Yolk, by Mary H.K. Choi

I pre-ordered this book because I could and because I was in a hurry to read it. And because I follow the author on insta. And now that I’ve read it, I feel bad that I never read any of her other work. I’ve read so few books about Koreans by Koreans, sadly. Most of the ones I have read are written about the past, as though Koreans aren’t doing anything in the “now” world. Yolk was a stunning re-entry into a “now” Korean world.

The story is hard and sad and so, so relatable. I found myself reading, reading, reading even when I needed to be at (yet another) Zoom meeting, reading and hoping, needing for something to shift. I sometimes found myself talking to Jayne, then talking to June, trying to help them both. The relationship between the two sisters and the way the younger thinks of her older sister had me thinking so much of my own older sister and wondering at the ways that my white father shifted the Korean-ness of our family. Don’t get me wrong, my mother’s Korean values and ideals definitely ruled our house – but I think they were watered down a bit.

Really all of the relationships were stellar in this book. They were complex and convoluted and no one pretended at any point that they weren’t. It fit what I think of as “New Adult” thinking, and in the end, there are still some things we don’t fully understand. Which I believe is totally true to life.

ID: Cover art. This is the cover art – if you could cut the book on it’s spine and lay it with the pages somehow flattened out in the middle. More on that at the end of this description. There is a pencil drawing of two women hanging (or falling) upside down, their lower bodies cut off by the top of the book. They are holding hands. The one on the right has short black hair and the one on the right has longer, flowy hair. They are both in white dresses without much detail. Written underneath them is the title, Yolk. The “o” in Yolk is colored in, orange, like the yolk of a very healthy egg. In much smaller letters it says, “Also by Mary H. K. Choi Emergency Contact – Permanent Record.”On the hardcover I have, the girl on the left is on the cover, her arm reaching off the cover. Then, on the side where the pages meet you see the two hands clasped together. On the back cover is the short haired sister.

Genesis Begins Again, Alicia D. Williams

Martha: This book had some heavy parts, some cringey parts, and I commend the author for sharing such difficult moments with us. Parents often ask me if their children are too young to hear about difficult topics, racism, sexism, finances – and my most common answer is that if the parents are feeling like it’s time, it likely is. I would do it in an age-appropriate way, naturally, but all the research tells us that children become aware of such things at a very young age. Better that children have an adult who is able and willing to have the conversation than that they attempt to confront these ideas without the right support.

ID: Book cover shows profile of a black girl with her hair up and wearing a headband. Across her cheeks there are three streaks of color, each streak progressively lighter. Title, Genesis Begins Again, is across the bottom in a print handwriting kind of font.

This believable story reminds me of my own attempts to change the way others saw me, and the way I stumbled around without adult assistance. I’m so glad to have this book in the world. I have been known to complain about authors who open up too many topics and leave them without any kind of closure. Williams does an excellent job of following up and having helpful adults do their part without being preachy. I also appreciate the non-perfect grown-ups – since none of us is perfect, really. Luckily, we have the opportunity to begin again.

Caitlin: Another audiobook read by its author! I looked forward to every car ride and meal because it meant another installment.

This book did something which I often think is impossible; it described music and singing in a way which didn’t ever feel trite or repetitive. Being a lifelong choir nerd myself, I adored what singing and music did for Genesis.

Similarly, as a blind person, I often tune out protagonists who try, again and again, to alter their appearance. Genesis, though, felt that she needed to change her appearance. The exploration of this struggle was stunning; it made me, a white-passing person, feel tremendous empathy. Genesis’s quest to understand both her family and herself through the lens of skin color is examined with poignant sensitivity and striking authenticity.

Pitch-perfect dialogue and detail-rich scenes brought characters and moments to life. I hung on every word. Often, I’d shout out warnings or encouragement—it’s that kind of book.
Kudos: Genesis’s best friend has and explains OCD, and Genesis’s reaction is refreshingly believable. I don’t have OCD myself, and don’t know if the author wrote from personal experience or closeness to a loved one; however, the inclusion of OCD felt respectful and never veered toward being heavy-handed or plot-devicey.

This is a funny, relatable, bittersweet must-read!

Blind, Rachel DeWoskin

I usually hate fiction about blind people written by sighted people. In modern, mainstream, #ownvoices YA, we have only Kody Keplinger’s Run. There are just as many ways to live and feel about blindness as there are blind people in the world. One book is not enough.

I didn’t hate Blind. Rachel Dewoskin writes about Emma, a blind teenager, with sensitivity and savvy. Multiple passages brought a lump to my throat. Unfortunately, she also made mistakes that a true sighted ally would catch in a heartbeat. The stereotypical face-touching, cane use in her house, and impossible balancing act of walking with a cane, pet dog, and guiding hand were just a few. Books are teaching tools and, when writing about communities not our own, authors have a responsibility to send helpful, respectful messaging.

I loved Emma as an offbeat, flawed character. My heart sang at her interactions with both her large, warm family and the younger blind child she mentors. The writing was intricate and, at times, beautiful. I also applaud the book for its refusal to center blindness; unfortunately, I found the subplot underdeveloped to the point of irrelevance. The subplot was, in my mind, a vehicle by which Emma’s confidence was intended to grow; however, I found it highly unlikely that classmates inexplicably seemed more comfortable with Emma by the end of the book. 

When I was in high school, I, like many extroverted blind folks, wasn’t asked out or invited to parties, except by my closest friends. Initially, Blind captured the social barriers of blindness well. Emma’s best friend, though also somewhat implausibly helpful and understanding, kept secrets and made the occasional hurtful comment. As the subplot wound down, Emma’s peers were much more accepting and inclusive, despite the fact that very little had changed in the way Emma engaged with them and vice versa.

In reality, ableism is pervasive, even for the most outgoing of disabled folks. While I was happy Emma didn’t struggle unduly, I also felt that the resolution failed to point out her classmates’ fear, ignorance, and, at times, outright unkindness.

In sum, this was an engaging read which, I feel, would have benefitted from just a few more critical blind readers to lend more perspective and challenge the author to go a level deeper.

Content Warnings for Blind: Ableism, descriptions of a graphic accident, homophobia, mentions of suicide, nonconsensual kiss

Image Description: Cover of Blind, by Rachel DeWoskin. Cover is black with white words at the top that read: What do you see when your world goes dark? Under that shows multicolored Braille dots spelling blind. Underneath the print word BLIND writ large with A Novel in small letters underneath. At the bottom is the author’s name, Rachel DeWoskin

Lupe Wong Won’t Dance – Donna Barbra Higuera

Caitlin: Straight out the gate, Lupe had me hanging on her every word. The ending was also strong, tugging at my heartstrings in a couple places. My interest did wane slightly in the middle of the book as the drama took its time unfolding and extraneous scenes ran overlong; however, several elements kept me attentive while we made our way to the book’s satisfying conclusion.

I read most of this book aloud to Martha and had a ball doing so. Lupe’s voice pops off the page, complete with hilarious similes and snappy one-liners. Her descriptions of middle school life are cringe-worthily vivid.

Happily, the magic of voice doesn’t end with Lupe herself. I often find character voices either similar enough to be interchangeable, or riddled with “unique” slang or catch phrases—signs of an adult trying too hard to write for young folks. Neither struggle applies here. Family, friends, school staff, and neighbors all have vibrant, memorable voices with well-crafted, always-engaging dialog.

Three more things of note:

1-From my perspective as a person who’s disabled but not autistic, Lupe’s autistic bestie was portrayed with sensitivity and humor. In her acknowledgements, the author credits an autistic teen who inspired Niles’s character and gave her feedback while writing. I especially appreciate that Niles often supports Lupe; their friendship is far from one-sided.

2-As an educator, I’m a sucker for fun, believable student/teacher connections in lit. Lupe and her P.E. coach are a fine example.

3-I will always give double thumbs-up for girls and female-identified kiddos in lit who love sports and can make haters (like me) care about them a little, too.

ID: Cover of Lupe Wong Won’t Dance. The words are written in two fonts, Lupe Wong in blue and red look a bit like neon sign letters, while Won’t Dance is written in distinctively western style letters. Lupe herself is centered on the cover, with light brown skin and black hair coming out from under her baseball cap. She is in a baseball jersey, shorts and shoeless. There are three others shown in the picture, but as if someone is looking down from the ceiling. You can see they are in the dreaded PE uniforms, white shirts and blue shorts. Two of them hold hands, arms outstretched, as if dancing.

Martha: This book excited me as soon as I heard about it. I was thrilled that main character is mixed race, Chinese and Mexican, and that although it obviously plays a big part of her story, it also isn’t the main point of the story. I sincerely appreciate the way her grandparents make their appearances and the ways that her family embodies different parts of her life. The book starts out like a fast ball, with great middle-grade similes that had us both laughing. I liked also the characters who we learn about without any heavy-handed labels, each with their own voice.

Near about the middle of the book, it slows down some, like a baseball game without much action. There is a chapter that was so slow for us that I checked the e-book (Caitlin read this one aloud on her BrailleNote Touch Plus) to see how many chapters we had left.

I appreciated Lupe’s fighting nature – something I never saw in books as a kid. I love that she has causes and fights against sexism and racism. I liked the boy/girl friendships and that the main character isn’t focused on romance. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy romance, but in this story I don’t think it would have fit with where Lupe is in life.

It got back on track though, for the ending. The friendships are believable and no one makes any sudden, amazing leaps of understanding. Likewise, school culture isn’t magically transformed. Everyone makes a bit of progress, friendships morph and Lupe herself gets a moment to shine. I am glad this book is out in the world. I think I would have loved it as a middle grader.

Marcus Vega Doesn’t Speak Spanish – Pablo Cartaya

ID: Cover of Marcus Vega Doesn’t Speak Spanish, by Paplo Cartaya. Title is in all caps, looks a bit like a teenager drew them. There’s a old fashioned road sign post with three signs. The top arrow, pointing right reads “Sringfield, PA 1581 mi,” the middle points left and reads “San Juan 19 mi” and the bottom rectangular sign reads “A Novel.”

Martha: I got this audiobook from the library and recognized the narrator right away. Checking the book info, I was delighted to discover it was none other than Pablo Cartaya himself. We both love to hear author’s reading their own work. But I had to do more research. I knew I’d heard his voice before. Turns out I already heard a book by Cartaya, The Epic Fail of Arturo Zamora.

Now, this wasn’t meant to be a book we were reading together, I was just looking for a book to listen to in between. Somehow everything I am reading was full of pain and sadness, and I needed something else. Marcus Vega was perfect, and from the beginning, I found myself stopping and waiting to play parts to Caitlin, or backing up to play them, or just telling her about what I’d heard on our way past each other during the day. Soon we were listening together, at lunch and dinner, and sometimes as we got ready for bed.

This book tells the story of a boy in between – in between cultures, at that in between age (fourteen), in between his mom and brother, in between his mom and dad. The story pulled me along, eager to know what would happen next. The language is crisp and believable. No extraneous scenes that left me wondering – why is this here? How does this further the story? I appreciate the loving relationships in the story, the way we hear about conflict, confusion and caring. I like the balance between what Marcus wants and what actually happens.

Currently reading: The Island Women of the Sea, by Lisa See, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, by Isabel Wilkerson, Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, We Want to Do More Than Survive by Bettina Love.

Caitlin: I’m not disabled in the same way as Marcus’s disabled character, Charlie; however, I appreciate when certain things are and aren’t included in a storyline. Granted, this book isn’t #ownvoices, and there’s no evidence in the acknowledgements that Cartaya has a close connection with a disabled person. But he does reference getting to know disabled folks well at an academy … and his care shines through.

I love that Charlie has a distinct personality: quirky, lovable, helpful. That last quality earns this book big bonus points. When Mom and Marcus are stressed, it’s Charlie who notices pertinent signs, remembers a relevant nugget of information, or maintains the collective cool. Charlie pulls his weight and receives genuine support: a balance hard to find in literature.

I love Marcus’s relationship with Charlie, too. Again, there’s balance: Marcus understands Charlie’s idiosyncrasies, and though he sometimes struggles with wanting to protect both Charlie and other vulnerable kids, he never veers toward pity or saviorism.

The warmth that pervades this book is also stunning. Mom and sons hold hands, unashamed. Mom’s words, and her efforts to do what’s best for her family, are often heartbreaking. Marcus’s anger and sadness are raw and real. The audiobook’s narration adds a layer of authenticity; we get to hear the book just as Cartaya dreamed it. The Spanish phrases are a lovely touch. As someone who, like Marcus, “doesn’t speak Spanish,” I found lots to love in these characters and their story.

Currently reading: Blind by Rachel Dewoskin, The Other Half Of Happy by Rebecca Balcárcel, Nikki And Deja — Wedding Drama by Karen English, Stella Diaz Has Something To Say by Angela Dominguez

What we’re reading together: Concrete Rose by Angie Thomas, Lupe Wong Won’t Dance by Donna Barba Higuera, Genesis Begins Again by Alicia D. Williams, Home Sweet Home? by Molly Jackel (don’t judge, we borrowed it in Braille from California School For the Blind)

Why Books All Ways?

Diverse folx review #ownvoices books

Martha: I don’t really like to write reviews, mostly because I don’t really think that my loving the book means you will love the book, and I have scoffed at MANY reviews myself, thinking, “Ha! You think that was good?! I totally disagree!” or “I loved that book, how dare you say it wasn’t good!” Meanwhile, I still do look for book reviews, excerpts, blurbs, summaries myself so that I can help folks select books for themselves without reading EVERY book in the world (I mean, I would be happy to read every book in the world, but of course that’s not really possible).

I finally decided that one thing I can do is to provide for people something that I myself am looking for about the books I am reading. In talking this over with Caitlin, my partner, we decided that we could do it together. We read a lot of books together – and we often have different opinions about those books. That way you, Dear Reader, get a slightly more nuanced review.

Caitlin: We like the idea of sharing two independently-written reviews in one post, since obviously different folks often appreciate–and cringe at–different aspects of the same book. For example, Martha’s a stickler for choppy or run-on sentences, and a sucker for sweet dads, characters of color doing everyday things,  and straight male and straight female friendships that don’t turn into romance. I, on the other hand, am disappointed by novels with abrupt endings and character voices that don’t remain consistent, while I scream with joy over consent being modeled in love scenes, disability rep written with raw honesty, and characters who skip or hold hands. So while we typically agree on whether or not books are epic, we often have radically unique takeaways. And we’re here to share them with y’all!

The two of us tend to read realistic fiction, middle-grade and young-adult, with themes including family, friendship, and exploration of identity. We are only reading books by diverse writers, which means, to us, Black, Indigenous, other authors of color (BIPOC), disabled, LGBTQQIA+, etc. For the most part, we stick to #ownvoices books: novels where the author shares an identity with one or more of their primary characters. We’re here for representation. We want young folks to read themselves portrayed with authenticity, truth, and joy.

From time to time we’ll probably do individual reviews, since we also read books solo. We are also open to folx submitting reviews to us which we might post (or cross post) or book ideas for us to read and review. We will make space for collaboration because we know we can’t read them all and we recognize we don’t identify with every group.

Why booksallways?

Caitlin: I read most books in braille, with my fingers, using a tablet with a braille display. Martha reads most books in print, with her eyes: sometimes in hardcopy, sometimes with an e-Reader. Sometimes, my computer reads books aloud to me, or I’m lucky enough to get my hands on some hardcopy braille. These days, Martha’s learning to read braille with her eyes.

We both enjoying listening to audiobooks—in the car, while we do dishes, in those post-work hours when we’re too tired to write but too awake to zone out in front of Star Trek: Voyager.

Every night, before we go to sleep, one of us reads aloud to the other; at any given time, we always have at least two “read-aloud” books in progress. When we aren’t physically together, we record the next read-aloud chapter on What’s App, or as a voice memo in Dropbox.

We really do “read all ways”: eyes, ears, and fingers, together and apart. And we read “always”: sitting still, on the go, and virtually everywhere and every way in between.