I read—a lot. Both for work and for pleasure. But because I cannot cover every single book within the outlets I write for, I am going to dedicate a post every so often to spotlight the books that I am otherwise unable to cover, books that flew under the radar, and books that aren’t new—because they deserve our love and attention, too. Now read on for some bomb-ass book recs.
Vagabonds! by Eloghosa Osunde
Like the title suggests, this book is loud—in the most beautiful, phantasmagorical way possible. As a cast of some of the most indelible characters I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting on the page moves through the fringes of a politically and religiously corrupt Lagos rife with anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, they pursue a life lived loud enough to dull the threatening growls of oppression and persecution. There’s the gay chauffeur for a debased politician who breaks his agreement to silence, costing him his colleague and lover. A lauded seamstress who hides her relationship with another woman gives birth to an extraordinarily wise, full-grown daughter. A trans maid forms an unexpected, yet welcome, sisterly bond with her employer. A group of abused and mistreated wives find solace in solidarity, and begins to disappear one by one. A network of spirits, known as “Fairygodgirls,” helps others understand themselves better through books. A pair of lesbian sex workers relish in their devotion to one another, their love immune to the shadows their lives and work are relegated to. Their lives intertwine as they come face-to-face with the spirits who orchestrate the city’s sinister forces before culminating in a convergence that is a reckoning—and a joyous triumph.
Body Work by Melissa Febos
Melissa Febos’s books have always been, in some way, a memoir-meets-craft master class for me. It’s impossible for me not to cull some morsel of value from even a sentence penned by her; I’ve literally given up on underlining anything because I’d just end up underlining an entire book. In her latest, Body Work, Febos drops an anchor in the navel, and mines the gaze for things that have been oftentimes dismissed as “excessive self-contemplation,” when really, they tether us to each other and the way we move through the world—both as individuals and a collective. Its examination of how we write and think about our most intimate experiences is a breath of fresh air, and is validating for those of us who’ve ever doubted the value of our lived experiences. It tackles questions like: How do we write about the body? How do we write about trauma, joy, desire, and everything in between? How do we capture the experiences that have formed us on the page? For whom are we writing? This book encourages us to not avoid ourselves, that the story waiting to be told is sometimes our own.
Brown Girls by Daphne Palasi Andreades
From the beginning, this book is a full sensory experience: I can hear the subway rumbling overhead, smell the various mouth-watering aromas wafting from the medley of food spots, and hear the cacophony of languages from all over the globe. At its heart are young women of color like Nadira, Beatriz, Usha, Trish, Angelique, and countless others, a chorus of voices coming of age in Queens, New York. Together, they sneak out of their houses at night, cram into restaurant booths, and roam the streets that some will remain familiar with, while others will go on to forge paths foreign to the friends they grew up with, new homes and lives subsuming the ones they left behind. This glorious debut is part poetry, part love letter to a community and city, and part collective portrait of young women of color coating the canvas of self from childhood, adulthood, and beyond. This book left me breathless.
You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi
I don’t read a lot of romance, but when I found out that one of my favorite writers would be writing a romance novel, I said, “Fetch me some candles and queue my Pining Playlist on Spotify.” I was already going to devour this book regardless—I will always take every sentence written by Akwaeke Emezi to the face like I’m shotgunning a beer—but when I found out this book was based on a lyric from the song “Hunger” by Florence and the Machine, I had to find extra chips to put in because all of mine already were.
In You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty, we are introduced to Feyi Adekola. It’s been five years since she lost the love of her life in a car accident, and, while she isn’t ready for anything serious, she is easing her way back into the dating scene. With the help of her ride-or-die best friend, Joy, with whom she shares a brownstone apartment, a steamy rendezvous in the bathroom during a rooftop party begets a whirlwind summer spent on a tropical island in the glamorous home of a celebrity chef whose son she has started dating. But before their relationship even has a chance to flourish, Feyi finds herself falling for—get your popcorn ready—his father. What follows is deliciously messy and complicated, but not enough to dilute the passion, beauty, and conviction of Emezi’s writing. The result is an invitation to a world of possibility—and love chosen against all odds.
Some of My Best Friends by Tajja Isen
If you’re on the internet in the year of our lord 2022, you are probably fluent in the language of social justice. Even more so, you’ve probably become really apt at measuring the fluctuating weight it carries, from waxing progressive language for the sake of waxing progressive language (usually with the intention of protecting profits and/or bolstering cachet) to implementing action that spurs some ripple of change—and everything in between. It’s this gray area—the space between saying and doing—that this fearless and stunning debut collection by Catapult editor-in-chief and award-winning voice actor Tajja Isen explores.
Drawing on her own experiences in the fields of animation, law, and writing and publishing, Isen examines the many ways society tries to rub out systemic problems like they're Tide pen-erasable instead of addressing the deep-seated rot underneath. Instead of working to implement sweeping structural changes, these superficial fixes—no matter how well-intentioned—can, as Isen masterfully illustrates, cause more harm than good. Sprinkled in between deft cultural criticism that joins the ranks of Zadie Smith and Jia Tolentino is a dose of dark humor that is—and there’s no other way I can put it—extremely my shit. (Girl, when I saw that the epigraph that followed a quote from W. E. B. Du Bois was a deleted Lana Del Rey Instagram caption about her being inclusive by befriending and dating rappers, I fell on the floor.)
All jokes aside, this book is required reading for all.
Credits
Art by: James Jeffers
Editorial assistant: Jesse Adele
You can follow my other unhinged missives by following me on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. My debut memoir, Born to Be Public, is out now.