Showing posts with label magical realism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label magical realism. Show all posts

lakelore

Wednesday, August 3, 2022 | | 0 comments

Want some silly, unimportant life advice? Enter contests and sweepstakes! If you do, once in a long while you’ll win something cool. At least that’s been the case for me! At the start of the summer I won a box of Pride books from Fierce Reads (Macmillan’s YA publishing arm). It was a lovely surprise, and I immediately was interested in one of the books in particular: Anna-Marie McLemore’s Lakelore, because A) I’ve read their work before, B) the cover was *fire emoji*, and C) the title was just too perfect – I’m spending this summer on a lake.


lakelore by anna-marie mclemore book cover
Everyone who lives near the lake knows the stories about the world underneath it, an ethereal landscape rumored to be half-air, half-water. But Bastián Silvano and Lore Garcia are the only ones who’ve been there. Bastián grew up both above the lake and in the otherworldly space beneath it. Lore’s only seen the world under the lake once, but that one encounter changed their life and their fate.

Then the lines between air and water begin to blur. The world under the lake drifts above the surface. If Bastián and Lore don’t want it bringing their secrets to the surface with it, they have to stop it, and to do that, they have to work together. There’s just one problem: Bastián and Lore haven’t spoken in seven years, and working together means trusting each other with the very things they’re trying to hide.

 

In short chapters, and using dual perspectives, McLemore spins up a world where two trans/nonbinary teens visit a weird and mystical alternate universe that has something to do with the local lake and its folklore… and maybe their relationship? Lore and Bastián met once as children, and now through circumstance these two queer Mexican American teens are thrown together again, in a vibrant narrative with little sense of the passage of time and/or place (it’s America, and probably California, but it’s not clear where). The work of the book is quiet: unraveling identity, trauma, how the world responds to neurodivergence, how to let others see who you truly are, and more – in a sometimes-dreamlike contemporary fantasy setting.

 

McLemore’s extensive use of metaphor and personification infuse the text with emotion, and lead to ever-rising stakes until there’s a crescendo – an unraveling and unknotting of stories, hurts, feelings. Both narrators have a lot in common: the way their brains work require adaptation, the trans or nonbinary experience, supportive parents and families, and Mexican American identity. However, they are working with a different set of formative experiences. Lore has recent trauma that is school bullying-related, and Bastián is coping with feelings around starting testosterone (T) and brotherhood.

 

Things about this book that are absolutely lovely: the way that Bastián describes their mental health as weather, the way Lore expresses their reading process, how old and new trauma are tied up for them with learning, reading aloud (as an educator, this breaks my heart – knowing that even though Lore is fictional, there are children who have been failed just like Lore), the way both characters think and speak about color and art. The way that difficult words and memories can haunt, especially when we are young – but also how acceptance and new experiences can alter our perception, blunt the sting of hurts, or simply bring them into a kinder focus.

 

So that’s what the book is about, approximately. Let’s get down to business: this book *wrecked* me. Over the final 45 pages, I was crying too hard to read at points, but also simultaneously smiling – feeling heart-full and heartsick, hopeful and tasting that bittersweetness of life that is good and hard at the same time. I cannot believe that McLemore’s writing keeps getting better and better. I felt so deeply during the reading, and I also couldn’t stop thinking that this book would be incredibly important for young queer folks, and also for anyone trying to relate to young LGBTQ+ and neurodivergent kids (especially those dealing with dyslexia and ADHD). It was lovely, literary, and necessary, all in one. And the prose flowed! I’m almost mad at how much I loved this book.

 

In all, Lakelore is a queer group hug in book form, featuring an in-depth look at the neurodivergent experience, magical realism, and lyrical prose.

 

Recommended for: fans of A.S. King, soft, mystical fantasy, and LGBTQ+ books, anyone who loves character-driven stories, magical realism, and literary young adult fiction, and teens who really need to see themselves in books, even though they may not know it yet.

 

Fine print: I received a finished copy of this book in a publisher-sponsored giveaway. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

snapdragon

This past March, a week before the world shut down, I went to my local public library to pick up my holds. One of those holds was Kat Leyh’s middle grade graphic novel Snapdragon… and if you can believe it, it sat unread in my room (and then packed in a moving box)(and THEN unpacked in a pile in my new room) until… September. I don’t know how you felt these past several months, but my reading pace ground to almost a halt… until it didn’t. I picked up this witchy middle grade book at just the right time – and I am so glad I read it because it is not only a fantastic story, but an excellently spooky one for Halloween!
 
snapdragon by kat leyh book cover
Snap's town had a witch.


At least, that’s how the rumor goes. But in reality, Jacks is just a crocks-wearing, internet-savvy old lady who sells roadkill skeletons online—after doing a little ritual to put their spirits to rest. It’s creepy, sure , but Snap thinks it’s kind of cool, too.

They make a deal: Jacks will teach Snap how to take care of the baby opossums that Snap rescued, and Snap will help Jacks with her work. But as Snap starts to get to know Jacks, she realizes that Jacks may in fact have real  magic—and a connection with Snap’s family’s past.


Snapdragon, or Snap for short, is a little weird, and she’ll admit it, too. But you know who’s even weirder? The witch who lives in the woods in Snap’s town, who picks roadkill off the side of the road and keeps a graveyard next to her house! Snap thought the witch might eat her dog after a car accident, but instead she bandaged him up and let Snap leave, safe and sound. When Snap finds orphaned possum babies one day, she’s forced to ask the witch (or is she a witch??) for help, and thus begins a partnership that will reveal the truth behind creepy family stories, and see good triumphing over evil.


This book is ADORABLE. That might not be the first word that springs to mind for some (especially since it’s a morbid story about a witch who collects roadkill and sells the bones online??), but it works for me. This book has: gender- and sexuality-affirmation, a majority Black cast of characters, quirky family history, a great mother-daughter bond, standing up to bullies, making friends who appreciate your specific brand of weird, and finding something to be passionate about (even if that is putting together skeletons in your free time).


ALSO: ghosts, baby possums, useful magic, and multigenerational storytelling! I know I might not be selling the “adorable” vibe with some of these things, but trust me when I say this book is wholesome as heck, and it needs to be on your shelf or in your hands ASAP. I need a follow up immediately, so Lu (side character, I don’t want to spoil much but you’re going to fall for them!) can have their own story.


I also love how unpredictable the storytelling in Snapdragon is – it takes you to unexpected and wonderful places and ties everything together (I don’t know how – Leyh is a master!) in the end. It puts the fantastic (as in unbelievable) in fantasy in places, but in the best way – with tight storytelling, loveable characters, lots of animals, and families of all shapes, sizes, colors, and configurations.


And what about the ART?? Well, that’s really what ties a weirdly wonderful storyline together with my pronouncement of “adorable!” Not surprising, I suppose? Leyh’s style includes heavy-ish line work, big eyes, and lots of vibrant color. It is 100% part of the storytelling, so much so that I’m having a hard time separating it from the words on the page – you get a lot of the emotion in the story from the unspoken, the scenery, the panels without words. Leyh seamlessly tells Snapdragon’s story in a visual medium.


In all, Snapdragon is a sweet, entertaining, and mildly morbid middle grade graphic novel with nuanced LGBTQ+ characters and spooky Halloween night activities (that do NOT include trick or treat!). I liked it a whole lot and I think you will too.


Recommended for: fans of Raina Telgemeier and Molly Ostertag’s graphic novels, anyone who likes their reading with magic and/or weirdness mixed in, and anyone looking for queer-affirming stories for young people.

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