Author: lanathalie

“Hope was a dangerous, disquieting thing, but he thought perhaps he liked it.”

This book was, objectively, awful.

Neil Josten, a mysterious kid with an even more mysterious past, gets recruited to the Palmetto State University Exy (a made up sport somewhat similar to lacrosse?) team after being on the run since his mother died. His teammates are violent and kind of just questionable people all around, and on top of all that, there’s an underlying plot surrounding crime, which Neil and his teammates seem to be caught in the middle of.

The Foxhole Court left me with an extraordinary amount of questions and just general confusion surrounding, well, everything. But I will acknowledge that this is simply the first book in the series, and I was bound to be left wanting more. I think part of my confusion is because of how secret Neil’s backstory is and how, while he’s the narrator, we as the audience know barely anything about him, and everything we learn about everyone else comes from him—who is an overwhelmingly unreliable narrator. 

This book actually reminded me quite a bit of fanfiction in that it leaves out significant details regarding the general plot while possessing the air that the audience already knows what’s going on. I also felt it was similar in the same way that it didn’t feel like an actual book, more so someone’s interesting but unnecessary additions. I felt like I was waiting for the action to begin and for the inciting incident to arise for the majority of the book, and unless I’m mistaken, it doesn’t seem to happen until the second to last chapter. 

But despite all of that, I actually really enjoyed reading this book. As the story moved along, I grew significantly more attached to the incredibly flawed characters that make up the Exy team, and loved to see the evolution of their relationships together as Neil became closer to them. And while the plot of the story seemed lacking and also confusing, there was enough to keep me intrigued, and the confusion honestly just made me want to read more.

Because The Foxhole Court is only the first book in the series, I can’t say for certain whether or  not I like or even recommend it yet, but I’m anxious to get my hands on the second book, and desperately want to know what happens next. I will preface though by saying that this book absolutely has its problems, including a string of slurs that are spoken multiple times throughout the novel, and excessive violence and drug abuse also throughout the book, and would highly suggest searching up content warnings before reading!

Firekeeper’s Daughter by Angeline Boulley is a debut novel following a young mixed race woman named Daunis living in an Ojibwe community, where she had set herself aside to care for her mother after her uncle died. The story begins when Daunis meets the new recruit for her brother’s hockey team, Jamie, and not long after witnesses a horrifying death that alters her entire life. The book follows the heavy theme of drug addiction and its impact on Native communities.

I will be quite honest and say that I struggle with mystery novels. So, my first and most glaringly obvious challenge with this book was that I simply don’t like the genre that it’s written in. But because it had been so highly recommended to me, and had won countless awards, including the 2022 Printz Award, I figured I would give it a try, and allow it the opportunity to broaden my horizons a bit. But, to my disappointment, it did not.

The topic it had been written about, meth addiction in Ojibwe communities, I thought was an important one to share, especially through YA literature, and clearly it was close to home for Boulley, who lives in an Ojibwe community in upper Michigan herself. It was filled with details about everyday Ojibwe life, and the culture that Daunis is a part of, as well as her insecurity with being mixed. Boulley wove these details in beautifully, in a way that wasn’t painfully chock full of information or felt like she was outright trying to teach me about her culture. It felt very easily realistic.

I did not enjoy the undercover police aspect very much, and it annoyed me because, to me, it seemed very far-fetched—not the investigation but how they planned to go about it, and I got frequently irritated at the decisions they were making, and Daunis’ part in it. That aspect of the book just overall felt somewhat off to me, which was disappointing considering its prevalence in the book

I was also not a fan of the pacing of the book, and I found myself confused with the timeline as well as the importance of scenes that Boulley had written that seemed fairly unnecessary to the plot. I just wanted there to be more, which I couldn’t get from Daunis’ perspective. When there is suspense and mystery in a book, I tend to prefer a faster pace in order to stay engaged, which this book didn’t really give me. I instead found myself itching for more every time I turned the page.

I started reading Firekeeper’s Daughter early in December and didn’t even get halfway through it until February. I thought it was because I had fallen into a reading slump, but as more time went on (and the more books I read aside from it) I realized that it just wasn’t keeping my attention like I wanted it to. Which made me feel guilty because of how much the book had been praised and loved by so many. I pushed myself to finish it, but the book is one that, in another instance, I would have given up on. Firekeeper’s Daughter is an objectively great novel, and for Boulley’s debut, it’s truly incredible and deserving of the awards it received, but I had difficulty appreciating it, though I wish I could.

Bloom by Kevin Panetta is a graphic novel following a boy named Ari during his summer after high school. Ari works at his family’s struggling bakery and desperately wants to leave to move to Portland, Oregon so that he can play music with his band. But in order to quit his job at the bakery, he must first find a replacement baker, and as his plans fall apart, he grows closer to the  new baker, Hector, and their relationship “blooms”. 

I thought that this book was sweet, but parts of it irritated me, and I thought that some of it just didn’t make sense. For example, Ari initially hires Hector to take his place at the bakery so that he can move on and go do other things (like move to Portland with his band). That plotline, though, is quickly brushed aside when two of Ari’s band members decide to leave themselves, and Ari, who had spent so much time hating working in the bakery, stays, and appears to suddenly enjoy his job. This I dismissed because in order to move forward the romance between him and Hector, the author of course had to find a way for them to spend time together. But it did confuse me that Hector was hired to be Ari’s replacement, when Ari never actually ends up leaving.

I think another reason I struggled to enjoy this book was because I just generally didn’t like the protagonist very much. Ari was difficult to empathize with, and I felt constantly irritated with the choices his character made. Which is disappointing overall, especially considering how much I enjoyed reading about the other characters. Some of Ari’s friends and bandmates, while fairly one dimensional, were far more likable, and caring about the characters is something I usually look for when reading. I couldn’t help but feel like Hector deserved a better ending, which I can only assume is not the reaction that the author was hoping for. 

The artwork in the book though was beautiful, and I loved the atmosphere of it. I appreciated that, while I had a hard time with the general storyline and writing of this book, the artwork made it much more enjoyable, and I found myself liking the book overall more because of it.

Like most graphic novels, Bloom is a quick read, and though I personally wasn’t a huge fan, it was still a sweet story. I recommend this book to anyone who needs a brief escape from reality!

“Sisters never stand a chance to be friends. We’re pitted against each other from the moment we are born. A daughter is a treasure. Two is a tax.”

Mary H.K. Choi, Yolk

Yolk by Mary H.K. Choi is a contemporary novel following Jayne Baek as she struggles through fashion school in New York City. When she discovers that her older sister June had been diagnosed with uterine cancer, her life flips even more upside down. The two siblings have an innate dislike toward one another, but are brought together by June’s illness. Content warning: the main character has an eating disorder (bulimia) that is mentioned throughout the book, a detailed scene in chapter 45.

I won’t say I’m proud of this, but I judge a book by its cover nearly every time I think of reading one. Something about that first impression is really what makes me want to read a book, and sometimes I’ll even remember the cover better than I do the plot. And Yolk is no exception. I barely glanced at the synopsis before picking up this book because I knew it was one I just simply had to have. 

And I will say that I briefly regretted it. The characters were unlikable, the storyline was confusing and just boring, and I struggled to find something that made me want to keep reading. But I did keep reading, and I’m so glad that I did because by the end I was sitting on the floor with tears streaming down my face, unsure of whether I would ever be able to part with the devastating book that I had become so hopelessly attached to.

I think that Yolk is definitely one of those books where, to maybe truly be able to appreciate it, you have to read it twice. Or three times. Or seven. But with each time you love it more and more until eventually it becomes your favorite book. So far I’ve only read it once, and I’m hesitant to read it again because frankly I’m not sure how many more favorite books I can respectfully have.

It does have its faults though, of course. I felt like many of the details were underdeveloped, like the identity switch that June pulls so that she could have health insurance for her surgery, or Patrick’s (Jayne’s love interest) briefly mentioned girlfriend in the peace corps. The book also seems somewhat wrongly categorized as young adult, when the main character is well out of high school and the descriptions are much less filtered than I’m used to in YA books. I would have definitely assumed it was new adult if I hadn’t found it in the YA section.

Though I had difficulty getting into it, I did really enjoy reading this book, and I recommend to anyone with the patience and desire to read a heartfelt and painfully realistic coming-of-age story.

The article “A Postcolonial Primer with Multicultural YA Literature” explores postcolonial criticism in YA literature and author Malo-Juvera’s urge for nonwhite students to connect literature with the normalized oppression they face in real life. 

He hoped for his nonwhite students to understand for themselves the inherent root of colonialism, as opposed to simply correcting their learned beliefs, and to realize that in holding those oppressive beliefs, they are only harming themselves. In the article, Malo-Juvera analyzes the works of The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, Mexican Whiteboy, and American Born Chinese as example postcolonial texts used to introduce the concept to students. 

I found this article to be a fascinating take on postcolonial criticism and how it goes hand in hand with the oppressive force of whiteness, and the idea of using literature as an introduction to a larger conversation. Especially for students, who are incredibly influenced by the media they surround themselves with––one of the reasons why positive representation is so important.

The ability to critically consume literature and media is necessary in understanding Malo-Juvera’s point of postcolonial oppression. To understand and unlearn it, you must go back to its root, which oftentimes were these very works of literature that Malo-Juvera shared. I think that if this was taught more often, it could be extremely beneficial to nonwhite students’ views of themselves, and to see beyond the harmful white perspective that they are taught.

Work Cited

Malo-Juvera, Victor. “A Postcolonial Primer with Multicultural YA Literature.” The English Journal, vol. 107, no. 1, National Council of Teachers of English, 2017, pp. 41–47, http://www.jstor.org/stable/26359516.

“The best way to get to know someone, to get beneath their skin & into the bone, is to tell a story & offer music.”

Me (Moth) by Amber McBride is a novel-in-verse following the life of Moth, a girl who lost her entire family in a car accident and is constantly reminded of the guilt she feels from being the only survivor, and Sani, a boy with depression looking for an escape from his abusive household. Upon meeting, both teenagers feel a connection to each other and Moth accompanies Sani on a road trip to the Navajo Nation, where they learn more about themselves as well as each other.

I always find novels-in-verse intriguing and Me (Moth) was no exception. McBride’s writing was so captivating that I almost genuinely could not put the book down, and I kept wishing that I wasn’t reading a library copy otherwise I would have underlined every single line. McBride portrayed Sani and Moth’s relationship so beautifully, and their connection to each other was absolutely mesmerizing to read, if at times a little cliché (but it’s poetry, I think it’s allowed to be a little cliché).

McBride was also able to seamlessly incorporate Navajo myths and Hoodoo spirituality into the story as well, and her connection of two separate cultures was so interesting to read and learn about, which I think was part of what brought magic into the story, and made me truly enjoy Moth and Sani as characters.

The book left me utterly destroyed (which to me is a good sign with books), and I did not know what to do with myself for hours afterward. I think that it is now one of my favorite books. I recommend Me (Moth) for anyone who enjoys novels-in-verse and doesn’t mind having their heart broken on occasion.

“It’s a truth universally acknowledged that when rich people move into the hood, where it’s a little bit broken and a little bit forgotten, the first thing they want to do is clean it up.”

Pride by Ibi Zoboi is a young adult “Pride and Prejudice remix” that follows the character Zuri Benitz, a seventeen year old Black girl in Brooklyn, New York, after the rich Darcy family moves into the big house across the street. Zuri immediately finds herself with a great dislike toward one of the two sons, Darius Darcy, but she seems to be alone in her opinion of him. And while the new neighbors distract her, Zuri can’t help but notice how her neighborhood is changing before her eyes, the victim of gentrification. Pride follows the structure of Pride and Prejudice while also introducing a few new topics as well that are unique to Zuri, e.g. gentrification, Black pride, grief, and more. I thought these topics were such a great addition, but I wished that they had been delved into a little bit deeper––they alI felt like they were touched on at a very surface level, and left me wanting more. I was very satisfied with the retelling aspect, though, and enjoyed searching for comparisons between it and the original Pride and Prejudice story; it kept me thoroughly engaged as I read. I thought that Zoboi’s retelling was a great take on bringing representation into a well-loved novel––one that originally has none, and turns Jane Austen’s nineteenth century love story into a contemporary tale about a Black girl from ever-changing New York––who is proud of her culture, family, and home––as she navigates her first love. A recommendation for anyone interested in modern takes on classics!