bisexualbookshelf's reviews
692 reviews

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!

In Woman of Interest, Tracy O’Neill offers readers an introspective and haunting memoir that navigates the complexities of adoption, identity, and the relentless search for self-understanding. At its core, the memoir documents O’Neill’s journey to find her Korean birth mother, a quest that she embarks upon in her thirties after a lifetime of being raised by her American adoptive parents. This search, catalyzed by the looming threat of the COVID-19 pandemic, reveals itself to be as much about reconnecting with her birth mother as it is about rediscovering parts of herself long buried under the layers of her adopted identity.

O’Neill’s writing is both philosophically reflective and creatively inventive, weaving a narrative that feels deeply personal yet universally resonant. She delves into the isolating experience of being an adoptee—how it distances her not only from her roots but also from those around her who cannot fully grasp the urgency of her need to find her birth mother. The narrative is rich with introspection, as O’Neill explores the void left by her cultural disconnection, a gap that only widens as she confronts the realities of the American adoption industry and its often exploitative practices.

One of the most compelling aspects of O’Neill’s memoir is her exploration of ancestry and lineage as fundamental components of identity. The discovery of a distant cousin through a DNA test propels O’Neill to Korea, where she hopes to piece together the fragments of her past. Her journey is fraught with challenges, from navigating language barriers to reconciling her dual identities—one tied to her natal family and the other to her adoptive one. The revelation of her Korean name serves as a poignant symbol of the intersection between language, identity, and belonging, further complicating her sense of self.

Despite the eventual reunion with her birth mother and the siblings she never knew, O’Neill finds that the void within her remains. Her memoir poignantly illustrates that the pursuit of one’s truth and lineage does not necessarily lead to closure or completion. Instead, it highlights the fluidity of family, suggesting that the bonds we choose to form can be as meaningful as those we are born into.

Woman of Interest is a layered and contemplative narrative that blends lyrical prose with sharp, analytical observations. O’Neill’s use of intricate sentence structures and vivid metaphors invites readers into a space where vulnerability and philosophical reflection coexist. This memoir is not just a recounting of events but a meditation on the complexities of identity, the struggle for belonging, and the tension between societal expectations and personal freedom.

In conclusion, Woman of Interest is a deeply moving and thought-provoking memoir that masterfully captures the intricacies of identity, family, and the quest for self-knowledge. O'Neill's exploration of her own "mommy issues" is both intimate and universal, offering readers a raw and honest portrayal of the emotional turmoil that accompanies the search for one's origins. Her journey is marked by a profound vulnerability, and her ability to articulate the complex emotions tied to adoption and cultural dislocation is nothing short of remarkable. I found myself completely engrossed in O'Neill's story, admiring her courage to confront these deeply personal issues with such clarity and eloquence. This memoir is a testament to the power of self-exploration and the relentless pursuit of truth, and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who appreciates a narrative that is as intellectually stimulating as it is emotionally resonant.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy introspective and lyrical memoirs, those interested in the intersections of adoption, identity, and cultural heritage, fans of philosophical explorations of self-discovery, and admirers of Maggie Nelson’s The Red Parts.

🔑 Key Themes: Adoption and Identity, Cultural Dislocation, Ancestry and Lineage, Self-Discovery and Belonging, Familial Bonds and Emotional Exploration.

Rebecca K. Reilly’s Greta and Valdin is a gem of a novel that captivates with its dark humor, intricate family dynamics, and poignant exploration of identity. The story follows the titular siblings, Greta and Valdin, as they navigate their queer lives in contemporary Auckland, New Zealand. Reilly masterfully captures the absurdities and complexities of modern life, from the struggle of living with mental health issues to the subtle nuances of cultural identity.

One of the novel's standout features is its humor. Reilly has a gift for crafting scenes that are both hilarious and deeply resonant. Valdin’s existential musings and Greta’s chaotic dating life are portrayed with a wit that often had me laughing out loud. Valdin’s stream-of-consciousness reflections, whether about the potential pitfalls of getting a boyfriend with a car or the intricacies of OCD, are darkly funny yet painfully true to life.

The novel’s treatment of names and identity also struck a personal chord. As someone with a culturally specific name, I found the siblings’ experiences with name pronunciation and spelling deeply relatable. The frequent need to correct or explain their names underscores a broader commentary on the importance of cultural identity and the dehumanizing effects of having it constantly questioned or mispronounced. Reilly subtly weaves this theme throughout the novel, highlighting the ways in which names are tied to personal and cultural identity, and how this can be both a source of pride and a burden.

The exploration of queer identity is another strength of the novel. Both Greta and Valdin are queer, and their experiences are depicted with a refreshing honesty that avoids clichés. Greta’s dating trials, for example, are portrayed with a mix of humor and heartache that is both entertaining and deeply moving. Reilly’s depiction of queer anxiety — the constant questioning of one's choices and the fear of not fitting in — is particularly resonant. This is especially evident in Valdin’s chapters, where his anxiety and obsessive tendencies are portrayed with a realism that many will find familiar.

The novel also delves into the complexities of family relationships, particularly the ways in which family members influence each other's behaviors and thought patterns. The interactions between the siblings and their parents are tender and nonjudgmental, reflecting a deep familial bond that is both heartwarming and, at times, challenging.

In conclusion, Greta and Valdin is a deeply engaging novel that blends humor with thoughtful exploration of identity, culture, and mental health. Reilly’s writing is sharp and insightful, making this a must-read for anyone who enjoys character-driven stories with a queer focus. The novel’s blend of dark humor, cultural commentary, and heartfelt family dynamics ensures that it will resonate with a wide audience, leaving readers both entertained and moved.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of witty, character-driven narratives, readers who enjoy exploring the intricacies of family dynamics and cultural identity, those drawn to stories with a strong sense of place, and admirers of decolonial literary fiction.

🔑 Key Themes: Family and Belonging, Queer Identity, Cultural Heritage, Love and Relationships. 

Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-First Century, edited by Alice Wong, is a powerful anthology that disrupts ableist narratives and offers a profound exploration of the disabled experience. This collection of essays, written by disabled people, not only challenges common misconceptions about disability but also highlights the rich diversity, resilience, and wisdom within disabled communities.

One of the most striking elements of this anthology is how it centers the voices and lived experiences of disabled people, making it clear that disability is not a monolith, nor is it something to be "overcome." Instead, these essays celebrate the adaptability, creativity, and strength that disabled people embody as they navigate a world structured around able-bodied norms. Wong has curated a collection that speaks directly to the importance of community, solidarity, and self-advocacy, with many of the essays focusing on the deep connections between disability justice, intersectionality, and social change.

The essays in this collection expose the harmful impacts of the medical-industrial complex, capitalism, colonialism, and racism on disabled lives, illustrating how these systems of oppression are intricately linked. In doing so, the writers dismantle the myth that disability is solely an individual burden to be carried or "fixed" through sheer willpower. Instead, they offer a vision of what is possible when disabled people are fully supported by their communities and have their access needs met. The concept of "Nothing About Us Without Us" resonates throughout the anthology, emphasizing the necessity of disabled people telling their own stories and advocating for themselves.

Among the standout essays is Common Cyborg by Jillian Weise, which explores the complex relationship between technology and ableism, revealing how technology can both empower and oppress disabled people. Last But Not Least - Embracing Asexuality by Keshia Scott is another powerful piece, shedding light on the intersection of disability and sexual oppression, and challenging the stigmas surrounding disabled people and sexual intimacy. How to Make a Paper Crane from Rage by Elsa Sjunneson is a raw and moving reflection on disabled rage and the transformative power it holds, while Six Ways of Looking at Crip Time by Ellen Samuels offers a poignant meditation on how disabled people experience time differently, urging us to rethink our relationship with productivity and time.

The final essay, On the Ancestral Plane by Stacey Milbern, is a beautiful tribute to disabled ancestors and the intergenerational knowledge that shapes the disabled community. This essay, like many others in the collection, illustrates the deep sense of connection and continuity within disabled communities, reminding us that the fight for disability justice is both historical and ongoing.

Disability Visibility is an essential read for anyone interested in social justice, intersectionality, and the power of first-person narratives. It is a collection that validates and uplifts disabled voices, offering insights that are both deeply personal and universally relevant. Wong has created a platform for disabled people to share their truths, and in doing so, has provided a crucial resource for both disabled and non-disabled readers alike. This anthology is not just a collection of essays; it is a call to action, a testament to the power of community, and a celebration of disabled lives. An absolutely stellar, five-star read that should be required reading for everyone.

📖 Recommended For: Readers interested in social justice and disability rights, those seeking to understand the lived experiences of disabled people, anyone who values first-person narratives that challenge societal norms, fans of Alice Wong and disability activism.

🔑 Key Themes: Disability Justice, Intersectionality, Community and Solidarity, Medical Industrial Complex, Technology and Accessibility, Disabled Rage and Resilience, Queer and Disability Oppression.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Provided in the book at the start of each relevant chapter!

A potential soft DNF?

A funny thing happened to me a few years ago: I love to read books that reflect my own experiences with trauma, which is why mommy issues books are some of my favorites. There was a point in my life where mommy issues books were essentially all I was reading. I was also finding myself having to pretty constantly pause my reading to vomit during these books. For some reason, I didn’t put two and two together myself, but my mental healthcare team did. My psychiatrist and therapist ganged up on me and told me I was reading too many books about trauma, physically hurting myself by inducing so much vomiting, but also limiting my healing journey by casting everything through other peoples’ perspectives, rather than just being with my experience and feelings. Since then, I’ve been limiting the books I read that might be a little too similar to my own trauma. 

The only things I knew about this book when I picked it up were that it was by Melissa Broder and it featured Jewish characters. Digging into the book, it turns out the main character is dealing with severely disordered eating after a childhood of calorie restriction inflicted by her mother. This is a big no-no for me, and I had to immediately fly out of bed last night while reading to hurl. 

I love Melissa Broder. I love her unhinged and unapologetic FMCs. I was really enjoying this one, especially the fat representation and the subtle pro-🇵🇸 vibes. But alas, the body keeps the score, and mine is saying no. Perhaps I will revisit this one when I have a healthier relationship with my nervous system. 

I’ll Give You a Reason by Annell López is a luminous debut that delves into the intricacies of immigrant life, exploring the tension between belonging and alienation, hope and despair. Through a collection of short stories set in the vibrant Ironbound neighborhood of Newark, New Jersey, López crafts an intimate portrayal of the immigrant experience, centering on the complex relationships between family members, the pressure to assimilate, and the ever-present search for identity.

López's prose is introspective and evocative, rich with vivid imagery that captures the emotional landscapes of her characters. The language is poetic, often blending personal narratives with universal themes, as in the line, “She had been so aloof for so long, deliberately monochrome in a whirlwind of colors.” This imagery paints a picture of the internal struggles that many of López’s characters face—struggles between the identities they’ve inherited and the ones they’re trying to carve out in a new world.

At the heart of this collection are the fraught dynamics between immigrant parents and their children. López deftly explores how these relationships are shaped by the clash between the protective instincts of parents and the children’s desire to forge their own paths in a culture vastly different from the one their parents know. The tension is palpable in lines like, “I was trying my best to get somewhere, to be something that’d make her journey to this country worth a damn.” These stories reveal the emotional weight of expectations and the fractures they can cause within families, while also offering glimpses of hope and reconciliation.

The Ironbound neighborhood itself becomes a character in the book, its streets and skyline providing a backdrop for López’s exploration of race, identity, and the American Dream. Through the experiences of her primarily Black and Brown characters, López confronts issues of colorism, misogynoir, and gentrification, bringing to light the survival concerns that often overshadow any sense of normalcy. One standout story, Great American Scream Machine, follows a teenage girl grappling with the realization that she is undocumented, a narrative that poignantly illustrates the precariousness of life on the margins. Another, Fake Wife, delves into the complexities of a green card marriage that evolves into something more, highlighting the nuanced portrayals of relationships that López weaves throughout the collection.

López also offers subtle but significant queer representation in her stories, adding another layer to her exploration of identity and belonging. Her characters are rich, flawed, and deeply human, their journeys leaving a lasting impression long after the final page is turned. As one character reflects, “What if life was as ugly as it was beautiful, as bleak as it was hopeful?” López doesn’t shy away from these contradictions, instead embracing them to create a collection that is as heart-wrenching as it is hopeful.

I’ll Give You a Reason is a triumph of storytelling, a book that resonates deeply with the immigrant experience while offering universal insights into the human condition. López’s characters, with their defiance and resilience, will stay with you long after you’ve closed the book, their stories a testament to the enduring struggle for identity, connection, and a place to call home.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who appreciate introspective and evocative storytelling, those interested in immigrant experiences, fans of short stories that explore race, identity, and the complexities of family dynamics, and anyone who resonates with narratives centered on the pursuit of the American Dream.

🔑 Key Themes: Immigrant Identity and Assimilation, Familial Relationships and Expectations, Racial and Cultural Tensions, The Struggle for Belonging, Healing and Resilience, Anti-Gentrification.

Jeanette Winterson’s Written on the Body is an intimate exploration of love, loss, and the physicality that binds them. The novel opens with the striking line, “Why is the measure of love loss?”—a question that resonates throughout the text as the unnamed, ungendered narrator grapples with the consuming affair they have with Louise, a married woman.

Winterson’s prose is a blend of lyrical beauty and confessional reflections, drawing the reader into the narrator’s intense emotional landscape. The natural imagery, with its flora and fauna mirroring the narrator’s internal state, is a testament to Winterson’s ability to evoke vulnerability through nature. “You are a pool of clear water where the light plays,” Louise tells the narrator, encapsulating the tender yet tumultuous relationship that drives the novel.

However, Written on the Body is not just a love story; it’s also a critique of compulsory heterosexuality. The narrator’s observations on marriage—“No one can legislate love; it cannot be given orders or cajoled into service. Love belongs to itself, deaf to pleading and unmoved by violence,”—challenge the societal norms that confine love to rigid structures. This, coupled with the narrator’s yearning for a love that is quietly fulfilling instead of deeply devastating, adds a subtle yet poignant layer of queerness to the text.

Yet, the novel falters with its fatphobic descriptions of a character named Gail. Winterson’s portrayal, comparing Gail to a strip of bacon, feels jarring and outdated, detracting from the overall narrative. This discomfort, coupled with a problematic reference to autism, casts a shadow over an otherwise beautifully written book.

Despite these flaws, Written on the Body remains a powerful meditation on the intersections of love, body, and mortality. Winterson’s prose is undeniably gorgeous, and while the plot may meander, the emotional resonance is undeniable. I would have rated this book 4 stars, but the fatphobia and ableist language lower it to a 3.75. Winterson’s writing is still worth reading, but these aspects cannot be overlooked.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who love lyrical prose, those drawn to introspective explorations of love and loss, anyone interested in narratives that challenge traditional notions of gender and identity.

🔑 Key Themes: Love and Loss, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Body and Mortality, Queerness and Identity.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!

In Asunder, Kerstin Hall weaves an epic fantasy where human lives are entangled in a cosmic struggle between two spiritual gods, the Bhatuma and the Ephirite. At the heart of this narrative is Karys, a deathspeaker bound to the Ephirit Sabaster. With the ability to peer into death’s memory and speak with the deceased, Karys navigates a world where power, survival, and sacrifice are deeply intertwined. Her journey begins with an investigation into a botched smuggling job, and what she uncovers sets her on a dangerous path, unraveling her own tether to the spiritual forces that govern her world.

Karys is a compelling protagonist—sullen, snarky, and unafraid to stand up for herself, yet deeply burdened by her circumstances. Her resourcefulness shines when her investigation takes a dangerous turn and she encounters Ferain, a dying man who offers her a “Split Lapse,” a device that can manipulate time. Karys seizes the opportunity, not just to survive but to potentially escape the oppressive forces that bind her. Their initial agreement, forged out of desperation, unexpectedly entwines their fates as Ferain becomes bound to Karys’ shadow, turning what began as a temporary alliance into something far more complex and enduring.

Hall’s world-building is rich with layers of mythology and political intrigue. The contrast between the Bhatuma and the Ephirite is sharply drawn, with Karys’ past devotion to the Bhatuma serving as a poignant backdrop to her current entanglements. The Bhatuma’s ruthlessness, juxtaposed against the rigid control of the Ephirite, creates a world where no one is truly free, and survival often means navigating morally ambiguous choices.

As Karys delves deeper into the mystery of the Split Lapse—the device tethering her to Ferain—she gathers a found family around her. Winola, a professor who becomes an unlikely ally, and Haeki, a childhood friend, join her in a quest that transcends mere survival. Together, they embody the novel’s central theme of community care and solidarity, offering moments of tenderness and sacrifice that stand in stark contrast to the harshness of the world around them.

The novel’s exploration of imperialism, religious power dynamics, and the struggle for autonomy is both timely and resonant. Through Karys’ eyes, we see the devastating impact of the Ephirite’s rule over Mercia, and the ways in which individuals and communities resist or are complicit in this domination. The narrative is interwoven with reflections on home and identity, how home can come to define us, and how hard it is to escape, should we choose to.

Hall’s characters are deeply developed, each one bringing a unique perspective to the central conflict. The dynamic between Karys and Ferain evolves from initial suspicion to a bond marked by comedic banter and mutual respect, adding a layer of warmth to the story. Their relationship, along with the slowly blooming camaraderie with Winola and Haeki, underscores the novel’s exploration of loyalty and sacrifice. 

Asunder is a powerful exploration of survival in a world where power is often wielded without mercy. Hall masterfully balances the fantastical elements of the story with the ethical dilemmas faced by her characters, creating a narrative that is as thought-provoking as it is thrilling. Karys’ journey is one of grit, compassion, and relentless determination, making her a protagonist worth rooting for. The novel concludes on an open-ended note, leaving the door ajar for a potential sequel. If there is more to come, I can’t wait to return to the world of Karys, Ferain, Winola, and Haeki!

📖 Recommended For: Fans of intricate world-building and morally complex characters, readers who enjoy epic fantasy with strong female leads, those interested in stories of found family and survival, and lovers of nuanced power dynamics and spiritual mythology.

🔑 Key Themes: Community Care and Solidarity, Survival and Sacrifice, Imperialism and Religious Power, Autonomy and Identity, Home and Belonging.

In the intro, the author mentions that she analyzes fairytales through a disability rights framework. Disability rights is different than and outdated compared to disability justice. There are gaps in the disability rights framework that ultimately still leave disabled people vulnerable to harm. Disability justice fills in these gaps. I’m not super interested in and do not think I will benefit from Leduc’s disability rights lens.

I poked around some reviews online to help guide my DNF decision. Several mentioned that this runs more memoir than analysis, which is not why I picked up this book. Additionally, one reviewer mentioned an extremely problematic chapter about sex work, which is out of alignment with my values. You can read the review here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4712421261.

I’m going to read Alice Wong’s Disability Visibility instead!

In Sensorium: Notes for My People by Tanaïs is a lyrically evocative exploration of South Asian colonial violence, identity, and the legacy of caste. Tanaïs deftly intertwines personal narrative with historical and cultural analysis, creating a rich tapestry that is both deeply intimate and profoundly political.

At its core, In Sensorium is a sensory journey through Tanaïs’s Bangladeshi heritage, using perfume as a central metaphor for self-discovery and resistance. The book delves into how scent serves as both a signal and armor for the self, revealing how colonialism has corrupted cultural connections to fragrance. Tanaïs’s prose is introspective and reflective, seamlessly blending personal and political histories to illuminate the impact of colonialism on South Asia.

One of the most compelling aspects of In Sensorium is how Tanaïs uses scent to trace the history of colonialism, describing perfumes as "little museums of the colonies." This poetic use of fragrance not only evokes powerful imagery but also underscores the deep connection between culture and scent. Tanaïs’s writing is rich with sensory details and symbolic language, drawing connections between personal experiences and broader historical contexts. The rhythmic quality of their sentences creates a sense of flow that engages the reader both emotionally and intellectually.

In Sensorium is also a profound meditation on identity and survival. Tanaïs challenges dominant narratives and power structures, advocating for the reclamation of knowledge and the liberation of marginalized communities. They write against South Asian epistemicide, seeking to unearth the femme knowledge lost to colonial violence. As they poignantly state, "Survivor stories inhabit the silences in history… Their stories are considered the degraded material in the nation’s archive, recorded in pencil. But in these memories, we uncover the evidence of grave violence unleashed on women, trans and queer people, as men fashioned the patramyth of Nation to protect themselves."

Throughout the book, Tanaïs emphasizes the duality of beauty and pain, suggesting that beauty can serve as a form of resistance and healing: "I understood why mass death made us yearn for beauty: after a genocide, beauty revives a possibility for survival." This theme resonates deeply, highlighting how the emergence of beauty is an act of survival, necessary for healing and honoring the pain wrought by generations of colonialism.

In Sensorium: Notes for My People is a beautifully crafted and thought-provoking work that offers a unique perspective on the intersections of race, gender, and culture. Tanaïs’s poetic and evocative prose, combined with their insightful exploration of scent and identity, makes this book a must-read for those interested in South Asian history, colonialism, and the ongoing struggle for liberation. By unearthing the memories and voices of femmes lost to South Asian colonial violence, Tanaïs creates a powerful narrative that is both a call to action and a testament to the resilience of marginalized communities.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy richly poetic prose, those interested in the impact of colonialism on cultural identity, anyone who values deeply personal and political narratives, fans of works that explore the intersections of race, gender, and heritage.

🔑 Key Themes: South Asian Colonial Violence, Cultural Heritage and Identity, Perfume as Metaphor, Femme Knowledge and Resistance, The Legacy of Caste, Reclamation and Liberation.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!

Hard Copy by Fien Veldman is a hauntingly introspective novel that blends dark comedy with existential dread. The story follows a young woman, working a low-wage office job, who forms an unusual attachment to her office printer. Through her conversations with this inanimate companion, she unravels the trauma of her past while grappling with the grim realities of her present. Veldman’s prose is stark and unembellished, mirroring the narrator’s sense of detachment and alienation, yet it is also deeply evocative, capturing the profound vulnerability that underlies her cynical outlook on life.

The novel is steeped in class consciousness, exploring how the narrator’s precarious financial situation and monotonous job exacerbate her feelings of anxiety and disillusionment. Her observations of the city’s contrasts—between the beauty of wealth and the grunge of poverty—highlight the societal divides that shape her internal world. Diagnosed with an allergy to stress, the narrator must constantly self-soothe, a task made all the more difficult by her bleak surroundings and the dehumanizing nature of her work. Her only solace comes from the printer, a machine she understands better than her colleagues, who pity her but fail to truly see her.

The narrative is interspersed with glimpses into the narrator’s childhood, revealing the profound impact of growing up near a pedophilic neighbor. These memories are not always seamlessly integrated into the present-day storyline, and at times, the transitions between past and present feel abrupt. However, these fragments of the narrator’s past add depth to her character, offering insight into the origins of her anxiety and her mistrust of the world around her.

Veldman’s writing is rhythmic and repetitive, mirroring the cyclical nature of the narrator’s thoughts as she processes the violence and pain she has experienced. The novel critiques the exploitative dynamics of the modern workplace, where the narrator’s job is both a source of sustenance and a contributor to her unraveling. The introduction of the printer’s perspective midway through the novel further underscores the story’s anticapitalist ethos, as the machine sympathizes with the narrator’s plight, recognizing how deeply her job is affecting her.

While Hard Copy excels in its exploration of existential themes and the psychological toll of isolation, the novel’s ending may leave some readers wanting more. Despite some uneven pacing and an ending that may not fully satisfy, Hard Copy is a powerful and thought-provoking read. Veldman’s prose is both sharp and deeply resonant, offering a candid portrayal of a woman struggling to find meaning in a world that feels increasingly alien. For those drawn to introspective, character-driven narratives with a darkly comic edge, Hard Copy is a novel likely to live in your head rent-free for weeks after finishing it. 

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy introspective and existential narratives, those drawn to dark comedy with a philosophical edge, anyone interested in stories about the psychological toll of modern life.

🔑 Key Themes: Workplace Alienation, Trauma and Healing, Class Consciousness, Existential Dread, Human Connection vs. Isolation.