Eh…Bernadine delivers a book conscious of minority women’s struggles enough to be interesting but with very little backbone. Seems to be in the tradition of I support women’s rights and wrongs (and occasionally non-binary rights and wrongs) because I have nothing meaningful to say about them. I just can’t fully get on board with it.

I’m never going to forget the colour purple. When I’m lying in bed and lying about lying that I’m well, I’ll think of the colour purple and remember I’m here for a reason.

I don’t really want to review this. Having read both authors I can tell you that all the best jokes probably came from Terry Pratchett.

I liked this collection. As a poet myself, I don’t care that it’s simple. And as a reader, I cared a lot. That’s all.

This may seem arrogant, but for a while I thought I was Alice, because we have the same name. It was through her navigating a confusing new world with wit and humour that I saw myself. But, now I understand that she belongs to everyone else too.

Philosophically brilliant. Really captures the craziness of creation in a way I’ve never read before. Asks you to question whether bringing life into the world can be exploitative and horrifying.

This book is so patiently beautiful to me. Jane Austen reawakens the soul to liberty and desire. In short, ‘I am half agony, half hope’

So, a while ago, I was so immensely attached to this book that I begged my mum to take me to the cinema to see the movie, to which she proceeded to do the we have ‘the fault in our stars’ at home routine, but that never had anything to compare to ‘some infinities are bigger than other infinities’.

Where to start. I think I trauma bonded with all of these characters. Leigh Bardugo, what are you trying to do to me?

I would really like this alternate version of the presidency please.