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They Fell Like Stars from the Sky & Other Stories is a collection of short stories by Palestinian writer Sheikha Helawy, translated by Nancy Roberts. These 18 stories explore the lives of Bedouin women and girls from the village of Dhail El E’rj, the author’s homeland from which she and all the other residents were forcibly displaced by the Israeli occupation in the 1990s. The occupation is present in these stories, but it’s not the focus; rather these stories focus on daily experiences related to womanhood, puberty, love, and grief. The book explores themes of family, freedom and identity as the characters navigate societal expectations. 

 

Almost every story confronts patriarchy in some way and feels like a tiny rebellion. Most of these characters are determined and stubborn, and this feels like a form of rebellion, too. I loved witnessing these characters act out of spite, call out double standards, and stand up for themselves as they dealt with unwanted attention from men or clashed with family members. Desire is also a common theme—some characters long for home while others long for love, and they all long for the freedom to be themselves. 

 

This feminist collection is bold and provides readers with a lively glimpse into Palestinian Bedouin life. As Nancy Roberts notes in her preface, the experiences of Bedouin women and girls are rarely written about, and with this book, Sheikha Helawy has created space for their stories. 

 

Thank you NetGalley and Neem Tree Press for providing me with an e-ARC to review. 

Fareh Malik’s debut poetry collection Streams that Lead Somewhere explores depression, racism, grief and love with a tenderheartedness that captivated me. These poems, tied together by Malik’s earnestness and hope, normalize depression, celebrate love, and search for a sense of belonging. 

 

Many poems are about being a child of diaspora and it was interesting to read a different perspective on many things I’m familiar with, like microagressions and being othered for having brown skin. Malik reflects on how his experiences have impacted him and provides sharp commentary on bigotry, racism and Islamophobia. Something that stood out to me is the way he writes about brownness with honesty and softness, showing readers the beauty of brown skin. 

 

These poems also explore mental illness without sensationalizing it. Malik describes depression with sincerity and his poems contemplate many questions, such as how do you move forward while experiencing mental illness? How do you carry on when confronted by bigotry? What is worth holding on to? We find the answers in Malik’s poems about love and family. These poems are hopeful and are a bright juxtaposition to the rest of the book. 

 

By laying bare his struggles, Fareh Malik makes the reader feel less alone. This book is an invitation to be vulnerable; to lay your worries down and accept the parts of yourself that you might not like. It’s also an invitation to stay, to take a chance, and to hold on to and follow your dreams. This book is a balm for the weary, a beacon of hope, and an ode to being alive. 

The Annual Migration of Clouds by Premee Mohamed is a novella set in a dystopian Alberta ravaged by climate disasters. Everything has changed—cities and countries are cut off from each other, electricity is a distant memory, and food shortages are common. On top of that, many people are infected with a mind-altering parasitic fungi known as Cad. Reid Graham is one of the infected, and all she’s ever known is the confines of the university campus she lives in with her community. The story begins with Reid being offered a chance at a different life, but if she takes it she’ll have to leave everyone and everything she knows behind. This book thoughtfully meditates on guilt, grief, duty and family as it follows Reid as she makes her choice. 

 

At the heart of this novella is Reid and her struggle to accept how her choice will impact her community. Reid’s mom is fearful and tries to persuade Reid to stay, and this adds to the guilt Reid feels. This felt so real to me. Their relationship made me think about relationship dynamics in immigrant families and how there’s usually a lot of sacrifice and sometimes guilt, and how a lot of us struggle to leave home or make our own choices. This is why I found Reid’s internal struggle to be so compelling—it’s a nuanced and thoughtful exploration of a difficult situation. 

 

Reid is also deeply impacted by the unfairness of her world. Her grief for a world she never knew hums in the background alongside her rage for the people who broke the world beyond repair and took life for granted. This novella criticizes capitalism and colonialism so clearly, and emphasizes the importance of community as not just a means to survive, but as the only way to live. Reid genuinely cares about her community and worries about what will happen to them in her absence, but for the first time in her life, Reid also has hope. Despite her rage, she begins to imagine a different world, one in which she returns to her community and shares what she’s learned. 

 

My favourite aspect of this book is that despite being set in a gloomy apocalyptic world, it’s an introspective story, and Mohamed uses it to show the importance of community and hope. I think this novella will resonate with many people at this moment in time as we experience similar grief for the current state of the world, and like Reid, hold on to hope and work toward a better future, one in which we do not have to make impossible choices or leave the ones we love behind. 

This Book Won't Burn is out today! Samira Ahmed’s latest YA novel tackles censorship, fascism and racism through the eyes of 18 year-old Noor Khan as she moves to a small town in Illinois with her mom and sister after her dad walks out on them. 

 

Noor is grief-stricken from being abandoned by her dad. Her family moves while Noor is in her last semester of high school, and she’s hoping to keep her head down at her new school until she graduates. That is, until Noor finds out that the school board had hundreds of books, all written by queer and/or BIPOC authors, pulled from the school’s library because of “obscene” content. Enraged, Noor speaks out against these book bans but faces many challenges, including bullying, racism and violent threats. 

 

I appreciate the way this book addresses important topics. Noor’s experiences are all too real and will have you seething with anger. Samira Ahmed does a great job of getting to the root of the matter and calls out fascism and bigotry through Noor as she encounters it. Noor and her friends are smart and they fight against the school board by starting a book club for students to read banned books. They want to make a positive change in their community, and they advocate for the freedom to read what they want. 

 

Noor is brave and full of fury, but she’s also allowed to be scared. It was wonderful to see Noor be supported by so many friends, including her sister, Amal. Amal is a great contrast to Noor and I love their relationship. 

 

However, as much as this book is about book bans, it’s equally about a love triangle and I found this distracting. Not to say that it’s unnecessary—I think connecting with a love interest offers Noor a chance to grow and soothe her grief. But Noor doesn’t grow all that much until the very end of the book. One of the love interests is a white “ally” and there’s too much focus on him which was grating for me to read. I wish there was less focus on him but it’s through this character that the author makes points about white privilege and allyship, which are also important topics to discuss. 

 

I think I would have enjoyed this more if there had been less focus on the love triangle and more focus on the family. Noor’s relationship with her mom is strained, and I think the book would have been stronger if this relationship had been explored further, especially since Noor mentions several times that she is who she is because of her parents’ activism. 

 

That said, I’m not the target audience for this book and actual teenagers will probably enjoy it more. I think this book includes important and powerful messages that will resonate with teens who have been through similar situations. It may even help students feel less alone as they experience this bigotry firsthand. 

 

Ultimately, this book is about standing up for what you believe in, which is more important now than ever as we witness the rise of fascism and experience the consequences of it in our daily lives, not to mention the multiple genocides occurring around the world. 

 

I’ll leave you with two quotes that are especially relevant to today: 

 

“Reading is dangerous because it shows us the truth. Words give us power; that’s why some adults want to silence us.” 

 

“Fascism wins when we let others manipulate the truth. When we accommodate their lies. When we are silent.” 

 

Thank you Little, Brown & Company and NetGalley for providing me with an e-ARC to review. 

“For there to have been a victim 

A crime must have been committed 

 

A crime was committed 

 

What am I, wherever I go, if not somebody’s 

forever-victim 

forever-coolie?” 

 

Shani Mootoo explores ancestry, connection and belonging in her newest poetry collection Oh Witness Dey!. This book is a love letter to Trinidad, and a tribute to indentured Indian ancestors and their descendants. These poems take readers on a journey from the beginning of the cosmos to present day as Mootoo explores her history and searches for where she belongs. 

 

In Mootoo’s journey to understanding her ancestry, she offers readers an overview of the history of colonialism. She interrogates the historical figures involved in colonizing the Caribbean and holds them accountable. These poems are bold and scathing as Mootoo asks the reader to consider the systems of oppression that have shaped humanity and our own complicity in them. This book discusses the impacts of colonialism, imperialism and capitalism on the world, and the author tries to make sense of history while reckoning with the realization that she wouldn’t be who she is today without colonialism. 

 

This collection also meditates on the meaning of inheritance and authenticity. Indo-Caribbean people are often viewed as “not Indian enough” and our ancestry is often questioned. Mootoo reckons with this, too. To be proud of being Caribbean and simultaneously mourn the cultural connections you’ve lost is a complex feeling common among the Indo-Caribbean community, and Mootoo explores this with a loving vulnerability. 

 

My favourite aspect of these poems is the way Mootoo calls attention to the small ways indenture has shaped our lives. This is something I notice in all the Indo-Caribbean poetry I read and I admire how each poet has a unique approach to addressing this. Searching ship registries for our ancestor’s names, losing our mother tongues, having misspelled last names, and feeling disconnected—these things are a part of our history and they are a part of us. Mootoo explores these ripple effects with earnestness and care, and gives love to her ancestors and herself. 

 

This book deeply resonates with me as an Indo-Caribbean person. It’s a fantastic addition to the growing canon of literature by descendants of indentured Indian labourers. Highly recommend to readers who enjoy the works of Gaiutra Bahadur, Rajiv Mohabir, Shivanee Ramlochan, Danielle Boodoo-Fortuné, and Natasha Ramoutar. 

 

This book is out today! Thank you Book*hug Press for providing me with an e-ARC to review.