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In Mama: A Queer Black Woman's Story of a Family Lost and Found, Nikkya Hargrove presents a compelling memoir that is both deeply personal and powerfully resonant. She courageously recounts her journey of gaining custody of and raising her half-brother, Jonathan, due to their mother’s substance abuse and eventual death, illustrating her struggle to create a safe, loving family despite the traumas that shadowed her own upbringing. Hargrove’s writing is steeped in raw honesty and a reflective depth that captures the complexities of intergenerational trauma and the harsh realities faced by families impacted by substance abuse, incarceration, and societal biases.

A central theme of Mama is the devastating ripple effect of addiction and trauma within families, especially when addiction forms as a means of coping with insecure attachments or unhealed wounds. Hargrove thoughtfully exposes how her mother’s own experiences with abuse and incarceration contributed to cycles of pain that threatened to extend to Jonathan, a cycle Hargrove fights to break by stepping into a parental role. She also examines the painful limitations of the American carceral system, revealing how it dehumanizes and harms both the incarcerated and their loved ones on the outside. Through prison visits and the lens of family court, Hargrove critiques policies that prioritize biological reunification over a child’s wellbeing, challenging a state process that, though intended to support, often inflicts further damage.

Hargrove’s memoir is also a tender exploration of her queer identity, her journey to find belonging, and the added layers of complexity in being a queer, Black mother navigating social stigma. Her relationship with Dinushka, her future wife, brings a sense of hope and healing as they create a supportive, multicultural family unit. Yet, as Hargrove faces societal scrutiny and battles for Jonathan’s custody against an absent yet persistent father, she sheds light on the obstacles placed before Black mothers and welfare recipients. Her narrative offers an unfiltered view into the stigmatization around race and class, revealing the judgments that weigh on self-worth and the courage it takes to defy them.

Ultimately, Mama is a testament to the resilience found in chosen family and the transformative power of love and community. Hargrove’s story invites readers to witness her journey of healing and, through her introspective and powerful prose, find inspiration in her fight to forge a family built on strength, compassion, and unwavering commitment.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who value raw and reflective storytelling, those interested in narratives on intergenerational trauma and resilience, fans of memoirs centered on Black motherhood and queer identity, and readers of Saeed Jones and Cole Arthur Riley. 

🔑 Key Themes: Generational Trauma, Addiction and Recovery, Queer Identity and Belonging, Systemic Bias and Injustice, Family and Resilience.

We Came to Welcome You by Vincent Tirado delves into the psychological depths of assimilation, social horror, and identity, painting an eerie portrait of suburban life as seen through the eyes of Sol Reyes, a Black American butch struggling with her sense of self and security. Sol and her wife, Alice, move into Maneless Grove, a gated community where everything from the smiles of neighbors to the rules of the HOA exudes a “neighborly spirit” that feels increasingly sinister. They buy this home partly to escape Sol’s workplace strife—her white colleague’s jealous sabotage leaves her under investigation—and perhaps as a way for Sol to find stability after her difficult upbringing. Yet, as the strange occurrences mount and her wife Alice begins to change, Sol is left questioning whether their sanctuary is a trap, built as much to keep them in as to keep outsiders away.

Tirado’s introspective and poetic writing style echoes Sol’s isolation and discomfort, blending dark humor with passages that spark an ambient unease. There’s an ongoing tension between Sol’s social paranoia, fuelled by systemic racism and a history of being othered, and the creeping horror unfolding within her own home. As her wife becomes more deeply enmeshed in the HOA’s version of assimilation, Sol becomes more determined to uncover the ugly secrets hidden beneath the surface, facing everything from supernatural oddities—vanishing stairs and cryptic warnings buried in her yard—to her own sleepwalking escapades that dredge up haunting memories and unaddressed trauma. Sol’s skepticism and snark are her armor against both her invasive surroundings and the pressures to conform in a predominantly white community that expects her to fit in.

In tackling these themes, Tirado lays bare the invisible costs of “belonging” in spaces built for exclusion. Sol's fears of being judged, or even erased, in this suburban hellscape speak to the psychological toll of forced assimilation, amplified by Sol’s apprehensions around her racial and queer identity. The book highlights the pressures of conforming to white, middle-class ideals while sacrificing parts of oneself just to survive, using horror to examine the slow decay of one’s autonomy and the fragility of identity under social scrutiny.

However, despite its compelling premise, the story sometimes feels overburdened with various subplots that don't fully converge. The ending lacks a sense of closure, leaving certain threads hanging and undercutting the novel’s carefully constructed tension. Though richly layered, We Came to Welcome You might have benefited from a tighter focus to better unify its complex themes. Nonetheless, Tirado’s haunting, socially reflective debut earns a solid 3.5 stars, inviting readers to consider what parts of themselves they might sacrifice for the illusion of safety and acceptance.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy psychological horror with social commentary, those interested in exploring the impacts of assimilation on identity, fans of haunted suburban narratives with themes of systemic oppression, readers who appreciate introspective and darkly poetic prose.

🔑 Key Themes: Assimilation vs. Authenticity, Systemic Racism and Microaggressions, Identity and Belonging, Survival and Self-Preservation, The Haunting Nature of "Perfect" Suburbia.

In Jackal, Erin E. Adams weaves a haunting narrative of suspense, identity, and unresolved trauma set against the eerie backdrop of Johnstown, Pennsylvania. Liz, our narrator, is a Black woman reluctantly returning to her predominantly white Rust Belt hometown for a friend’s wedding. What begins as a weekend marked by tense reunions quickly unravels into a nightmarish hunt for answers after her goddaughter, Caroline, vanishes. The disappearance drags Liz into the heart of Johnstown’s sinister past, where young Black girls have been mysteriously vanishing for decades. Adams’s writing is richly atmospheric and unsettling, capturing both the literal and metaphorical shadows that haunt Liz’s journey as she delves into the chilling history of this town.

At its core, Jackal explores the complex intersections of race, class, and systemic erasure, particularly through Liz’s lens as a Black woman with a fraught relationship to her roots. Johnstown’s history of socioeconomic disparity and geographic segregation looms over the narrative, with Adams using the town’s recurring floods as a metaphor for how racial and economic divides continually wash over yet shape the lives of its residents. Liz’s inner conflict, shaped by impostor syndrome and a yearning to escape her small-town origins, reflects a common struggle among marginalized individuals seeking to break free from places and histories that feel confining or even dangerous. Adams’s exploration of Johnstown’s dark underbelly not only tackles the trauma inflicted on Black families but also questions the ease with which society allows certain histories and people to be forgotten.

Through unsettling interludes and supernatural elements, Adams blurs the lines between real and imagined horror, suggesting that the violence visited upon these young Black girls is both societal and supernatural in nature. Shadows, literal and metaphorical, stalk Liz, underscoring the sense of ever-present danger Black individuals face in predominantly white spaces. This supernatural mystery symbolically ties into the larger theme of erasure, portraying Blackness as both a target and a source of resilience amid pervasive hostility.

While Jackal maintains a tense, introspective tone that grips readers, the climax’s twist on why the girls went missing felt slightly disconnected from the broader narrative, leaving some aspects underexplored. However, Adams’s immersive prose and powerful themes of resistance and survival make Jackal a memorable read. This chilling story earns a 4.75-star rating for its evocative portrayal of Black womanhood within spaces determined to overlook it, even if some elements of the ending left me wanting more.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy atmospheric, suspenseful prose; those interested in the intersection of horror and social critique; fans of stories that confront racial trauma and explore Black identity in predominantly white spaces; and anyone drawn to narratives of resilience and mystery.

🔑 Key Themes: Systemic Erasure and Racial Injustice, Intergenerational Trauma, Identity and Alienation, The Power of Community, Visibility and Survival in Hostile Spaces.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! DNF at 27%.

Teenagers Sophie and Noah are twins being raised by their deeply devout and pious Catholic parents. When their parents catch Noah with a gay pornographic magazine, he is sent away to a Catholic boarding school for “troubled” teens. The novel follows Sophie as a flu outbreak sweeps across the US, and she rushes to save her brother Noah.

Sophie lives in an extremely small, rural, and isolated town in which the church members make up almost the entire population. Sophie hates her parents and her religion so much, she barely wants to live, feels like she’s not even living. The town librarian secretly funnels her novels to read, as her mother has strict rules about what books she’s allowed to check out. There is a strong emphasis on virginity and the danger of women’s beauty. Sophie’s mother became deeply devout and ascetic after being sexually assaulted, because she believes she invited the assault and that her piousness will protect her moving forward. In this way, American Rapture explores how religion can turn us against ourselves.

The flu eventually makes its way to Sophie’s town, and she’s sent home from school one day when a student tests positive. Sophie returns home to find her parents having sex on the living room floor, an almost unthinkable experience considering their devout piousness. When Sophie tries to flee the house, her parents begin to attack her. This culminates in Sophie’s dad attempting to rape her, which she is able to escape from. She steals her parents’ car and heads toward the facility where Noah is being held. On the way, she gets stuck in unmoving traffic. A man in a nearby car becomes infected, breaks into Sophie’s car, and also sexually attacks her. At this point, it becomes clear that the virus is driving people to sexual violence. I realized that American Rapture is a book about a teenage girl surviving a sexual violence epidemic. Considering this is essentially my actual life, I did not feel the need to continue reading this book. This book needs some major trigger warnings for incest and sexual assault. 

This is an all vibes, no plot book full of lyrical writing and reflections that feels like it's been through the MFA wringer a few times. Those kinds of books sometimes work for me. This one didn't. I simply don't have the brain cells for it right now. Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC anyways!

Jessica Hoppe’s First in the Family is a moving memoir that plunges into the turbulent depths of family trauma, addiction, and the deceptive allure of the American Dream. From the start, Hoppe unearths her battle with alcoholism, locating its roots in the trauma that has woven through her life and that of her ancestors, especially her mother’s family in Honduras. Her struggles with addiction are neither isolated nor inexplicable; instead, they are framed as part of a broader and deeply inherited narrative of intergenerational harm. Hoppe brilliantly likens the American Dream to “the ultimate gateway drug,” its promises tantalizing yet treacherous, driving individuals toward exploitative systems that extract more than they offer.

Hoppe delves into Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs), including racial trauma and socioeconomic precarity, which led her to alcohol as a means of coping. She reflects on her family’s pursuit of the American Dream, one marked by instability, periods of homelessness, and the constant specter of financial insecurity. For Hoppe, these were not just obstacles; they were the circumstances that shaped her sense of self and survival. Her parents’ attempts at achieving stability through property ownership were thwarted by an unjust housing market and the profound limitations placed on immigrant families within a capitalist framework. As she learns more about her family’s Honduran roots, she sees how historical trauma—spanning from the rule of dictatorships to the U.S. interventions in Honduras’ so-called “Banana Republic” era—has a throughline, culminating in her grandfather’s alcoholism, her mother’s experiences, and her own struggles.

Hoppe’s writing shines in its accessibility and emotional resonance. There’s a poetic cadence to her reflections, like in the line, “The anesthetizing power of the American Dream dulled my sense and blunted the focus of my logic— it worked by design.” Her vulnerability brings readers into the grip of her addiction and recovery, which is depicted as a continuous, often agonizing process of choosing oneself, a mantra she urges for breaking generational trauma. Yet, the narrative shifts near the end, turning to a broader analysis of systemic oppression and addiction. While important, this section lacks the deeply personal and magnetic quality of the earlier parts, making it somewhat less engaging.

While the memoir loses some momentum toward the end, First in the Family is a profound testament to resilience and radical self-compassion. Hoppe’s story is a call to confront our inherited traumas, honor our right to healing, and redefine recovery through a compassionate, community-centered lens. With unflinching honesty and poetic grace, she captures the liberation and loneliness of breaking cycles as the “first” in her family to address what was once shrouded in secrecy. For anyone who has grappled with intergenerational trauma or questioned their place in this country’s unforgiving systems, Hoppe’s story is one of both solace and solidarity.

📖 Recommended For: Readers drawn to introspective memoirs, anyone grappling with generational trauma and recovery, those curious about immigrant experiences within the American Dream, fans of poetic prose, and supporters of community-based, anti-racist recovery.

🔑 Key Themes: Intergenerational Trauma, Addiction as Survival, The American Dream and Capitalism, Family and Cultural Heritage, Anti-Racist and Decolonial Healing.

Sunny Moraine's Your Shadow Half Remains is a harrowing, introspective journey through a post-apocalyptic landscape where survival teeters on the edge of isolation-induced madness. The novel follows Riley, who has spent two years alone in the house where her grandparents died in a murder-suicide after being infected by a rage-inducing virus. When Ellis, a mysterious stranger, appears in the woods, Riley’s buried need for human contact clashes with her survival instincts. As strange occurrences escalate, the lines between reality and delusion blur, and Riley begins to doubt her own senses. Moraine's haunting prose pulls readers into Riley’s fractured mind, combining sensory detail with lyrical unease in a style that lingers like a ghost in each chapter.

Thematically, Your Shadow Half Remains explores the fragility of humanity and resilience in the face of endless crisis. Moraine digs deep into how trauma, grief, and loneliness alter our perceptions of self and others, particularly in a world where every social interaction could be fatal. Riley’s struggle with her own sanity speaks to the isolation and numbness many people experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic. The novel’s examination of agency—how anger can become a comforting illusion of control—is especially poignant. It asks unsettling questions about the lengths we might go to survive and the violence we're capable of, even toward ourselves. The relationship between Riley and Ellis reveals the primal need for connection, complicated by the terror of proximity.

For readers who love horror that unravels within the mind, Moraine’s novel is consuming. It’s both chilling and atmospheric, pushing the limits of psychological horror with a story that feels disturbingly plausible. While some may crave more backstory on the pandemic itself, the focus on human experience keeps the tension tight and the stakes visceral. The ambiguity of the ending, reminiscent of Inception, leaves just enough for readers to question Riley's final grasp on reality, making it a story that echoes long after the last page. This introspective, disquieting horror novel strikes a fine balance between the fear of being alone and the terror of being together, earning a solid 4 stars for its emotional depth and psychological complexity.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of psychological horror, readers drawn to introspective, lyrical prose, anyone interested in exploring themes of isolation and human connection, and lovers of atmospheric, character-driven thrillers.

🔑 Key Themes: Survival and Numbness, Isolation and Human Contact, Fragility of Sanity, Violence and Agency, Ambiguity of Reality.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! Leung’s debut releases in the US from WW Norton on October 22nd, 2024.

How to Fall in Love in a Time of Unnameable Disaster by Muriel Leung is a hauntingly lyrical meditation on love, survival, and the human connections that tether us in times of crisis. Set in a post-apocalyptic New York City ravaged by acid rain, fires, and military checkpoints, Leung’s novel follows Mira, a woman separated from her partner, Mal, and struggling to build a life with her mother and the other residents of their apartment building. As the city around them collapses, the characters confront both the literal and emotional ghosts of their pasts, asking what it means to love, grieve, and find community in the face of disaster.

Leung’s prose is achingly beautiful, weaving a dreamlike, ghostly atmosphere with fragmented, evocative sentences that mirror the disorientation of living in an unrecognizable world. The writing is introspective and deeply existential, delving into themes of grief, memory, and the weight of trauma that haunts both the individual and the collective. The novel’s obsession with ghosts—whether literal, metaphorical, or emotional—adds layers to its exploration of how the past clings to the present, making it difficult to move forward. Through Mira’s journey and the alternating perspectives of her neighbors, Leung paints a vivid picture of community care and the resiliency required to survive the apocalypse together.

The book’s themes are richly complex, examining love and loss in equal measure. At its core, How to Fall in Love in a Time of Unnameable Disaster questions whether love is possible amidst chaos, and how relationships, both chosen and familial, offer solace in the darkest times. The novel’s characters are beautifully flawed, all of them grappling with their own sense of isolation, longing, and fear of abandonment. Mira’s desperation to reunite with Mal, despite her burgeoning relationship with Sad, speaks to the powerful pull of unresolved grief and the ways in which love can become a haunting force in itself.

While the novel’s structure, with its shifting perspectives, occasionally feels disjointed, Leung’s world-building is immersive and poignant. The apocalyptic setting provides a perfect backdrop for the novel’s reflective and existential musings on the fragility of human connection. Though plot takes a backseat to atmosphere and emotion, the novel shines in its exploration of how people find meaning, hope, and even love in the face of unnameable disaster. I found myself enchanted by Leung’s characters and her haunting, poetic prose. Ultimately, How to Fall in Love in a Time of Unnameable Disaster is a poignant and thought-provoking novel that leaves a lasting impression, reminding us of the resilience of love and connection even in the darkest of times.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy introspective and poetic prose, those fascinated by post-apocalyptic settings, fans of stories centered on community care and chosen family, and anyone who appreciates existential reflections on love and loss.

🔑 Key Themes: Survival in Crisis, Ghosts and Haunting, Love and Grief, Community and Isolation, The Fragility of Human Connection.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book is out now from HarperOne.

Kardin Rabin and Jennifer Mann’s The Secret Language of The Body invites readers on a transformative journey toward healing by emphasizing the profound connection between the mind and body. The authors articulate that our bodies are not merely passive vessels; rather, they are active participants in our emotional experiences. By delving into the latest advancements in nervous system science, they present a compelling argument that understanding the language of our bodies is vital for addressing emotional wounds and unmet needs. The book is divided into three illuminating sections—mind, body, and human—allowing for a comprehensive exploration of cognition, somatics, and the impact of developmental trauma and attachment wounds on our well-being.

Through the A I R method—Awareness, Interruption, and Redesign—Rabin and Mann provide readers with practical tools for self-healing. They emphasize the importance of recognizing dysregulation, interrupting maladaptive patterns, and reshaping those behaviors into healthier responses. The authors skillfully weave together scientific insights with patient vignettes that bring their theories to life, illustrating how trauma can manifest physically and emotionally. By challenging the traditional mind-body dualism, they highlight how our lived experiences are deeply intertwined with our physiological responses, making a compelling case for the inadequacy of conventional talk therapies in addressing the root of our struggles.

Rabin and Mann explore what they term the “nervous system paradox,” explaining how our nervous system, in its quest for safety, can inadvertently lead us into patterns of dysregulation that hinder our ability to heal. They underscore the necessity of cultivating mindfulness, interoception, and curiosity to navigate the complexities of trauma, allowing us to listen to our bodies and release the emotional burdens trapped within. Their emphasis on neuroplasticity instills hope, reminding us that healing is not only possible but also a dynamic process that unfolds at its own pace.

While the authors' approach to individualistic healing may resonate with many, it also raises concerns. I generally prefer a more collective framework for healing. Additionally, as a trauma-practitioner-in-training, I worry that readers may attempt the A I R practices without adequate support, potentially leading to re-traumatization during the vulnerable initial stages of healing. Creating a safe space with a trained therapist is crucial for effectively navigating these transformative practices.

Overall, The Secret Language of The Body is an insightful and informative read for anyone eager to deepen their understanding of the nervous system and its role in emotional and physical healing. Rabin and Mann’s blend of academic rigor and empathetic guidance invites readers to embark on a self-discovery journey, making it a valuable resource for anyone seeking to heal their mind and body holistically.

📖 Recommended For: Readers interested in the intricate connection between the mind and body, those seeking practical tools for emotional healing, fans of somatic practices, and anyone eager to understand the role of the nervous system in trauma recovery.

🔑 Key Themes: Nervous System Regulation, Healing and Self-Discovery, Mind-Body Connection, Trauma and Resilience, Emotional and Physiological Awareness, Neuroplasticity and Healing Practices.

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao is a fierce, unapologetic masterpiece that blends science fiction, Chinese history, and feminist rebellion into a searing tale of vengeance and liberation. In a world where girls are sacrificed to power giant war machines, Wu Zetian, the novel's protagonist, stands as a force of unflinching defiance, determined to dismantle the patriarchal society that seeks to destroy her. Zhao’s direct, sharp prose brings Zetian’s rage to life, grounding her personal quest for revenge in a larger critique of the oppressive systems that devalue and discard women.

Zetian’s journey begins with a personal vendetta—the murder of her sister by a male pilot—but quickly transforms into a mission to tear down the very system that treats girls as expendable. When Zetian kills the man responsible for her sister’s death, she earns the title of "Iron Widow," a rare and feared female pilot capable of sacrificing men to power the war machines known as Chrysalises. Her defiance becomes a symbol of feminist resistance, challenging not just the men who uphold the system but also the women who enable it. Inspired by the real-life Chinese Empress Wu Zetian, Zhao’s heroine is a force of nature, her journey fueled by fury and a hunger for liberation.

The world-building in Iron Widow is nothing short of ambitious. Zhao draws on Chinese history and mythology, creating a richly imagined society that blends futuristic technology with ancient traditions. The concept of girls being sacrificed to power mechas feels both chillingly futuristic and deeply rooted in historical patriarchal violence, making the novel’s feminist themes all the more potent. Zetian’s rebellion isn’t just personal—it’s a full-scale war against the systems that have oppressed women for generations.

Zetian’s relationships with co-pilots Li Shimin and Yizhi add another layer of complexity to the story. Their triad challenges traditional ideas of romance and loyalty, exploring themes of polyamory, interdependence, and bisexuality in subtle but powerful ways. The emotional depth of their bond, especially as they navigate a brutal world together, underscores the novel’s exploration of non-traditional relationship structures and challenges gender norms with nuance and care.

At its core, Iron Widow is a defiant rejection of societal expectations. Zhao doesn’t shy away from heavy themes, tackling patriarchal violence, gender roles, and systemic oppression head-on. While the novel’s feminist critique is often intense and at times heavy-handed, this only reinforces the urgency of its message. Zetian’s rage, her refusal to bow to the world’s demands, and her unrelenting pursuit of justice make Iron Widow a powerful, exhilarating read.

For anyone seeking a story of rebellion, resistance, and the reclamation of power, Iron Widow is a must-read. Zhao’s fierce writing, bold themes, and unforgettable characters make this novel an electrifying entry into the science fiction canon. I can’t wait to see where Zetian’s journey takes her next.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of feminist rebellion and fierce heroines, readers who enjoy stories blending science fiction with historical influences, those interested in themes of dismantling patriarchy and non-traditional relationships, and anyone who loves unapologetically powerful characters like in The Hunger Games or Chain-Gang All Stars.

🔑 Key Themes: Feminist Resistance, Patriarchal Violence, Reclamation of Power, Polyamory and Non-Traditional Relationships, Vengeance and Liberation, Chinese Mythology and History.