March was a great month for buying books (far too many ebooks, trips to bookshops in London that I like, including what could so easily have been a final chance to go to New Beacon [but it wasn’t]), but it was also a heavily research-focused month so that I didn’t actually get that much read. I did get into the excellent habit of reading one story from Speak Gigantular before bed each night–the sort of civilised reading habit that I’ve always found rather awe-inspiring in other people. Apart from the Okojie, each of the books mentioned here I read in a day or so, so that I don’t feel like I did very much reading at all.
Patrice Lawrence, Orangeboy: I’ve written about this already; I think it’s great. It’s a gentler book than its premise (protagonist, who is a black teenage boy, is found with drugs on him and the girl who gave them to him has died sitting next to him) suggests, though always alive to the implications and the dangers of the situation. It’s also just … good; in its prose, in how it’s paced, in its random art references.
Irenosen Okojie, Speak Gigantular: As I say above, I read this in bits and pieces over a longish period of time. As a result, I don’t have a strong sense of the collection as a collection; I have a sense of how it all fits together, but need a more condensed reread to really be sure. But the individual stories that make up Speak Gigantular are frequently great, and weird, and upsetting. I’ve half committed to writing about this collection in more detail, so I’ll be returning to it very soon.
Chloe Daykin, Fish Boy: The blurb on the front of this is probably not one for the ages: “a talking mackerel changes everything …” Fish Boy (which is a lot better than that blurb) is about Billy, who loves the sea and David Attenborough, is terrified by his mother’s mysterious illness, and really wants to be friends with the new boy, Patrick. While swimming, he meets and grows increasingly close to a mackerel shoal, particularly to a fish he names Bob. I’m going to be writing about this at greater length, but I really liked its invocations of friendship and family and uncertainty and caring, its northernness, and its slight air of apocalypse.
Nicola Yoon, Everything, Everything: This book was absurdly readable–I started it on a lazy evening, read straight through and was done a couple of hours later. Its romance is over the top but satisfying, its use of various formats (text and email, but also backwards writing and medical reports and book reviews and creative dictionary definitions) good, the illustrations (by David Yoon) are nice. But (as I say elsewhere) there are also what feel to me like significant weaknesses–and the final act in particular feels less like the miracle the characters need and more like a cop-out.
Innosanto Nagara, Counting on Community: I read Nagara’s A is for Anarchist some months ago, and have since gifted it to a couple of friends with small children. I’m unable to say much that is useful about a board book, but this one is also great (though the numbers 1-10 leave less scope to play than the whole alphabet), the art continues to be good, there are several ducks, and I will also be passing this one on to actual children.