Paradiso 17 by Hannah Lillith Assadi traces the journey of Sufien after his family is displaced from Palestine. The novel, based on the life of the author’s father, asks readers to consider the idea of home as Sufien grapples with life away from his home in Palestine and journeys through Kuwait, Italy, and finally the United States. Even though he was young in 1948 when his family was forced out during the Nakba, he still feels a deep connection to his homeland and struggles to feel a sense of belonging elsewhere.

We know from the beginning that Sufien is dying, and Assadi deftly weaves together his reflections on his life’s journey with Palestinian history, as Sufien tries to make peace with his choices and attempts to find solace in his relationships. As I think about Paradiso 17, I keep coming back to the idea of searching and that so many people fail to find satisfaction because they want more than they have or want to recapture moments that have passed. At one point, Sufien asks, “Why is it we always realize how much we will miss a place on the eve of leaving it?” And he still leaves. He still searches. Ultimately, he must reconcile his hopes with his reality, deciding if the choices he made were worth the costs.. 

This is a book that will stay with me. It is beautifully written and tells an important story. I can’t recommend it enough.

Thank you to NetGalley and Knopf for the ARC.

Black. Single. Mother. by Jamilah Lemieux begins as a memoir of Black single motherhood then expands into a meticulously researched disruption of racist and sexist stereotypes. Her story and the stories of the other Black single mothers she includes show that single motherhood is not to be looked down upon and that when socio-economic factors are controlled, children of single mothers are no less likely to thrive than children who grow up in households with both parents. She also challenges the notion that Black fathers are prone to absenteeism by citing research that shows that “Black fathers . . . are reported to be more active in the care of their children than dads of other races.” Because Lemieux weaves her research into her story, I found it to be more powerful than other texts I’ve read that address similar issues. It’s much easier to disrupt biases and reframe understandings when confronted with personal stories that humanize data. 

In Black. Single. Mother., Lemieux provides a method for unlearning deeply ingrained societal biases. This is essential reading for anyone committed to understanding the intersection of race, gender, and family in America.

Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for the ARC.

In her latest collection, How About Now, Kate Baer confronts the tension she faces as she grapples with middle age. While the poems in this collection are deeply personal and often showcase raw vulnerability, they mirror what many women face during this stage of life (including me). Baer captures the reality of navigating relationships with family, friends, and oneself highlighting the need to step back and see the bigger picture when times are tense, while basking in the comfort of and taking joy in those relationships in times of need or peace. She also stresses the importance of appreciating each moment, and in “Meanwhile” calls on us (in a snarky way) to put down our phones. (I felt attacked.)

Ultimately, How About Now reads like a reflection (or maybe a memoir in poems) on the process of living. We are a product of our pasts, but that does not need to define us. We can let go of the distractions, focus on loving ourselves, our environment, and the people around us. The collection begins by stating, “The problem is the new life costs you the old one” and the rest of the collection shows that change, growth, and love are worth it. As Baer states in the acknowledgements, “Finally, to anyone holding this collection in your hands, wondering if there’s enough time for you: I wrote this with you in mind. You’re still here. It’s not too late. How about now?”

This is the energy I’m bringing with me into the new year.

One of my first thoughts when the extremely brutal Debt Police make an appearance in The Payback was, “I hope no one in power reads this and gets ideas,” because like a lot of books with dystopian elements, The Payback should not be an instruction manual. Well, unless you’re rooting for the protagonist, Jada, and her friends, Audrey and Lanae, as they come up with a scheme to erase their student debt and take down the system as a whole. The novel shows how deep the problem of debt, especially student loan debt, runs and how difficult it can be to get out from under it. The Debt Police are a violent representation of how much debt can brutalize you and keep you down, adding a physical layer of demoralization, fear, and despair to Cauley’s critique of the current system, ultimately asking the question of whether we need to be paying so much for education (among other things) at all.

Cauley’s characters are well developed, entertaining, and smart, and the novel is a necessary critique of many elements of society. I highly recommend it!

Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC!

I feel like I should read this a few more times before writing a review, because even though this is a fast and engaging read, there’s immense depth to this novel that showcases Okorafor’s masterful skill as a writer. The title evokes Roland Barthes’ essay in which he argues that literary critics should avoid using the biography of the author to aid in finding meaning in a text. Instead, the reader’s own analysis should be centered. Okorafor brilliantly plays with this idea through Zelu’s story as she watches her novel morph into something she never intended as it is adapted for the screen. And then there’s the tendency to look to Okorafor’s life as an inspiration for the novel. What do we make of that? 

The Death of the Author is a masterful work on every level, and I cannot recommend it enough.

Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC!

In The Dream Hotel, Laila Lalami envisions a dystopian future where, after a devastating mass shooting, dreams are monitored and Americans are given a risk score in order to prevent future violence. The main character, Sara, is detained due to postpartum dreams that indicate to the Risk Assessment Agency that her husband may be in danger. What is originally to be a twenty-one day period of observation turns into a lengthy ordeal that raises many questions relevant to what we’re seeing today with technological advances and authoritarian legislation. 

The Dream Hotel seems like a cautionary tale warning us of what could happen if we open ourselves up to more surveillance. If we think we’re among the “good people” who would never pose any risks or be targeted. If we place too much trust in technology (especially AI) to solve our problems. 

This is a disturbing but necessary read because Sara’s response to her detainment, her observations of the world around her, and her work toward freedom offers hope that there is always a way out. 

Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC!