The Pen and Book Files

"Blake's final work of the Bright Falls series is strong and satisfying, both as a standalone novel and as an end to a trilogy. Full of heart and well-rounded characters that you'll love even from their shortest appearance."  Now, this is how you write a fake romance. Not even this is how you write a fake romance- this is how you write forced proximity that involves mutual sexual attraction, which then leads to a romance. Yes, there is sexual tension from the beginning, but the characters don't hate each other and then turn around to begin having sex. They're both completely developed, fleshed out, with one having a sassy streak and a confidence to match it. Gosh, this is so much better than Icebreaker. Yes, Iris is a little uptight from the expectations put on her- both self-imposed and those put on her by her family- but the frustrations are dealt with in a healthier manner. Stevie, despite her uncomfortableness at being placed into close proximity with Iris...

It's been a while since Fourth Wing took BookTok by storm, catapulting itself to the top of people's TBR lists with promises of dragons, and sass, and sassy dragons. The avid chatter caught my attention, but I held off on reading the book for precisely that reason. With opinions clamoring for your focus, skewing your independent perspective with their own, it was impossible to tell if the book deserved the praise that it was being handed. So, I waited... and waited... and waited some more. I readily admit that, upon buying the book from a wholesale club, I finished Fourth Wing in two or three days. With that being said, there were a few fairly large snags in the plot which disrupted my sense of disbelief. When a character is written specifically for a trope, they can be difficult.  Xaden knows that he is unlikeable- not just from Violet's perspective, but by the quadrant as a whole- and uses it to his advantage when his life becomes entwined with the daughter of his father...

 Here’s a silly little post about the cat that’s been wandering around my neighborhood lately. He’s pretty friendly! One of my friends commented that my messages read like poetry, so I turned the text into a poem. [originally posted on Instagram.] 💞 There was cat yesterday. The cat likes me. He was following me back to my house. This is not my cat. It is my neighbor’s cat. I cannot catnap a cat.  I still don’t know the cat’s name, so I’m calling him Kitty Cat. His ears twitch when he hears me talking. The cat distribution system cannot be denied. 

I love this book. That's the entire review. (Just kidding.)  I found out about Albertalli after the hype surrounding Love, Simon . While at a local street fair, I wandered into a nearby bookstore and randomly found it. To my surprise, I loved it from the first page. Not simply because of Imogen's confident little sister, or the many animals that she has in her home. (Is there a way to magic up some of those cats into real life? No?)  What pulled me in from the first page was Imogen herself, introduced with anxiety. Imogen was disproportionately nervous. More than that, she was anxious. Anxious about this social situation that she had procrastinated over for so long that it actually started to create a rift in her relationship with one of her best friends, Lili. This first introduction to Imogen's character caught me like a fish in a net, but without the existential crisis attached. Imogen is a sweet, aesthetically oriented people-pleaser with a large helping of social anxie...

  “The lucid picture that this book paints of those with disabilities asks, who knows our limits better than ourselves?” “Verónica’s story is raw and relatable. Her limitations are defined by other people since she was young, and the moments she stands up for her own capabilities will stick with me for a long time. In its authentic telling of a disabled body, Sylvester peels back the layers to reveal the life which exists in full bloom underneath.” Much like my adventure in discovering Late Bloomer, picking up this future love happened by accident. It was May, the gateway to summer and known to lovers of fantasy as Mermay. Sometimes MerMay, and sometimes #Mermay, this annual competition and art challenge is hosted on Instagram and TikTok to celebrate "creativity, community, and above all... MERMAIDS." (mermay.com) After this celebration ends, it leaves me in a drought. It is in these moments that I search for books about mermaids, seeking to lose myself in their fantasy.  On ...

 I wrote this piece as a journal entry, but it’s fitting enough for its own piece. I hope that you enjoy. image from Adobe Stock. The package, delivered at ground level, travels up five feet. Wrapped in its container, its contents are covered with bubble wrap so they appear smaller than a microorganism. At the top floor, it swells, expanding from the inside until there’s nowhere left to go. The invisible seams stretch with the strain of containing such a multiplication, until it can’t hold itself together. The interwoven fabric tears itself apart. Infinite invaders spill out, all dressed in identical salmon pink. The color of my brain. They latch onto every surface they can reach and begin to drill through my mind. My body fights to pull them apart, to cease the pain, but victory requires a buildup of power. Until then, the soldiers will pray.

  I don’t run fifty miles an hour. it’s not within the limits of my machinery. drop straining my limbs to your pace before I break again. the replacement parts weren’t an instant fit, but they were made with joy and love. I can tell myself the truth that I can live. Formed of words, the ghosts shake and fall apart.

  “In smooth, methodical prose, Broad tells the story of self-discovery across the ocean and finding your voice. Unique and alluring.” A small store in Barcelona, smaller than an apartment yet crowded in among countless other buildings. With the intention of showcasing authentic Japanese culture in a space 10 thousand kilometers from Tokyo, Satori is a store which makes the most of its limited space. Books about Japanese culture lined one wall, most in Spanish but with a few Catalan books in between. As appealing as those bound works appeared to be, for an American tourist who didn’t speak much Spanish, they were far out of my reach.  On the opposite wall, stacked upon each other with all the organization of mismatched brick, was a small pile of English books. From the stack, I picked out Abroad in Japan, intrigued by the words written across the top. That classic phrase, which had accomplished its intended purpose by luring me in by promising the text within its pages was wor...

  "An enemies-to-lovers romance with neurodivergent characters that voices the struggles of opening oneself up to love. A vivid depiction of living as both queer and neurodivergent, and a triumph. I'll be re-reading it forever." It's rare that I pick up a book and know from that instant, this is meant for me. This is meant to be in my hands. Wandering through Barnes & Noble for airport reading material at the close of Pride Month, I spotted Late Bloomer on a small display surrounded by other LGBTQ+ works. I was a late bloomer growing up, so the novel's title incurred thoughts of periods despite the flowers liberally placed throughout the cover. (This is a normal association for my neurodivergent brain.)  After reading the summary, I was even more intrigued. The comic-style cover, combined with the opening line and something that I couldn't quite place, had wrapped a rope around my middle and was pulling me inward. A subtle siren's call, without the lif...

 Hi everyone, it’s been a while since I’ve made a post like this. Some of you may have noticed that I recently cleaned out my neurodivergent-focused Instagram, colorsofadhd. After receiving some advice, I decided to revamp both the account and this blog. What will happen to Pen and Book? This blog won’t be going anywhere. I’ve put a lot of work into Pen and Book since creating it in 2020, and have no intentions to erase any of that. Instead of just focusing on my own writing, I’ll aim to also cover the books I’m currently reading. The older work will remain up if you want to view the pandemic-era narratives, or any of my other work! When will the first review be released? Currently, there's no exact release date for the first review, which will be written on Late Bloomer  by Mazey Eddings. I'm soon leaving for an international trip for just over two weeks, and aim to enjoy every second of it. I aim to resume normal posting when I return. Four years of work, both visible and un...

  One thing about living in the middle of nowhere is that the people who come to see you are from far away. They show up in droves when the air turns just cold enough for laughter to break out, instead of wilting in the summer heat. They stand by the apple trees with plastic bags in their hands, lifting up children on their backs to get the best apples from high branches.  Ruby ducks under one of the Pink Lady trees, cupping a dropped apple in her small hands. It has a bruise from the fall. Rubbing it against the patch on her jeans to get the shine just right, she climbs out from under the tree. A family of four stands a few trees down, laughing as the younger child grasps an apple in his hand before turning to show off his prize.  A lot of the people who come to the farm are like this. They bring their families, making more people than she’s seen all year. Ruby watches some of these children before she keeps running diagonally along the ground scented with apples, arrivi...

       She didn't get into fights with every person who pissed her off, Miyoko thought as she slumped a little lower in the chair. Just most of them. She pressed the ice pack a little harder to her forhead, ignoring the numbing of her fingers. Besides, that jerk deserved it, chasing around first-years like they were a pack of rambunctious puppies.      Her violet eyes drifted from one corner of the disciplinarian's cubicle to the other. Someone had put out a bowl of candy; Miyoko picked a red one out and twirled it in her fingers like a paintbrush. The bully she had beaten up side-eyed her, one hand still holding their nose. She raised her eyebrows, daring him to continue. "Can I help you with something?" Miyoko said semi-angrily, her temper already kicking up a notch.  A woman with short dark-green hair entered the room, walking over and sitting in the chair. "So," Bella-sensei said without preamble. "Hatano-san, your file has a history of violen...

Two spritzes of confidence on each cheek, makeup for shattered skin and shaken  dreams. Wrong, wrong, wrong, the fruit isn't ready and neither are you. Bills fly away with burning wings can objects be of Icarus' spirit with age running delayed to her expectations? Colorful dolls in layers of shine match the beats of a younger heart laugh without lies, smile without cries Take me home so I feel warm inside? Maybe I should be warm all on my own nothing to offer, no sweet to balance out the sour burn that diploma so no one thinks I'm a liar after all, age is just a societal number Don't got a job, don't have a life, does that mean I'm failing on both sides? Sometimes I forget I don't feel ready to know the ocean won't sweep me away for knowing that I am behind you. Mind and biology pull in opposite directions pushed in front of an oncoming train with no sense of being ready. Phases of joy smashed into a thousand pieces on a pre-marked date of expiration  Li...

 Each heel, snap.  The models walk in circles in Azure’s daydream. Each of them wears a different color dress, covered in sparkles that are sewn by hand but don’t look like that from far away. Their heels, too high to be considered comfortable, are labeled in black marker along the sides with words like *freedom* and *trust.* One by one, the heels snap off. The models tumble to the ground, their ankles twisting at unnatural angles as they fall.  *peaceful.* Snap. *Support.* Snap. One of the models in the pile, all limbs and a sky-blue dress, is bleeding from places that she should not be. The trail of blood flows down her throat in a scarlet line, as the people around her scream and yell at the models to leave.  To get up, as if they are responsible for the cracking of their heels and the breaking of their trust in people who were supposed to assist in instances of injury.  Bring ice packs, not indifference.  The model in the blue dress is lifted into the a...

 What is your wish, Miyoko Hatano?  What is the wish that will make your Soul Gem shine? I wish for a family where I can be myself. A searing pain, like hot glue had been pressed against her chest. She frantically grabbed at the invisible source, begging for the pain to stop. What was the price of her lifelong wish for it to burn her heart?  The pain reached its peak and her eyes fluttered shut. With her Soul Gem in her hands, Miyoko collapsed to the ground in slow motion. The gem pulsed amethyst light through the gaps in her fingers.  By the time that she was aggressively shaken awake, Miyoko Hatano had become both a Magical Girl and a Defender. The two things were so intertwined that when the group disbanded following the End of Days- later renamed The God Storm, like naming a rediscovered painting- the sense of loss was undercut by something else. A nagging feeling that part of her identity was lost in the destruction. If she wasn’t a Defender anymore, who was Miy...

 Everything used to be big when I was small, or maybe it was just that it was the same size and I was shorter. Sometimes I have vague memories of a hallway that I no longer know, each step tall enough that I had to lift my leg high up to my waist to climb up them. There was someone waiting at the top for me, a nondescript figure in brown heels. The ones that look like they have a T going across them. With each step that I take up the stairs, her mouth moves. I can’t comprehend that she is talking to me. Colorful paint has been put on all of my fingers by a tall lady, who probably isn’t that old but she’s so much taller than me that I can’t see the top of her. Taller than the highest tower that I can build out of blocks, taller than me until they go falling down. It was hard work to build that tower of blocks, and I cried when they fell down. I didn’t like seeing my tower fall down.  Just like when the tall lady puts the paint on my hand, I start to cry because it is cold. I do...

Within every world, there are always those who silently declare themselves apaart. Full of a more ancient magic and a history stretching father back than the longest rope, they set themselves apart for the sake of watching over the world in a place untouched. Fae are different from the elves, with their abilities that range in power and capability. Each fae possesses a rare, more powerful magic within that category of an element. If nothing else, this is an excuse for those Elders within the fae to keep their people apart from the remainder of the species that dot the land. While the lore itself and composition of the fae villages depends on the world, it remains true that in their hands lies knowledge. Not quite dangerous, but close, if irresponsible persons were to get ahold of it when they did not understand such a thing. Shiro was one of those fae, born under the name Sena Akamatsu as the eldest son in a family. From birth, the child was shown to have a magic leaning towar...