Welcome to Litsy!

#haikuaday
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Another book I loved and adored teaching to my freshmen. If you've never read this, you must. Have a tissue box nearby, though. 💚🌳💚

Life finally includes an iPad. Found an older generation for cheap on marketplace. Love the setup for ebooks and podcasts. Much more accessible than the Kindle just saying.

#JulyJazz Day 6: #MentalHealth in this poetry collection that Fats featured here: https://gatheringbooks.org/2019/07/18/poetry-friday-depression-other-magic-trick...

This description and personification of sorrow was super interesting to me. I had not thought about people being so engulfed with sorrow and pain that they felt like it was holding them in a grip so tight they couldn‘t move. It seems like McBride personifies sorrow throughout this novel to show the hold it has on this person, on page 172-3 “sorrow chuckles…taps its fingers…smiles.” It was neat to me to read this and acknowledge what others feel

Round of applause for McBride tackling these issues that most people (and authors) just breeze over. She was able to bring awareness using their inner thoughts. That said I am not a fan of this style of book, I don‘t like the novel in verse writing or fantasy reads. Absolutely nothing against McBride taking on these topics and themes is super important I will absolutely keep this on my bookshelf to recommend to students it‘s just not my cup of tea

“Sometimes your own mind will unroot you.“
McBride doesn't just write about mental health, she teaches it. Through poetic metaphor, students explore how depression distorts daily life. People cast spells to hide pain. Brains “think too much,“ even when endorphines are gone. Students examine performance, masking, and the quiet toll of overthinking, all within a lyrical and accessible framework.

At the beginning of the narrative, it is unclear what reality is. The narrator exists somewhere between recovery, therapy, and fairy tales. This mix of the whimsical and reality makes you ask: Is magic a metaphor, a coping strategy, or both? This blending of fantasy and mental illness feels honest. Real pain can feel unreal, unbearable, and unrelatable.

“We can only go forward. Remember?“
This line is small on the page, but it lands with the force of a thunderclap.
We have touched pain and are no longer running from the past. Sometimes moving forward isn't brave or glamorous, it's simply what's next. And in that way, it becomes one of the most powerful lines in the book.

The book deserves credit for tackling important, often taboo topics like mental illness and generational trauma, particularly within the Black community. That said, its execution falls short. The fantasy elements are vague, the worldbuilding lacks depth, and key terms are poorly explained. With so many competing themes, none are given the depth they deserve.