Category: Read This Book

I defy anyone to look at this book and not be a little curious — it’s an audacious title, and the vintage inspired cover strikes the perfect balance. For those who don’t know who the heck Jennette McCurdy even is: McCurdy was a child actor who mostly got bit and guest roles in TV shows and movies until at age fourteen she was cast as Sam Puckett in the Nickelodeon TV show iCarly. If you are a young millennial or Gen Z, there’s a good chance you grew up watching her play the spunky best friend and then later star in her own show (alongside Ariana Grande before she hit it big.

In this memoir, which is told in short vignettes that are recounted chronologically, we learn that McCurdy was brought up in a deeply dysfunctional Mormon family in Southern California, one that barely managed to make ends meet until her acting paychecks came in. Her mom was ambitious, overbearing, emotionally unhealthy, a hoarder, and a cancer survivor. She wanted Jennette to have the life she always wanted, and Jennette wanted to make her mom happy, so she agreed to start acting and let her mom push her into these roles. Gradually, as she entered her teen years, she realized just how deeply dysfunctional her mom’s actions really were but, in denial, she went along with it until her mom’s cancer came back and she died when Jennette was 21. That was where the true work began of trying to sort through the tangle of emotions and destructive coping mechanisms Jennette had picked up from a young age as she slowly steered herself toward recovery.

Despite the title, for much of the book Jennette isn’t glad her mom died — she grows up terrified that she’ll succumb to cancer, and she’s devastated when her mother finally does pass. With a dry sense of humor, Jennette shows readers just how eager she was to please her mom, and how the entire family would get twisted up in her schemes. In many ways, Jennette was trapped and it took her mom dying to break free of both the mental and emotional abuse, but also the rigid way of thinking that had kept her compliant for so long. This is a deeply emotional, very uncomfortable, and yet very heartfelt memoir about the dangers of parental ambition in Hollywood, learning to break free of bad systems, and figuring out how to get help. It’s also really funny — sometimes awkwardly so. After all, it’s not everyone that can say they’re glad their mom died.

When I read K-Ming Chang’s debut novel Bestiary, I felt mesmerized by her prose, completely immersed in her storytelling. Now Chang is back with her short story collection, Gods of Want. Each story in this collection focuses on a woman, usually younger, trying to better understand what she wants. Usually many generations of women can be seen interacting with each other as they tell stories to themselves or other people. In one story, a young woman tells us about the antics of her many aunts. In another, a young woman swims through a flood to find her lost love. These stories possess a fairy tale-like feel while also containing elements of the grotesque. Tongues are clipped, and raccoons grow fins to better swim through flood waters.

This collection is meant to be savored, mulled over on a brisk autumn night while sipping from a mug of hot apple cider. It’s tempting to gobble them up, consume all of the stories all at once. But read that way, readers can miss the small details that make these stories shine. It’s the description of an affectionate touch or a stolen glance that draws in you in to listen to the stories’ secrets. Chang’s writing is incredibly intimate, as if we are an observer watching from the sidelines. At the same time, Chang leans into the grotesque, jolting readers attention back to the plot and the wild stories the women tell each other.

If you love audiobooks, this one is a great choice. Its all-star cast—Catherine Ho, Natalie Naudus, Elaine Wang, Nancy Wu, Annie Q—perform the audiobook, switching back and forth between stories and making sure each story feels unique. But whatever way you choose to read Gods of Want, you are sure to have a great time.

I have tried multiple times to connect with Brené Brown’s work. I’ve watched her TEDTalk, I’ve read The Gifts of Imperfection, I’ve read Dare to Lead. But as a queer Black woman, I do not have the luxury to show my vulnerability. I rarely have the privilege of safe workplaces or a safe society that allows me to be anything less than perfect, strong, and inspirational.

Tarana Burke reached out to Brené Brown to collaborate on this book to try to bridge that gap and I found it to be so much more accessible. In the introduction, Burke talks about how she would have to try to contort herself and do some wild acrobatics to try to fit into the sphere of experience covered by Brené Brown’s work. This book is an anthology of deeply personal essays by Black writers who stepped forward and laid bare their experiences with vulnerability and shame, something we are taught to never, ever do.

There are some really phenomenal voices included in this anthology: Jason Reynolds, Austin Channing Brown, Marc Lamont Hill, Luvvie Ajayi Jones, Sonya Renee Taylor, Laverne Cox, Imani Perry, and so many more. The content warnings are extensive. There are a lot of hard things talked about, from abuse and domestic violence, transphobia, drug use, houselessness, racism, and the list goes on. This is far from a light read. That being said, these are not stories of “I was vulnerable and it was the end of the world” or “my shame consumed me until I had nothing left.” These are stories about how people, Black people, found strength in their shame and how they found their truth in their vulnerability. In order to get to these places of hope and these stories of triumph we first dive deep into how the trauma inflicted on Black people in this country is ongoing. We don’t have post-traumatic stress disorder. The trauma is present and unending. The trauma is yesterday, today, and tomorrow. It is passed down intergenerationally and so is shame.

This book was so incredibly good. I’m really grateful that is out in the world so that you all can read it.

Set in 2001 in the small town of Durton, some seven hours west of Sydney, this story follows the lives of the small community when twelve-year-old Esther disappears while walking home from school. The people in her life, from her best friends to parents to parents’ friends, are all shocked and dismayed that something so alarming could happen in their town, but as two investigators from Sydney show up and begin peeling back the layers of their community and its secrets, the citizens of “Dirt Town” will find that there is far more lurking beneath the surface than they thought… When Esther’s best friend Ronnie decides to investigate the disappearance herself, it will have life-changing consequences that no one could have foreseen.

I really enjoyed this book because it reminded me of the intriguing mysteries and procedurals of Jane Harper’s work, which tends to focus in on small communities and long-held secrets, but Scrivenor’s writing has a slightly more literary bent to it. The book is told from the point of view of the investigators, one of whom is a lesbian suffering a recent break up, and from the many townspeople of Durton, including Esther’s friends. It also features a Greek chorus of the townspeople, which offer some of the most elegant and haunting perspectives on the mystery. The entire book unfolds over the course of a single summer weekend, winding between perspectives and timelines to build a puzzling mystery that suggests more than one person is responsible for a variety of crimes in Durton—but how are they all linked? The ending was bittersweet but emotionally satisfying, and I know that I would happily pick up anything else she writes! If you like small town crime mysteries, procedurals, or mysteries that are less about flash and more about mining emotional depths of a very particular place, this is a great read for you.

Set in Oakland, California, Nightcrawling is a stunning novel that proves Leila Mottley has incredible talent — how is this her debut?! And I’m not the only one who loves this book. The novel was chosen for Oprah’s Book Club and was longlisted for the Booker Prize.

Kiara’s father is dead and her mother is gone. All that she has left is her older brother Marcus. As they struggle to make rent, Kiara drops out of high school to get a job. But Marcus refuses to leave his music career to make more money, insisting that he is going to make it big. After trying everything she can think of to get the money to pay for rent, Kiara turns to sex work. But out on the street, she has few friends to help keep her safe, and she learns how to protect herself through trial and error.

Mottley writes Kiara’s character so well. Kiara possesses such a deep love for Marcus and the 9-year-old boy next door, who is like family to her. This love is the driving force behind her decisions. Kiara has few adults in her life to help her on her way, so she tries to make a life for herself the best way she can.

In the author’s note at the end of the novel, Mottley explains that she was originally inspired to write the novel when she saw a story where a young Black woman was being blackmailed by police and forced to provide sexual favors for them in exchange for not being arrested. While Mottley’s Nightcrawling is an entirely fictional account, Kiara’s story still possesses that kernel of truth.

If you love audiobooks, Nightcrawling is excellent on audio. The incredibly talented Joniece Abbott-Pratt performs the novel so well, capturing a lot of the characters’ voices so perfectly.

I am a big fan of this informational graphic novel series. These are small guides that can fit in a large pocket. This particular one is under 80 pages. The intention is to give an overview, dispel some myths and stereotypes, offer some advice, and have a few references at the end for further education.

This is a helpful book for people who are asexual (AKA ace), folks questioning whether they might be ace, and anyone who wants to understand a bit about asexuality. It is written and illustrated by folks who are ace themselves. While these things are not depicted in graphic detail, there are mentions of sexual violence, acephobia, depression, rejection and invalidation, and medical discrimination.

Since this is a quick and easy guide it is by no means comprehensive. Asexuality isn’t widely understood by most people in our society and this book wants to offer a positive exploration. The authors go over basic questions such as, “What is asexuality?” As with many things, asexuality is a spectrum and this book gives a bit of an overview of that, though being ace is different for everyone. I love how this book doesn’t make assumptions about what people may or may not already know.

There’s a fun cake metaphor that is used when describing different expressions of asexuality and I was happy to see it illustrated and included in this book. If you’re not familiar with the cake metaphor, then you are in for a treat (pun intended).

Along with general information, Muldoon and Hernandez also offer some personal shares about how asexuality is for them and their experiences. Learning about something academically is great but it is so helpful to ground what we learn in actual people’s lived experiences. There are sections on dating, growing up ace, and much more. The amount of information they have packed into this book is impressive. Most importantly, this book seeks to normalize asexuality and let folks know that they’re not alone.

You might know Lindy West from her searing and hilarious essays about culture and politics, or her adaptation of Shrill, but before she wrote about serious topics, she used to be a film critic. (Her take on Love Actually has made the Internet rounds for years!) In this book, she returns to those roots in a hilarious and irreverent review of a truly random selection of movies—everything from The Fugitive (the only good movie, apparently) to American Pie, Titanic to Lion King. Her commentary is hilarious and she gives enough of a recap so even if you haven’t seen the movie, it doesn’t matter! Just enjoy the ride.

I will say that I think this book will probably appeal most to millennials—most of the movies West focuses on are big hits from the 90’s and early 2000’s, when she was a young adult, and the essays manage to balance a hint of nostalgia with some appropriate reflection and also a healthy dose of calling out problematic material. But even when she’s pointing out problematic tropes, toxic masculinity, racism, and other questionable elements, these essays are still fun and they delight in the absurdity, making this a surprisingly reflective and insightful book about society and the movies that influenced us! I also found myself excited to turn to a new chapter to see what movie she’d tackle next. Bonus: Lindy reads the audiobook, and as always with her work, you want that experience!

By far, Easy Beauty stands out as one of my favorite books of the year. In her memoir, Chloé Cooper Jones examines ideas of beauty, creating a narrative of ideas centered around her experience as a visibly disabled woman. Jones was born with a condition that caused her to be small in stature and walk with an altered gait.

The novel begins with Jones starting her second PhD program. The scene opens with her in a bar having drinks with two guys who are also in PhD programs. They are arguing on whether or not she should even exist. She wonders how on earth she got here, where two men living in New York City feel justified in arguing about her existence when she’s standing right there.

From there, she takes us on her journey as she examines the idea of beauty, traveling around the world and interrogating her own perceptions of beauty and the perceptions of others. She visited famous art galleries, museums, and film festivals, each time gleaning something new about the many different meanings beauty can have, depending on its context.

She also examines ideas around motherhood as a disabled woman. All too often, medical professionals discourage disabled women from having children out of fears that stem from America’s history of eugenics (even when the mother’s condition isn’t genetic). This is a topic I haven’t seen tackled in books very often, and Jones does it so well. As a disabled person myself, I hope Jones’ work is a sign that we will see more disabled women write about disabled motherhood in the future.

I write a lot about disability and disability representation in literature, and I try to read as many books on the topic as I can. Easy Beauty stands out in my mind as Cooper’s understanding of society and the perceptions of beauty is so perfectly discussed in her book. She’s a messy, imperfect human being just trying to make a life for herself in a society that would prefer not to be reminded that disability — that bodily frailty — exists. But disability does exist, and it should be seen as the wholly human experience that it is.

I’m going to lead with the content warnings and there are many: sexual assault, homophobia including violent attacks, ableism, sexual molestation, more homophobia, racism, misogyny, assault, injury, isolation, suicidal ideation, fatphobia, and surely there may be some I am missing.

If you are reading this and say, “But Hannah Gadsby is a comedian, this should be funny!” it’s understandable. If you are reading this and have seen Hannah Gadsby’s special titled Nanette, then you are probably nodding your head solemnly.

This book is very much like her show Nanette. While it is a memoir and the tale of how she became who she is and how Nanette came to be, the book in itself has a very similar feel. That is to say, while reading this book I could be doubled-over, absolutely choking with laughter one minute and two sentences later feel like I’ve been punched in the face. This happens repeatedly. Uncontrollable giggles then it’s like the wind was completely knocked out of me and I need to sit because I found I was suddenly trembling. Gadsby is phenomenal at what she does on stage and it has translated well to this book, which I cannot say for most other comedian memoirs that I’ve read.

Much of the book is about Gadsby’s childhood growing up in Tasmania as the youngest of five children. She intermittently provides a history lesson on homophobia in Tasmania and Australia as a whole which colored how she thought of queer folks and ultimately, herself. She also talks about being diagnosed with autism as an adult and is able to look back on her childhood through that lens, clicking together pieces of the puzzle of her life.

Gadsby also talks about how she got into stand-up comedy and her experiences in comedy leading up to Nanette. I am fascinated by her breakdown of how Nanette came to be, how it was pieced together and grew and changed and what her intention was with it and finally, why she stopped performing it.

I cannot get over how good this book is and it is certainly one of the best books I’ve read this year.

Hani and Ishu are the only two Bengali girls in their Irish (and Catholic to boot) girls’ school. As a result, everyone thinks they should be friends, but that’s not really the case. Hani hangs with a popular crowd and Ishu is bent on studying to succeed and please her parents. But when Hani comes out as bisexual to her friends, and they don’t believe her, she makes up a girlfriend to prove her identity is valid…and then assigns the girlfriend status to Ishu.

Luckily for Hani, Ishu has her sights set on being Head Girl, which is as much of a popularity contest as it about perfect grades. And Hani can help get Ishu in with her friends, so they launch a fake dating scheme, complete with real rules, and soon find that rules can’t keep their feelings safe when opposites attract.

There is so much to love about this book—a fun grumpy/sunshine dynamic, a fake dating scheme that feels plausible, and two really heartfelt characters who are also dealing with major things in their personal lives. One thing I really admire about Jaigirdar’s writing is she manages a really nice balance of funny, rom-com writing with exploration of deeper and much more serious topics, such as family estrangement, microaggressions, bigotry, Islamophobia, and homophobia. (Heads up for all those things, although I will say the book doesn’t feel super dark.) The balance makes the book feel very real, and it also shows readers that you can be facing these very hard things, but you still deserve a romance and a happily ever after. The dialogue is funny and smart, and I love that the author shows us different layers of the Irish Bengali community.

Bonus: The audiobook is really sweet and very well done! Another bonus: Read Jaigirdar’s debut novel The Henna Wars if you love this one, and keep an eye out for her new book out this winter, A Million to One, which is a Titanic heist story!