Elinor reviews Searching for Celia by Elizabeth Ridley

SearchingCelia

Searching for Celia by Elizabeth Ridley is a fast-paced mystery about identity. It starts with our American narrator, Dayle, on a plane to visit London and deliver a keynote speech at a writing conference, and more importantly, to visit her lifelong friend and one-time girlfriend, Celia. Dayle and Celia meet as young teenagers when Celia’s father was working in the U.S., and Dayle and Celia have been friends ever since. Six years before the novel begins, Celia and Dayle completed a writing graduate program together in England. During that time, they were briefly a couple, sharing dreams of writing serious, important fiction.

Celia and Dayle both succeeded in getting some of their serious, important fiction published shortly after graduating. Both women ended up experiencing tremendous commercial failure with their fiction in the years that followed, and were devastated by this failure. Dayle handled this by adopting a pen name, dying her hair, and writing a bestselling series of over-the-top spy novels and buying a Chicago condo with her profits. In just half a dozen years, Dayle’s gone from idealistic would-be writer to wealthy blockbuster novelist who worries about being a sell-out. Celia, on the other hand, started off with some success in her chosen field, followed by a flop that was also ripped apart by critics, and quit. Instead of writing, Celia’s been single-handedly running a nonprofit out of her London apartment, serving refugees and asylees, especially women and girls trafficked in sex trade. Not surprisingly, they’ve drifted apart. When Celia invited Dayle to stay with her during Dayle’s visit for the conference, Dayle hoped to revitalize their lagging friendship. A heartbreaking personal loss Dayle has recently suffered only fuels her longing for someone she knows so well.

Unfortunately, Celia doesn’t greet Dayle at the airport. Dayle goes to Celia’s address and she’s not there either, but she lets herself in. Soon she learns that Cecelia’s car has been found on a bridge and it appears Celia has died by suicide mere hours before Dayle arrived. This shock launches Dayle into an investigation of her friend’s life. While staying at Celia’s apartment and meeting with Celia’s recently dumped girlfriend, Edwina, Dayle discovers sides to Celia she never expected, casting doubt about everything she thought she knew from twenty years of friendship. Dayle suspects that the police account of Celia’s disappearance is not the whole truth, and her search for answers raises even more questions. Did Celia die or fake her death? If she’s dead, was it suicide or murder? Was Celia’s nonprofit broke, mixed up with organized crime, or both? Was Celia keeping the nonprofit afloat with her own money or using it as a personal piggy bank? Who was the real Celia? Dayle keeps digging, even when it begins to put her own life in danger.

The plot moves along at a quick and engaging clip, with menacing themes of terrorist threat and mistaken identity woven throughout. I read the whole thing over a weekend, eager to find out what would happen. This novel is suspenseful without being gruesome or gratuitous, and deftly avoids gore and sexual violence. Dayle and Celia’s friendship feels real, complicated, and fluid the way long-term queer friendship often is.

Searching for Celia isn’t perfect. Dayle’s launch into literary success seems too quick and easy. Edwina is underutilized, and too many characters–such as Celia’s therapist–offer up crucial information that should be private, seeming just because Dayle asked. Some of the most interesting questions are never answered, even when the rest of the story comes to a fairly satisfying end. For example, we never learn why Celia chose to work with refugees, asylees, and trafficked women when she faced difficulty with fiction, or why she revised an unpublished novel and asked someone to keep it safe when it seems she’s given up on writing. Celia’s nonprofit and the characters it served seemed two-dimensional, holding up the plot well enough but not doing much else. In the final chapters, Dayle jumps on theory after theory with little evidence, trusting people with secrets and then regretting it as soon as she hears a different theory. Not surprisingly, this leaves Dayle, and others, vulnerable to manipulation and harm. I like my heroines a little more savvy, especially because at that point Dayle is deep in her investigation and knows some of the dangers she may be facing.

Limitations aside, Searching for Celia sucks you in. It’s a great read for mystery fans. It digs into deeper questions about what it means to know someone while keeping you guessing about the story. If you’re intrigued by the premise, give it a try.

4 out of 5 stars.

Danika reviews the Summer We Got Free by Mia McKenzie

summerwegotfree

The overwhelming image I get when trying to describe The Summer We Got Free is the moments just before a summer thunderstorm: the charged anticipation, the humid heat, the claustrophobia of it. It also reminded me of Toni Morrison’s Beloved in that this is a story about a family and a house haunted by their past. The story alternates between the family’s present, where they are still dealing with the fall out from a tragedy that happened decades earlier, and the past just preceding the tragedy.

This alternating structure really works in maintaining tension. Even though it’s mostly focused on the internal lives of the characters, I found myself eagerly turning the pages to discover what exactly happened to shatter this family. You get just enough information to not be frustrated, but you have to hang on all the way to the end to really understand the whole picture.

I also loved the main character, Ava. As a child, she was passionate, vibrant, and unrestrainable. Her adult self is closed off, dulled, and practical. Part of the journey of The Summer We Got Free is Ava’s reconnecting with her childhood self, and trying to find a way to reclaim personality traits that she had long buried.

The only complaint I had with this book was that I found the male characters unsympathetic and a bit flat in comparison with all the other major characters, but even that I feel like was resolved to some extent by the end. This was a five star read for me and one that I intend to reread multiple times in the future. It will take its place on my bookshelf next to The Color Purple for a story that is cutting and brutally honest about the state of the world, but inspirational in spite of that–or, more accurately, because it acknowledges that and find joy and hope regardless of that.

I’ll leave you with the first paragraph, which should convince you to pick it up if nothing else does.

Ava did not remember the taste of butter. It had been seventeen years since she had last moaned at the melt of hot-buttered cornbread on her tongue. She was not bothered in the least by it, because she did not remember that she did not remember. At breakfast, when she dropped a square of butter on grits, or on yams at dinner, and laid a spoonful of either on her tongue, she believed what she tasted was butter. She did not know that she was only tasting milkfat and salt, the things that make up butter, which, of course, is not the same thing. She certainly did not know that the taste of butter was a thing that had once made her moan. Ava did not remember what it was to moan

Danika reviews Hayate X Blade Omnibus 1 (Volumes 1-3) by Shizuru Hayashiya

hayatexblade

I’ve only read a handful of manga, but every time I do I find them completely engrossing. So of course I’ve been trying to make my way through the yuri manga that is available in English. I know, though, that there is context to manga in general as an art form and yuri in particular that I am missing, because I’m not very familiar with Japanese storytelling tropes. That’s my disclaimer: I can only approach this from my own perspective.

With that in mind, I found this story a little baffling. From what I understand, it’s fairly common at least in Japanese stories for girls to have crushes on each other and even romances that aren’t taken seriously outside of school.  And for the most part, that seems to be the sort of relationships that are happening in Hayate X Blade. Girls are teamed up in a school dueling competition, and they may develop a sort of relationship, but those are mostly treated lightly or as jokes in the story. There are also constant jokes about girls being “pervy” for wanting to sleep in the same bed as another girl, or really wanting any sort of physical relationship. On the other hand, the main character has lots of women who want her to be their wife, so who knows.

There is a lot of slapstick humor, though the duelling plot takes itself pretty seriously, and sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t. What really grated for me was that the main character teams up with an older girl who treats her like dirt most of the time. This is used for comedic effect, but basically she’s constantly getting punched out by this girl. I was willing to overlook that as hyperbole for the sake of the joke, but I’m still not personally a fan of reading one-sided relationships. It became harder to ignore, though, when one volume has a subplot about a girl who’s also being beaten up by her older duelling partner, except that her storyline around violence was taken seriously, completely glossing over the earlier instances. (Until suddenly that violence was also seen as comedic?)

There are a lot of characters introduced, and I was intrigued them. Clearly the next volumes will have this larger cast moving together in a more complex way, and I appreciated that despite new characters being added often, they were all distinct enough in personality and appearance that I was able to remember them and tell them apart. And though distinct, they’re not over-exaggerated or stock characters: they seem dynamic and rounded despite not getting a lot of time on the page.

I can tell that the series is going to improve from here, but I don’t think I’ll be continuing, because I don’t really want to read about relationships between girls being the punchline.

Danika reviews Bodymap by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

bodymap

I don’t typically read poetry, and this was a collection that made me realize what a mistake that is. Bodymap is about Piepzna-Samarasinha’s life as a queer disabled femme of colour. It’s political, but it’s politics rooted in everyday experiences of injustice and survival, not abstract theorizing. Although her poetry experiments with style, they all are accessible and grounded (which as a poetry novice, I always appreciate).

There are some books that I enjoy so much that I want to draw out the experience of reading them as long as possible, and there are some that I love to the extent that I want to inhale them all in one gasp, and Bodymap was the latter. I found myself in the bizarre situation of being impatient to reread it as I was reading it for the first time. It’s definitely going to be a collection I revisit multiple times, and I know I’ll get more out of it on every read.

This is poetry that punches you in the gut. It’s hard and bright and unapologetic. There is humour and light, but most of all, Bodymap is passionate and honest. And despite the fact that this collection is unapologetically about Piepzna-Samarasinha’s intersectional identity, it has a lot to say just about surviving in this world. This was my favourite read of the month and one I can’t recommend it highly enough.

(Also check out Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian’s review!)