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Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! Esperance releases in the US from DAW Books in May 2025.

Adam Oyebanji’s Esperance weaves together a detective mystery and a speculative exploration of history’s darkest legacies. Opening with a chilling homicide in Chicago—a father and son drowned in saltwater, the mother left comatose by an unexplained neurotoxin—the novel immediately grabs your attention. Detective Ethan Krol’s investigation pulls readers into a web of unsettling murders across continents, intricately tied to a centuries-old slave ship and the horrifying fate of its passengers.

Parallel to Ethan’s narrative is the story of Abidemi, a futuristic human navigating a contemporary Earth that feels alien to her. Abi’s mission to track down descendants of the Esperance’s captain adds a layer of sci-fi intrigue, seamlessly integrating elements of advanced technology and alternate worlds. Abi’s strange electronic devices feel almost mythic, blending her connection to the past with the high-tech future she represents. As her path converges with Ethan’s, the narrative builds to a tense crescendo that spans Chicago, Rhode Island, and Edinburgh, ultimately culminating in revelations about a planet called Ibi Aabo—a home to the descendants of those the Esperance’s captain so cruelly discarded.

What struck me most was the ambition of Oyebanji’s world-building. The concept of Ibi Aabo and the hauntingly poetic notion of a planet populated by the descendants of enslaved people resonates deeply. It’s a premise that could easily become heavy-handed, but Oyebanji balances the speculative with the personal, grounding the narrative in Abi’s and Ethan’s dogged pursuits.

However, I found some aspects lacking the depth they deserved. The racial and historical themes—so central to the novel’s core—felt underexplored at times, almost overshadowed by the fast-paced plot. Ethan’s character, too, left me wanting more; his personality seemed serviceable to the mystery but lacked the complexity to make him truly memorable.

That said, the novel’s brisk pacing and binge-worthy intrigue more than compensated. Oyebanji keeps the reader hooked with sharp twists, compelling stakes, and the unrelenting question of how history’s ghosts manifest in the present. While not a lyrical read, the writing is crisp and functional, serving the plot’s intricacies without distraction.

Ultimately, Esperance is a thrilling exploration of intergenerational trauma, justice, and the lengths to which vengeance can stretch across time and space. For readers who enjoy genre-blending stories with high stakes and deep ethical questions, this book will not disappoint.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of genre-blending mysteries, readers intrigued by speculative fiction tied to historical trauma, and lovers of high-stakes, fast-paced narratives with a touch of sci-fi.

🔑 Key Themes: Historical Reckoning, Intergenerational Trauma, Justice and Vengeance, Racial Identity, Futuristic Technology, and the Legacy of Slavery.

Audre Lorde’s Sister Outsider is a masterclass in weaving the personal and the political, urging readers to confront systemic oppression while embracing the liberatory power of difference. From the opening essay, “Notes from a Trip to Russia,” Lorde sets the tone for her incisive reflections on power, freedom, and interdependence. Her exploration of how racial and gender dynamics differ between Russia and the United States invites a nuanced consideration of how systemic oppression manifests globally. The essay’s commentary on "civilized" standards as an American export is particularly thought-provoking, linking cultural imperialism to anti-Black racism in the U.S.

The collection is anchored by Lorde’s insistent call for intersectionality and solidarity, as she dismantles the myth of scarcity in freedom. In “Sexism: An American Disease in Blackface,” Lorde critiques how racism and sexism fracture solidarity between Black men and women, underscoring the need for collective liberation. Her sharp critique of white feminism in “An Open Letter” demands that white women confront their privilege and align themselves with Black women, no matter the discomfort or cost.

Lorde’s reflections on self-definition are among the most poignant in the collection. By insisting on the importance of verbalizing one’s identity, she highlights how reclaiming the narrative of self is a powerful resistance to oppression. Her essay “The Uses of Anger” remains a rallying cry for listening to Black women’s voices, even when their words are laced with anger—especially then. Anger, Lorde argues, is transformative, a tool for illuminating injustice and building solidarity.

Lorde’s prose is at once poetic and rigorously intellectual, merging personal anecdotes with a broader critique of systems like racism, sexism, and heterosexism. Her reflections on the transformative potential of emotions—anger, vulnerability, joy—are beautifully encapsulated in her assertion that feelings can serve as sanctuaries for radical ideas. Her definition of the erotic as a means of living fully and acutely resonates as a profound reimagining of empowerment and connection.

The collection is unflinching in its critique of the forces that divide us. Lorde dismantles the false notion that freedom is finite, urging oppressed peoples to abandon internalized hierarchies in favor of unity. Her reflections on collective care, particularly in relation to children, struck a deeply personal chord. As someone passionate about valuing and empowering children, I found her commentary on non-normative parenthood deeply affirming.

Ultimately, Sister Outsider is a call to action: to embrace difference as a dynamic force for liberation and to work collectively toward a world where no one is free until all of us are free. This timeless work is an essential read for anyone committed to social justice, intersectionality, and building a better, more equitable world.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who appreciate incisive and poetic prose, those committed to intersectional feminism, anyone passionate about social justice and collective liberation, fans of bell hooks and Angela Y. Davis.

🔑 Key Themes: Intersectionality and Solidarity, The Power of Anger, Self-Definition and Expression, Embracing Difference, Collective Care and Liberation.

Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor’s How We Get Free: Black Feminism and the Combahee River Collective is an engaging and incisive exploration of the legacy of Black feminism and its radical contributions to liberation movements. While not my first exposure to Black feminism, this was my first introduction to the Combahee River Collective (CRC), and I was immediately struck by the depth and clarity of their analysis. Their insistence on addressing the interlocking oppressions of race, class, and gender provides a powerful framework for understanding systemic oppression—and how it persists under capitalism.

One of the most compelling aspects of the book is its articulation of solidarity. As the CRC poignantly states, “Solidarity did not mean subsuming your struggles to help someone else; it was intended to strengthen the political commitments from other groups by getting them to recognize how the different struggles were related to each other and connected under capitalism.” This redefinition of solidarity as relational and mutually reinforcing, rather than hierarchical, offers a roadmap for coalition-building today. The interviews with Barbara and Beverly Smith amplify this ethos, as the sisters reflect on the power of community as both a source of resilience and a catalyst for organizing. Beverly’s words, “I didn’t give up political work because I didn’t want to be an activist. I gave it up because I didn’t have anybody to do it with,” emphasize the necessity of collective care and connection in sustaining activism.

Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor’s editing masterfully weaves historical reflection with contemporary relevance, connecting Black feminism to anti-colonial struggles, such as the movement to free Palestine. The interviews’ raw honesty and nuanced critiques—especially Alicia Garza’s assertion that “Police are...the most visible part of the state”—challenge readers to go beyond surface-level activism. This book is not just an intellectual exercise but a call to action, reminding us that abolition must aim to dismantle the entire system, not just its “most visible” manifestations.

Ultimately, How We Get Free is a testament to the enduring relevance of the Combahee River Collective’s work. Their vision—that “If Black women were free, it would mean that everyone else would have to be free”—remains a radical and necessary guidepost for movements today. This is a must-read for anyone committed to understanding and engaging in transformative social justice work.

📖 Recommended For: Readers drawn to accessible yet thought-provoking sociopolitical critiques, those interested in Black feminism's history and impact, and activists seeking insights into solidarity and intersectionality.

🔑 Key Themes: Interlocking Systems of Oppression, Solidarity Across Movements, Black Feminist Leadership, Anti-Capitalism and Anti-Colonialism, Community as Resistance.

I mostly listened to this book - part of it was read to me from a physical copy by my lovely girlfriend, and then we finished listening to it on audio together. To be honest, I didn't find much to like here. It reminded me of the film Blair Witch Project, where the majority of it is a bunch of young people bickering in the way that young people do, and it doesn't actually get engaging until the very end. By the time the world-building plot kicked in, I was so confused on why we'd spent so long on random interpersonal dynamics between the characters. There were some whimsy and cozy fantasy aspects, but they felt lost in the school bullying dynamic to me. There are definitely things here that some readers will enjoy - I just am not one of them. Big rec for people who are still in school/university!

I'm sorry, guys. I just couldn't do it. There's nothing wrong with this book. I just don't care enough about genetics. I got through 300 of the 500 pages and that was just the best I could do! Thanks to Jillian for the rec, anyways <3

While I disagree with Astrid’s obsession with categories and labels, especially where it crossed over into biphobia, this was fucking hilarious. Big rec for fans of Miranda July!

Phenomenal book, stellar audio! I love you, Cyrus! I love you, Orkideh! I love you, Zee!

While I really enjoyed the first few stories in this collection, I couldn't get past the story "Ally," voiced by a trans woman, when Nalo Hopkinson is a cis woman. Hopkinson opens the story with an acknowledgment of this discrepancy and states that she chose to write the story to show her support for trans people. I didn't enjoy the story itself, and you never need to appropriate someone's voice or experiences to stand in solidarity with them. I tried to keep reading past "Ally" but found my experience of the other stories was tainted by my distaste for "Ally" and Hopkinson's choice to voice a trans person when she is not one. As such, I chose to stop reading this book at 47%. 

Thank you to Algonquin Books for the gifted ARC! This book was released in the US on November 12, 2024.

Nayantara Roy’s The Magnificent Ruins is a lush and evocative exploration of family, identity, and the weight of inherited legacies. The novel follows Lila, a conflicted and compelling protagonist, as she returns to India after her grandfather’s death to claim an ancestral home brimming with secrets and tensions. The narrative is steeped in sensory detail and rich cultural commentary, weaving Lila’s personal quest for belonging with broader examinations of colonial history, gender roles, and generational trauma. With its lyrical prose and intricate emotional landscapes, Roy’s writing invites readers to linger on the unspoken and the unresolved.

At its heart, the story examines the fractures within a family shaped by dysfunction and unaddressed pain. Lila’s relationship with her estranged mother—defined by silence, resentment, and cultural constraints—is central to the novel’s exploration of maternal legacies and the complexities of mental health in a context that discourages open dialogue. The ancestral house, decaying yet steeped in history, becomes a vivid metaphor for the family’s unresolved past and the struggle to rebuild amidst entrenched conflict. Themes of belonging and identity are woven throughout, as Lila grapples with her dual cultural heritage and the tension between modern independence and traditional expectations. Roy also engages deeply with systemic issues like colorism and patriarchy, adding layers of complexity to Lila’s journey.

While the novel’s themes are impactful, its execution stumbles in places. The inclusion of a love triangle feels tangential, detracting from the central narrative’s emotional weight. The multiplicity of conflicts—family disputes, social critique, and a rushed exploration of abuse—creates a sprawling narrative that struggles to maintain focus. The perspective shift in the novel’s conclusion feels abrupt and disjointed, leaving the resolution of key storylines unsatisfying.

Roy’s prose is undeniably lovely, and the characters are fully realized, making their struggles and desires deeply resonant. However, the novel’s pacing issues, an overly ambitious narrative scope, and a jarring use of the R-slur at its conclusion mar an otherwise poignant reading experience. While The Magnificent Ruins offers a thought-provoking meditation on identity and inheritance, these flaws ultimately lowered my rating to 3 out of 5 stars.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy introspective and lyrical prose, those interested in generational family dynamics and cultural heritage, anyone drawn to stories of belonging and identity, fans of Jhumpa Lahiri or Arundhati Roy.

🔑 Key Themes: Belonging and Dual Identity, Generational Trauma, Colorism and Patriarchy, Family Loyalty and Conflict, Cultural Heritage and Legacy.