Sponsored Review: Danika reviews Charity by Paulette Callen

Charity-ylva

Charity is a novel that mixes several genres. It is definitely historical fiction, set in the late 19th century in a small town in America, and it is also sort of a lesbian romance novel, but there’s definitely the element of a mystery as well. At the same time, it’s an exploration of the town of Charity, but one family in particular. It has two protagonists, Lena, a woman married to a drunk with a large and unlikeable family, and Gustie, a schoolteacher with a tragic past that keeps her constantly travelling back and forth between Charity and the nearby Red Sands reservation.

Charity was first published by Simon and Shuster in 1997, and has been republished by Ylva, with the sequel (Fervent Charity) being published by them soon. The writing is easy to read and even occasionally poetic, the characters are strong and believable, and the different plot strands are compelling. I found the cast of characters a little overwhelming at first, especially in that Will, Lena’s husband, has his whole family described, and keeping them straight is pretty important to understanding the plot. The romance was sweet, though I still wanted to know more about her love interest. I thought the mystery was very well done. I had no idea who the culprit was through the majority of the book, but when it was slowly revealed, I realized that the clues had been there the whole time. It’s a proper mystery, in that a shrewd reader could have figured it all out beforehand (I did have the vast majority pieced together before the end, but only about ten pages before the final reveal), but will still be a surprise for most people.

What was most intriguing and what I was most worried about, however, was the depiction of the Native characters in Charity. There is a tendency for romance novels (straight or queer) to fall into the habit of making Native characters mysterious, spiritual, ephemeral beings–the “noble savage” stereotype. There is also a tendency to posit Native people as being people from the past, ignoring that Native cultures and people are just as much part of the present. Setting a story (partially) about Native people in the past could play into this, I worried, though it is also an opportunity to tell some of the horrific stories of colonization that are glossed over in white Western accounts. So a big part of my critical thinking around this book was centered on the representation of Native people. I’ll have to go into a few spoilers to discuss it, but nothing too major. Oh, also, speaking of spoilers but necessary thing to discuss, trigger warnings for cutting as well as suicide in this book. Especially cutting, which is depicted positively.

Charity does tell the story of some of the horrors of colonization, including death from disease, some of the suffering in residential schools, white officials cheating Native people out of their allotments, and of course the casual racism of most of the people in Charity, including Lena. Gustie is disgusted by this treatment, but it doesn’t completely change Lena’s mind by the end of the novel–she softens, but still refuses to let a Native woman stay in her house. At some point, a group of Native men play into the “bloodthirsty” stereotypes in order to scare a white guy off, and then laugh at his ignorance for thinking that they were serious. Overall, I thought this was a decent representation, since it is realistic to present Lena that way, and I don’t believe we’re supposed to agree with her. I was more concerned about Gustie, actually. When the reservation is cheated out of their allotments, she is outraged and vows to fix it, but that sort of plays into the white savior idea: that she, as a white person, can save these Native people who of course aren’t able to save themselves. At the same time, it’s true that as a white person, Gustie did have more options available to her to help. Another part that made me uncomfortable was that she is called two-spirited by a Native character, which is a term that–at least now–is only for Native people. She also has the Deer Spirit appear to her. One character says she is trying to “play Indian.” She sadly says, “I am the wasichu [white person] for whom you will not dance” to Jordis, apparently trying to guilt her for not wanting to make her traditional dance entertainment for white people. It is the Native characters that are putting this onto Gustie, “adopting” her, but it’s also (as far as I can tell) a white author writing this. So that made me a bit uneasy, but most likely it will play out one way or another in the sequel.

Despite a few issues, I enjoyed Charity, especially the mystery plot and the characters of Gustie and Lena, and I would recommend this one if it sounds interesting to you!

This has been a sponsored review. For more information, check out the Lesbrary’s review policy.

Link Round Up: Sept 26 – Oct 9

inheritance   TheEssentialDykestoWatchOutForDTWOF   womensbarracks

AfterEllen posted AfterEllen.com Book Club for October: “Inheritance”.

Autostraddle posted Lez Liberty Lit #30: We Love Categorizing and Naming Things.

Bisexual Books posted Wanna Contribute to Bisexual Books?

Curve Magazine posted Page Turner: Alison Bechdel.

Elisa posted LGBT Ebook and Print Releases, September 2013.

Lambda Literary posted Nia King: Queer Comic Zine Culture.

Queer Books Please posted Episode 36 – Reader or Writer? and Episode 37 – Back In Print.

UK Lesbian Fiction posted News Roundup: UK Authors at the VLR, Rainbow Awards Finalists, Sarah Waters’ New Novel, Giveaways Galore & Loads More.

secondmangocover   Kissing the Witch   thedaylightgate

“Princesses Who Love Other Princesses – A Spotlight on Queer Retellings ~ from Jessie Quinn” was posted at The Book Rat. (Back in March. But I just found it.)

Kiki Archer was interviewed at When Sally Met Sally.

Sarah Diemer posted Ladies Rescuing Ladies: A Guest Post by Shira Glassman, Queer Jewish Feminist Author.

Malinda Lo posted Coming Out 2.0 and 2013 LGBT YA by the Numbers.

Sarah Waters‘s new book’s title has been revealed: The Paying Guests.

Jeanette Winterson‘s The Daylight Gate has been published in the US.

Charity-ylva   allthatlieswithin   annotated

All That Lies Within by Lynn Ames was reviewed at The Rainbow Reader.

Brace Yourself by Alysia Angel was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

Charity by Paulette Callen was reviewed at C-Spot Reviews.

After The Night by Rachel Dax was reviewed at Good Lesbian Books.

Reclamation by W.K. Hoover was reviewed at Lipstick Lesbian Reviews.

Annotated Glass by Alyse Knorr was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

Camilla by Tracy Sharp was reviewed at Lipstick Lesbian Reviews.

For even more links, check out the Lesbrary’s twitter pageWe’re also on FacebookGoodreads and tumblr

This post has the covers linked to their Amazon pages. If you click through and buy something, I might get a small referral fee.

Tag reviews The Collection: Short Fiction from the Transgender Vanguard edited by Tom Leger and Riley Macleod

TheCollection

“In some ways, this book is a response to what so many professors of English language literature ask their students to consider at the start of each semester. Why literature? What does literature accomplish?”

The Collection: Short Fiction from the Transgender Vanguard is straightforward in what it is right in the title. It’s a collection of short stories featuring trans* characters. This in and of itself is rare, as transgendered or non-binary gender identified people are often left out of “queer” literature in favour of cisgendered lesbian or gay, or bi characters. It’s a huge void in queer literature I want to see filled much more than it is, but The Collection is such a surprisingly hefty read that it bridges the gap quite a bit. It’s almost 400 pages of stories featuring protagonists with one identifying feature in common: they’re all trans*-identifying (or non-binary, in a few cases).

“Literature” is exactly the word I would use to describe the quality of the content in this collection. Any genre you can think of makes its way into this collection one way or another; while most stories are realistic or contemporary, there are a few supernatural or superhero tales, all exquisitely written. There’s no shortage of representation from one gender identity to another, and several stories feature a multitude of transgendered or non-binary characters just being characters, much in the way other fiction has background characters that we would take for granted. With this collection it’s impossible to take them for granted, but they’re written and treated no differently from any other non-trans* fiction.

The stories aren’t without discomfort on a lot of levels. Many of them integrate the microagressions that transgendered and non-binary people face on a daily basis, but never in a way that feels cheap or fake. The realness of each portrayal is exactly what makes them uncomfortable, and I won’t deny that some stories have a cringe factor so high I had to put them down and take a breath before continuing (I’m looking at you, The Café). However, after that breath I couldn’t wait to pick this collection back up, and I didn’t want it to be over. What I really want is another few dozen in the same vein. Halfway through this I was already recommending The Collection to my trans* and genderqueer friends, and after finishing it I couldn’t help but recommend it again. This is an amazing collection with a lot of talent behind it and it belongs with any other collection featuring great literature.

[Also check out Danika’s review!]

Danika reviews The Red Tree by Caitlin R. Kiernan

theredtree

For October, in honor of Halloween, I’ve been picking up some appropriate books. This one I was especially excited about, because there aren’t a lot of lesbian horror books. Besides, the premise really appealed to me. Here, I’ll just paste part of the the blurb.

Sarah Crowe left Atlanta, and the remnants of a tumultuous relationship, to live alone in an old house in rural Rhode Island. Within its walls she discovers an unfinished manuscript written by the house’s former tenant-a parapsychologist obsessed with the ancient oak growing on a desolate corner of the property.

I love lesbians and book and any combination therein, so a lesbian book about a book (the manuscript)? I’m in! I was a little worried, partly because the blurb doesn’t mention it, that the lesbian content would be more of a one-off line about her ex-girlfriend. I was totally wrong, however, and part of what I enjoyed about The Red Tree were things like Sarah lamenting that with her luck, her new neighbor would be straight. (Woe!) And it was just as literary as I was hoping: Sarah is an author, and the book is mostly comprised of her journal entries. There is also a fictional editor’s preface, explaining the context of the entries (namely, Sarah’s subsequent suicide), and included within the entries are lengthy excerpts from the manuscript Sarah discovers, as well as a short story of hers. The whole thing is fiction within fiction, so in those aspects it was exactly what I was looking for.

In fact, I spent the whole first half of the book wanting to thrust it into people’s hands and say “This! This is what you want to read in October!” It was just the right kind of creepy and atmospheric. Slow-moving, not grisly, just unsettling and compelling. Also, I loved Sarah as a character, though you might disagree. She’s sometimes rude and sarcastic, and generally caustic, but believably so. She’s also self-deprecating, so she doesn’t spare anyone. I found it quite funny and times, and definitely a well-rounded, memorable character.

As for the plot, most of it is just setting up the story, establishing the mood, slowly heightening the creepy factor. The manuscript excerpts fill you in on more and more of the bloody back story of the property, and that tree in particular. As I’ve said, it’s precisely the kind of understated creepiness that I’m looking for in a Halloween read. It is almost 400 pages long, however, and I felt like around the middle or three-quarter mark, it began to lag a little. Still, rounding on the end of the book I was glued to my seat to finish the last fifty pages, wondering how she was going to wrap this up. Unfortunately, I felt disappointed.

[spoilers, highlight to read] I’m not usually one to see the end of stories coming: I tend not to look to critically at the clues in the story until I see them in hindsight. I don’t usually read mysteries partly because I get lost and can’t figure out what’s happenings. But I saw this ending coming a mile away and was really hoping that I would be wrong. I just feel like it’s the most common trick in the book for creepy stories. And because I saw that coming, it wasn’t nearly enough of a shocker to be the final reveal, to me. I expected there to be something else in addition to that, at least, but that was the whole punchline. It really dragged down the book for me. Where I would have rated it maybe 5/5 for a great ending, it now feels more like a 3.5/5. Alas. But the other rating on this book on Amazon and Goodreads seem almost all positive, so that may just be me. [end spoilers]

Overall, I think I would still recommend this one for a creepy read, but I would warn against expecting a stupendous ending, or expecting much of a resolution. I still enjoyed most of this book a lot.

Edited to add: I should note that I wrote this review immediately after finishing the book. Reading some other reviews, I realize that I misunderstood the ending, at least in part. I still feel disappointed, but not to the same degree… I may feel differently about this book after some time to think about it.

Anna M reviews Small Town Trouble by Jean Erhardt

smalltowntrouble

Jean Erhardt’s Small Town Trouble is the first in a series of mysteries that features the somewhat reluctant detective Kim Claypoole. As the action begins, we find Kim returning to the small Ohio town of her youth to advise her mother on a potentially shady real estate deal. Behind her, she leaves a successful restaurant, which she runs with her best friend; her double-wide trailer; and the married and closeted Martha Stewart-esque hostess with whom she is currently involved, Nancy Merit.

Kim’s mother Evelyn has always had a “spend first, ask questions never” mentality, which has gotten her into financial difficulties. Evelyn’s remaining assets include a palatial estate and her dead husband’s unprofitable country radio station, which a mysterious benefactor has recently offered to purchase for $250,000. Kim arrives to counsel her mother and discovers that the proprietor of the town’s topless bar has been murdered and that the person offering to buy the radio station is also interested in the family farm of her junior high kissing partner, Amy.

Curious against her will, and faced with an increasing number of odd occurrences, Kim tries to put the pieces together while juggling her mother, the married Amy’s rekindled interest, her disgruntled restaurant partner, and her relationship with Nancy. With Amy playing George to her Nancy Drew, Kim pokes around and gets more trouble than she bargained for, putting her life in danger to uncover the secrets of Fogerty, Ohio.

Erhardt has a dry, tongue-in-cheek delivery that makes Small Town Trouble a lot of fun to read. For example, when Kim has resolutely decided to ignore her concerns and have her mother take the money and run, a small voice that sounds “a lot like Jessica Fletcher” prods her to keep investigating. I appreciated Kim’s cultural references and her dogged approach, even though her judgment in her personal life is clearly questionable. Kim’s history shares several details with Erhardt’s bio, and I would be interested in reading the next book to see where Kim goes from here. I expect that Erhardt’s experience as a private investigator will provide her with a lot of fodder for both comedy and tragedy.

Casey reviews Mermaid in Chelsea Creek by Michelle Tea

MermaidinChelseaCreek

I feel a bit like a terrible literary queer when I say that I haven’t read much of Michelle Tea—I actually saw the film version of Valencia when it was recently at Vancouver’s queer film festival, and I haven’t read the book yet!  While Michelle Tea was in town for the screening, though, I had the pleasure of seeing and hearing her read from her latest (young adult) novel, Mermaid in Chelsea Creek.  I was sold.

First things first, the book itself is beautiful.  It has a great nineteenth-century feel both on the outside and the inside.  The hardcover is deep blue scattered with pictures of birds and a silver silhouette of a girl.  Throughout the book in the corner of certain pages, and sometimes taking over an entire page or spreading onto the next one, are illustrations of birds, people, plants, trailers, and other random locales in the dirty, urban climate of Chelsea, Massachusetts where the novel is set.  If you like beautiful books, this is an awesome one to have in your collection and it’s only twenty bucks, which is a steal for a hardcover!

Okay, onto the content of Mermaid in Chelsea Creek.  This novel has a fantastic combination of a lot of things I love in literature: tough yet vulnerable teenage girl protagonist, gritty urban setting, magical creatures, girls saving the world, feminism, gender play, witches, and talking animals.  Our everyday girl chosen for a special destiny is Sophie Swankowski (yes, that’s a Polish last name and I was excited to read about Polish immigrants to North America, since it’s not something I’ve encountered much and I have Polish background myself!).  I know the chosen one shtick in fantasy has been done a lot (Harry Potter, etc) but I love it.  I love how Sophie, being the uncertain, messy-haired teenager that she is, is pretty reluctant about taking on the responsibility of ridding the world of evil.  Her guide is a cussing mermaid who appears out of a filthy river to her during a vision she has while playing the pass-out game with her friend.  I’d be weirded out too, Sophie.

In addition to her bad-ass mermaid mentor, Sophie also discovers a long-lost great aunt masquerading as the owner of a musty old convenience store, that her grandfather is not really dead but has been turned into a dog by her evil grandmother, and a Puerto Rican genderqueer teenager named Angel who has been waiting for her at the previously mentioned evil grandmother’s trailer at the town dump.  Angel is where the queer part comes in, although, admittedly, it’s pretty subtextual.  Angel is there to help Sophie and teach her about her powers, and the interactions between them are really cute.  Ideally, I would have liked a little more romance here, but I get it, okay: Sophie has that whole saving-the-world-from-itself thing to do.  I’m a sucker for romance, what can I say.  I hope we get to see more of Angel in later books!

This novel is also a fantastic blend of genres:  sometimes I find fantasy worlds a little too clean, but Mermaid in Chelsea Creek injects a healthy dose of gritty realism, particularly about the sexist shit teenage girls have to deal with.  While there’s no over threat or mention of sexual assault, it and violence against women more generally linger in the background of the novel and I would definitely give a trigger warning, for sexual assault and self-harm.  Sophie’s world is magical, but there’s also poverty, and misogyny, and animal cruelty, and alcoholism, and racism, and immigration, and single moms doing the best they can.

Mermaid in Chelsea Creek is the first book in a trilogy, so we’re left just when Sophie is embarking on her journey with the mermaid.  I can’t wait to find out what happens next!  We still need so many of these stories, of women as agents of their own destiny and leading the story and kicking ass and being messy, complex human beings.  When I was at Michelle Tea’s reading in Vancouver, there was a group of gay men there who had read the book in their book club.  They were obviously eager to discuss it, but unfortunately were totally unaware of how male-dominated the q&a became when they took up all the space.  One of them even complained about how there weren’t any so-called nice male characters in the book.  Hello!?!  So many men’s stories have been told—it’s time for stories about women, like Sophie, to be told.  Prioritizing women’s voices is one of the things this novel is all about—if you didn’t get that, you better read it again.