Sigh. I’ve loved the first two books by Alison Evans, so when I heard they had a new one coming out I knew I’d have to read it. This is my favourite of their work so far. A magical story about 3 gender diverse teens who get to explore a world in which gender euphoria is their experience rather than the debilitating gender dysphoria that is so common for people questioning how they see themselves in society’s gender binary. The notion of being SEEN is also a powerful element of this book – both literally for Babs, who had been cursed by a witch and so disappears sometimes without warning, and figuratively for characters like the boy, a trans male who becomes friends with Babs and Iris after they see him for him, and accept his identity and pronouns while he figures out what his name is. The fairies, dryads, witches and spells aren’t what makes this book magic – it’s the sensitive, joyful and lyrical way that Alison weaves this splendid tale. Beautifully written and beautifully told, this is a wonderful book. I’m so thrilled to have gotten to read this and I’ll be gifting it to a lot of special people in my life.
I’ve been recording TikToks on some of my favourite books, so I’m testing out embedding them here … let me know if read this what you think about including the videos. Do you like them? Do you not care? I’m curious as to whether you think it’s worth the effort to embed the videos here!
I’ve always been interested in space, and I’m sure my childhood fantasies of being an astronaut led to my strong sci-fi leanings as a teen and adult. This book is a fab graphic novel which looks at the history of women’s involvement in the space program. It tells the compelling narrative story of Mary Cleave, one of the first women to complete NASA space training and then go on to complete 2 space missions and eventually lead the NASA Science Mission Directorate. Her personal story serves as a frame for the political and feminist history of women in space, and we see the story of the Russian space program and how it got there first. I particularly love how they employ a different font on the panels which depict the experiences of the Soviet space program. It’s a great visual cue to help differentiate these opposite yet parallel narratives.
The illustrations are charming, the science is fascinating, and the message is powerful – women can do anything, despite the men who try to tell them no. There’s some serious historical research that went into this book, and the librarian in me loves the source list at the end. The insight into the committee hearings which almost saw the Women in Space Program sidelined permanently was fascinating too – “of course we’ll need women eventually if we are planning on colonising another planet!” I loved this book, and will be on the lookout for their other graphic novel, Primates, to read soon!
I have loved going to the library for as long as I can remember. I don’t recall the first time I stepped into one – I should ask my mum about that. I do remember, though, that in my childhood growing up in a small country town in NSW (hey there, Wallerawang!) I’d visit our council-run library multiple times a week. On the way home from school, even though it really wasn’t on the way. On a Saturday morning, which would turn into a Saturday afternoon until the librarian eventually kicked me out. I visited it a few years ago, on my way home from a family funeral, and whilst I recognised the outside of the building, the inside was new and different. At the same time, though, if I had to describe that the inside looked like when I lived there, I don’t know that I could – it lives in my memory as an impression, rather than an image.
I don’t really remember anything about the books I read when I spent my time there either. There are no titles that stick out for me, nor magic discoveries of favourite books or authors that ended up staying with me forever, which is strange now I think about it. But I think what happened for me between those four walls was bigger than any one story. I discovered a safe space. Surrounded by ideas, able to meet people and explore places with no fear of being hurt, or disappointed, or rejected, I discovered the world that would become my home. In my current job, we’ve kind of adopted the unofficial tagline of “Stories that stay with you” to encapsulate the impact that stories can have on a reader, and that’s totally true. But sometimes, those stories stay with you through an impression, a feeling of connection and safety, a feeling of being seen by a character on a page who you’ll struggle to remember years later but whose impact is no less lasting or important.
I went through a phase in primary school where I didn’t visit my school library, after the librarian told me that I was “too young” to read a particular book (an irony if you know what I do now for a job!) but my high school librarians were people who saw me, who nurtured the lost soul that I invariably was, and who fed my desire for connection and comfort with whatever I wanted to read, and whatever they thought would speak to me. It was also around this time that we moved to another town – not far away, and not all that much bigger, but it held the main branch of the little council library that had been my childhood spiritual home. I was entranced. Rows and rows of shelves, and no-one cared that this skinny nerdy little 12 year old was wandering around carrying books that were far too heavy for her, both physically and intellectually. And the day I discovered the basement stacks, and the book sale tables … well, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
Evans HS Library, on my last day. December 2017
Not surprisingly, I spent countless hours throughout uni in the library, but something happened when I got married and had children. Not through any fault of theirs, but I kind of forgot how much libraries meant to me. I’d half-heartedly go sometimes, usually to take the kids, but eventually we just stopped seeing each other, my Library Lover and I. When I started teaching, I spent very little time in the library, as the one that was at my school bore no relation to any library I’d loved before.
And then, I got the chance to change it. It stoked in me a passion I’d forgotten existed. I started to remember what my past Library Lovers had meant to me, and it made me want to build something like that for the students I treasured, as well as the ones I didn’t know. Did it work? I’m not sure. I know that for the kids who spent time in my library, it mattered. I hope that there are traces of that still living on in that space now I’m gone.
New York Public Library, June 2019
Now, I don’t spend much time in libraries – they’re the first places I schedule visits to on holidays, and I’ve got quite the collection of library cards, but they aren’t really a part of my typical weekly schedule. I guess I’d like to change that, and I’m going to pop into my local library this afternoon and pay my very overdue lost book fine (sorry, Penrith City Library!). Whilst I don’t spend time in a library often, though, I’m so passionate about their importance, and their potential to positively impact the lives of individuals and communities in ways that you can’t easily quantify, but are nonetheless meaningful. I guess you could say I’m in a long distance relationship with libraries now (which is also kind of appropriate if you know my personal story!)
So, happy library lovers’ day. Go visit yours this weekend. Ask the librarian for a recommendation. Give them a smile. And pick up a story that will hopefully stay with you for long after the last page is read.
Title: Run, Rebel Author: Manjeet Mann Genre/ issues: Verse novel, YA, contemporary issues.
Well. Books that bring me to tears, part 2. This uncorrected proof arrived in my world yesterday, and I read it last night. It’s long, but it’s a verse novel, so a relatively quick read. It’s not easy though, with some pretty heavy content. A patriarchal family with an abusive alcoholic at the head, both parents dealing with illiteracy, and the mother working a cash-in-hand sweatshop job. A teenager who is a talented runner but has limited resources and parental support to pursue this. The impacts of poverty, and privilege, and generational trauma. It’s heavy going, but the beauty of the poetry makes it somehow easier to bear. It had me thinking about my own experiences as a teacher – was I always as sensitive as I could have been to the kid falling asleep in my class? Did I make assumptions about resourcing and support that may have been out of the realm of possibility for some of my students? I think I was possibly one of the better ones, but I don’t know that I always got that right.
Built around the framework of An Anatomy of A Revolution – how do you overthrow an oppressive regime? – this book is stunning. It’s out next month. Please read it.
I don’t often listen to audiobooks at home, but Kelsey warned me I shouldn’t be in public when I finished this one, so I listened to the last hour or so of it last night. It was a good tip. There were messy tears. A beautiful, sensitive, sweet and smart book that I wish I’d read earlier. Aristotle is angry a lot of the time, and he doesn’t really know why. He meets Dante, and they strike up an instant connection. Two Mexican American boys with different families and experiences weave their way through this book to try and figure out the secrets of the universe. Do they get there? Maybe. You’ll have to read it to find out. But I feel like I understand it a little better now. The audiobook was beautifully narrated by Lin Manuel Miranda, and the print copy I stole off Kelsey is now dog-eared with many marked pages and passages that I’ll revisit in the future. A gem of a book.
