My Top 10 Books of 2019

It’s hard to believe that another whole year has passed! 2019 went by way too fast, and I did embarrassingly badly on my annual reading goal. I always try to read 100 books, because that’s a nice, even number. I also try to read one classic per every ten books. I failed on both counts. I only managed to read 92 books, and only eight of them were classics. I can lay my failures entirely at the feet of Leo Tolstoy. I finally read War and Peace this year. It took me three weeks and burned me out on classics for the rest of the year. As a result, I didn’t have as many books to pick from for my annual top and bottom tens, which means that a few books made it onto lists they wouldn’t otherwise have appeared on. Still, I’ve kept my top-ten qualifications the same as they’ve always been: I must have read a book for the first time in 2019 for it to make this list, and no author may appear on the same list more than once.

But before I get to the real list, I have to give a quick shoutout to some of the books I reread. They’re not eligible for official top-ten status this year (some of them have made the list in the past few years, though!), but they deserve to be highlighted yet again.

Amazing Books I Reread this Year

The Husband’s Secret by Liane Moriarty; The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan; The ABC Murders by Agatha Christie; The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood; Which Witch? by Eva Ibbotson; The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart; I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson; A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

10) My Whole Truth by Mischa Thrace

Even though I have every intention of expanding my reading horizons, I often end up staying within a few genres because every time I branch out I’m reminded of why I like what I like. Sometimes, though, pushing my limits rewards me with something like My Whole Truth. I’m a pathetic scaredy-cat, so I have to ration how often I read scary books. I’m glad this is the one I read. It follows Seelie, a teenage girl who killed a popular classmate in self defense when–high on drugs–he violently assaulted her and is put on trial for his murder. It’s a powerful book that is incredibly timely in our #metoo world, and it is written in such a way that it’s impossible to put down. Every time I thought I had reached a spot where I could put it down and go to sleep, I hit another heart-stopping plot twist and had to keep going until I reached the very end. Interestingly, according to Goodreads, this was also the least popular book I read this year.

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9) The Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare and Wesley Chu

I love all of Cassandra Clare’s Shadowhunters, but I love Alec the most. When I first read City of Bones a decade ago, I wasn’t sure how much I liked it… except for Alec (well, and Simon). I connected to Alec even with his minimal pagetime. I loved him. I waited impatiently for him to reappear between his appearances. So it wasn’t exactly a surprise that I loved this new Shadowhunter novel that put Alec front and center. I also, weirdly, have a fondness for fantasy novels that sort of shrug in the general direction of plot. Like, plot is good. Plot is great. But sometimes all I want is to go on vacation with my favorite characters, and if they happen to casually save the world on that vacation, so much the better. See also: Wayward Son.

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8) Our Chemical Hearts by Krystal Sutherland

I read lots of young adult novels. I love them. I think they’re awesome, and I am unashamed to say that I firmly believe that many of them are as good and better than quote-unquote “real” books. Young Adult books tackle issues like mental health often, and some of them–like Our Chemical Hearts–really nail it. I usually hate putting one thing down for the purpose of boosting another, but I’m going to make an exception and do it and say that Our Chemical Hearts is everything that All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven wishes to be, and I’m devastated that Niven’s book is the one that’s getting the hype, acclaim, and movie adaptation. Our Chemical Hearts has a well-meaning but selfish narrator who falls in love with a girl suffering from terrible depression. It’s raw and painful, and at no point is depression romanticized. It’s like Sutherland took a list of all the dangerous tropes found in the most irresponsible fiction and somehow crafted a compelling narration by subverting them.

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7) Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

I love Leigh Bardugo. If you didn’t know that, you’ve clearly never visited my blog before. (No shade if you haven’t; hardly anyone has). She’s brilliant. She seamlessly combines interesting, complicated, morally dubious characters with twisty plots and socially relevant commentary. While Ninth House does address some of the same themes that are present in her Grishaverse novels, it is a notable departure from her standard fare as it takes place in a world very much like ours, which gives the ugliness an extra edge. It follows a young college girl desperately trying to solve a murder that is probably tied up in dangerous magical rituals she is meant to help control, and it is both terrifying and inventive. It is set in a magical underbelly at Yale, and while the blood rituals and ghosts are made up (hopefully, lol) the story and the setting is grounded in reality in a way that’s rare for fantasy. Plus, the paralleling of magic and bodily autonomy is masterfully done.

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6) Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell

Remember how I said vacationing with favorite characters is fun? Apparently that’s what I was in the mood for this year. Many of my favorite books from this year are from writers I already counted amongst my favorites, and this is no exception. Rainbow Rowell’s Fangirl was the first book that I felt fully seen by, and she’s been one of my instant-buy authors ever since then. While Wayward Son doesn’t play with meta like its predecessor Carry On does, it’s still a deeply satisfying sequel. It’s fluffy and romantic without being too cheesy, and it manages to tell a surprisingly emotional story about disappointment and depression while it’s at it (weirdly, a lot of my favorite books this year dealt with depression). Rowell could have skated by doing far less with Wayward Son, and I for one am overjoyed that she put as much into it as she did.

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5) I Wish You All the Best by Mason Deaver

Strong characters make strong stories, and I Wish You All the Best‘s Ben is one of the best-written characters I came across this year. Ben’s story is heartbreaking, but it is also hopeful. The writing is excellent, and the story is filled to the brim with fascinating relationships, some beautiful and fulfilling and others toxic and manipulative. Deaver manages to tell the gutwrenching story of a nonbinary teenager relearning how to trust after being thrown out of their home by their supposedly loving parents with grace and even, occasionally, humor; it’s a deeply personal, internal story that rests squarely on Ben’s shoulders, and Ben is such a fascinating character that it very much works.

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4) Little & Lion by Brandy Colbert

I love novels about relationships and identity, and this one–which is about a pair of stepsiblings during a rough patch–is absolutely wonderful. My closest and most meaningful relationships are with my siblings, so when books make those relationships a priority instead of writing off the younger sibling as a brat or the older one as a bully, it stands out to me. Plus, Colbert fleshes out her characters really well. Lionel has recently been diagnosed as bipolar and Suzette is coming to terms with her sexuality, both of which are storylines that could support a novel on their own, but Colbert expertly makes these changes only a part of their stories. Little & Lion is a complex story, but it is written so well that doesn’t feel difficult.

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3) Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram

Darius the Great is Not Okay is a love story. It’s about the love between a father and a son (even though that love is complicated by a lack of understanding). It’s about the love between two new friends in a friendship (that might be something more). It’s about the love of one’s culture and heritage (while discovering it for the first time). I don’t know what it is that called out to me about this novel, as I’d never heard of it or its author before reading it, but I’m so glad I did read it, because it was one of the loveliest surprises I had this year. This novel is fiercely character-driven, and watching Darius figure himself out is beautiful. This has one of the best father-son storylines that I’ve ever read, and that is in addition to the poignant depiction of a boy discovering his own culture for the first time. This novel is a masterclass in winding identity, relationships, and culture together.

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2) On the Come Up by Angie Thomas

Angie Thomas is absolutely spectacular. The Hate U Give made my top ten list the first year I read it, and On the Come Up made this one even though–being the fifth book I read in 2019–I had a lot of time to forget about it. A lot of the strengths of this book are the same as the other books in this list: the characters and the strong messages. Protagonist Bri anchors On the Come Up, and she is a magnetic force. It’s impossible not to be drawn to her. The writing is great. I despise poetry and can’t stand when novels force me to read it, but the lyrics to Bri’s raps are actually great and not once was I tempted to skip over them. On the Come Up, like Thomas’ first book, addresses very serious real-world issues in a masterful way. When you read the descriptions, they sound like they’re going to be extremely political. When you read the novels themselves, you learn a lot about the world and feel motivated to help change it, but as secondary responses to enjoying an exceptional story.

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1) Radio Silence by Alice Oseman (or Solitaire; take your pick)

I know, I know. I cheated on this. I said I was only going to highlight one novel per author, but then I couldn’t pick between Radio Silence and Solitaire. I knew Alice Oseman had to take number one this year, though. She was my favorite discovery because she writes so honestly about brokenness while keeping enough hope alive with beautiful friendships and characters who defy what it means to be normal. Oseman’s books are clever and nerdy and heartfelt, and I raced through them. I am so grateful to the other book bloggers who have been raving about Radio Silence, because I never would have found Alice Oseman without their reviews, and I’m thrilled about having found her. I absolutely need to get my hands on her third book, I Was Born For This, but am having trouble finding out where to buy it. [Update: I loved it]

2019 Quarterly Wrap-Up (July-Sept)

Somehow we’re already 3/4 done with 2009. I have no idea where the time went. Actually, that’s a lie. Most of it went towards reading War and Peace. Really, though. This year has been flying and it’s time for another rundown of what I’ve been reading and watching. I’m still behind on my overall reading goal, but at least I read better books this quarter than I did last (last quarter was kind of a bummer). I unfortunately still read a lot of books that were, for me, one or two stars; thankfully I rounded those out with some rereads of old favorites.

I’ve been reading…

We Told Six Lies by Victoria Scott ⭐

YA thriller

We Told Six Lies is like a young adult version of Gone Girl, except without Gone Girl‘s nuance. It centers around a deeply codependent, toxic relationship that it ultimately seems to romanticize. The characters are deeply unlikable, but without the interesting complexity required to make readers care about them. An ill-advised final twist squanders any limited goodwill the reader might’ve managed to scrounge up, and the result is that I’ll probably forget this book entirely except to retain a lingering sense of disappointment.

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Nick and June Were Here by Shalanda Stanley ⭐⭐⭐

YA romance

Nick and June Were Here is the sort of book that is almost really good. The writing is excellent, and June is a very well developed, interesting character. Unfortunately, the novel falls into a common trap for romances: its romance is its least interesting aspect. There are so many storylines in Nick and June Were Here that warrant more exploration (June’s relationship with her new diagnosis, Nick’s brother’s discharge from the military, June and Bethany’s plans for after high school, Nick’s family dynamic, etc). If I were to rank every plotline in this book by my level of interest in them, Nick and June’s romance would come dead last, because it’s just dysfunctional enough to be troubling and just typical enough to be boring. Overall, Nick and June is a decent book, but it’s probably not one that I’m going to remember having read.

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Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters by Rick Riordan ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

JF fantasy, mythology, adventure, humor

What can I say about Percy Jackson that hasn’t been said a million times? It’s hilarious. It’s sassy. It’s one of the best fantasy series out there, and I spend half my life talking about it. That’s an exaggeration, but not a huge one. I work at Barnes and Noble, and I talk to a lot of moms trying to find books for reluctant readers, and Percy Jackson is one of the best ones for that. I have met so many kids who hated reading before they found Percy, or who claim that they hate reading except when they’re reading Percy. This series is so consistantly funny and exciting that I had a blast rereading Sea of Monsters even though I’ve read it a lot and I’m no longer  “young reader.” There’s a reason I own a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt and once threw my sister a Percy Jackson birthday party. You can’t go wrong with Rick Riordan.

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The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang ⭐⭐⭐

adult romance

I liked The Kiss Quotient about as much as could be expected. Traditional romances don’t particularly appeal to me, but I read this one because it got such good reviews and promised to deviate from some of the more insidious romantic tropes. It does deviate some, but not as much as I suspect it intended to. While I think it’d be difficult to find a romance fan who wouldn’t like The Kiss Quotient, it’s not for me. I didn’t care for the subtly controlling male love interest, and I felt that the central relationship relied too heavily on physical attraction, sex, and love-at-first-sight. That being said, it’s still an entertaining, quick read with breezy writing and an atypical heroine who is a welcome change in an often homogenous genre.

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The Apocalypse of Elena Mendoza by Shaun David Hutchinson ⭐⭐⭐⭐

YA, fantasy, apocalyptic, LGBTQ+

Shaun David Hutchinson is an excellent writer with big ideas. The Apocalypse of Elena Mendoza is a high concept novel that forces its readers to grapple with questions of faith and morality along with its protagonists. The intense internal focus makes this a story that stands out amongst the many end-of-the-world narratives. It’s populated with extremely well-written characters who break stereotypes and feel extremely real, and who are so compelling that they mostly make up for the fact that the novel is so hyper-focused on asking difficult question that it offers few answers.

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Love, Hate, and Other Filters by Samira Ahmed ⭐⭐⭐⭐

YA romance, bildungsroman

Love, Hate, and Other Filters does an excellent job of balancing its romantic and familial storylines with darker subject matter like racism and violence; it never gets so depressing that it stops being fun to read, and it never gets so upbeat that the reader forgets the realities of the world. It’s a perfect book for reluctant romance readers, because it replaces shoehorned drama for real-world issues and reframes itself as a coming-of-age tale with romance sprinkled in. It’s also a great novel for seeing the world through different eyes, as Ahmed does an amazing job of creating her world through Maya’s experiences and perspective.

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Less by Andrew Sean Greer ⭐⭐

romance, LGBTQ+, comedy

I expected to love Less, a Pulitzer-Prize-winning gay comedic Odyssey, but it let me down. Even though there are some interesting themes and well-structured meta allusions, the story as a whole never grabbed me. The narration style grated on me from the start and only got worse the deeper I got into the story, and I found it pretty difficult to sympathize with the woe-is-me Arthur Less; it’s clearly intentional, but the corresponding likability did not come through for me; it’s difficult to read a couple hundred pages about a character who is neither likable nor sympathetic, and only occasionally interesting. While the novel is decent enough, I mostly stepped away from it feeling frustrated, especially since it commits the cardinal sin of comedy: it’s simply not funny.

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Naturally Tan by Tan France ⭐⭐⭐⭐

memoir, LGBTQ+, television

Tan France’s memoir Naturally Tan is a fun, light read, full of funny anecdotes and fashion advice. It is pretty much exactly what you’d expect from Queer Eye‘s fashion expert, though I suspect he was given a lot more freedom content-wise in his book than he is on the show. While he certainly has a snarky side on the show, it is much more apparent in Naturally Tan. He’s humorously sarcastic throughout and there are lots of anecdotes about racism and the pressure and responsibility to represent the underrepresented in media. Queer Eye fans will love Naturally Tan. Biographies aren’t my usual thing, but I enjoyed this one.

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Little and Lion by Brandy Colbert ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

YA contemporary, romance, family drama, LGBTQ+, bildungsroman

I loved Little and Lion. It’s a beautifully written novel full of memorable and richly diverse characters who complement each other wonderfully. Sibling love is rarely the focal point in literature, and it’s a treat when it is, especially when it is done as well as it is here. Lionel and Suzette are a great pair of protagonists whose struggles to grow up in unusual situations intertwine in ways that are heartwarming in their best moments and terrifying in their worst. Brandy Colbert is an immensely talented writer, and I am absolutely going to keep an eye out for anything else she’s written.

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Queer Eye: Love Yourself, Love Life by Antoni Porowski, Tan France, Jonathan Van Ness, Bobby Berk, and Karamo Brown ⭐⭐⭐

personal growth, self help, television, LGBTQ+

Like Naturally Tan, this is a book for Queer Eye fans. While I think non-fans might like the former, however, this one is probably for hardcore fans only. It’s full of life advice alongside personal anecdotes and photos. Jonathan’s voice comes through the most, and is quite funny in book form. As much as I’d like to say that reading this has totally overhauled my life and made me a more productive, attractive, happy person… I don’t think it has. Jonathan’s tips, while supposedly simple, seem really daunting to me (I wake up, make my bed, get dressed, do my hair, pack a lunch, and leave home for work in 15 minutes because I like sleeping, and there’s not a lot of pad time in there for skincare). That being said, I’m trying! And I am very organized! And I do occasionally French Tuck.

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The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead ⭐⭐⭐

historical fiction

This book consists almost entirely of unrelenting misery. Obviously any novel that takes place in the aftermath of the Jim Crow laws is going to deal with intense racism and other unpleasant subject matter, but  fiction has an obligation to be more than a depiction of historically accurate suffering. That suffering has to be connected to something. A sense of hope. A call to action. Compelling characters. Empathy and understanding for the suffering. Anything. The Nickel Boys just left me feeling hopeless. I’m glad to be done with The Nickel Boys; I struggled to pick it up and jumped at any opportunity to set it down. I had such a hard time struggling through this one that I actually forgot that I like to read. However, I should say that after discussing The Nickel Boys at book club, I retroactively found a lot to like. I definitely hated it while I was reading it, but outside perspective did wonders for me.

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The Tail of Emily Windsnap by Liz Kessler ⭐⭐

JF fantasy

I speed-read this in literally one hour because I found out I was running an event for it at work and ended up reading it on my break the day of. Thankfully, it’s not long. Unfortunately, it’s also not great. Some young readers’ books absolutely stand up to an adult eye. This isn’t one. While I can see why it would appeal to its intended age range (who doesn’t want to be a mermaid at that age?), the deficiencies in character logic and pacing kept me from getting invested. Emily’s mother can’t stick to a decision for more than twenty seconds (No, you can’t take swim lessons because I’m afraid of water. Oh, now you want to quit? Guess what? I’m very invested in them now. Also, we live on a boat, because that makes sense). Emily’s schoolmates bully her for… being good at swimming? What? Any given character’s behavior depends on what the plot needs, and problems are introduced and solved at breakneck speed. Characters show up and conveniently info-drop every few minutes. All this was convenient for me and my time crunch, but if I’d been reading this at a normal, leisurely pace, I would’ve wanted bigger stakes, more push-and-pull, and more consistency. Lastly, and admittedly this is petty, I cannot remember the name “Windsnap” to save my life. I’ve had to look it up about a hundred times because I keep thinking it is anything from “Windspar” to “Wingstrap.”

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At the Edge of the Universe by Shaun David Hutchinson ⭐⭐⭐⭐

YA fantasy, romance, LGBTQ+, apocalyptic

Even though I wish there’d been a little more explanation at the end of At the Edge of the Universe, I continue to be impressed by Shaun David Hutchinson’s creativity. He mixes the terrifying fantastical elements of his novels expertly with the more realistic—but never mundane—ones. I love that the real-world issues in At the Edge of the Universe are given as much weight (and, at times, arguably more weight) than the collapse of the universe, both because the real-world issues can be considered in the reader’s own life and because real people worry about their own lives more than the abstract end of the world. Oz is a teenage boy, not a superhero. Of course he cares more about his personal life, his boyfriend, his friends, and his family than he does about a few stars many lightyears away. This is an apocalypse story, but it’s surprisingly grounded. I’m very surprised that I don’t see more people gushing about Shaun David Hutchinson because his books–while similar to each other–are unlike anything written by anyone else.

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Which Witch? by Eva Ibbotson ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

JF fantasy

Eva Ibbotson is fabulous. I spent half my childhood reading her books (specifically reading Which Witch? and the equally charming The Secret of Platform 13) and I can’t recommend her work strongly enough to fantasy fans. Which Witch? in particular has a great mix of lighthearted humor and darker, more dramatic material. It’s the fantasy literary equivalent of a dating game show, and it is incredibly fun. It may be intended for children, but that didn’t keep 25-year-old me from loving it as much as I did when I was actually a part of the target audience.

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The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

JF sci-fi/magical realism, adventure

I’m so glad that I reread The Mysterious Benedict Society because it is absolutely as good as I remembered. It’s always a good sign when a novel is as delightful and surprising to me now as it was when I first read it more than a decade ago. Filled with one-of-a-kind characters, legitimately frightening villainy, good-natured humor, and a huge scoop of cleverness, this novel is a treat. It has one of the most hilarious and unexpected twist reveals of all time, and everything before and after it is equally compelling. I had a smile on my face the whole time I read this, and I really wish that more people knew this series because it deserves to have a much bigger audience than it does.

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I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

YA magical realism, bildungsroman, LGBTQ+

I talk about I’ll Give You the Sun all the time on this blog. If you’ve visited me before, you might have noticed that it was my favorite read from 2017 and that I listed it in a Pride Month post about great books with LGBTQ+ characters. I absolutely loved this book when I first read it, so much that when I looked back I thought, “Surely it’s not as good as I remember.” I mean, when I look at the books that it beat back in 2017–Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, A Monster Calls, The Hate U Give, Wonder–it seems impossible that it could’ve been that good. But it absolutely is. It’s so good that I devoured it in a single sitting the second time. There’s a magical undercurrent to the novel that expertly toes the line between real magic and simple belief that gives I’ll Give You the Sun a precariously beautiful tone that wavers right on the edge of what’s believable. It’s a story about art, but it also is art. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that gets to the heart of why art is so important, and the sibling relationship that anchors the novel is heartbreaking. And, of course, the gorgeous writing that brings it all together makes I’ll Give You the Sun the sort of book that no one should miss.

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Fan Art by Sarah Tregay ⭐⭐

YA contemporary, fangirls, romance, LGBTQ+

Fan Art is a gay love story facilitated by nerdy lesbian shippers, which sounds like something I’d like. Unfortunately, author Sarah Tregay doesn’t seem to have a firm understanding of either queer issues or fandom; when the whole story hinges on those two things, that’s a problem. I think she meant well, that’s unfortunately not enough. Even though the story has its cute moments and does its best to create a sweet, supportive friendship and romance, as a whole the book has an uncomfortable voyeuristic undertone that was impossible for me to ignore.

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Ramona Blue by Julie Murphy ⭐⭐⭐

YA romance, bildugsroman, family drama, LGBTQ+

Julie Murphy is a talented writer who does herself a disservice by writing romances. The love story is a huge part of Ramona Blue, but it’s also the weakest part of an otherwise solid story. Ramona Blue is a great character who fully deserves the honor of having her novel take her name. Watching her chafe against circumstances conspiring to keep her locked in a town too small for her is delightful, and her relationship with her sister is both lovely and frustrating. Ramona Blue might have been a great novel if the focus had been more on Ramona and Hattie, but unfortunately a large swath of it is dedicated to Ramona’s uninspiring boyfriend Freddie, who detracts from the novel by adding nothing to it.

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Social Intercourse by Greg Howard ⭐⭐

YA romance, LGBTQ+

Social Intercourse is primarily a hodgepodge of tropes and clichés slapped together in uninspiring ways to create a novel that is somehow both nothing new and actively annoying. For all its good intentions, it pairs tired tropes with dangerous stereotypes and unlikeable characters. Its attempts to be funny end up putting an uncomfortable filter on things that should be viewed with horror or disgust rather than laughter, but it doesn’t seem to be done satirically or for intentional contrast. Because Jax and Beck are placed narratively into heroic roles, the reader is meant to like and sympathize with them and forgive them for their transgressions even though their transgressions are easily bad enough to cast them as the villain in any story that isn’t invested in their happily-ever-afters.

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Inland by Téa Obreht ⭐⭐⭐

historical fiction, magical realism

I enjoyed parts of the novel, but others dragged and overall I’d say my reading experience was mostly neutral but overall more negative than positive. Inland is simply not my kind of book. I’ve never liked westerns or survival stories, so a western survival story was never going to be my jam. Still, I did enjoy half the story; when the novel focuses on Nora, I kept reading and wanted to know more. Any time Lurie and his camel took center stage, though, I had to fight against myself to keep from setting the book aside because no matter how much I tried, I could not care about them. It didn’t help that I found the resolution of the novel, when the two storylines finally come together, singularly disappointing. I read 367 pages expecting that, eventually, Lurie’s presence in Inland would be warranted; in my opinion, it never was, and Obreht could have saved her time and mine by scrapping his half entirely. That said, the book club came through for me again. After discussing Inland for two hours, I walked out with a much better appreciation of the novel and of Obreht’s considerable talent as a writer. Discussing books really helps me see the difference between “this was a bad book” and “I did not like this book.”

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Not Your Sidekick by C.B. Lee ⭐⭐⭐

YA, romance, superhero, LGBTQ+, family drama

Despite my criticisms—namely that the concepts are bigger than the writing manages to execute—I really liked Not Your Sidekick. I’d read lots of really positive reviews for the book and had been looking for it for more than a year, so I let my expectations balloon too big. I expected to love this book, and I didn’t. I really liked it, and if I can find the sequels, I’ll read them, but I didn’t love it. Combining superhero fun with post-apocalyptic governmental corruption is an interesting concept, but I wish that Lee had done more to differentiate her world from the real one. That being said, the writing is breezy, the characters are sweet and lovable, and the story is entertaining. Anyone looking for diverse genre fiction should consider giving this one a chance.

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Denton Little’s Still Not Dead by Lance Rubin ⭐⭐

YA magial realism

Denton Little’s Still Not Dead lacks the clarity of the novel that came before it, and it suffers for it. While Denton Little’s Deathdate knew exactly what it was—a quirky story about a stupid teenager trying to cheat death long enough to go to prom—Denton Little’s Still Not Dead struggles to find itself. Rubin’s irreverent silliness is his biggest strength, but that feels out of place in a story about protests and government conspiracy. There are a lot of troubling undercurrents, like the fact that a huge percentage of the female characters are only there to fall in love with the hero, but the biggest problem is that the novel tries to set up a bunch of interesting, nuanced conflicts but then takes the easiest way out by ultimately opting not to address them.

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War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy ⭐⭐⭐

classic, family drama

It took me a full month to trudge through War and Peace, a 1308-page monstrosity that alternates between legitimately compelling storytelling and overly long ruminations about fate that read like an exceptionally dry textbook. Even though I did enjoy bits of the novel, on the whole I am happier to have read it than I ever was actually reading it. I have rarely been so relieved to finish something. There are some interesting things in War and Peace, but for better and for worse it is a CLASSIC. I get why people read it, and I get why people like it, but I can’t imagine anyone would want to read it if it weren’t for its reputation as one of the best novels of all time. If it weren’t for the ‘I’m smart and well-read’ status boost that comes with having reading it, I’m not sure it’s entirely worth the 32 days it took to read.

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I’ve been watching…

Stranger Things ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Season three of Stranger Things came out, and it was just as great as the two that came before. Stranger Things does a great job of mixing genres. While the genre divides aren’t as clear in season three as they were in previous seasons (in season one, for example, the adults were embroiled in corporate espionage, the kids had a fantasy quest, and the teens operated somewhere between romance and mystery before all coming together), there’s still some excellent play. This show is also consistantly good with character development, and Steve–and his friendship with Dustin–continues to be a highlight.

Stranger Things deserves a lot of credit for the way it introduces its new characters. When an original cast is as strong as this one, a new character can sometimes feel unwelcome and unnecessary. However, every time someone new shows up (most notably Max and Bob in season two, and Robin in season three), they are seamlessly integrated and they quickly become just as interesting as those who were there from the beginning. I love that season three sidestepped the Max+Eleven feud that was teased in season two. Watching girls fight over a guy who is arguably not good enough for either of them (sorry, Mike) is an annoying trope, and letting them be friends instead is way better. I do wish that poor Will had been given something more to do (or that someone would just freaking play D&D with him!), but other than that I thought the new season was great.

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GLOW ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Speaking of excellent third seasons of popular Netflix shows… GLOW. This is such a good show. Before I watched it, I really thought it’d be bad. A wrestling show? Really? I’m glad I watched it anyway, because it’s a really well-written show that manages to be extremely funny while tackling some really tough, sensitive material. There’s some absolutely phenomenal character development from lots of different characters, the makeup and costume design is on point, the cast is refreshingly diverse (so many women, including women of color, queer women, and women who aren’t tall and thin!), and it’s simply hilarious. If you haven’t given this one a chance, you absolutely should, even if you think wrestling is gross and pointless. GLOW will change your mind!

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Grey’s Anatomy ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I’ve watched Grey’s off and on in the past, I finally caught up when season fifteen landed on Netflix. It’s not the best show ever, but it is deeply addicting and when it’s good, it’s good. It has made some major, major missteps over the years (George and Izzie getting together, Callie and Arizona breaking up, Mark’s death, George’s death, Owen, etc.) and has tried way too hard to get its viewers invested in characters who are major bummers (Derek is a whiny manchild, Jo “I lived in my car” Wilson is annoying, Ben is painfully indecisive, and Owen is… ugh. Owen), but it has some major ups. There are some great storylines and characters (a few favorite characters: Arizona, Addison, George, Richard, Cristina, Callie, Mark, Schmitt, Bailey, Koracick, and Karev). Today’s Grey’s has very few of the same characters as vintage Grey’s, but I’m still quite invested and I only rarely miss the old crew. Would I like to see them back? Yes. Do I need them to come back to enjoy the show? Nope. I’m also really impressed that characters have developed so well over the years. It’s not easy to let characters grow when you have a hit. It would’ve been easy to leave Meredith and Alex like they were at the start of the show, but they’ve changed a lot, and for the better. In season one, Meredith was one of my least favorite characters. Now, in season sixteen, she’s one of the best.

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One Day at a Time ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I’d been idly interested in watching One Day at a Time ever since I saw Lin-Manuel Miranda tweet about it, and I finally went ahead and watched it. I didn’t love it the way a lot of people love it, but I did enjoy it. It is very funny and the cast is great. The episodes are short and fun, so it’s easy to get sucked in. The only problem is that, in my opinion, it can be a little on-the-nose with its issues. Don’t get me wrong: fiction with a message is great, and fiction without a message rarely interests me. But ODaaT can come across a little preachy at times. Sometimes it’s amazing; often, like Elena, it’s too much (yes, that’s a joke; I love Elena). I feel that I should mention that my values align with everything the show preaches, so it’s not like I’m pushing against ideas I don’t agree with. Overall, though, this is a very good show.

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The Boys ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I initially didn’t think I’d like The Boys, but then I found out a lot of the creative team worked on Supernatural. Plus, it was something I could watch with my dad, and our entertainment overlaps tends to be pretty small, so that’s always a plus. The start of the show is great. The latter half, I felt, dragged a bit (maybe because the world-building was so good that being in the universe wasn’t as fun as discovering it) but it’s a really cool take on superheroes. The Boys is darkly funny and simultaneously exposes issues with the superhero stores and with our own world. The social commentary in The Boys is top notch. I know that comics often tackle controversial, political subjects, but the cinematic superhero world is pretty safe and traditional, so it’s pretty cool to see The Boys deal with things like religious hypocrisy, corporate greed and dishonesty, drug abuse, grey morality, sexism and sexual assault, and more. I’m very interested to see where the story goes from here.

Great Books with LGBTQ+ Characters

I haven’t done a top ten in a while, so I figured it was time. I usually try to read more LGBTQ+ books during Pride Month, but since I got off to a slow start and didn’t post anything for basically the first half of the month, I figured I’d overcompensate with an extra-long list that includes both books that I’ve loved for years and some that I’ve just discovered recently.

Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

Genre: YA Fantasy

Queer Representation: Of the main characters, two are bisexual and one is gay. There is one major m/m romance and one additional minor queer character. In the sequel series, there is a queer relationship between a bisexual woman and a trans man (note: he does not come out until near the end–to anyone, including himself– and therefore presents as female and uses she/her pronouns until then).

Brief Review: Six of Crows has quickly become one of my all-time favorite books. It’s basically Ocean’s Eleven with actually amazing characters dumped into a uniquely inspired fantasy setting. There are few novels with a core cast of characters who complement each other as well as the Crows do. I spend half my life telling people to read this book. It’s only been a few months since I last read it and I’m already getting the itch to reread it again.

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The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Genre: Adult Mythology, Fantasy, Romance, Retellings

Queer Representation: This is a m/m romance with one bi character and one gay character.

Brief Review: I love Greek mythology, and The Song of Achilles is a great retelling. Madeline Miller’s writing is absolutely beautiful, and her characters are Greek heroes at their best: staggeringly powerful but simultaneously petty and laughably immature. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll immediately add Circe to your reading list (I seriously need to get on that).

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The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Genre: YA Fantasy, Romance, Bildungsroman, New Adult, Historical Fiction, Adventure, etc.

Queer Representation: The POV character is bi. The other two main characters are gay and ace, respectively.

Brief Review: This book is a riot. It’s basically impossible to describe. I’ve never written “etc.” on a genre list before, but there’s no genre that Gentleman’s Guide doesn’t dip its toe in. This book is incredibly fast paced, and it gets increasingly more ridiculous as it goes on, but in such a way that it never feels too ridiculous. It has an adorable romance at its heart and has one of the best character arcs I’ve ever read. Very few characters make as much progress as believably as Monty does. He’s one of the most dynamic protagonists I’ve come across in recent years.

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The Symptoms of Being Human by Jeff Garvin

Genre: YA Contemporary

Queer Representation: The POV character is genderfluid.

Brief Review: This book is difficult to read at times because it doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of our often homophobic and heteronormative world, but it’s a beautiful, unflinching story about a teenager who just wants to live their life in a world that makes it much too difficult. The writing is great, and Riley is an amazing protagonist. It also gets extra points because most queer fiction is about gay men. Nonbinary and trans characters aren’t depicted nearly as often, and this is the best of the few I’ve read.

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Rick Riordan’s Later Books

Genre: JF, Mythology, Fantasy

Queer Representation: Riordan’s books have gotten increasingly more diverse. Starting with The House of Hades, which confirms that Nico is gay, queer characters have slowly but steadily been populating Riordan’s worlds. Trials of Apollo gives us the openly bi Apollo (who is the POV character) and a second minor bi character; and Magnus’ love interest—who is a main character in their own right—in Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard is genderfluid.

Brief Review: What’s left to say about Rick Riordan that hasn’t already been said? When it comes to mythology retellings, he’s number one (Madeline Miller is great, but she’s, like eighteen books behind). His books are full of adventure, sassy teens, and creative modernization; they have inspired a whole generation to get into reading. The Percy Jackson books are this generation’s Harry Potter, and as much as I love Harry Potter, I’m glad that its predecessor is as diverse as it is.

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Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

Genre: YA Contemporary, Romance

Queer Representation: The main character and his love interest are gay. There are a handful of minor bisexual characters, though it’s worth noting that the female queer characters don’t come out officially until Leah on the Offbeat.

Brief Review: If you’re ever in the mood for nerdy cuteness, this is the book to turn to. It’s very sweet. The central romance is adorable, but Albertalli doesn’t abandon the strong platonic relationships to support it. The fact that its film adaptation, Love Simon, is basically the first mainstream gay movie makes Simon extra exciting.

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The Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare

Genre: YA Fantasy

Queer Representation: I considered listing The Mortal Instruments since it’s the original series, but I decided to go with this one for Pride Month since the proportion of LGBTQ+ characters is much higher (and they’re much more central). Most of the straight characters are cameos in The Red Scrolls of Magic. Honestly, the deeper you get into Cassandra Clare’s world the queerer it gets. You start out with Alec (gay) and Magnus (bi) in City of Bones and eventually you end up with a handful more bisexual characters, a few lesbians, one trans woman, one asexual vampire, and a few more as-of-now-unconfirmed gay Shadowhunters.

Brief Review: The Shadowhunter books are just fun. The quality of the individual books fluctuates a little to support a universe that is getting to Marvel Cinematic Universe size (personally I think that The Infernal Devices trilogy and Queen of Air and Darkness are the weakest links), but the fact of the matter is that they’re all such fun, easy reads that I’ll keep reading them as long as Cassandra Clare keeps writing them. They’re compulsively readable, and it’s no surprise that they’ve spawned all sorts of adaptations.

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The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Genre: Adult Romance, Intergenerational, Historical Fiction

Queer Representation: There is a central f/f romance featuring (if I’m remembering correctly) one bisexual woman and one lesbian.

Brief Review: I saw everyone jabbering about this one online and ended up reading it despite very low expectations. I’m not usually a huge fan of intergenerational novels (I find that they tend to be pretty preachy and rose-colored), but this one is actually great. It’s not about proving how times have changed. It is about two fascinating, complex women coming together despite being from different generations. I’m very amused by the misleadingly hetero title. It’s like the opposite of queerbaiting, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who was surprised.

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Jane, Unlimited by Kristin Cashore

Genre: YA Fantasy, New Adult, Sci-Fi, Romance, Spy Thriller, etc.

Queer Representation: The protagonist is bisexual and, depending on the timeline, has romances with both male and female characters.

Brief Review: Hey, look! Another genre “etc.” This is a bizarrely weird book. It’s almost a choose-your-own-adventure. There are tons of alternate endings, and each one changes the genre of the novel… but they also all exist concurrently. It’s so weird but so cool.

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The Summer of Jordi Perez (and the Best Burger in Los Angeles) by Amy Spalding

Genre: YA Contemporary, Romance

Queer Representation: The main character and her girlfriend are both lesbians

Brief Review: This is one of those books that balances a really cute romance with lots of well-written and fully-developed platonic relationships. Sadly, a lot of romances let the platonic relationships slip. Happily, Jordi Perez isn’t one of those books! It also has a distinctly chill-summer vibe, which makes it a great summer read.

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History is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera

Genre: YA Contemporary

Queer Representation: Pretty much everyone is gay. There may be one token straight guy, but I don’t remember.

Brief Review: No one does tragedy like Adam Silvera. I don’t usually read sad books, but his are just too good to miss. They’re absolutely heartbreaking but somehow also really romantic. I’ve liked all of his books, but History is All You Left Me is in its own league. I felt physically and emotionally exhausted after finishing it.

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Ship It by Britta Lundin

Genre: YA Contemporary, Fandom

Queer Representation: There is a central f/f romance

Brief Review: I love books about fandom, and this is a book about fandom. I love that books now dive unapologetically into the world of fandom nerdiness. In my opinion, the romance is probably the weakest part of the book, but it’s still nice to read about some cute, queer, geeky ladies. There will never be a time when I’m not up to read a novel about the ins and out of fandom and nerdiness, especially when the writer clearly knows that world as well as Lundin does.

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Noteworthy and Seven Ways We Lie by Riley Redgate

Genre: YA Contemporary

Queer Representation: Noteworthy has a female bisexual POV character, a few gay secondary characters, and one secondary character who is implied to be asexual. Amongst its main cast, Seven Ways We Lie has a pansexual character and an asexual character (both male).

Brief Review: Riley Redgate is a very underrated writer. Like some of the other books on this list, Redgate’s novels straddle the space between fluffy and significant. Noteworthy is, on the surface, a standard story about a girl disguising herself as a boy, but is more subtly about the pervasiveness of strict gender roles. Seven Ways We Lie tells the story of seven teenagers in the wake of a student/teacher romance scandal at their high school, and the way that Redgate weaves her seven characters/storylines together is nothing short of masterful.

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Drama by Raina Telgemeier

Genre: JF Contemporary, Graphic Novel

Queer Representation: There are a handful of gay main characters.

Brief Review: Raina Telegemeier is an incredibly popular graphic novel writer amongst young readers. Back when I worked at a library and worked a lot with young readers, I made a point of reading the authors that are popular amongst them (now, I’m trying to read more adult new releases). I’ve now read most of Telgemeier’s books, but I started with Drama because it’s about theatre and I love the theatre. It’s incredibly cute. Telegemeier is a great artist, and I absolutely love her illustrations. They’re instantly endearing and the rounded lines are so adorable. Reading Drama also made me realize just how few books targeted towards young readers have LGBTQ+ characters in them.

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Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Genre: YA Fantasy, Romance, Meta

Queer Representation: There is an important m/m romance between one gay character and one character who could be either gay or bi, depending on the reader’s interpretation.

Brief Review: Carry On is basically Harry Potter with its tongue in its cheek (and more diversity). It’s a really fun experiment with meta-fiction because it depends so heavily on its readers’ knowledge of existing fantasy tropes. As a person who loves fantasy and loves tropes (and loves Rainbow Rowell; she’s one of my favorite writers), this combination is an absolute treat. The sequel, Wayward Son, is also very good and equally gay.

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The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

Genre: YA Fantasy, Magical Realism

Queer Representation: One of the the duel leads is gay, as is one important secondary character.

Brief Review: There is nothing better than well-written fantasy. The Darkest Part of the Forest is a well-written fantasy. In a way, it’s a retelling of Sleeping Beauty. Except the Sleeping Beauty isn’t a princess… it’s a dangerous faerie prince. This novel has one of the most inventive settings I’ve ever read. I’ve heard Black’s work described as “urban fantasy,” and that’s a pretty good description; this novel is about a community that seems normal, but actually lives in careful balance with malevolent faeries. The strong sibling bond at the heart of the novel is really well done, and Black ignores traditional gender roles so thoroughly that they seem passé.

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Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

Genre: Adult Contemporary, Bildungsroman

Queer Representation: The main character is intersex. Although identified congenitally as female and therefore raised as such, he eventually decides to present himself as male.

Brief Review: This is actually kind of a difficult book to read. It’s very dense and it covers a lot of time. That said, it’s very interesting and very well-written and is worth a read.

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I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

Genre: YA Contemporary, Bildungsroman

Queer Representation: One of the two POV characters is gay.

Brief Review: This was my number one book back in 2017 (and I read some phenomenal books in 2017; it is definitely one of my best years for reading). I’ll Give You the Sun is one of the most gorgeously written books I’ve ever read; the writing style in Noah’s chapters in particular has a unique rhythm that’s great.

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Radio Silence and Solitaire by Alice Oseman

Genre: YA Contemporary

Queer Representation: Romance and sexuality are mostly irrelevant to Radio Silence, but there is one gay character, one bisexual character, and one demisexual character, all of whom are important. Solitaire has a gay couple who star in their own graphic novel spinoff.

Brief Review: Alice Oseman is insanely talented. I loved both the books—which are full of great characters and interesting themes that don’t pop up much in fiction—and then I read the author note and realized how young she was when she wrote and published her first novel. Oseman is now on my instant-read list, even though her books can still be relatively difficult to find (Update: I did finally find I Was Born for This, which has a trans man as a lead character, and Loveless, which is about an ace girl; IWBfT is easily as good as Solitaire and Radio Silence. Loveless is excellent, but personally I liked it a bit less).

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

Genre: YA Contemporary, Bildungsroman

Queer Representation: Both MCs are queer.

Brief Review: I was initially hesitant to read this book because the title is pretty pretentious. Now that I’ve read it, I take back everything I thought to that effect, because it is a small story that feels very big and the title intentionally plays into that. It’s about two young men growing up and growing together, but it feels incredibly universal. Plus, the writing is beautiful.

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The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

Genre: YA Contemporary, Bildungsroman

Queer Representation: One major character is gay.

Brief Review: I think this may be one of the first novels I read with a prominent LGBTQ+ character. Patrick’s sexuality is not necessarily a huge element in the novel (but, after all, this isn’t a list of books that are great because they’re queer; it’s a list of books that are great and also have LGBTQ+ representation). The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a brilliantly written novel with a very strong narrative voice and unforgettable characters. It also has some very deep, uncomfortable topics that makes for a great discussion.

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The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness

Genre: YA Fantasy, Bildungsroman

Queer Representation: The MC is bisexual. One other male major character is also queer.

Brief Review: Patrick Ness is amazing. His writing is great and everything he writes is deeply inventive. The Rest of Us Just Live Here has one of the greatest premises of all time: it’s about the random nobodies who live in a universe where other, special teenagers are perpetually saving the world. It’s hilarious. The chosen ones and world-ending crises all occur hazily in the background while Ness’ protagonists deal with more pressing—and more mundane—issues like planning for college and falling in love. It’s great. You should read it for the chapter titles alone.

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It’s Not Like It’s a Secret by Misa Sugiura

Genre: YA Contemporary, Romance

Queer Representation: This is a f/f romance.

Brief Review: This is a cute, fluffy romance that uses its diversity to elevate it beyond its form. It doesn’t seem like a book that gets into anything particularly deep, so it’s surprisingly profound for what it is.

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The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried by Shaun David Hutchinson

Genre: YA Magical Realism

Queer Representation: One of the two main characters is gay, and his boyfriend is trans.

Brief Review: There aren’t a lot of queer genre books. If you want LGBTQ+ characters, for the most part you’re going to find them in romances and dramas. Sometimes it’s nice to read something that’s just incidentally gay. This is a book about platonic friendship and coming to terms with the past. There is no reason for Dino to be gay. It doesn’t play into the plot at all, and absolutely nothing would change if his love interest were female. It’s just one aspect of Dino, and that’s way too rare. I’ve never read anything quite like The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried, but it’s a wild ride and a lot of fun.

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Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Genre: New Adult Romance

Queer Representation: The POV character is bisexual. The second most important character is gay. There are several queer minor characters that cover a wide spectrum of identities.

Brief Review: While I didn’t adore Red, White, and Royal Blue as much as everyone else seems to, I certainly liked it. It’s a quick read, a little cheesy, and cheerfully romantic. It’s certainly a fun, quick read. If romances are your thing, you’ll probably like this one.

The Sky is Everywhere (Book Review)

Last year, I read I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson. It was my favorite book from 2017, so I obviously had high hopes for The Sky is Everywhere (Nelson’s first book). While it does not match the heights of the Printz-winning I’ll Give You the Sun, The Sky is Everywhere is still an excellent novel.

What’s it about?

After the sudden and unexpected death of her beloved older sister Bailey, Lennie Walker is unmoored (Wuthering Heights moor pun intended). She lets her music slip and endlessly writes poems about her love and grief that she releases into the world. The only times when she can fight through the pain of her loss is when she is with Toby, Bailey’s boyfriend, or with Joe, the new boy/musical prodigy who moves to town and has never known her without Bailey.

What’d I think?

Summaries of The Sky is Everywhere (including mine, unfortunately) zero in on the love triangle. Lennie is drawn to and attracted to both Toby and Joe, and a large part of the novel is her discovering herself in romantic and sexual contexts. Both Joe and Toby help Lennie process her grief and come into herself on the other side of Bailey’s death.

The romantic storyline is also—by a wide margin—the least interesting part of the story. Whenever Joe and Toby take a backseat, the story gets better, because there is a lot more to Lennie and her story than who she wants to kiss.

I hate poetry. Hate it. The only time I will read a poem without complaining is when it is sung to me in music form. And yet… Lennie’s poems, which are spread throughout her world on scraps of paper and old wrappers and pages from her favorite book, are heartbreaking and beautiful. They include memories of Bailey and messages that Lennie hopes might somehow make their way to Bailey, and they give a really tangible element to Lennie’s grief that does not necessarily always make it through when she is in the middle of her hormonal frenzies.

I also love Lennie’s messy family. Her gardening guru grandmother, who took Bailey and Lennie in when their mother/her daughter ran off, is precious. Uncle Big, the local Lothario who has been married five times, is a hoot who prompts one of the most interesting ideas in the novel:

This is our story to tell. [Uncle Big] says it in his Ten Commandments way and it hits me that way: profoundly. You’d think for all the reading I do, I would have thought about this before, but I haven’t. I’ve never once thought about the interpretive, the storytelling aspect of life, of my life. I always felt like I was in a story, yes, but not like I was the author of it, or like I had any say in its telling whatsoever.

You can tell your story any way you damn well please.

It’s your solo.

100 Days (Book Review)

I know that I’ve seen 100 Days by Nicole McInnes somewhere before, but I’m not sure if it was in someone’s review or just on the shelf of a bookstore. I grabbed it hoping that it was the former and that someone whose reviews I trust had said good things about it, but I have no idea. My guess is just that I thought that the cover was cute, because it is. The book itself is okay, but not remarkable.

What’s it about?

100 Days is about three friends: Agnes, Moira, and Boone. Agnes suffers from progeria (which basically means that, at age 15, she has the body of an octogenarian), Moira is Agnes’ best friend/bodyguard and suffers from body image issues since she’s been teased for her weight, and Boone has a myriad of problems at home (he’s poor and has recently been given fewer hours at work, his dad was mean and had brain damage before he died unexpectedly, and his mom never recovered from her husband’s death). Boone used to be friends with the girls, but they had a falling-out several years ago. Now, however, he is reentering their life 100 days before Agnes dies.

What’d I think?

There are a few things that I want to discuss about 100 Days, and I figured I’d break them up into categories. Here we go.

The Dramatic Irony

The 100 Days of the title refers to the fact that the novel takes place over the last 100 days of Agnes’ life. Here’s how I know that:

1. The summary tells me that “Agnes doesn’t know it, but she has only one hundred days left to live.”
2. I read the book and know that Agnes dies at the end.
3. It’s easy to assume from the title/format of the novel.

Here’s how I don’t know that:

1. There’s something in the text of the actual novel to indicate it.

The weird thing about this is that it creates a Schrödinger’s cat of dramatic irony. How aware am I as the reader supposed to be of Agnes’ imminent death? It’s spelled out in literally the first sentence of the summary, but in my opinion McInnes never capitalizes on the potential. There’s no reason why the 100 days couldn’t be regular days. The fact of Agnes’ upcoming death doesn’t really change anything about them and as a result, I’m left wondering what the point is of the knowledge and the countdown.

The Format

The format doesn’t work at all. By having each chapter one of the 100 days, McInnes is using her format to emphasize the present (or, possibly, the future). It’s a countdown to Agnes’ death, which indicates that the present is made more important by the future. However, the actual story focuses much more on the past. Agnes has limited time left, but full days (lots of full days) are wasted on flashbacks. One could argue that this is a symptom of the characters not knowing that the end is coming, but it causes a huge disconnect for me. I feel like the different elements of the story are working against each other. I can’t help thinking that a format like the one in I’ll Give You the Sun, in which two timelines—including the buildup to a falling out and a kind of reunion years later—are interwound, would have worked much better.

The Intent

My Top 10 Books of 2017

Since 2017 is almost over, I thought I’d compile a list of my favorite books I read this year. I was going to make two different lists, one for YA and one for everything else, but then I realized that I wasn’t all that enthusiastic about the non-YA books I read this year, so I’m just going to fold them into this list. To make the job easier for myself, I’m also adding some arbitrary rules: I’m not going to rank rereads (though I’ll give them a nod before I get started), and I’m only allowing one book per author. I’m also going to admit right off that bat that, while I did my best on the order, I easily could have ranked everything differently.

Amazing Books I Reread this Year 

The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky; Lady Midnight by Cassandra Clare; Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech; Inkheart by Cornelia Funke; Looking for Alaska by John Green; The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin; The Hidden Oracle by Rick Riordan; Attachments by Rainbow Rowell

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Audra’s Top Ten Books of 2017

10) The Geek’s Guide to Unrequited Love by Sarvenaz Tash

I got really into books about fans and fandom this year. I’ve been seeking them out and reading them, and this was my favorite one that I read this year. It’s not a mind-blowing book, but it is cute. It is relatable and feminist and I coincidentally finished it the day before I attended my first Comic-Con, which gives it extra memorability points.

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9) Hamilton: The Revolution by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter

I am usually not a nonfiction person at all, so the fact that there’s a nonfiction book on this list is a huge surprise to me. That being said, I got really into Hamilton the musical this year, so reading all the lyrics and seeing pictures of the cast/set was a lot of fun (I am one of the approximately eighteen billion Hamilton fans who has never actually seen the show). I also loved the insights into the writing because I am 1) a wannabe writer and 2) a giant Broadway nerd. Making musical references is an easy way to win me over.

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8) Wonder by R.J. Palacio

I managed to read this just before the movie mania kicked in. A coworker was shocked that I’d never read it (I’d never even heard of it!) so I felt I had to read it to defend my honor. Once I got started, though, it no longer felt like an obligation. Taking recommendations is always a risk (I also read some major duds off recommendations this year), but this one paid off big time.

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7) The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

There’s not a lot to say about this novel that hasn’t already been said. It is immensely powerful and tackles hard subjects head-on. It does a great job of addressing divisive issues without coming across like an After School Special. It is first and foremost an excellent novel, but its greatest strength is probably in the way that it pulls the reader into its main character’s life and allows us to see the world through her eyes.

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6) Lord of Shadows by Cassandra Clare

I absolutely love Cassandra Clare’s shadowhunters. The Dark Artifices hasn’t quite reached The Mortal Instruments for me since I prefer the tMI gang (I love Alec, Izzy, Simon, and Magnus too much for Clare’s new heroes to be anything but poor replacements), but it has gotten pretty close. I love the increased darkness in the world; the risks are bigger this time around, which makes for a more exciting read plot-wise. I’m fascinated by Julian’s extreme selfishness and ruthlessness, as main characters/primary love interests are rarely permitted to be selfish and ruthless.

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5) Turtles All the Way Down by John Green

John Green is one of my favorite writers, and Turtles is gaining headway; it may actually eventually pass Paper Towns and An Abundance of Katherines as my favorite John Green book, but it’ll have to undergo one or two rereads before I can say that confidently. The depiction of Aza’s mental illness is sympathetic and terrifying. The mystery is fun, but it is the novel’s voice and characterization that really shine.

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4) Seven Ways We Lie by Riley Redgate

I had never heard of Riley Redgate when I picked up her novel Noteworthy at the library a few months ago. I thought it would be a frothy, surface-level read and was surprised by how poignant it was. I was so impressed by it that I bought Seven Ways We Lie without bothering to read the synopsis, and ended up liking it even better. Redgate manages to balance seven narrators; each has his or her own distinct voice and storyline. All seven characters are well developed and lovably flawed, and the novel as a whole has the same diversity and nuance that I loved so much in Noteworthy. 

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3) Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

I read this book through the night in one sitting despite the fact that I was in a hotel room and looking at a several hour road trip the following morning during which I had nothing else to read. The central romance is adorable, but the novel refreshingly does not neglect its many platonic relationships. Aside from being cute and full of interesting, well-developed relationships, the novel is also really funny. It had me totally won over from its first sentence. I’m excited that this one is turning into a movie, since it deserves it but isn’t an obvious choice for Hollywood.

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 2) A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

I also easily could have put The Rest of Us Just Live Here on this list, but I had to go with A Monster Calls. This was the book that introduced me to Patrick Ness, and it’s the reason that he is now one of my favorite writers. I never, ever cry over books/movies despite how overly invested I get in them (I can remember crying legit tears over fiction only about six times). I teared up for A Monster Calls both times I read it this year (I did it for adult book club in February, and had to reread it to prep for the young adults next month). I passed it on to several members of my family immediately after reading it, and they loved it as well. The movie is equally beautiful, and is an example of adaptations done right.

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1) I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

Like most of the other books on this list, this was a one-sitting-read. It is a beautifully written novel. Both perspectives are distinctive; Noah’s chapters in particular are linguistically unlike anything I’ve ever read before. I also love the way that Nelson tells her story across two different time periods. Usually I find that sort of thing annoying, but somehow the structure of I’ll Give the Sun made the story even more compelling. It is absolutely no surprise to me that it won the Printz Award back in 2015; I’m just disappointed that it took me all this time to hear about it.

 

What were your favorite books from 2017?

 

I’ll Give You the Sun (Book Review)

This is the cover I have, but it is not the most common cover.

I’m on a roll! Every book I bought recently has been amazing. Usually I pick at least one dud. Way to go, self! Seriously, though. I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson is a bizarre, beautiful novel. I don’t really know how to start talking about it, because I’m not totally sure what exactly it was. It was possibly a romance, but more likely a family drama. It’s a story about siblings, jealousy, growing up, art, relationships, hate, fear, grief, and more. I’d probably categorize it as magical realism, but that’s a debatable label. There are ghosts, but it’s impossible to tell if they are actually there or if they’re just hallucinations resulting from grief. There’s an implication of destiny, but that too is impossible to pin down. As in real life, some people believe fully in destiny and others don’t. It’s a hard book to talk about, but it was an even harder book to put down. I wholeheartedly agree with the many accolades that were showered on I’ll Give You the Sun.

What’s it about?

The novel follows twins Jude and Noah over the course of a few years. Noah narrates the beginning of the story, and Jude takes over for the end. However, the two periods—and therefore the two narrators—are alternated so the reader is left guessing for much of the novel. How did NoahandJude get from one place to the other? The book has a lot going on, but in my opinion the heart of it is Noah and Jude’s family and the way it unintentionally pits them against each other. They end up competing against each other repeatedly: for their parents’ attention, to get into a prestigious art school, for friends. As it gets worse, it devolves into vindictiveness. Three years later, they’re both still reeling from the results of the year they fell out.

What did I think?