just_one_more_paige's reviews
1457 reviews

From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

adventurous emotional mysterious medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? No
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

2.0

Look. I’m sorry. Well, I’m not. But. I have alwaysssss had a soft spot for this romance fantasy stuff, even before it had a cool “romantasy” moniker and #booktok “discovered” it. Call me hipster emo about it. I accept. Anyhoo, pluses and minuses there. The popularity has made it easier to find lots of books in the genre, so there’s always a new one when I’m in the mood. Buttttt, the quality is definitely always a grab-bag situation. And this one definitely fell into the “pushed out too fast and not enough editing” category. Altogether too bad, both because I wanted something better, but also, I read another series from Armentrout years ago (the Lux series) and I remember it being much better written, so my hopes were higher.

Basically, this couldn’t find the line of originality versus proven classics. It was halfway familiar names (people and places), paranormal creatures (werewolves and vampires), and the general chosen one bringing down an oppressive governmental situation. But it did it poorly. It was not nearly different enough, but wouldn’t just accept that it’s the same as everything else (and go with it because that’s what the people want). Plus, literally nothing was explained. I’m here for not starting with an info dump but like halfway through I still didn’t feel like I understood anything that was going on/building (even stuff that Poppy does know, tbh, as I realize she’s in the dark on some things so it makes sense that those are unclear to the reader too).

Ok and then there is Poppy and Hawke. That main couple build is usually something I love, but it’s SO uneven. Their interactions seem anachronistic to the rest of the story unfolding around them. And I wanted to fall into them, but the way Hawke acts is just…too far bad, not respecting Poppy like at all (other than her “violence” being so “intriguing” to him), and it just never got to a point where I was comfortable enough with the “dark hero” figure he cut to get past it and actually fall. It’s an unhealthy trope to begin with, so I always feel a little bad liking it, but this just…was so bad that I never really could.

And the plot development and Poppy’s story are just similarly, under-development, with no nuance, and just, also bad? Yikes. Some of the most confusing, uneven, poorly edited writing I’ve ever read.

The Z Word by Lindsay King-Miller

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dark emotional funny reflective medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? No

4.0

This book came at me from all sides - an early physical copy from the library and an audiobook ALC from Libro.fm - and honestly this summer has been so much busier than normal (which is to say, way busier than I have wanted it to be), so, a quirky queer zombie novel felt just right. The vibes from the cover and description had me in mind of a B-level horror flick and with that in mind, this novel delivered.

A bit estranged from her family, recently broken up with her ex-girlfriend, and trying to find a new path and community in life after moving to San Lazaro, AZ, Wendy's life is a bit messy. When Pride events that should have been fun, celebratory escapes turn deadly as an infection that is turning people into mindless, violent husks seems to be spreading, Wendy's life gets even messier. What to do? Well, try to stop the zombie outbreak, I suppose. Together with a small group of other queers - "drag queen Logan, silver fox Beau, sword lesbian Aurelia and her wife Sam, mysterious pizza delivery stoner Sunshine, and, oh yeah, Wendy’s ex-girlfriend Leah" - she jumps into tracking the outbreak to its source and trying to save Pride, the community, and their lives.

Oh this was messssssyyyyyyy, in all the ways: relationships, sex, life choices, blood and violence, drama. Big yes. That's what I was looking for. It was absurdist, but in a good way. There was so much gore and body horror and death, and all the apocalypse staples of homemade weapons and souped up cars and chaotic fight scenes. And the pizza van situation gave me real horror-humor s4 Stranger Things vibes and I didn't hate that at all. I also enjoyed, and got similar vibes from, the everyday things that still happened/needed to happen during a zombie apocalypse (like getting Plan B and making coffee). It was just wild the way that things ended up so out of control, and fairly quickly, and like, not a single single character acted more surprised by the descent into chaos and violence from regular people/people they know, definitely played into those absurdist vibes. I feel like IRL, I (or just people in general) would step back and be like, "this is abnormal and wtf is going on?!" much sooner. Then again, the world is kind of falling to pieces, so maybe not...

Outside of the spot on horror-humor vibes, the plot was simple but held up. I guessed pretty early what the source of the outbreak was, but even with that it was entertaining to read through the "how" and "why" of it. Really, a solid, if ridiculous, commentary on capitalism and corporate greed and the blinders that those who have high ambitions can have. There were some basic, convenient aspects to the wrap up, but it was smooth, so it felt alright. And I actually did really appreciate the open-endedness of the ending (there is no way something this messy gets wrapped up quick and easy). That, and the fact that the author honestly acknowledged on-page that there wasn’t time to process the trauma, because it kept happening, were both well done and necessary for me to swallow the story (even bizarre as it was). I also want to mention the interesting, kind of off-the-wall, but also weirdly serious, moral questions about killing zombies, especially knowing there’s an antidote (while killing zombies). It presented a sort of ludicrous morality that really fit the vibe and also actually felt like it carried a real message. An unexpected and pleasant surprise.

Overall, the dramatics of this novel were perfect. It was such a funny, weird, entertaining, offbeat, queer, character-driven, zombie-horror story.

Content Warnings

A Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ Charles

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adventurous emotional funny lighthearted medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

4.0

Alright, I read The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen a few months ago and had so much fun with it: the adventure, the romance, the smart dialogue. It was great. So when I was looking for a summer relaxing read for a beach weekend recently, this sequel felt like just the right thing.

A Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel is set some years after Country Gentleman and follows a favorite young character from that story: Luke. When Major Rufus d'Aumesty becomes the Earl of Oxney, now in charge of deeply mismanaged manor on the edge of the infamous Romney Marsh, a position hotly contested by his greedy uncle/extended family. Enter Luke Doomsday, a trained secretary and expert schemer (having grown up as part of the infamous Doomsday smuggling clan). While the two should be natural enemies, Luke is cocksure and engagingly competent, which is exactly what Rufus needs right now. And Rufus turns out to be the exact personality and support that Luke cannot resist...though that isn't quite enough to dissuade him from his private goals, the ulterior motive that drove him to work at Stone Manor to begin with. As the lies and family secrets grow, they threaten to destroy the budding relationship between Rufus and Luke, and the two must decide once and for all what is most important to them.

This sequel had so many of the things (the adventure, the romance, the smart dialogue) that I loved about the first, but managed to present them in a completely separate and unique way. Let's see. First and foremost, I loved the writing, the banter especially. It's this short and choppy back and forth that is so smoooooooth and perfect for these characters. The bluster of the two, each in their own way, mixed with the smooth wordplay, is honestly a mix I’ve never experienced and maybe wouldn’t expect to like (Rufus’ vibe isn’t quite my personal romantic-interest style) but honestly I really enjoyed it. And on a more serious relationship note, this connection between Rufus and Luke, the similarity of family abandonment (but then being taken in by other/better family) and physical/educational disability, as it were, is making for some quite touching bonding before they even realize that’s what’s happening. My heart was so soft for it.

Just in general, I was happy to see more from Luke, as he grew into his own and did the difficult work of coming to terms with his complicated and traumatic family history. While it was a really heartbreaking situation, it was also truly compelling character development. Luke’s plans to "show" everyone, and how it ended up being so convoluted and bound up in youthful trauma and conflicting and nigh on impossible to explain his motivations, is so very REAL...and a very good argument for why mental health care is so important and necessary and that it’s been that way forever only people didn’t recognize it as such (still don’t, in many cases). Watching the way Rufus handles Luke, helps him open up and figure a way to move on that works for him individually, and opens up his own self in vulnerability to let Luke in…I mean, oh my heart.

As to other aspects of the novel, by just two chapters in, I had guffawed like four times (I would say giggled, as that’s likely more accurate to the sound I made, but guffaw fits the vibe of the book better) because Charles just has that way with her writing. And the setup and interactions lend themselves to hilarity; I always love when the stuffy gentry get shown up by their own rules/propriety and bullshit, so satisfying. (As the story went, and we saw Rufus' family get worse and worse in their actions, my satisfaction in their "losses" just got stronger and stronger.) Speaking of them, they were sooooo bad. Charles writes a fantastic IRL villain, a regular old person that just has no redeeming qualities, and that makes them worse than an overexaggerated-style "big bad." There were also some other great side characters, like Rufus' cousins(?) Odo and Berry, who had some of their own nuanced personalities and development throughout the novel. And it was lovely to revisit Gareth, too. Oh, and I can't forget to mention: the spice was verrrry nice.

The greater plot around Luke's secret/ulterior motives, the drama of who actually is the Lord of Stone Manor, and the culminating treasure hunts and reveals and dramatic life-saving rescue of the finale, all just made for a truly entertaining story. And I loved the way it wrapped up! The difference between ethics and morals, the lawful right versus what’s right in reality, is a thing I love about the "outside the law characters" (the Doomsday’s in this case, and as seen in some other quality historical romance, like The Queer Principles of Kitt Webb and/or fantasy with a grey hero, like The Mask of Mirrors or the Six of Crows duology.)

I just had so much fun reading this, just like I did with the first, and will absolutely be picking up more from K.J. Charles.

“But even if you weren’t fully aware of what was happening at the time, it will have been there - the fear of power, and hostility. Knowing you have been abandoned and could be again. Feeling you should be a part of something but you aren't. [...] When people are frightening, you want to please them. [...] Certainly, it's harder to oppose them.”

“It’s very hard to be out of your accustomed place.”

“Tell me you’ve thought of oil. / In my pocket. / Absolutely engagingly competent.” (Idk, for some reason this exchange encapsulated Rufus and Luke and it got me, I loved it.)

“He’s that way, Luke. Aunt Sybil says he's hard to love but it's not true. What's hard is making him see it when you do, because he's already decided you don’t.”

Content Warnings

Family Lore by Elizabeth Acevedo

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emotional reflective medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? No

3.0

I have read a few of Acevedo's YA novels (in verse and prose), The Poet X and With the Fire on High. And they were both phenomenal. And so, I was really excited to pick this, her first adult novel, up.

Here's the blurb from Goodreads: "Flor has a gift: she can predict, to the day, when someone will die. So when she decides she wants a living wake--a party to bring her family and community together to celebrate the long life she's led--her sisters are surprised. Has Flor forseen her own death, or someone else's? Does she have other motives? She refuses to tell her sisters, Matilde, Pastora, and Camila. But Flor isn't the only person with secrets. Matilde has tried for decades to cover the extent of her husband's infidelity, but she must now confront the true state of her marriage. Pastora is typically the most reserved sister, but Flor's wake motivates this driven woman to solve her sibling's problems. Camila is the youngest sibling, and often the forgotten one, but she's decided she no longer wants to be taken for granted. And the next generation, cousins Ona and Yadi, face tumult of their own: Yadi is reuniting with her first love, who was imprisoned when they were both still kids; Ona is married for years and attempting to conceive. Ona must decide whether it's worth it to keep trying--to have a child, and the anthropology research that's begun to feel lackluster."

There were a lot of narrative voices in this novel. We heard from Flor, and all her sisters, as well as her daughter Ona and niece Yadi. And normally I appreciate this style of storytelling, but in this case, I found it to be rather confusing. There was a lot of jumping around both in whose perspective we were in and what time period (look back/past or present-day). Plus, there were some snippets that were "interview" style, as Ona was working on her anthropological research and was conducting recorded conversations with her family members. And, in the time honored tradition of families everywhere (especially female family members and, not from personal experience but definitely what I've gleaned from literature, Latin(a) family members), there is quite a bit of talking about each other. All that to say, I really did struggle to follow who was who. and who was narrating. and what was happening to who, and when it was happening to them. I did eventually settle, mostly, into the narrations and characters connections, but this is definitely not a novel one can passively read (or listen to, in my case...of note here, the audiobook narrators were fantastic).

One aspect I was really impressed by, and that should come as no surprise considering Acevedo's reputation, was the absolutely gorgeous writing. You can tell her background in poetry from the deftness of the wordplay and flow and the rhythm in the writing. So smooth, so good. I also am always here for a classic Spanish/Latin literature vibe of intergenerational family with abilities that border on magic (magical realism). In the vein of Like Water for Chocolate and anything from Garcia Marquez, this hits. But there was also an irreverence to it here that I loved. The thematic threads of this book were anchored in a unique and open and creative examination of female bodies/pleasure (mostly self), including menopause and fertility and breastfeeding and masturbation and many other aspects that everyone is afraid to talk about, and therefore never see enough light/normalization. It’s a beautiful conversation about something that should always be considered that beautiful, but instead is labeled vulgar and loose. That spoke to my soul and was an absolute highlight of the reading experience for me.

On the whole though...I don't know. This novel had all the elements. I simply loved some trajectories - Yadi and Matilde in particular - and in general the way they all moved and wove together as a family, as women, and the overall message of how women support each other, but don’t always talk about the things that would actually be helpful. And yet, something was missing in the novel as a whole, some piece that would have made it great. Maybe the pacing (it felt a bit slow, surprising considering the number of characters we were following) or maybe how hard I had to work to piece everything together or maybe that the ending(s) felt a bit anticlimactic for me? But in the end, while this was a very solid overall read, it was not as special as I'd hoped. I definitely think she shines more in her YA work.

“Some things take time to cure. Candles aren’t candles until they’ve hardened in the dark and can be turned on without the wax melting before the flame can consume it. Soap isn’t soap until the lye and lather binds. Rum takes weeks of adding honey and bay leaf and wine before it can be called or served as mama-juana. Cannabis even needs darkness, to shed itself of moisture, before becoming something that will burn, heal. You’re in a curing season.”

“How do you learn to live with what will not be? How do you console yourself with the life that you have when the humans you love most are hopeful for more than you?”

“I like to think there was a time, before our mothers, and theirs, and theirs and theirs, some great-great who knew her own pleasure. A time before we were wrapped in corsets, and courtships, and the approximation of proper. I like to think we were nations of women who undulated to a music all our own.”

“We learned in the shadows, when boys who should not, did. When girls we loved loved us back, right? We learned in the big beds of other people’s parents, didn’t we? On a rare occasion, we might have even learned in the sunlight. We might have learned in the quiet. We learned as we listened to the still, to the loudness of our hearts. But not from our mothers.”

“It amazes me how few questions I know to ask, or whom to ask them of, until it’s already too late for the answers to be useful. How do lineages of women from colonized places, where emphasis is put on silent enduring, learn when and where to confide in their own family if forbearance is the only attitude elevated and modeled?”

“And I know the heart is a burial ground for memories that shame and hurt. You can visit and place flowers there and make it a tomb. Or let those things act as fertilizer and pay no homage.”

“…all of us are magic wrapped in skin.”

Content Warnings

Truly, Madly, Deeply by Alexandria Bellefleur

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emotional funny hopeful lighthearted fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

5.0

You know how, every once in a while, you come upon a book that is just perfect for you? The exact right story with the exact right characters at the exact right time? Well, other than the fact that I am pretty sure any time would have been the right time in this case, this was that book for me. I am going to say this here at the beginning and I'll probably repeat it a few times throughout this review, but I seriously cannot stress enough how much I will *never* be over this book.

Truly is a bestselling romance novelist, but between the recent breakup with her fiance (he cheated) and her parents marriage - which she has always held up as an example of a perfect relationship - her belief in love and happily ever after is facing some real outside challenges. Colin is a bit more of a realist in his outlook on relationships; in his practice as a family lawyer, he deals with a lot of divorce cases. When the two meet as guests on a well-known podcast brought in to give relationship advice from opposite ends of the love spectrum, sparks fly. Colin's advice hits Truly in her recently-soft spots and even his hotness can't overcome her defensive responses. However, a few days later, Colin reaches out to ask for a restart and after some pushing from her bestie, Lulu, a legitimately heartfelt apology from Colin, and an internal pull that she's totally pretending isn't happening, Truly gives in. With more time spent together - and realizing that he is truly an amazing guy, one that she is happier spending time around than not - that internal pull towards Colin gets stronger and stronger, harder to ignore. Truly will have to decide if she's ready to risk her emotional safety for a chance at true love, despite all her recent life experiences that upended her original belief in the concept.

Bellefleur is very much an auto-read author for me, as I have read every single contemporary romance she's published and they're all great. (See my previous reviews for Written in the Stars, Count Your Lucky Stars, Hang the Moon, and The Fiancée Farce.) Each one is uplifting and feel-good, funny and quirky, with great dialogue and wonderful steam/spice. And in particular, her fully rounded representations of bisexuality are, for me, everything. She is outspoken both in her novels and IRL on behalf of the bi community and in her efforts to bright light to bi erasure. As a bi person in a hetero-presenting relationship, that means so much. And in the case of Truly, Madly, Deeply - this was central to the plot in a way that made me feel *very* seen. The conversation Truly and Colin have coming out to each other hits soooooo hard. I love Bellefleur for giving it. And it's hard to separate that out from this review, and I don't think I want to anyways, as that's so much a part of the book's wonderfulness, but I do want to be transparent about it.

Anyways, oh my goodness this was magical! By only five chapters in, I was grinning ear to ear at this combative flirty dialogue, the sexual tension, and epic back and forth banter-arguing. I cannot with how much fun I had with it (as Lulu said, it was better than pay per view). For me, this book was entirely centered around Truly and Colin. I mean, I loved Lulu as a bestie and Caitlin as Colin's sister. Fantastic and fun side characters. And there were low key some other plot things happening, like Colin's shitty family and Truly's parents separation (and her plan to get them back together), which were fine (nothing special, but you know, a good story needs multiple aspects). But mostly, Truly and Colin were *it,* and those other pieces added just enough to see how perfect they were together in the ways they supported each other through moments they couldn't deal with alone.

Let me break down all the things I loved. First of all, is anyone else picturing Colin as Steve from Stranger Things? I mean, look at the cover art. It cannot just be me. And the personalities fit...it's that saucy-irreverent, but still totally sweet/soft/sincere shit, and it really presses all my buttons. Love them both. Plus, here, the deep dives into random topics, spouting off like a wiki article, that’s what my IRL man is like and I roll my eyes, but I love it...so that's only making Colin hotter. And it's not just his genuine desire to be safe and respectful of Truly, nor his clear attraction to her physically, nor the perfect mix of heartfelt and [lightly] contentious verbal sparring throughout (though it's all those things too). But the spicy scenes hit exactly right for me too, tbh. I don’t usually like dirty talk, it often seems forced or awkward when I'm reading it, but Colin’s monologue about what he’d done thinking about Truly…I mean, PHEW. Which is then followed up by a raspy voice (I love a raw-rough-needy, struggling to maintain control, voice) and a “rough pull closer” to finally kiss and break the sexual tension: perfection. I SWOON. Later too, there's a small thing that comes up, possibly not something most readers will really register even. But for me? The hand at the neck (Colin's at Truly's neck) that would normally make one feel terrified because it’s so vulnerable, but the right hand, from someone you know treats you gently, is different, touching something deep and primal. I honestly don't know how Bellefleur is doing it, but she’s hitting ALL my notes, even the smaller ones, in a way I don't remember a romance doing before. Anyways, all that to say, Colin is basically the perfect man.

Random final notes. First, this book also managed to include some lovely romance tropes, while avoiding my least favorites: miscommunication and the forced third-act breakup. Not having those two here was icing on an already pretty spectacular cookie cake. Second, as always, the oblique references to Bellefleur’s other books/characters (Fiancée Farce, for one, if I’m not mistaken) - a theme throughout all her Seattle-based novels, is something fun that I enjoy spotting while reading.

Look y'all. I devoured this book. It was perfect for me and, to end where I began, oh my fucking god, I will NEVER be over this book.

“But disagreements are natural. Normal. [...] But peace doesn't mean the absence of conflict. That's not realistic. It's about being able to have those inevitable disagreements without being contemptuous or defensive.”

“With anyone else she might've considered the moment broken, but with him it just felt like turning to the next page in a book she'd never read. A book she;d left lingering on her nightstand for weeks, picking it up and putting it back down, her hopes for it so high she feared there was no earthly way the reality of it could live up to her expectations, too afraid she wouldn't like the ending.” (If that isn’t the most relatable book nerd romance shit I’ve ever read.)

“Love launched ships and started wars and inspired sonnets and drove people to madness. Love was heaven and hell, sin and redemption. It was as real to her as any other force of nature, hurricanes and earthquakes and lightning storms and meteor strikes. It fascinated her as much as it terrified her as much as it humbled her and - [....] Love had to be enough. There was no point if it wasn’t.” (Like if there weren't enough signs and reasons that this book was everything for me, I literally have a tattoo that says "love is enough." UGH.)

“I happen to be wildly in love with you. Isn't it obvious? You fucking own me, Truly.”

Content Warnings

Raiders of the Lost Heart by Jo Segura

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adventurous emotional funny lighthearted medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

I'm sorry, is it actually possible to see this title/cover combo and not want to give it a try? Is it? Coming from a bi millennial whose tastes run very stereotypically along the lines of "the entire cast of the 1999 The Mummy starring Brendan Fraser," I can tell you it's not. (In other news, having been inspired to rewatch Raiders of the Lost Ark during my reading of this novel, The Mummy the FAR superior movie in all ways. I don't even care how cute Harrison Ford's little smirk is, he's no Brendan Fraser. And that's not even getting into how much better the rest of the cast is, nor the much more even expertise split in the MCs nor the humor...I could go on, but you get it, I think.) Anyways back to me not being able to walk past this book on the "new" shelf at the library without taking it home with me.

Alright, this book gets a lazy blurb...here's what Goodreads says: "It’s been Corrie’s life goal to lead an expedition deep into the Mexican jungle in search of the long-lost remains of her ancestor, Chimalli, an ancient warrior of the Aztec empire. But when she is invited to join an all-expenses-paid dig to do just that, Corrie is sure it’s too good to be true...and she’s right. As the world-renowned expert on Chimalli, by rights Corrie should be leading the expedition, not sharing the glory with her disgustingly handsome nemesis. But Dr. Ford Matthews has been finding new ways to best her since they were in grad school. Ford certainly isn’t thrilled either—with his life in shambles, the last thing he needs is a reminder of their rocky past. But as the dig begins, it becomes clear they’ll need to work together when they realize a thief is lurking around their campsite, forcing the pair to keep their discoveries—and lingering attraction—under wraps. With money-hungry artifact smugglers, the Mexican authorities, and the lies between them closing in, there’s only one way this all ends—explosively."

Well, I'm falling solidly into the middle lane on this book. Some things I really enjoyed, some things fell a little short of expectation. But overall, a fairly enjoyable read. Starting with the plot, it delivered everything you'd want from a classic archeological adventure mixed with romance, but in a pretty unevenly paced way. This started pretty slowly, very interpersonal relationship focused, and it took a longgg time (or at least that's what it felt like) for the archeology pieces - digging and discovering and water rapids and a secret thief and caves behind waterfalls, etc. - to kick in. Though they were solid and fun once we got them. And the higher action items - the secret thief, a chase/knife scene, artifact smugglers and the Mexican government - were all super backloaded. Again, very fun, but a bit later in the game than I'd have liked for them to kick in.

On the other hand, the romance pieces were always forefront. Corrie and Ford were *totally* obsessed with each other, if their constant internal monologues, focused on how unfairly attractive each other was, were anything to go by. Phew. It was clear the two had years of pent-up lust/interest that needed letting out. For a while at the beginning, I was wondering if we were going to get any archeology at all, or if it was gonna be all hate-pining and sniping because they were too into their own POVs to admit how they really felt. Thankful to their friend Ethan for sticking his nose in to get them past it, at least to start. (Even if how he managed it seemed a bit more meddling than I'd expected from how his character was written otherwise.) Anyhoo, as far as the romance itself: I do enjoy a “love and hate are two sides of the same coin” style. It sets the stage for fire and fireworks in a lot of ways, and this book did deliver there. Lots of (verbal) fights, lots of tension (sexual and otherwise), and when we got to it, some solid spice.

I really liked the flip-script from the original (and more common) storyline, with Corrie being more of the adventurous Lara Croft type and Ford being a more follow-the-rules, buttoned-up character. And I was here for Corrie's confidence in her body and outward comfort/owning of her sexual life/preferences. It was refreshing and also I enjoyed how discomfited it made Ford. Lolz. However, I did really get annoyed with Ford as such a self-focused and unaware person. It's clearly a safety/comfort thing that middle class cis white men have, so in that respect Segura nailed the characterization. And as he got deeper into his mistakes and relationship with Corrie, he did spend a lot of time apologizing and learning hard lessons and working on being better, but you do kinda wish for more for Corrie than to have to be the person to walk him through shit that isn't her issue (other than her apparently unavoidable attraction to the man). Ah well, and isn't that an accurate reflection of life...

The last thing I'm going to say is that I think some of the writing could have been tightened up a bit, with more time spent on the details in what I think was seen as filler text. There was so much seesawing with the “I am out of touch with him and never think about him and he’s been disappeared for two years” and the “he a good guy and my bestie and I have all these feels about him and can’t stop thinking about him” that bounce back and forth *so* fast for whatever is most convenient for the dialogue and story. And this wasn't just between Corrie and Ford, but between Corrie and Ethan/Ford and Ethan as well. Like, a decision needed to be made about how well they knew each other, how close they were, and stuck with. This is kind of an insignificant thing if done right, but the repetitive back and forth in the indecision in the narrative made the writing feel sloppy, which does kind of suck for the reader. Solid dialogue though, which I definitely appreciated.

Overall, as I said to start, color me entertained, if not blown away, by this romance. Shout out to the Author's Note, where Segura mentions that this was born from a tweet she sent, wishing that there were more romcoms about archeologists. I agree, honestly, and love that she inspired herself to write the romance she wished to read. Slow clap for that energy.

“Because being with her, even for a moment, was worth any and all devastation that might follow.”

Content Warnings

The Wolf and the Woodsman by Ava Reid

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adventurous dark emotional mysterious slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

4.0

I was in the mood for something a bit magical and escapist, but not quite ready to start/pick back up in a longer series. This standalone novel has been sitting on my TBR shelf at home for awhile, so I decided to give it a go.

Évike is the only woman without power in her pagan village (the villagers blame her corrupted bloodline—her father was a Yehuli man, one of the much-loathed servants of the fanatical king), making her an outcast in the small community. When soldiers from the Holy Order of Woodsmen arrive, to claim a pagan girl for the king’s blood sacrifice, Évike is betrayed by her fellow villagers and surrendered. But the route to the city is deadly, and eventually only Évike and the cold, one-eyed captain are left alive. Except he’s no ordinary Woodsman - he’s the disgraced prince, Gáspár Bárány, whose father needs pagan magic to consolidate his power. Gáspár fears that his cruelly zealous brother plans to seize the throne and instigate a violent reign that would damn the pagans and the Yehuli alike and the two make a fragile pact to stop his brother. Over their journey, their mutual loathing and cooperation necessary for survival turn to affection, bonded through danger and mutual understandings of what it's like to be an outcast. However, their newfound closeness is threatened as they reach the city, and as Évike reconnects with her estranged father and discovers her own hidden magic, she and Gáspár need to decide whose side they’re on, and what they’re willing to give up for a nation that never cared for them at all.

Well, for one, I loved all the folklore and mythology that is woven into this tale. The Jewish inspiration for the Yehuli people/stories, the central/eastern European monsters/magical creatures and pagan systems, and the influx of monotheism - Christianity - as the power of the city/ruling elite that is sweeping the land (though this was by far my least favorite, personally) worked together in an approximation of history, but with a clear fairy-tale retelling style, that was familiar, intriguing, transporting and well-grounded. I actually got a lot of Grishaverse vibes from the world-building side of things, though the characters were clearly older and the politics/plot was a bit more complex, similar more to Pike's The Lost Queen series (The Lost Queen and The Forgotten Kingdom, to date). Also, Reid definitely doesn't shy away from gore and violence in clear description. There was a lot of it. And it was absolutely not light or subtle or glossed over. However, it also never felt gratuitous, but rather it just realistically fit the story as it developed.

As I mentioned, the world-building and politics were really complex and well-developed. A lot of that, I assume, can be attributed to the base this novel has in well-established folklore, as well as some real traditions and historical facts/events. Specifically, the stories of each cultural tradition, the mythology of where their beliefs and powers came from (and thus the keys to understanding and tapping into that power), were liberally woven through. Perhaps to the point where it slowed the greater story down, sure; however, while there is quite a bit of action and drama, this is also not written with a high-octane feel or pace. Once I settled into the deliberate speed and style of the writing, it fit. There were some aspects of the story were a bit confusing/unclear (as far as why they were necessary), particularly some of the choices made related to the turul, and some that were frustrating to read (in the way that, as a reader, you want to yell at the character that they're making the wrong call). Maybe they were questionable edis on the author's part, but maybe it comes down to Évike being a bit sheltered and Gáspár being timid, both due to how they grew up. Since both really never felt like they belonged, and deep down wanted nothing more than to find a space for themselves, to be needed and cared for, they had to learn some things the hard way, as they went. Sometimes, reading as a character works though all those tough lessons can be frustrating, but it was reasonable to their character development(s). So.

The conflict between belief systems - Yehuli, pagan, Prinkepatrios - was an absolute highlight. What a commentary on the many ways the same beliefs/religions can be interpreted, in actual piety and in a grotesque and dangerous imitation of that (twisted to subdue alternative POVs and minority groups, which is ridiculous if you consider how similar the beliefs actually are). *And* the way they can be re-“interpreted” to support the most convenient story/ruling of the elite and powerful is infuriatingly familiar. The bloody results of religious intolerance are shown to the extreme they deserve/entail IRL here - which is to say, horrifyingly. And hats off to Reid for the way they portray how being raised within one system/POV makes it so hard to break free and cross lines to find common ground with others, as humans, even when both parties want to. Just, quietly heartbreakingly, but the emotionality it pulls from the reader is part of what made this book so good.

Finally, speaking of that difficulty in and yearning to find common ground... The romance between Évike and Gáspár was solidly built and believable. Their development and growth towards each other was slow-paced, as it should be considering it was against both their wishes and beliefs, but keep that in mind if you are looking for a spicier romantasy vibe. It was steadfastly there and so real; it’s always the individual human connections, in this case a bond over a shared history of alienation and the abuse outcasts face (some quite viscerally, both physical and verbal), that overcome cultural prejudices. Plus, the moment Gáspár describes going to his knees for Évike had me *feeling* things. But, it was never overly present or too primary a focus of the way the plot played out.

This was a sweeping retelling, told with classic storytelling/fairy tale rhythm, and building in the respect for stories and the power therein along the way. Layering history and folklore and romance and archetypal conflicts of belief-systems, I was lulled into this world and slow-paced, ineffable vibes.

“We would have called it power, magic. They called it piety. But what is the difference, if both fires burn just as bright?”

“Can you believe in something while still running your hand over its every contour, feeling for bumps and bruises, like a farmer trying to pick the best, roundest peach? / That is the only way to believe in something [...] When you've weighed and measured it yourself.”

“When winter is one long haze of white, snow weighing down your roof and the cold lining your marrow, it is the dream of a green, bright spring that keeps you from despair.”

Content Warnings

Evocation by S.T. Gibson

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adventurous dark emotional mysterious medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

5.0

Ok, Gibson has absolutely become an auto-read author for me. After loving both A Dowry of Blood and An Education in Malice, I am down for whatever she publishes. So, I honestly didn’t even know what this was about when I first picked it up. Though let me just say, first impressions – tarot cards as chapter art and a sewn in ribbon bookmark – were *deeply* promising.

David Aristarkhov is heir to a powerful (financially, influentially, magically) family legacy. He’s been a psychic prodigy since his youth, which has helped him make his own reputation, but also caused his cold father to use his skills from an early age, with no care for David’s own wellness. Rhys is finally feeling on solid footing in his life, working on improving his relationship with his wife, Moira, focusing on his own magic-based career goals, and leaving his personal history with David in the past, where it belongs. But when an ancient devil comes to collect on an old family debt, David has no one to turn to for help, except Rhys and Moira. Despite their better judgement, the two are convinced to get involved. And over time, the three start to develop relationships separately and together that grow into something deeper and more meaningful than they’d ever expected.

Oh. My. Goodness. This book has everything I love: the mystical accoutrements of the occult (spirits, astrology, tarot, seances), a supernatural mystery related to possession by a devil/demon, simmering three-way tension (that knowing the author will turn into a full-blown poly situation), a complex history of connection/relationships, low key secret societies, great dialogue. I mean, a book could not be more tailored to me as a reader. And I loved every single moment of it.

The writing was easy, smooth and compelling. As I said, the dialogue was fast and smart, which is a huge winning aspect for me. The plot was interesting and well-paced. I am always a fan of deals-with-the-devil. The creativity in said deals the ways that both sides can always find a loophole, I just find it so fascinating and fun (that’s why I ended up so invested in Addie LaRue too). And, I thought the drama and excitement of mystery-solving and magical world-building was balanced so well with character development and relationship-building.

Speaking of the relationships…the evolution of this poly relationship is everything. Gibson is the queen of communicating the complex and layered emotions from all three parties with nuance and gorgeous genuineness. Each possible iteration of the three gets equal care and page time and depth. I loved the way they played off and with each other, helping each other grow and evolve and be more, together and individually. It’s everything I love about the potential of expansive poly love and Gibson does it better than any other I’ve read yet.

Look, I just loved these characters and this story and just, this whole book. It was everything I wanted out of a paranormal magic, poly romance, curse-breaking story. And on top of it all, the book smelled so good. I am freaking hype that this will be a series and so ready for more, as soon as possible, OMG please!

“Lots of people are afraid of being alone with themselves [...] They're afraid of what they might find out about themselves, or they're terrified that the world will stop turning if they step away from the day's to-do list.”

“When you love somebody, you only want what's real. Even if it's less pretty than that first date sparkle.”

“A life lived in close proximity to death was a complicated one, but that didn't mean it was wicked or wrong.”

“Rhys had felt a strange mix of anguish and longing, watching them wing their way around the ballroom like celestial bodies. Not jealousy, exactly. Something softer and more treacherous.” (this, this feeling - Gibson nails it)

“So, this was what real friendship was: an immovable object staring you down saying they weren't going anywhere, thank you very much.”

“I’d say that’s where magic comes from, our ability to taste extremes and choose for ourselves what serves us best. Most people, when left to make their own choices without being shamed for it, choose a sustainable middle ground between ecstasy and asceticism.”

Content Warnings

Bad Habit by Alana S. Portero

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emotional reflective medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? No

5.0

This was an ALC offer from Libro.fm last month and then I found a used copy at a local bookstore (kind of a surprise for a recent release in translation, if I'm being honest ...though a very pleasant one). That seemed like a sign from the universe to read it asap. So, I listened. And I'm so glad I did; this book may be short, but it has a phenomenal impact.

This novel, translated from the original Spanish by Mara Faye Lethem, is told by an unnamed narrator, a young trans woman, as she grows up in a working class neighborhood in Madrid. With little to no clear support for the choice to come out, the narrator's internal identity and external presentation are at odds with each other, until she finds an underground(ish) party scene in which to start to express herself. As she starts to find mentors and role models for the life she wants, her deep-seated fear of actually living as, instead of just masquerading as, her true self, becomes yet another barrier to coming out. And when she faces extreme violence, in addition to the typical everyday prejudice, she completely retreats into herself. However, frozen though she may be in that limbo as a farce for a real "life," the choice eventually comes down to finding a way to be her authentic self or letting go of life altogether. Right at the exact moment of need, a face from her youth reappears and gives her the encouragement to finally break the inertia and make her choice.

I was blown away by the lyricism of the writing in this book. And you'll see it when you get to the end, because I had so many highlighted/pull quotes. It's ridiculous. I'm just so impressed because that means there are two layers, the original and the translation, that both had to be spectacular in order to get to this gorgeous finished version. Just absolutely sublime writing. There was also a vibe to it that, at least to me, read more like a memoir than a fiction. From reading more about the author, one can only assume she pulled a bit from her own experiences, which very clearly makes the writing and story-telling stronger.

As far as the story being told, Portero truly brings the reader inside the mind/experience of a young girl experiencing gender dysphoria and depression (at the very least), within a community and context with no space or understanding of or safety for that. All the messages our narrator receives as she grows up are born of (seemingly throwaway) gender-based/biased comments (about boys being tough, etc.), creating a self-image that is incompatible with her own conception of herself and what she wants her life to be. And one shouldn't have to imagine too hard to conceptualize what effect on the psyche of a young person questioning who they are. There's no option but for that to be internalized, making her believe who they are is something they need to hide. What kind of self-worth and capacity for dreaming of the future do you think that could create? And like, in reading this, I am struck yet again by how much I just don't understand why adults are so against young people being able to express and live as who they are...like, what? Why? Anyhoo, Portero just really does a extraordinary job conveying the weight and limitations of an unaccepting society (or at the very least, not-open-minded, as she also was so tender in explaining how the narrator understood that their parents/family clearly loved them, even when they didn't understand why she was hurting or how they inadvertently contributed to that pain), on a developing young person.

The other primary thematic thread, which I found emotional and affecting in a different, though very complementary, way, explores the importance of discovering a mentor, for queer lifestyle and context and history and community. Someone who can show you that there is a place you belong. The hope and possibility that that kind of mentorship/connection can provide, a vision of an *actual* future and potential, is priceless. The couple of characters that hold that role for our narrator throughout this novel are pivotal, and I appreciate them all for tha, as my heart ached and yearned alongside our MC and hoped hard for her future.

These pages were full of such tragedy, but also (painfully) fragile hope, the kind that you cup in your hands to protect, like a tiny winged bug or match flame. Portero's voice is one of deep feeling and compassion, as she writes of the search for belonging outside of expectations, and the (mountainously challenging) internal shifts required to overcome external forces pushing one to never take the chance to find that belonging. A marvelous book.

“When we laugh wholeheartedly, we inhabit no age.”

“Women who live the way they want, who age on their own terms and wear their lives etched into their faces, are treated with pathos and mockery because they are feared.”

“I was discovering who I was through that sort of gut punch, words that lodged deep within me and were impossible to forget. Before you get the chance to define yourself, others trace your outline with their prejudices and their aggressions.”

“Boys didn’t just grow up to be men; they were initiated into masculinity, and pity those who failed, even among the finest men.”

“I searched everywhere for a language of pride and strength so that I could finally fucking explain myself, but I couldn’t locate it no matter how hard I tried.” (oh my shattered heart)

“Having grown up with the language of guilt disseminated from every corner as the only way to refer to trans lives was disheartening. Discovering one’s self should be cause for celebration; the public release from a suffocating space should be met with hugs and relief. But how can you even imagine something you’ve never seen or even sensed?”

“Women, queers, and other existences the deviated from the masculine were marked as prey in the world of malevolent men.”

“I would’ve liked to have had a similar impact on their lives, to have shared in equal exchange, but with them, I learned that we daughters are always indebted, that we cannot give back what we’re given, because that wouldn’t be natural. Our mission is to pass on what we’ve been imparted to other women, whoever they may be. I learned that genealogy, as an inherited love, is a waterfall that only flows downwards.”

“I never felt so strong and so vulnerable at the same time. How could something so beautiful, something so personal and so extraordinary to share with the world, something that vibrated with pure joy, be perceived with such hostility out there?”

“I was humiliated for not having enough grit to commit suicide, unable to reach that state of ultimate bravery that would liberate me from all evil. I felt humiliated by my absolute conviction that years of pain and pure nothingness awaited me before it was all over.” (I mean my god, how can we allow the world to work in a way that makes people feel this way?!)

“The closet had made me selfish; it tore down everything around me to build up its defenses, including lives that weren’t my own. Along the way, I abandoned those I no longer needed and those who threatened to shatter so rancorously what I’d constructed.” (But like, what if, instead, we created world where a closet wasn’t necessary, so that all these relationships could thrive?)

“The rest stayed clean because it was never used, just gathering dust, which is the breath of time settling on our things so we don’t forget it’s running out.”

“…our hardships are imposed upon us, not something we’re born with like a witch’s mark.”

Content Warnings

Briefly Perfectly Human: Making an Authentic Life by Getting Real about the End by Alua Arthur

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emotional hopeful informative inspiring reflective medium-paced

4.0

This was an ALC option from Libro.fm last month. Yes, you read that right. I listened to this within a month of receiving it; I am amazing. But for real, I picked it up that fast entirely due to a glowing review from @paigerraigerreads, so credit where it's due.

The short version of the Goodreads book blurb, which absolutely sums up the heart of the book, is: "A deeply transformative memoir that reframes how we think about death and how it can help us lead better, more fulfilling and authentic lives, from America’s most visible death doula." And like I said, that really encapsulates everything in this memoir.

In each chapter, Arthur shares with the reader how her work as a death doula was inspired, informed by, changed, or shed light on a variety of other aspects of her life...and vice versa. She gets incredibly personal and vulnerable in these pages, talking about her family's experience fleeing a coup in 1980s Ghana, her parents religious conversions and growing up in conservative white America, caregiving as her friend/brother-in-law slowly died from cancer, balancing the need to make a living/familial expectations with her own wants (which, for her many years as a practicing lawyer, leaned heavily towards the former), her varied (solo) travels and unique life experiences (the kind that result from a somewhat impetuous and spontaneous personality), and, as a major connecting theme, her struggles with major depression. And as she introduces these parts of herself, she matches them with clients she has worked with as a death doula, and the way the lessons from each have interwoven in ways that have helped her figure out how to live her own life to the fullest.

I may have misread the blurb just a bit, and didn't realize how heavily memoir this would be, so that took a hot minute to adjust to. I was expecting more of a focus on "lessons for how to live" for the general populace, based on what she's seen during her work as a death doula. And while we eventually got there, the start, at least, was mostly memoir. However, her life and travels are so fascinating that it was, even still, a quick and easy expectations-adjustment to make as a reader. Also, the writing was so personable. It's clear and well-paced and flows *and* Arthur's own voice is palpable on the page. There is nothing clinical or studied about these words; it feels as though she is really just having a conversation with you, as the reader. And that was the perfect style for the content she covers. Plus, I do love a well used swear, and she drops them perfectly.

Really, for a book about dying and other serious topics (like depression), the vibe was so comfortable and (mostly) light. I can only assume this is Arthur's personal light shining through. And it leaves no doubt as to why she has been so successful in her work as a death doula. Her ability to see the best in each person's self and eccentricity is touching and inspiring. And doing that while maintaining her own boundaries when it becomes necessary, but in a way that still allows the dying person/their family to experience dying on their own terms, is incredibly admirable. She also conveys so much infectious enthusiasm and boundless emotion in all cases. The full-bodied excitement in, jumping between and knowledge about passions - that are maybe sometimes seen as flighty until the right fit hits - is so familiar (*cough* my partner *cough*) that I couldn't help but be endeared to Arthur.

As to the expected life lessons and overall commentary on life/death, Arthur did deliver as I'd hoped. I'm just going to list out all the things that I loved, or that hit me deeply, because they're all wonderful, but also topically all over the place.

- You can’t live someone’s life for them, and neither can you die their death. You have to respect a WHOLE person, allowing them to be their full self in death (even and especially if they couldn’t in life) and respect their wishes on when to push and when not to. You must embrace the WHOLE self, the richness of truth that is celebrating a person's best parts and acknowledging/accepting when they weren’t at their best.

- Arthur’s addressing of race and inequality and culture, the way they persist in death as they did in life, is sooooo important. Death is not, in fact, “the great equalizer,” in terms of systemic/institutional barriers.

- It's hard, but I appreciate the space she made for difficult death situaions, like babies/young people, suicide/OD, violence. And I *love* the honoring of the multiple (legit) reactions to death, despite the cultural norms to "not speak ill of" them. Arthur acknowledges that dying does not make a person better or erase the pain they caused, and there is no rule that says death deserves forgiveness and grief. There are many complications in loving someone who has hurt others (or ourselves), and we deserve to grieve in whatever way we need to.

- The conversation about the ableism inherent in death decisions was fascinating. When we say things like "let me go when I can’t communicate anymore,” we dismiss that many disabled people have developed such creative ways of communicating and you are literally saying you'd rather die than live within someone else's everyday reality. I had never thought about this before and I have been sitting with it quite a bit.

- Toxic self-reliance. There's a thing I really need to do some self-introspection around. What an interesting discussion.

- Oh, the way that for all her experience working with death, Arthur talks about how she still cannot know the answers to what is in the unknown afterlife, something people (her clients, often) crave to know so badly. How do you help people through something you have no idea about. And yet, she’s so clear and up front about it, trying to guide people through it on their own, to get what they need to accept what's coming. Beautiful.

- The final chapter, in which Arthur shares her own “what I picture my death being” is profound and touching on an unexpected level.

- How often have I personally complained about, or heard others wish, that there was a person/time/place which had taught us more about how to navigate major life things (getting insurance, paying taxes, signing a kid up for school, buying a home, etc.)? Like these are things that everyone has to do, but somehow, they are never explained, nor do guidelines exist for them anywhere in common awareness. And of course, death has enough paperwork and logistics and BS that you aren’t ever taught/shown, and then are expected to know how to handle while also in the throws of grief. So, like, I love this idea of a death doula to guide through that process. And I wish that existed for other life things too...

I mean, I can see how Aruther is a fantastic death doula. Everything she communicates in these pages, she does with such a personable and endearing air, even, especially, the difficult and unknowable parts. And the "main" message, of not waiting until it’s too late to live the way you want, because life is right now (tomorrow is always a day away), is articulated and emphasized spectacularly. The experience of assisting people in getting to have the death experience they want (and allowing their loved ones to grieve without needing to focus on the checklist of tasks that accompany death) is a privilege that Arthur so clearly is passionate about and doesn't take for granted. The idea of living and dying out loud is one that will definitely stay with me, after reading Arthur's words. I had no idea that death doulas were a thing prior to this memoir, but I love that they are, and I love these insights/lessons shared with us as a result!

“I immediately wonder why we don’t make space for people to talk about the questions that lie heaviest on their hearts. Maybe because we think it is too painful to hear. […] We all know what’s going on, but no one is saying. […] When someone is dying, this evasion is a form of existential gaslighting.”

“Societally, we shun conversations about death. […] Human beings are funny that way. Our clear inadequacy and powerlessness in the face of death is a reminder of our limitations. And understandably, that is scary. But the idea of death is a seed. When that seed is carefully tended, life grows like wildflowers in its pace. The only thing in our control is how we choose to engage with our mortality once we become aware of it.”

“Mind over matter does not always produce the intended result. […] The mind is powerful. But the mind can’t do it all.”

“When we avoid children’s questions about death, we inadvertently communicate that they should shove their scary thoughts down. The ultimately reinforces a death-phobic culture.”

“And what the fuck kind of society understands the universality of a painful experience but does next to nothing about it?”

“It’s important not to conflate others’ experience with your own, because then we give them what we would want for ourselves rather than what they need.” And “For people on their deathbeds, serving their needs is all we can do.” (This whole section about empathy, and how we should actually aim for compassion – to “show up and shut up” – is fantastic.)

“I am exasperated that people believe death is the great equalizer. Yes, we all die, but we die of different causes at different rates in different ways. There is nothing equal about death, except that we all do it. Death and dying are culturally constructed processes that reflect social power dynamics – they are unequal. How we die is wrapped up largely in the intersections of our identities. […] We are not all born the same, and we do not live or die the same.”

“The capacity to hurt others, after all, is as human as the capacity to be hurt.”

“There must be a word for the grief we experience over the life we thought we should have, events that never happened, stories that didn’t have the happy ending. At every step in our path, some possibilities die behind us while others bloom before us, and in every transition, even the joyful ones, there is grief.”

“Change is a god we must bow to.”

“The true cost of anything is how much life we give in exchange for it.” (Life = Time. OMG what a point.)

“Most of us know what tickles us. We can identify activities, or parts thereof, which bring us wonder and bring us a feeling of flow and ease. And as we stumble upon new things, we know the undeniable instinct which says lean into this – to a person, an idea, a place, or a way we feel about ourselves. Yet so many of us wait to take that step toward it, procrastinating our whole lives long. We wait until tomorrow, but no one is ever guaranteed a tomorrow. The consequences for waiting can be irreversible.”

“People die from all types of things, not just illness, where we have a chance to say goodbye and regard it as a natural process of the body. All command attention, grief, softness, and mercy. And all are sacred, deserving of honor and sanctity.”

“Societally, […] we celebrate wellness and leave no space for sorrow, brokenness, grief or anything other than ‘I’m fine’ when the truth is that life is complicated, painful, and difficult. Whole humans feel a whole range of emotions, but we applaud only half of them, driving our negatively perceived emotions deep into hiding for fear of judgement. There, they are safe to fester and grow stronger, which in turn drives us to hide them more.”

“Wounds created by the dying aren’t erased by their death.”

“We leave a legacy with every word, every smile, every action, and every inaction. It’s not optional. Or legacies can be big or small. What matters is that we will all touch someone. How we do it is up to us.”

“The death of someone does not require that we forgive them is it doesn’t serve us. As long as we are at peace with the choice we have made, that’s all that matters.”

“All we know is that everything ends. Our collective death denial inspires us to behave like we can live forever. But we don’t have forever to create the life we want.”

“We can spend our lives fretting about our deaths, or we can use our brief time to sink deeper into the experience of being human, for all it entails. […] What must I do to be at peace with myself so that I may live presently and die gracefully?”

“A daily practice of being with mortality gives us the glorious opportunity to refine our priorities, redefine our values, and bring wonder and mystery to this wild ride of our unique lives.”

“This is what I wish for all of us: a life that feels like the miracle it is and a death that serves as a period on a satisfying sentence. Because we live, we get to die. That is a gift.”

Content Warnings

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just_one_more_paige's reviews 1457 reviews

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