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At surface level, this is a coming-of-age novel about best friends and self-proclaimed “drama nerds” who have written a queer retelling of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, their senior showcase that will serve as an audition for the university drama program they both hope to get into nearby. Dig deeper and it's an important book that pulls back the curtain to show what transgender and non-binary youth have to endure while trying to live as their authentic selves, battling transphobia, homophobia and gender dysphoria.
Lucy and Callie have planned out their path to success which includes getting into the Hughes drama program at Central University where they’ll be roommates. However, when they make a visit, Lucy runs into classmates who taunt her with transphobic slurs, leaving her uncomfortable with the idea of going to college so close to home. To add to her mounting distress, in a ripped from the headlines scenario, the local school board has banned them from putting on their play, forcing them to either rewrite a “sanitized version” or to give up their chance to attend Hughes. So, Lucy decides to see what other options are out there and finds an all-women’s college 6 hours away. Now all she has to do is visit the campus with Callie and hope it’s everything she’s been led to believe it might be, including meeting face-to-face with a handsome guy she connects with online who she’s been pumping for information about the school.
As Lucy starts to have conversations with queer students who have various gender identities and sexual preferences, readers are given the opportunity to witness the challenges these vulnerable, yet proud young adults face from family, classmates, supposed friends, and strangers. For some readers, this will be a valuable lesson; for those who are navigating their own journey, it will hopefully provide validation, comfort and hope when they see themselves in the characters. This is a worthy addition to any teen collection. Highly recommended.
I received a complimentary ARC of this book from Knopf BYR through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Opinions expressed are completely my own.
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3.5*
I give much credit to Novoa for thoughtfully reimagining Pride and Prejudice as a queer romance with Oliver Bennett (deadname: Elizabeth), a trans male, and Fitzwilliam Darcy, a gay cisgender male. However, I struggled with the fact that the dialogue was, for the most part, very modern. When Oliver used the word “infantilized,” it actually pulled me out of the story to check on its etymology. (It was first used in the 1930s.) It was also hard for me to ignore my knowledge of the history of sodomy laws in the UK. (The Buggery Act of 1533 under Henry VIII, which made sodomy punishable by death, wasn’t lifted until 1861, and homosexuality wasn’t fully legal until 1967.)
Having said this, I found the book enjoyable and imagine that its target audience, young adults, will probably not have these same issues since most haven’t read Jane Austen’s original story and don’t know the history. Many have, however, seen at least one movie adaptation, so they’d be able to appreciate Oliver and Darcy’s relationship without distraction. Regardless of my concerns, I really enjoyed how Novoa made Wickham even a bigger villain than he was in Austen’s story, highlighted the loving relationship between Oliver and his father, and showed a much softer side of Darcy. I also love the cover art.
This story is ground-breaking! At a time when trans people (especially youth) are being attacked by power-hungry, inhumane politicians and church leaders playing on the fears of white, “Christian” homophobes, it’s so important to have representation in literature. This isn’t an easy book to read because it highlights the struggles, discrimination, rejection, and hatred non-binary people face in the workplace, their families of origin, and the community at large. However, it’s encouraging that Ray finds a chosen family who loves, supports and champions them.
Fear is often due to ignorance, and it’s not the job of members of marginalized groups to educate people. In order to be allies to the LGBTQ community, we must seek out information, and one of the easiest ways to do this is by reading both non-fiction books and fictional stories that discuss the use of pronouns and define terminology (e.g., dead-naming). Chef’s Kiss is an excellent vehicle for learning about this and for building empathy. It would also be a great choice for bibliotherapy for trans teens and young adults who rarely see themselves portrayed in books.
Beyond the afore-mentioned, this is also a sweetly awkward, slow-burn, workplace romance between kitchen manager Ray and pastry chef Simone. Together, they demonstrate how, even with the best intentions, mistakes can be made and feelings hurt, but that sincere apologies and forgiveness can lead to happiness. Add to this a literary feast for foodies and author Alexander has cooked up a winning romance that deserves a place in every library. Highly recommended.
I received a complimentary ARC of this book from Atria/Emily Bestler through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Opinions expressed are completely my own.
This is a perfect example of having all the right ingredients but the mix failing to gel. Hutchinson, best-selling author of We Are The Ants, gives us the story of Dino, the gay son in a family of morticians who silently rebels against the expectation that he will join the business given his talent for applying make-up to corpses. As the novel begins, we learn that his former best friend July, with whom he had a falling-out a year before, has died of a brain aneurysm at age 17. The night before the funeral, Dino decides to work on her make-up and is shocked when she comes back to life. It is mentioned frequently that she isn’t a zombie but non-dead.
As Dino and July struggle to understand the reason for her resurrection and the concurrent worldwide suspension of death, the story gets bogged down with gross-out descriptions of decomposition, their toxic friendship and caustic humor, Dino’s confusion about his relationship with Rafi, his transgender boyfriend, and July’s unpleasant personality and insensitive jokes about the LGBTQ community. Comments like “I don’t tell you how to gay; don’t tell me how to act” and “I mean, what’s the point of being gay if you’re not going to be in theater” make the friendship between them seem really implausible.
The plot is solid enough to keep the momentum going, but the underdeveloped characters and their inability to honestly communicate the reasons and responsibilities for the dissolution of their long-time friendship make it a frustrating read. More focus on the development of the relationship between Dino and Rafi and an acknowledgment that sometimes, when people grow and change, friendships fall apart might have made the story more compelling. Although some younger teens would appreciate the disgusting zombie humor, I wouldn’t buy this for our school library.
I received a complimentary copy of this book from Simon Pulse through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own.
