she rebuilds after heartbreak, redefining what it means to love and be loved on her terms. And while some of her experiences may feel rooted in a particular cultural or geographic context, the emotional resonance is universal. We’ve all questioned our worth or reassessed who we are after a life-altering event—and Honey captures that moment of reckoning with stunning clarity.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

As a mom, I found it to be a moving reminder of the importance of self-love and the way our identities are shaped by both our relationships and our journey toward independence. There’s a tenderness in the way Honey recounts the highs and lows of life, and the realisation that our stories—whether of love, loss, or self-discovery—are not just personal, but also profoundly shaped by the world we live in.

READ IF YOU:

Enjoy memoirs that delve deep into love, loss, and self-identity
Are looking for a raw, honest take on contemporary dating and relationships
Appreciate stories that explore the cultural and societal pressures placed on women, particularly Black women
Love thought-provoking reads that balance humour with emotional depth

SKIP IF YOU:

Prefer lighter, more fiction-driven reads
Aren’t interested in introspective memoirs
Are looking for a strictly romantic or dramatic narrative—this one’s about much more

⭐ RULING

Minda Honey’s voice is both engaging and inspiring, and her journey of self-discovery offers powerful insights into the complexities of romance, identity, and growth. This book will resonate with anyone who’s ever questioned their place in the world or experienced the ebb and flow of love and loss.

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YOUR TURN

Now that I’ve shared my thoughts, I’d love to hear from you!

Have you ever been on a journey of self-discovery after a big life change?
If you’ve ever navigated the complexities of modern relationships, what did you learn along the way?
If you’ve already read The Heartbreak Years, what aspect of Minda Honey’s story resonates most with you?

👇 Let’s discuss!

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Minda Honey has a newsletter called Mid, about being mid-life and mid-career.

Book Review: ‘You Belong Here’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Tue, 27 May 2025 07:01:24 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
You Belong Here by Sara Phoebe Miller and Morgan Beem
Essie Rosen’s life is kind of a mess. Her best friend ditched her for college, her brother’s in rehab, her long-time boyfriend might break up with her, and her dream of getting into NYU’s acting program? Who knows.
Senior year was supposed to be her final sprint toward something better. Instead, she’s stuck in Long Island, stuck in her feelings, and stuck doing the school play with Christopher Sun — who, for the record, is both charming and wildly inconvenient. Also, his brother is the drug dealer who got her brother hooked. So. There’s that.
What unfolds is a messy, heartfelt, very teen drama about grief, identity, complicated family stuff, and maybe—just maybe—finding yourself in the wreckage.

I have to say it: Morgan Beem deserves awards. Full stop. Her artwork is nothing short of phenomenal. Rendered entirely in moody, blue-tinted watercolours, the visual language of You Belong Here mirrors Essie’s emotional state—at times washed out and numb, at others claustrophobic with tension. Pages become dense with overlapping text and panels, conveying a visceral sense of anxiety; elsewhere, space opens up, allowing for quiet reflection or tentative connection. Despite the limited colour palette, the book feels lush and kinetic—proof of Beem’s extraordinary skill in evoking mood and movement through monochrome. It captures that watery, wobbly feeling of being seventeen and heartbroken and totally at sea.

You Belong Here is a raw, emotionally resonant coming-of-age graphic novel that captures the sharp edge of adolescence with striking honesty. Set during Essie Rosen’s senior year of high school, it offers an immersive portrait of a girl in free fall—navigating heartbreak, a fractured family, the aftermath of her brother’s addiction, and the sting of a failed dream.

And Miller writes with a keen understanding of how overwhelming teen emotions can be, when every disappointment feels permanent and every moment is saturated with meaning. Essie’s not always likeable, but she is achingly real: self-absorbed, impulsive, wounded, hopeful. The English class journal she keeps becomes an effective narrative device, offering us unfiltered access to her inner chaos in a way that feels raw rather than performative.

Is the drama dialled up to eleven? Sure. Are the characters a little too self-absorbed sometimes? Absolutely. Is the drama dialled up to eleven? Absolutely. Are the characters a little too wrapped up in themselves? Often. But that is adolescence. Everything’s turned up. Reading this now, over a decade older than Essie, I did find myself rolling my eyes at some of her more dramatic spirals—but then again, I once cried over a Hi5 status like it was a personal betrayal. So… fair enough.

This might not be a book for readers who want neat narratives and perfectly “relatable” protagonists. While the story includes a romantic subplot—with Christopher Sun, the younger brother of the man who got Essie’s brother hooked—it resists a tidy romantic resolution. This isn’t a love story, but a story about rebuilding identity when everything you thought you could count on fails you. It’s a breakup book, a theatre kid book, a grief book, a sibling book. Above all, it’s a portrait of how it feels to be seventeen and stuck in a life you didn’t choose.

Also, yes, the theatre-kid energy is immaculate. If you've ever walked into a black box and felt like you belonged more there than at your own dinner table, this one’s definitely for you.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

Reading this as a mom had me toggling between “You poor baby” and “You’re being dramatic, but also please drink some water and take a nap.” Teenage heartbreak hits hard, especially when it’s layered over real trauma. Essie’s relationship with her mom is one of the most painful (and well-drawn) parts of the book. There’s love there, but it’s tangled in disappointment, silence, and all the stuff they don’t say. Reading it, I kept wondering how I can raise a daughter who feels safe telling me the hard things, not just when she’s five, but when she’s seventeen and everything is too much and her dreams aren’t working out the way she hoped. Because what this book understands is that growing up is not just about who you want to be — it’s about what you do when your first plan falls apart.

READ IF YOU:

Love messy, honest YA with emotional depth and high school drama
Ever had to rethink your whole future after one very bad day
Fell for a boy who wasn’t “right” on paper but made you feel seen anyway
Grew up in a house where love and pain sat at the same dinner table

SKIP IF YOU:

Can’t do stories about addiction or fractured families right now
Need your main characters to make only good, sensible decisions (this is YA, not a financial planning seminar)
Don’t enjoy theatre-kid energy, moody romance, or teens being teens

⭐ RULING

You Belong Here is full of raw feelings, real mistakes, and that almost painful longing to get out of the place you came from. It’s about the gap between who you are and who you thought you’d be — and the scary, brave work of figuring it out anyway.

It’s a love letter to messiness. A spotlight on the kids who stay behind. And a reminder that “belonging” isn’t a destination — it’s a feeling you carry with you, or create when no one hands it to you.

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YOUR TURN

There’s a page toward the end that got me choked up — not because it was big or dramatic, but because it was quiet. Just a moment of two people trying, despite it all, to connect. I think that’s the emotional core of this book: the courage to try, even when everything feels like a failure.

Now I’m curious:

Have you ever had a dream crash and burn, and found something better on the other side?
Who was your unexpected lifeline during a hard time?
Did high school feel like a place you belonged, or one you had to survive?
And for the theatre nerds among us: what’s your favourite play, and did it ever change the way you saw yourself?

👇 Spill the tea.

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Book Review: ‘A Coin for the Ferryman’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Sun, 25 May 2025 07:02:16 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
A Coin for the Ferryman by Megan Edwards
Imagine you could bring Julius Caesar into the present — not just any old version of him, but the one on the brink of his assassination, right before the Ides of March. That’s the grand experiment in A Coin for the Ferryman, where Nobel laureate Andrew Danicek assembles an eclectic team of experts, including the unlikely Cassandra, a young woman fluent in Latin, to bring this ancient icon into the modern world. The catch? There’s a whole lot more going on under the surface than just time travel.

If you’d told me Julius Caesar would turn up in 1999 California — possibly hitting up a casino in Las Vegas — I’d have laughed, poured a glass of wine, and said, “Only if it’s well written.” Luckily, A Coin for the Ferryman delivers on the promise of that gloriously bonkers premise.

Merging Greco-Roman history with time travel sci-fi is my kind of literary cocktail, and this one? Shaken, not stirred. The narrative unfolds through nearly a dozen POVs, and while the slow start might test your patience (yes, there’s a lot of setup), every detail eventually clicks into place. It’s a puzzle worth solving.

Once the pieces are set, the story shifts into high gear — suspense ratchets up, timelines twist, and secrets unravel. By the 60% mark, a romantic subplot begins to bloom in the background, and the rotating perspectives keep things fresh. Locations span from Los Angeles to Las Vegas, with some delightfully cinematic scenes. Even Faith, who grated on my nerves for much of the book, earns her place in the tapestry by the end.

Now let’s talk about Caesar. Sharp, strategic, and unexpectedly endearing, this version of him is the best kind of narrative wildcard. His interactions with Cassandra and the rest of the IDES team are electric — I’d read a whole spin-off series of their escapades, even if I disagree with 90% of his tactics.

That said, my only gripe? I wanted more science. The time travel experiment at the story’s core is more handwave than hard sci-fi, and I would’ve happily nerded out on the mechanics. But hey — the heart of the story lies in the people, not the particle physics, so I can live with it.

The ethical dilemma of bringing someone forward in time — and how that disturbs both their fate and history itself — lingers through the plot. It becomes especially poignant in the final chapters. Caesar’s parting moments stayed with me, and I pondered what it means to rewrite destiny. Honestly, I would’ve devoured another hundred pages just diving into that.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

As a mother, A Coin for the Ferryman made me reflect on the ripple effects of our actions, both monumental and mundane. Can we rewrite history without consequences? The novel suggests otherwise. I kept thinking how one decision, even a small one, can echo further than we realise. And I definitely want Teresa to grow up knowing that our choices matter, not because they’re always perfect, but because they shape the world around us.

READ IF YOU:

Have a soft spot for ancient figures brought to life in modern times
Enjoy suspenseful, action-packed reads with a twist of romance
Like character-driven stories with moral dilemmas that make you think
Want to explore the philosophical “what ifs” of time travel without getting bogged down by too much science

SKIP IF YOU:

Prefer your stories to be more grounded in realism
Need more focus on the mechanics of time travel
Expect a deep philosophical exploration of morality and history
Don’t enjoy multiple points of view or character-driven narratives that lean into drama over action

⭐ RULING

An entertaining romp through time with Julius Caesar as the unexpected breakout star. A Coin for the Ferryman isn’t flawless, but it delivers on its irresistible premise — where history crashes into modernity and leaves you questioning the ripple effects. Smart, surprising, and just the right amount of chaotic.

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YOUR TURN

Now that I’ve shared my thoughts, I’d love to hear yours!

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to meet someone from the past? Who would you bring into the present, and why?
And just for fun, if you could time travel, what period would you visit first?

👇 Let’s chat. I’m listening!

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Book Review: ‘Hate Mail’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Fri, 23 May 2025 07:01:43 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
Hate Mail by Donna Marchetti
This is the story of Naomi and Luca, two pen-pals who’ve mastered the art of turning every letter into a sparring match.
Their correspondence is less “dear friend” and more “prepare to be verbally eviscerated.” Yet, beneath the snark, an unlikely friendship takes root—one that stretches across coasts and years.
But then, out of nowhere, the letters stop.
Two years later, a mysterious letter lands on Naomi’s news desk. Now, armed with equal parts curiosity and sass, she’s ready to reply—and determined to prove that in this war of letters, the last word belongs to her.

If the cover and title of Hate Mail don’t instantly plunge you into full-on 2000s chick flick and romcom nostalgia, then I don’t know what will. This book has vibe written all over it—imagine Mean Girls meets You’ve Got Mail, sprinkled with sass and topped off with second-chance romance magic.

At the centre is Naomi, a career-driven weather reporter who can forecast storms but can’t quite read the emotional weather in her own life. Enter Luca: aquatic vet, animal foster daddy, and the mysterious pen pal who’s been her sparring partner (and occasional ally) since fifth grade.

Their correspondence? A deliciously sharp and savage war of words that had me chuckling out loud. If you’re a sucker for letter exchanges—and honestly, who isn’t?—this one’s an absolute jackpot.

The novel smartly juggles dual POVs: Naomi’s chapters unfold in the present with her razor-sharp wit, while Luca’s chapters rewind to their first letter in fifth grade, slowly dropping puzzle pieces about their complicated history. The back-and-forth timeline keeps the narrative fresh and engaging, and I loved how the story’s settings shift seamlessly.

Now, onto the characters. Naomi is a delightfully sharp protagonist, with a no-nonsense career attitude and a hilarious internal monologue. Her best friend Anne is the perfect sidekick. And Luca? Utterly charming, slightly mysterious, and absolutely devoted to his fur family—including some irresistibly cute kittens and a deaf dog who steals every scene. The chemistry between Naomi and Luca leaps off the page, both in their snarky letters and their in-person moments.

Heads up: there are some steamy scenes to spice things up, but more importantly, the book isn’t afraid to explore complicated emotional territory. It tackles issues like ghosting, stalking, and emotional cheating, which made me squirm a bit, especially since miscommunication is usually my romance pet peeve. But Marchetti handles it all with enough nuance and honesty to keep me hooked instead of frustrated.

In the end, Hate Mail is a giggle-and-kick-your-feet kind of read—light, warm, and bursting with sass and emotional depth. I guessed the mystery early on but didn’t care, because the humour, heart, and clever writing kept me glued to the pages. If you love sharp banter, pen-pal battles, and a second-chance romance that feels both fresh and cosy, this one’s for you.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

This is not a book for reading with one eye open during a 3 a.m. feed unless you're cool with waking the baby from snort-laughing. Between the witty hate mail exchanges and the steamy slow-burn payoff, I was emotionally and hormonally invested. That said, if miscommunication gives you hives (especially the third-act kind), brace yourself—but it’s handled with surprising emotional intelligence. Also, 10/10 would adopt every animal in this book.

READ IF YOU:

You’re a sucker for pen-pal romances with razor-sharp banter
You once daydreamed about enemies-to-lovers playing out via angry Post-its and misunderstood feelings
You miss the vibe of early 2000s romcoms and want it bottled with sass and steamy scenes
A dual-POV structure and clever timeline shifts sound like your jam
You believe every romance should include cute pets

SKIP IF YOU:

You loathe the miscommunication trope and can’t forgive characters for poor decision-making (even if they’re hot and charming)
Second-chance romances give you hives
You prefer your romcoms fluff-only and free of emotional grey zones
You need the mystery subplot to truly surprise you (this one’s not exactly hiding the ball)

⭐ RULING

Hate Mail is the kind of fizzy, heartfelt, pen-to-paper romcom that wraps you in nostalgia, makes you root for messy humans, and leaves you wanting to write angry letters just to flirt. Minor emotional plot crimes aside, it’s 100% worth the stamp.

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YOUR TURN

Are you a sucker for snarky letter exchanges too? Do you fall for characters who flirt like they’re firing warning shots?

Tell me:

What’s your favourite book with letters, emails, or any kind of long-distance pen-pal dynamic?
Do you forgive romances that hinge on miscommunication, or do you scream into a pillow every time it happens?

👇 Hit reply or drop a comment—I’m dying to know your thoughts (and your spicy takes).

Leave a comment

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Book Review: The Labors of Gen duology

Raquel Dias da Silva — Wed, 21 May 2025 07:01:08 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
The Labors of Gen duology by Rachel Menard
Every year, the Olympian Empresses grant ten lucky wishes — for a price. This time, however, they’re changing the game: two girls must grant the wishes instead of receiving them, and only one will earn her heart’s true desire. Inspired by Greek mythology and the Ancient Olympic Games, this high-stakes fantasy throws Gen, a scrappy former circus performer with a bond to animals, and Castor, a storm-wielding aristocrat with a sharp edge (and sharper ambitions), into a brutal competition. The prize? Freedom, power, and survival. No pressure.
Game of Strength and Storm sets up the magic and rivalries with a fast but rich plot.
Then Clash of Fate and Fury throws every hard choice, messy feeling, and political dagger it can find right at their faces.
No one escapes unchanged. Least of all you, dear reader.

If you’re craving a fantasy with badass heroines, a sprinkle of animal magic, impossible quests, and a found family you’ll want to hug (or protect at all costs), you’re in the right arena.

Gen is a MindWorker — she can connect with animals through blood, spit, or hair — and she’s all heart: clever, kind, and determined to save her wrongfully imprisoned father. Castor, Lady of Storms, has privilege, power, and a clear plan: rule Arcadia, even if it means sacrificing her own brother, the sweet and artistic Pollux. Needless to say, the claws come out early.

The story moves at a steady sprint: fast enough to keep you breathless, but careful enough to let the world-building and characters unfurl naturally. I devoured the vivid lore, the clever challenges (Hydra head, anyone?), and the way Menard balanced action with emotional depth. Each POV feels distinct and necessary — no wasted pages here.

Honestly? I loved seeing Gen’s warmth and cleverness clash with Castor’s ruthless ambition. The animal companions! The impossible quests! The tangled loyalties! The slow-burn tension! (Both romantic and rivalry-flavoured.) Menard builds a world that feels vivid but never bogged down, and her characters shine even when (especially when) they’re forced to reckon with the consequences of their own choices.

As for the sequel, Clash of Fate and Fury sticks the landing — but not without making you sweat. The stakes are higher, the relationships thornier, and the Empresses even more terrifyingly petty. Gen and Castor’s growth feels earned. And while there are moments you’ll want to throw your book (or e-reader) across the room, it’s because you care so damn much.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

These books hit me right in the soft spot: the idea that strength isn’t about winning every battle — it’s about staying true to yourself when the world demands otherwise. It reminded me that ambition, love, and survival aren’t simple paths. And honestly? I want Teresa to know she can be stubborn, fierce, and kind — all at once. Just maybe without feeding her hair to magical animals. (We’ll cross that bridge.)

READ IF YOU:

Love Greek mythology, but wish it had more girl power and emotional depth
Want a fantasy adventure packed with impossible tasks, animal magic, and sharp-edged politics
Are here for flawed, complicated girls who fight their way toward hope
Like your romances slow-burn, messy, and deeply earned

SKIP IF YOU:

Need squeaky-clean, always-likeable protagonists
Don’t like your fantasy with a side of emotional warfare
Hate books that make you feel things about loyalty, ambition, and family

⭐ RULING

Game of Strength and Storm:
A fast, fierce first act with heart, teeth, and magic.

Clash of Fate and Fury:
A stormy, satisfying finale that earns every scar and spark.

If you’d like to share this book review, just use the button below.

YOUR TURN

Now it’s your time to step up.

If the Olympian Empresses forced you to complete a quest, what would your impossible task be?
Are you more of a Gen (heart first, loyalty ride-or-die) or a Castor (strategic queen energy)?
And because I have to ask: favourite magical animal companion you’d definitely feed your hair to if it meant winning the day?

👇 Spill it all. I’m listening.

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Book Review: ‘The Love Hypothesis’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Wed, 07 May 2025 07:01:30 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood
When third-year PhD candidate Olive Smith kisses a random man in a panic to convince her best friend she’s totally over her ex, she doesn’t expect him to be Adam Carlsen—Stanford’s most terrifying young professor and known menace of the biology department. She definitely doesn’t expect him to agree to keep up the ruse. But with funding deadlines, lab politics, and academic gossip circling like fruit flies around a compost bin, fake-dating Adam might be the most effective (and awkward) experiment of Olive’s life.
What starts off as mutually beneficial fakery soon turns into something much messier—and much more real. As Olive navigates the pressure-cooker world of academic research, she also finds herself confronting impostor syndrome, toxic hierarchies, and the terrifying prospect of actual feelings.
It’s nerdy, flirty, and emotionally honest.

Let’s get one thing out of the way: this book has the miscommunication trope. Yes, that one. The kind where you’re internally screaming “JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER” while flipping pages at an alarming speed. And yet—yet—I devoured it. With a smile on my face. And maybe a couple of deep sighs that were not at all dramatic (they totally were).

The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood is a fake-dating, slow-burn academic romcom that delivers both serotonin and surprisingly sharp social commentary. We follow Olive Smith, a PhD candidate with a strong sense of ethics, poor impulse control, and no time for dating. Enter Adam Carlsen, a brooding, famously difficult professor with a soft side hidden under his grumpy exterior. What begins as a charade spirals into one of the most satisfying “oh no, I’m actually in love with him” epiphanies I’ve read in a while.

It’s tropey in all the right ways: grumpy x sunshine, fake dating, only one hotel bed (yes, it’s here, and it’s glorious). But what elevates this book is how Hazelwood weaves in a very real critique of academia. We’re talking underpaid grad students, condescending advisors, burnout, and the silent ways the system undermines women and people of colour. It’s all there—wrapped in a deceptively light package.

I loved that Olive’s passion for science was sincere and central, and that the book didn’t shy away from showing how demoralising and exploitative the academic world can be, especially for early-career researchers. And Adam? The man can write a recommendation letter and listen when a woman talks about sexism in science. Be still, my heart.

Yes, the plot hinges on some moments of willful ignorance that could’ve been solved with a single honest conversation. But I was invested. The chemistry was electric (pun intended), the pacing on point, the humour spot on, and I lost count of how many times I cackled out loud in public like a woman completely unbothered by social norms.

A final note for readers curious about spice level: yes, this book has open-door scenes1. But I loved how Hazelwood handled it. They’re contained within two back-to-back chapters, making it easy to skip if that’s not your thing, without losing any of the emotional or narrative momentum. Elegant solution, 10/10.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

Reading this felt like stealing time for myself—light and fizzy, but with enough substance to feel satisfying. It reminded me of how complicated it is to balance ambition, vulnerability, and burnout—something I think a lot about now, even outside the lab or lecture hall. Plus, reading a romance where the heroine isn’t just smart but also passionate about her field? A win. More of this, please.

READ IF YOU:

Love fake dating
Want a romcom that also tackles real-world inequities in academia
Crave a swoony, cinnamon-roll-in-disguise love interest
Think science is sexy (because it is)

SKIP IF YOU:

Can’t stand miscommunication (especially in the third act)
Need your romcoms to be 100% fluff, no commentary
Are allergic to lab settings or awkward conference presentations

⭐ RULING

Funny, nerdy, and surprisingly biting—The Love Hypothesis offers the perfect balance of tropey romance and academic realism. You’ll laugh, swoon, and maybe rage-quit your PhD program (again).

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YOUR TURN

Have you read this one? Did you also want to marry Adam or become Olive’s thesis defence hype squad? And if you haven’t read it yet, tell me:

Do you love STEM-set romances or prefer a different backdrop for your love stories?
What’s your favourite romance trope—and which ones make you want to throw the book across the room?

👇 Spill the tea.

Leave a comment

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According to Romance.io, the book includes at least one intimate scene with the reader fully present, using euphemistic language for both the act and body parts.

Book Review: ‘Sorceline’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Tue, 06 May 2025 22:15:54 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
Sorceline by Sylvia Douyé
Pack your bags and your bravest heart—we’re off to the Island of Vorn, a fog-drenched land where cryptids roam and only the top students are invited to study the unbelievable. Sorceline, bright, curious, and more than a little impulsive, joins a summer apprenticeship with famed cryptozoologist Archibald Balzar, hoping to become an expert in magical creatures.
But studying unicorns and fairies is less “enchanted forest” and more “monster-infested internship.” Sorceline finds herself tangled in competitions, tempers, and terrifying secrets. The catch? Some of the chaos may actually be her fault. And when students start to disappear, the island's mysteries grow darker—and more personal.

Let’s start with the obvious: this book looks amazing. The artwork? A visual treat. From dreamy creature designs to dynamic layouts, it pulls you straight into the enchanted gloom of Vorn. I could happily flip through the pages just for the colours and perspectives alone.

As for the story? Well. It wants to do a lot—rivalries! inner demons! missing students! cryptids galore!—and sometimes it tries to juggle too much at once. There’s a fine line between misdirection and mild confusion, and Sorceline walks it with wobbly boots. Scene transitions feel rushed, character squabbles get repetitive, and emotional moments occasionally fizzle out before they land.

And yet. I read it in under three hours.

That has to count for something, right? The concept is fun, the creatures are fascinating, and Sorceline is exactly the kind of flawed, fiery heroine I can root for—even when I want to shake her a little. The final twist caught me off guard (in a good way), and I’ll definitely be back for the sequel. Hopefully with fewer petty fights and more, you know, dragon taming.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

The idea of training kids to study the impossible while quietly exploring their own inner chaos? Feels familiar. Sorceline’s struggle to understand herself, while accidentally burning bridges, is a story that hits home when you’re raising a tiny human who will one day face her own big feelings. We all need to learn which monsters are worth fighting… and which are just shadows.

READ IF YOU:

Love magical boarding school vibes with cryptid flair
Want science, sorcery, and a little mystery in your graphic novels
Can’t resist a girl who talks to fantastical beasts before she talks to people
Live for lush, animated-style artwork

SKIP IF YOU:

Get frustrated with clunky dialogue or disjointed scene cuts
Want a fully polished plot over an intriguing, messy start

⭐ RULING

A visually enchanting beginning to what could be a standout fantasy series—if it reins in the drama and lets the story (and Sorceline) breathe.

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YOUR TURN

There’s something so nostalgic about stories where kids study magic and monsters—whether it’s Hogwarts, Camp Half-Blood, or a spooky island internship.

What’s your favourite magical school or “training ground” setting?
Would you study cryptozoology if given the chance? (Be honest: which creature would you want as your final project?)
And how do you feel about prickly heroines who talk first, think later?

👇 Let’s chat.

Leave a comment

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Book Review: ‘Sunrise on the Reaping’

Raquel Dias da Silva — Tue, 29 Apr 2025 07:01:37 GMT

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins
Fear spreads across Panem as the 50th Hunger Games doubles the number of tributes. In District 12, a young Haymitch Abernathy clings to love and survival. But when he’s reaped, his world shatters. Thrust into the Capitol alongside three unlikely allies, Haymitch realizes the odds are rigged. Yet even in a game designed to break him, something sparks inside—something that refuses to go quietly.

First off: I love this universe. I devoured the original trilogy, gasped through The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes1, and read Sunrise on the Reaping on my Kobo while my daughter dozed on my chest like a very tiny, peaceful Capitol citizen. So, believe me when I say: this book gave me all the nostalgic fan serotonin I was hoping for. But also? It didn’t quite catch fire.

Don’t get me wrong — as a fan, I had a blast. The nods! The cameos! The backstories of characters we only knew in fragments! Watching the younger versions of District 12 legends felt like paging through a family album you didn’t know you had. Haymitch is both more and less than the man we meet through Katniss’s eyes, and his games? Brutal, clever, and deeply unfair. Classic Panem.

But as a critical reader? This one’s a little rough around the edges. The writing, at times, reads like a watered-down version of Collins’ earlier work — more exposition than immersion. And while the structure mirrors the emotional beats we’ve come to expect (Training! Interviews! Bloodbath!), it doesn’t offer much that’s truly new. We know how this ends. We know what the Capitol does. We’ve seen the cruelty, the cracks, the rebellion-in-the-making. So the question becomes: why this story, now?

The answer might be fan service, which, to be fair, isn’t inherently bad. But it does mean the emotional stakes feel a little lighter, the narrative a little thinner. This isn’t Katniss or Coriolanus Snow level character work. It’s more like a lore expansion pack.

That said, it’s still Panem. And Collins knows how to land a gut punch when she wants to. Haymitch’s quiet defiance, the way he earns (and loses) allies, the way the Capitol retaliates — it all echoes into the rebellion to come. It’s enough to make you ache. Just… maybe not Mockingjay-level ache.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

Haymitch’s story isn’t just brutal; it’s a reminder of how systems fail the young again and again. And while Sunrise on the Reaping doesn’t cut as deep as Katniss’s saga, it made me think about what it means to survive, and what it costs. I want Teresa to know that cruelty isn’t strength and that resistance doesn’t always come with a victory parade, but it matters anyway.

READ IF YOU:

Are a dyed-in-the-wool Hunger Games fan who knows your Districts by heart
Want to see Haymitch’s Games unfold in all their horrifying, strategic glory
Live for cameos, callbacks, and clever Easter eggs
Enjoy prequels that colour in the margins of beloved stories

SKIP IF YOU:

Expect Collins’ sharpest prose
Need fresh stakes and new revelations to stay hooked
Aren’t in the mood for a story where the outcome is already written in blood

⭐ RULING

A nostalgic return to the arena — less revolutionary, more reflective — but still hits you where it hurts.

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YOUR TURN

Whether you’re a full-blown Hunger Games fan or just Panem-curious… let’s chat:

What’s your relationship with The Hunger Games universe — first love, casual fling, or respectful distance?
Does a prequel about Haymitch pique your interest — or are you prequel-ed out? What prequel (from any universe) worked for you?
And just for fun: if you were reaped for the Quarter Quell (shudder), what would your strategy be?

👇 Tell me everything. I’m listening.

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I know there are a lot of Hunger Games fans who aren't interested in this prequel, or who have read it and didn't like it, but I think it's a misunderstood story. It's not an attempt to humanise Snow, or a redemption story, or even a love story. It's about how much of a character is innate and how much is shaped. It's about how authoritarian governments can come to power if not enough people question the system. It's about how there are people without an ounce of empathy, who always find excuses for their behaviour, and who don't measure means against ends. It's about how some people confuse love with self-interest and treat others as trophies and privileges to which they are entitled. And it's also about how you can't win every battle against evil, but it only takes an echo of rebellion to survive for the real war to begin. (Thanks for coming to my TED Talk!)

Book Review Archive

Raquel Dias da Silva — Mon, 28 Apr 2025 07:02:00 GMT

Miss Alice Watson, the Artist’s Sister (1894), George Spencer Watson. Oil on canvas, 79 x 102 cm.

Dear reader,

Welcome to the Binge-Read Book Review Archive — a lovingly chaotic catalogue of all the books I’ve read and reviewed, or am plotting to review (because time is fake and my to-be-reviewed pile is taller than I am).

Here, you’ll find titles neatly alphabetised by author’s surname — while my reading choices are impulsive, my filing system is not. I’ve also sprinkled in some handy little emojis to clue you into the genre or general vibe of each book.

If I’ve already reviewed a book, the title will be linked — just one click away from all the tea, praise, or mild existential rambling.

Beware, though: this archive is a work-in-progress, much like myself, so check back often for fresh additions, questionable opinions, and the occasional literary hot take.

You’ve been warned.

Happy browsing (and even happier binge-reading).

EMOJI GUIDE

Genre
🧐 Classics
😂 Comedy
🌅 Contemporary
🏛️ Dark Academia
☣️ Dystopia
✨ Fantasy
🕯️ Gothic
💬 Graphic Novels/Comics
📜 Historical
👹 Horror
📖 LitFic
📚 Non-Fiction
✒️ Poetry
🌈 Queer
💖 Romcom/Romance
🤖 Sci-Fi
🕵🏼‍♂️ Thriller/Mystery

Audience
🔞 Adult
🎠 Middle Grade
🌱 Young Adult

Vibes
💀 People die
✊🏽 People fight back
⏳ People time travel
😭 I cried a lot
🌶️ It has smut (explicit sexual content)

A

Ahmed, Samira1 – Hollow Fires 🌅🕵🏼‍♂️🌱💀😭

Ahmed, Samira – Internment ☣️🌱✊🏽

Ahmed, Samira – Love, Hate & Other Filters 🌅💖🌱

Ahmed, Samira – Mad, Bad & Dangerous to Know 📜🌅🌱

Ahmed, Samira – This Book Won’t Burn 🌅💖🌱✊🏽

Awad, Monna – Bunny 👹🏛️📖💀

B

Black, Holly – The Charlatan duology ✨💖🔞

Black, Holly – The Coldest Girl in Coldtown ✨💖🌱

Black, Holly – The Darkest Part of the Forest ✨💖🌱

Black, Holly – The Folk of the Air series ✨💖🌱

Black, Holly – The Good Neighbors trilogy ✨🌱

Black, Holly – The Modern Faerie Tales trilogy ✨💖🌱

Black, Holly – The Stolen Heir duology ✨💖🌱

Boulley, Angeline – Firekeeper’s Daughter 🌅🌱💀

Brontë, Emily – Wuthering Heights2 🧐📜🕯️

C

Carty-Williams, Candice – Queenie 🌅📖🔞🌶️

Clarke, J. C. – Spellboda ✨🎠

Collins, Suzanne – The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes ☣️🌱💀✊🏽😭

Collins, Suzanne – Sunrise on the Reaping ☣️🌱💀✊🏽😭

Collins, Suzanne – The Hunger Games ☣️🌱💀✊🏽😭

Collins, Suzanne – Catching Fire ☣️🌱💀✊🏽😭

Collins, Suzanne – Mockingjay ☣️🌱💀✊🏽😭

D

Dean, Sunyi – The Book Eaters ✨🕯️🌈

Douyé, Silvia – Sorceline, Vol. 1 💬✨🎠

E

Edwards, Megan – A Coin for the Ferryman 📜🤖

F

Faulkner, Katherine – The Other Mothers 🌅🕵🏼‍♂️💀

G

Garcia, Gabriela – Of Women and Salt 📜🌅📖

Garmus, Bonnie – Lessons in Chemistry 📜📖💀😭

Grace, Adalyne3 – Belladonna 🕯️✨🕵🏼‍♂️💀

Gracia, Anna – Boys I Know 🌅🌱

H

Hazelwood, Ali4 – Bride 💖✨🔞🌶️

Hazelwood, Ali – Check & Mate 🌅💖🌱

Hazelwood, Ali – Deep End 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hazelwood, Ali – Loathe to Love You 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hazelwood, Ali – Love on the Brain 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hazelwood, Ali – Love, Theoretically 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hazelwood, Ali – Mate 💖✨🔞🌶️

Hazelwood, Ali – Not in Love 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hazelwood, Ali – The Love Hypothesis 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hibbert, Talia – Act Your Age, Eve Brown 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hibbert, Talia – Take a Hint, Dani Brown 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hibbert, Talia – Get a Life, Chloe Brown 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hibbert, Talia – The Roommate Risk 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hibbert, Talia – The Princess Trap 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Hibbert, Talia – The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Honey, Minda5 – The Heartbreak Years: A Memoir 📚🔞

I

J

Jackson, Shirley – The Haunting of Hill House 🧐🕯️

K

Kuang, R. F.6 – Babel 📜✨🏛️💀✊🏽😭

Kuang, R. F. – The Poppy War trilogy 📜✨💀

Kuang, R. F. – Katabasis ✨🏛️💀

Kuang, R. F. – Yellowface 🌅😂📖💀

L

Lacruz, Gabriela Romero – The Sun and the Void ✨

LaDelle, Ebony7 – Love Radio 🌅💖🌱

LaMarr, Rodney – Andre’s Story 🌅🌱💀😭

LaMarr, Rodney – Miracle’s Song 🌅🌱💀😭

Lauren, Christina – The Soulmate Equation 🌅💖🌶️

Lauren, Christina – The True Love Experiment 🌅💖🌶️

M

Maldonado, Crystal8 – The Fall of Whit Rivera 🌅💖🌱

Marchetti, Donna – Hate Mail 🌅💖🌱

Marques, Susana Moreira – Now and at the Hour of Our Death 📚🌅💀😭

Matthews, Patrick – Bradley’s Dragons ✨🎠

Menard, Rachel – The Labors of Gen duology ✨🌱

Miller, Sara Phoebe, and Morgan Beem – You Belong Here 🌅🌱💬

Moreno-Garcia, Silvia – Silver Nitrate 👹🕵🏼‍♂️

N

O

P

Parker-Chan, Shelley – She Who Became the Sun 📜✨🌈🔞

Parker-Chan, Shelley – He Who Drowned the World 📜✨🌈🔞

Pillainayagam, Christine – Ellie Pillai Is Brown 🌅💖🌱

Q

R

Rabess, Cecilia – Everything’s Fine 🌅📖

Reid, Ava – A Study in Drowning 💖✨

Reid, Ava – A Theory in Dreaming 💖✨

Reid, Ava – Fable for the End of the World ☣️💖🌈🌱

Reid, Ava – Juniper & Thorn 👹✨🕯️

Reid, Ava – Lady Macbeth 📜✨🕯️📖

Reid, Ava – The Wolf and The Woodsman 📜💖✨

Reyes, Sonora9 – The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School 🌅💖🌈🌱

Rice, Morgan – The Survival trilogy ☣️🌱💀✊🏽

S

Solomon, Rachel Lynn – What Happens in Amsterdam 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Solomon, Rachel Lynn10 – Business or Pleasure 🌅💖🔞🌶️

Solomon, Rachel Lynn – The Ex Talk 🌅💖🌶️

Solomon, Rachel Lynn – Weather Girl 🌅💖🌶️

T

Tamaki, Mariko – This One Summer by Mariko Tamaki 🌅🌱💬

Travis, Alex – The Only Black Girl in the Room 🌅💖

U

V

Vaughan, Brian K.11, and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 1 🤖✨💬🌶️

Vaughan, Brian K., and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 2 🤖✨💬

Vaughan, Brian K., and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 3 🤖✨💬

Vaughan, Brian K., and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 4 🤖✨💬

Vaughan, Brian K., and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 5 🤖✨💬

Vaughan, Brian K., and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 6 🤖✨💬

Vaughan, Brian K., and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 7 🤖✨💬

Vaughan, Brian K., and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 8 🤖✨💬

Vaughan, Brian K., and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 9 🤖✨💬

Vaughan, Brian K., and Fiona Staples – Saga, Vol. 10 🤖✨💬

W

Walls, Jasmine – Brooms ✨💬

White, Kiersten – Lucy Undying 💖✨💀

Wiley, Rachel – Revenge Body ✒️

X

Y

Z

Zauner, Michelle – Crying in H Mart 📚🌅💀😭

Zeller, Mathilda – The Bee King 👹💀✊🏽

Zevin, Gabrielle – Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow 🌅📖💀😭

Zhao, Xiran Jay – Iron Widow 🤖🔞💀

Zrull, Lindsay S. – Goth Girl, Queen of the Universe 🌅🎠

If you’d like to support my writing, here are a few lovely ways to do it (thank you so, so much):

Samira Ahmed also writes on Politics, Prose, Pastries.

I also penned a deep dive into my long-standing obsession with Wuthering Heights, which has somehow led to a collection of over 20 editions.

Adalyne Grace is also on Substack.

Ali Hazelwood also writes on The Alistack.

Minda Honey also writes on Mid.

R. F. Kuang is also on Substack.

Ebony LaDelle also writes on Vibrations Heavy.

Crystal Maldonado also writes on Crystal Wrote.

Sonora Reyes is also on Substack.

Rachel Lynn Solomon also writes on From The Desk Of RSL.

Brian K. Vaughan is also on Substack.

binge-read: Book Reviews

Book Review: ‘How to Organize a Library’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

THE IDEAL LIBRARY IS THE ONE WE CREATE FOR OURSELVES

“The best order for the books can only be plural, by less so than the person who uses the books. (…) It is clear that the juxtaposition of these criteria tends to create a riddled order, very next to chaos. And this can raise, depending on the moments, relief or discomfort.”

MOM BRAIN FILTER

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Book Review: ‘Who Knows You By Heart’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

MOM BRAIN FILTER

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Book Review: ‘The Proposal Project’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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Book Review: ‘This One Summer’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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Book Review: ‘The Only Black Girl in the Room’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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Book Review: ‘A Study in Drowning’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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Book Review: ‘The Fall of Whit Rivera’

About The Fall of Whit Rivera

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Book Review: ‘The Wolf and The Woodsman’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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Book Review: ‘The Haunting of Hill House’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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Book Review: ‘The Heartbreak Years’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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Book Review: ‘You Belong Here’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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Book Review: ‘A Coin for the Ferryman’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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Book Review: ‘Hate Mail’

What It’s About (In My Own Words)

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