Review: The Violin Conspiracy

The Violin Conspiracy, by Brendan Slocumb; narrated by JD Jackson (Random House Audio 2022)

First line: “On the morning of the worst, most earth-shattering day of Ray McMillian’s life, he ordered room service: scrambled eggs for two, one side of regular bacon (for Nicole), one side of vegan sausage (for him), one coffee (for Nicole), one orange juice (for him).”

While this debut novel is billed as a mystery (even being selected as a GoodReads Choice Award nominee for Best Mystery/Thriller of 2022), those looking for a fast-paced whodunit won’t find that here. To me, this read much more like a coming-of-age story of a young musician who confronts the realities of white supremacy when you are Black and extremely talented in a field where that is unexpected. The mystery was just a backdrop.

Ray McMillian was gifted a somewhat bedraggled violin by his beloved grandmother before her passing, and while it didn’t look like much, it meant everything to Ray as he worked to make a future for himself through his music. But when he learns that his great-grandfather’s old fiddle is actually a priceless Stradivarius, his life changes in an instant. Thrust into the spotlight, Ray must figure out how to build a career for himself that defies expectations, while fighting the prejudices that stand in his way — a task that is made incredibly more difficult when the Stradivarius is stolen out from under him.

I thought Slocumb’s storytelling was beautiful in this debut, and JD Jackson’s narration on the audiobook did a wonderful job of bringing Ray to life. While the mystery of who stole the violin wasn’t all that interesting (in its build-up or its resolution), I was very attached to Ray and his story’s outcome. The world of professional musicians, especially from this perspective, was fascinating to read about.

Review: A Love Song for Ricki Wilde

A Love Song for Ricki Wilde, by Tia Williams (Grand Central Publishing 2024)

First line: “Leap years are strange.”

I knew I wanted to read this before I even read a synopsis. Seven Days in June was my favorite book of 2021, so it didn’t matter what this next book was about. I would read it.

As it turns out, Love Song is a departure from Seven Days, and unlike Seven Days, which had me hooked within the first paragraph (can we all please take a moment to remember how epic that first paragraph was?), it took me a little while to get into it.

At the beginning of this story, we find Ricki, baby of the family by many years, sitting down with the Wildes for their weekly dinner. Richard Wilde, Sr., is the founder of a very successful funeral home conglomerate, and each of Ricki’s older sisters have their own booming franchise. But Ricki is floundering, serving as a receptionist at one of her father’s businesses, and dreaming of a day when she can open the business of her heart — an exotic floral shop. A chance meeting with a nonagenarian who has a flat for rent in Harlem, sends Ricki into her destiny, a road that will eventually lead her to a man named Ezra. A man who has been searching for her for decades, but only during Februarys of leap years.

I had a hard time at first because the Wildes are all wickedly horrible. But once Ricki gets to Harlem, the story picks up considerably and I was all in. Ricki as a character is full of life and spunk and heart, and she sees that reflected in the people who become her family in Harlem: Tuesday, a former child actor who becomes her bff, Ms. Della who becomes her grandmother, and Ezra, who becomes the love of her life. As with Seven Days, there are some tough topics covered here, with mental health, grief, guilt, and racism being at the forefront. But most of this story is just deliciously fun. We have Harlem Renaissance pianists and gorgeous, aromatic florals just spilling from the page, and I ate it all up.

The romance in this story is built on tropes I usually don’t go for — fated lovers, insta-love — but the magical realism elements made it work for me. Plus, Ricki and Ezra are just such likeable characters that it didn’t seem to matter. I have never read a story based around the strangeness of Leap Years (like, how did she even plan for the publication of this book so perfectly?), but I was so delighted to be reading it during one.

Happy Leap Day, everyone!

Review: Wannabe

Wannabe: Reckonings with the Pop Culture That Shapes Me, by Aisha Harris (HarperOne 2023)

First line: “There’s a scene in the final season of the brilliant musical comedy series Crazy Ex-Girlfriend where Rebecca Bunch is lamenting her long list of well-documented destructive behaviors.”

I put this book on my TBR right when I heard about it midway through 2023. Bright, eye-catching cover, 90s-referenced relatable title, an NPR host author, what’s not to like? I finally got around to it this month, but as I started reading, I realized it was not what I expected it to be. To me, this cover screams light-hearted, humorous, nostalgic. What I got instead was thoughtful, nuanced examinations of how pop culture has affected Aisha Harris’s life, including the arguably-necessary emotional weight conversations about race and gender require. The writing is smart, unapologetic, and carefully considered. I especially appreciated her takes “On the Procreation Expectation”, in which she explains her decision not to have kids despite the societal and cultural demand to do so, and in “Santa Claus is a Black Man”, about her unexpectedly viral Slate article that rebranded Santa as a penguin.

My clash with my reading expectations versus what this actually was made it so I wasn’t always drawn to pick this one up, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a great collection of essays. I also recommend listening to the audio (read by the author) which I found for free on Hoopla.

Review: The Woman in Me

The Woman in Me, by Britney Spears; narrated by Michelle Williams (Gallery Books 2023)

First line: “As a little girl I walked for hours alone in the silent woods behind my house in Louisiana, singing songs.”

Like many millennials, I felt obligated to read Britney’s memoir when it came out this fall. I have clear memories of making “music videos” to “Sometimes” in my friend’s basement, of blasting “Toxic” in another friend’s car as we made our way home just before curfew, and of standing in amazement for her epic encore of “Till the World Ends” during her performance at Milwaukee’s Summerfest in 2011. Her music was interwoven into my preteen, teenage, and young adult years. She deserved my attention to her story.

This wasn’t a perfect book by any means. The writing felt repetitive and often riddled with cliches. The narrative felt like a play-by-play of her life in music, without really drawing any conclusions or adding any meaning. But I don’t really fault her for any of that, nor did I expect much different. She’s a performer, not a writer. After the experiences she went through, which she details thoroughly here, she deserved to tell her story the way she wanted to, and I’m glad she took the opportunity to stick up for herself and her experiences. I also found the audiobook to me very interesting — Michelle Williams only sounded like Michelle Williams when she said the chapter headings, but when she read the narrative, she was very much Michelle Williams being Britney Spears.

Not my favorite read of 2023, but one I’m glad to have read.

Review: Butts: A Backstory

Butts: A Backstory, by Heather Radke (Avid Reader Press 2022)

First line: “The first butt I remember isn’t my own.”

I read this for a reading challenge that asked for a “microhistory” (a subgenre I did have to look up to see what it means: a work of history that focuses on a small area of research) — and this nonfiction work fits the bill. Though the butts in question are not always “micro”.

Heather Radke digs deep into how butts have literally shaped humanity, from a physical, cultural, and psychological standpoint. Starting from the beginning of early humankind, with how the evolution of butts changed the way humanoids moved and sought food, Radke carries the reader through the changing landscape of thought around butts through the centuries, taking us all the way to Sir Mix-a-lot’s “Baby Got Back” and Miley Cyrus’s supposed invention of twerking (spoiler alert: she did not invent twerking). As Radke says in her introduction:

“Butts are a bellwether. The feelings we have about butts are almost always indicative of other feelings — feelings about race, gender, and sex, feelings that differ profoundly from one person to the next.”

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While I didn’t think there was a ton of new information here that I hadn’t at least been mildly exposed to previously, I did think Radke presents her research in a very organized and thoughtful way that had me engaged throughout. It’s incredibly readable, while still feeling well-researched (the fifty plus pages of notes in the back made this librarian’s heart very happy). And honestly, for a history and science book, it’s incredibly relatable as well — after all, it’s about something we all have and have feelings about, one way or another. It’s personal and philosophical, academic and filled with pop culture, anti-racist and feminist. I thought this one was really well done.

Review: Crumbs

Crumbs, by Danie Stirling (Etch 2022)

First line: “That sweet smell… something must be coming out of the oven.”

This book grabbed me as I passed it on the shelf at the library, and I never say no to adding another graphic novel to my library stack. From the cover, I expected a sweet, nostalgic romance, which we definitely got, but I didn’t expect the complex fantastical world that Stirling created here.

Ray loves to stop in a bakery once a week that specializes in sweet treats that are charmed to provide the consumer with a specific feeling. She always orders coffee with a slice of Romance on the side. And she enjoys her treat at the shop instead of taking it to go because of the cute boy, Laurie, who works behind the counter. Ray and Laurie eventually start talking and building a relationship, even though soon Ray will be beginning her internship as a seer at the Grand Council, a government agency that keeps society running smoothly through all sorts of magical interventions. The problem with that is that its operations are so classified, that members’ minds are temporarily erased every time they exit the building, so relationships outside of work are next to impossible.

There was so much about this magical world that was intriguing and novel that I just wanted to know more. I often found myself confused on the details of the system, and wished for more clarification. I did love the sweet romance Ray and Laurie had, and the fact that they tackled some very real intimacy and longevity issues that couples face all the time but that aren’t often written about.

Overall, this was a solid and enjoyable new adult graphic romance, and I’ll be anxious to see what Stirling comes out with next!

Review: The Beautiful Mystery

The Beautiful Mystery (Chief Inspector Gamache #8), by Louise Penny (Sphere 2012)

I was just able to squeeze in my seasonal Gamache read during the fall (okay, and in the first few days of December), and it captured my attention like few other books have recently. In book #8, we are taken away from our beloved Three Pines, and our beloved cast of characters for the most part, and are brought to a remote monastery where no one has been in or out (except the residing monks) for centuries. But Gamache and Beauvoir are called in to disrupt that record, as one of the 24 monks has been found murdered in the garden, leaving one of the other 23 as the murderer.

Despite not being set in Three Pines with Clara and Ruth and Olivier and all the others, I found this one to be enthralling. I’m not sure what it was about it — the peaceful location juxtaposed against the violent crime, the deep look into a life that is normally hidden behind closed doors, or the continued strong character development of Armand and Jean Guy (which was excruciating) — but I didn’t want to close the pages of this one. I almost felt compelled to continue right into book #9 after finishing, but I’m going to try to hold off till at least January to give myself some space. Grateful that I’m still not even halfway through this series. So much left to enjoy!

Review: Wave

Wave, by Diana Farid, illustrated by Kris Goto (Cameron Kids 2022)

First line: “Swirling blue-green / seaweed-laced / W A V E S / T U R N CRASH / F I Z Z”

In this gorgeous new middle grade novel in verse, we get a glimpse into the life of a Persian American young teenager in 1980s Southern California. 13 year old Ava is a lot of things — a surfer, a daughter of a single mother doctor, a best friend, an aspiring singer — and she knows exactly how she would like to spend her summer before high school: on the beach with Phoenix, her best friend who she maybe has feelings for. But her mother’s plan has her volunteering at her hospital instead and taking a class in medicine to prepare Ava in following her footsteps. Plus, as it turns out, Phoenix isn’t feeling up to surfing much anyway.

This novel tackles a lot — racism, Islamaphobia, cancer, divorce, OCD, parental expectations, first love — and it does a lot of it very well. I was able to overlook some of the things that felt a little underdeveloped because of just how much heart the author infused into this character and her story. Ava felt very authentically 13 year old girl to me and I think middle school girls in particular will eat this story up. I loved all the integration of music (playlists included in the back), the poetry of Rumi, and the beautiful illustrations from Kris Goto. This would have been a must-buy for my middle school library and I am happy to have it on my radar to recommend.

Review: Genesis Begins Again

Genesis Begins Again, by Alicia D. Williams (Caitlyn Dlouhy Books 2019)

First line: “Nobody could tell me that today wasn’t gon’ be my day.”

Good gracious, will you look at that cover? Not only is the cover art stunning, but poor Genesis’s face is almost covered with all the medals this baby took home at the ALA Youth Media Awards in 2020. And for good reason. Williams’ debut novel about 7th grader Genesis is one that will certainly be talked about for a long time.

Genesis Begins Again starts with Genesis super proud that her pack of friends have finally agreed to come hang out at her house, only to find all her family’s belongings and furniture have been put out on the lawn. They have been evicted, again. Genesis’s father, notoriously unreliable, has once again gambled away their rent money, forcing them to move one more time. This time, he’s able to secure a nice home in a mostly-white suburb of Detroit through a coworker, and Genesis and her mother hope that this might just be the change they’ve been waiting for. But for Genesis, being in a school of mostly white kids has made her dark brown skin and textured hair even more noticeable. She would much rather have her mother’s light brown skin and smooth hair, but genetics have passed on her father’s traits instead.

Genesis has deeply internalized the colorism — discrimination toward those with darker complexions, both from within and outside of one’s own racial group — she experiences from classmates and from even her own family, and this is what I found to be the most unsettling part of this novel. Genesis, while a smart, talented, kind young girl, sees only how she appears on the surface, and hates herself for it. Her efforts to lighten her skin are excruciating to watch, and there were many times I wished I could jump into the pages and give her a hug. Fortunately, at her new school Genesis finds two true friends who both support her and challenge her, and they are her saving graces where she previously had none.

This is a heartbreaking book, but I loved to see Genesis’s growth throughout the novel, and found the unresolved ending a particularly unique choice for middle grade. I think many young readers will be able to see bits of themselves in these pages as well as find an eye-opening experience.

Review: Bellweather Rhapsody

Bellweather Rhapsody, by Kate Racculia (Mariner Books 2014)

First line: “Minnie Graves is a bridesmaid.”

Fifteen years ago a bride shot her groom on their wedding night before hanging herself in their room at the Bellweather Hotel. Now, in present day 1997, on the anniversary of their deaths, the Bellweather is overrun with teenagers who are staying the weekend for the annual Statewide music festival. The most talented singers and musicians, including the Hatmaker twins, Alice and Rabbit, plan to spend three days of solid rehearsing before performing for family, friends, and talent scouts. But they didn’t expect a young flute prodigy to go missing the first night, nor did they expect the epic blizzard headed their way.

I first heard about this book through one of the recommendations in the marvelous Bibliophile book by Jane Mount. Reading the premise had me feeling like this book was written for me: a locked-in murder mystery set in a quirky old hotel with a high school music festival as the backdrop?? What more could a person want? It sounded, quite simply, like a ton of fun, and it certainly was that. As a former band/orchestra geek who attended very similar music conferences in her past, I loved reliving all those details. I was surprised, however, to also find very nuanced characters and lots of unexpected plot twists that kept me on my toes! Racculia had me audibly gasping and saying, “I’m sorry, WHAT?” several times throughout her novel, which is just a delightful reading experience. Plus, the twists were all extremely well-crafted, not just twisting for shock value.

If you’re looking for something just a little outside the norm, something that will warm your heart while simultaneously knocking you off balance, I urge you to give this backlist title a try. Particularly excellent reading for a snowy weekend.