
First published as The Boy from the Mish, Gary Lonesborough’s debut young adult novel, Ready When You Are, is a delightful and surprising tale of young love and coming-of-age for two Aboriginal Australian boys.
I’ll admit that the first couple of chapters were rough-going for me, so much so that the book almost become for me a rare-DNF. (I’m both very good at picking books I think I’ll enjoy and very persistent, almost refusing to abandon a book even if I’m not enjoying it.) That said, I’m so glad I continued with this one, because after the introductory chapters, Lonesborough’s story opens wide, compels rather than invites the reader in, and becomes unputdownable.
At the center of the story is Jackson, who lives in an Aboriginal community called “the Mish” (short for Mission). He, his mother, and his siblings exist on the outskirts of a contemporary suburb. Jackson’s story is going to be unfortunately familiar to readers of stories from Indigenous and persons-of-color from the United States and elsewhere, but there’s something strikingly unique about the way Lonesborough crats this one, supported by talented writing and an imaginative and romantic but realistic voice, but buoyed most of all by the author’s lived experiences.
Jackson’s story is relatable on so many levels, from the universal experience of growing up and coming of age in the modern world—making a self for oneself—to his coming out experience, and even his struggle to understand and connect with his own cultural heritage in the face of an often intolerant and domineering society around him. I think the title, Ready When You Are—says it all. Jackson is fortunate to meet someone who is patient with him, and just confident and daring enough to bring Jackson out of his shell. It’s a message to the reader, too. As I said in my Goodreads review, I almost gave up on this one, but then something wonderful happened: I fell in love.

Steven Salvatore’s And They Lived . . . is billed as, “a sex-positive, fairytale-inspired YA novel that celebrates first love and self-acceptance.” That is a pretty good description, to me, and I’ll admit it was a little weird reading this one in our current age of incense over books’ “corrupting” influence. (Picture: Eyes rolling so hard they get stuck.)
I noticed some complaints about the lack of realism in this one, mostly referring to what happen to the main character, Chase Arthur, in art school. I don’t have the experience of going to an elite art school, so I can’t comment on how believable his plot lone is (meaning the courses he took and the internship he competes for in the first year), but I don’t really care, either. So what if it’s not entirely plausible? It’s called fiction for a reason—and I think it’s likely that there are programs like this at certain institutions anyway.
Now that that’s out of the way, some things I loved about this book are its characters and its tensions. There are high-quality, well-crafted characters in this one, from the devoted sidekick to the irritating friend who becomes a favorite, to the tortured love interest, and of course, the rival and villain. One of the best features is that none of the characters is entirely as they seem, nor do any of them remain static. It’s impressive in any novel to see all the characters, even minor ones, grow or change or surprise us, but it’s especially interesting in a young adult novel where there’s usually less development for the side characters.
I also loved the tensions built into this one. The book is likened to What If It’s Us for good reason. There’s a similar “will they/won’t they” conflict happening, but it’s well done. This kind of plot (and the love triangle one) are so overdone and so easily done poorly, but when they’re done well, they speak to something deep inside all of us, I think, and it resonates.
I will say, I was expecting more of a fairy tale vibe because the book was advertised that way. It is easy to see the fairy tale influence, though, both in the plot itself, where the main character is obsessed with fairy tales, but also in the metafictional aspect, where the plot arc and the characters and motivations absolutely fit into fairy tale tropes, despite there being no fantastical or magical realism elements in the story itself.
Lastly, I was glad to read a young adult book that deals positively with mental health treatment and encourages those struggling with their mental health to get help.
Both Ready When You Are and And They Lived . . . are new young adult releases this year (Spring 2022), and they’re wonderful additions to the genre.

Hello, TBR Pile Challengers!
We have made it through the First Quarter of this year’s TBR Pile Challenge! We already have 90 reviews/checkpoints linked up on our Mr. Linky, which is pretty great! How are you all doing with your selections? Any major successes (or total DNFs?)
So far, I’ve read and reviewed 6 of my required 12 books, which puts me just slightly ahead of schedule (since I plan to read my two alternates as well). I just started reading Book 7 today, A POET’S GUIDE TO POETRY, so if I can get that review posted before end of May, that will allow me to enter the summer months exactly on schedule. Summer is when I will probably get quite a few titles finished and (hopefully) put myself well ahead of pace! My plan all along has been to read all 14 of the books on my list, and I’d like to do that by the December 15 final checkpoint so that I’ve got everything posted before the challenge ends. But, as always, this is T.B.D.
Books read:

Below, you’re going to find the infamous Mr. Linky widget. If you read and review any challenge books this month, please link-up on the widget below. This Mr. Linky will be re-posted every month so that we can compile a large list of all that we’re reading and reviewing together this year. Each review that is linked-up on this widget throughout the year may also earn you entries into future related giveaways, so don’t forget to keep this updated!

As we celebrate this 25% milestone for 2022, I introduce you to our second Mini-Challenge. Here’s all you need to do: Comment on this post with a book review WRITTEN BY ANOTHER CHALLENGER that you would recommend we read. So, yes, spend a little time visiting our fellow readers, maybe even say hello while you’re on their blog, but then come back here and comment with a review you really enjoyed or appreciated in some way. If you can tell us why (briefly), all the better!
You can find a list of everyone who has linked-up reviews so far by clicking on the “LINK UP YOUR REVIEWS” text below. Remember, you should also be posting your progress links there, too, so that you’re collecting entries toward the big $50 grand prize at the end of the year. Good luck to you all! Happy reading and happy blog hopping!
Dear Readers,
I’m pleased to offer two sets of Van Gogh lined journals as giveaways for my blog subscribers. I was fortunate enough to receive three sets and have decided to keep one and share the other two with you all.
All you need to do to be entered is complete this Rafflecopter!*
*Be sure to read the rules/guidelines below before entering.

Rules/Guidelines

Carl Sandburg’s Chicago Poems has been absolute stunner.
I’m going to start by admitting that I had only read one or two Sandburg poems prior to this collection, the popular ones that are often found in class texts or major anthologies. I also didn’t (and still don’t) know much about Sandburg himself. If the poems are any indication, he was one interesting dude.
For example, while I was repeatedly irritated by Sandburg’s poem speakers’ using racist terms to describe a variety of non-white people (you can imagine the words), I was simultaneously impressed by his pro-worker, anti-war poems. Sandburg was of course a man of his times, and it’s even possible he was using derogatory terms intentionally but not maliciously. I really don’t know (I would like to believe it’s a kind of Mark Twain situation, but I just don’t have the background, yet, to make that determination. I’ll surely investigate.)
Anyway, I found those contradictions immediately interesting, and they make me want to know more about Sandburg and his experiences. But it’s the poems themselves that blew me away. He reads to me very much like a later-Whitman, like a Whitman of the Midwest. His poems have similar styles and themes, though some are much more biting than Whitman’s ever are.
Although the collection is titled Chicago Poems, there are in fact excerpts from other collections included in my edition (Dover Thrift 1994). These included poems from Handfuls, War Poems (1914-1915), The Road and the End, Fogs and Fires, Shadows, and Other Days (1900-1910). For any new or aspiring poets struggling to learn how to put a poetry collection together, how to theme their poems, this little book is extraordinarily helpful. The selection of poems for each collection beautifully illustrates the theme of each and help to clarify how collections work, and why. I found the poems not just powerful and affecting reads, but the collection itself edifying from a writer’s perspective.
Despite loving the Chicago poems themselves, probably because I’m from Chicago, I think my two favorite collections from this edition are War Poems and Fogs and Fires. To be clear, I marked poems from every section of the book, so I didn’t dislike any of it. War Poems, however, was deeply moving and convincing. Its poems are clearly anti-war, but in surprising and moving ways. Reading these during the current crisis in Ukraine was particularly jarring. On the other hand, Fogs and Fires is filled with atmospheric poems of varying poems about nature, locations, and even holidays. There’s one new-to-me poem in this one, “Theme in Yellow,” that is a delightful engagement with Halloween. I absolutely loved it.
I think the fact that I’ve added this slim edition to my small collection of books I keep to study the craft of poetry (which includes a volume each from Sharon Olds, Thomas James, Ocean Vuong, and Mary Oliver) is testament to how valuable and strong the work is.
“The dead say nothing / And the dead know much /
And the dead hold under their tongues / A locked-up story.”
Chicago Poems is Book 6 completed for my 2022 TBR Pile Challenge.

According to my Goodreads account, I read Isabel Wilkerson’s Caste on December 30, 2020. I searched my blog for a review, but I had the same trouble with that one as I’m having with The Warmth of Other Suns, which is that it’s hard to do truly great, important books any justice.
The full title of the book is The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration. In it, Wilkerson tells the personal case studies and field research (interview series) of three individuals who migrated from the American South to three of the most popular flight points in the country, Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York City. These personal accounts are interwoven into a thoroughly researched history of the Great Migration, and this approach is successful because it provides the reader with two of the most important features of historical record: first-hand accounts and broader context.
One of the more affecting parts of the work are details about the individual experiences of these three migrants after they moved to Northern cities. There’s a tendency to believe that everything was bad in the South, and everything was good in the North, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. As many historians have noted, while racism might be more overt in some places in the United States, it is no less present and influential in the supposedly more liberal and “free” cities. This was demonstrated with brutal clarity in the story of Dr. Robert Foster whose migration was a bit different from the others in this book. While Ida Mae Gladney and George Starling fled by train, Foster drove himself from the Southeast to Los Angeles. It’s heartbreaking to hear his account of trying to search for a safe place to stay along his journey only to be repeatedly rebuffed and forced to continue driving (even in “free” states) when he was well-beyond the point of exhaustion. Foster, incidentally, would eventually exceed anyone’s expectations for success when he became a wildly popular and revered medical doctor in California, including personal physician to the singer Ray Charles, but even this success and stature didn’t shield him, decades later, from the racism of certain patients and the impotence of a system unwilling to stand up for one of its best.
The stories of Ida Mae Gladney, who ended up in Chicago, and George Sterling, who settled in Harlem, were equally revealing in explaining how the North really treated Southern black migrants and in the resulting “white flight” in cities across the country after black migrants started to buy homes in Northern cities and suburbs. Alongside these personal stories, Wilkerson incorporates historical evidence about red lining, city officials’ and residents’ responses, and the forced creation of “ghetto” neighborhoods due to white intolerance and white legislators’ indifference (or worse, active antagonism) to black neighborhoods.
Wilkerson’s study helps to explain the cause for the great migration of black Southerners to Northern cities but also the complex and complicated responses of both Northerners and Southerners to this migration. The book counters long-held assumptions about the supposed failures of black migrants (in work, family, and education) by integrating secondary comparative evidence that demonstrates migrants (as we know from any reputable study of immigration) tended to be more highly educated, more successfully employed, and more stable in marriage/family settings.)
Overall, this is an important and eloquent study that illuminates the depths of migratory history, its causes and effects, and it’s a notable precursor to Wilkerson’s stunning follow-up, Caste.
The Warmth of Other Suns is Book 5 for my 2022 TBR Pile Challenge.