tweets for 2020-04-28

April 29th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

Cookbook Review: Vegan Mac and Cheese – More than 50 Delicious Plant-Based Recipes for the Ultimate Comfort Food by Robin Robertson (2019)

April 28th, 2020 7:00 am by mad mags

Healthy, From-Scratch Versions of Your Favorite Vegan Junk Food

three out of five stars

(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through NetGalley.)

— 3.5 stars —

Along with pizza, mac & cheese is one of my favorite, go-to, if you were stuck on a deserted island and could only eat one food for the rest of your life, vegan foodstuffs. Unlike pizza, though, there are precious few cookbooks devoted entirely to its delicious cheesy goodness.

If you’re thinking, well duh, how many ways are there to make macaroni and cheese, then clearly you don’t read my blog. (Spoiler alert: there are currently twenty-two posts tagged “macaroni and cheese,” representing a small fraction of the recipes I have sampled and/or created, ranging from the classic Creamy Mac & Cheese with Daiya to the less traditional Mac & Pepperjack Pizza.)

So you can imagine my excitement when I got a whiff of Robin Robertson’s latest cookbook, Vegan Mac and Cheese – More than 50 Delicious Plant-Based Recipes for the Ultimate Comfort Food.

My anticipation was tempered a bit once I finally had the book in my hungry little hands: all of the recipes tip toward the health food end of the scale. Not that I have a problem with healthy vegan food, but you gotta live a little, you know? Throw a few unabashedly junky recipes in there to liven things up, or else let us know right in the title that this isn’t ONE OF THOSE kinds of cookbooks. Anything else feels like a total Bad Place kind of move.

The recipes I tried were a bit of a mixed bag, ranging from “pretty yummy” to “more trouble than it’s worth” (full rundown below). The cheese sauces utilize a variety of “bases” (if you can call them that; perhaps “key ingredients” is more accurate?), ranging from cashews to tofu to carrots and potatoes. With few exceptions, the ingredients are pretty common and easy to find in American grocery stores. (Pro tip: if a recipe calls for miso and you don’t feel like buying an entire container just for a teaspoon, tahini is an okay substitute.) The recipes are pretty straightforward and easy to follow, and not terribly labor intensive (though some do create an undogly amount of dishes).

There’s a nice variety of dishes here; the recipes are grouped under five subheadings, including “Basic Vegan Mac & Cheese,” “Global Cheesy Macs,” “Mac and Veggies,” “Meaty Macs,” and “Fun with Mac & Cheese” (which isn’t so much new recipes as some interesting ideas of how to repurpose leftovers, like making mac omelets, waffles, and cheese balls). I can honestly say, as a self-proclaimed expert whose life goal is to try every vegan mac & cheese recipe ever published in any major cookbook, there are some inspired and singular recipes in here – as well as some that are merely “meh” (even accounting for my strong preference for junk food mac & cheese).

2020-02-07 - Butternut Mac Uncheese - 0001 [flickr]

Roasted Butternut Mac Uncheese

This is the first recipe in the “Mac and Veggies” section, and for good reason – it’s forking amazing. The cheese sauce is a mix of roasted butternut squash (yum!) and soaked raw cashews. It doesn’t taste much like melted Daiya or Follow Your Heart cheese (few-to-none of the recipes in this book do), and that’s okay! It’s its own thing.

Pro tip: if you don’t have any soy milk on hand (thanks, Corona virus), water works just fine too. Throw a few extra cashews into the mix to compensate.

Bonus points if you roast the squash seeds and use them as a garnish. (The recipe calls for pumpkin seeds, which seems … kind of silly?)

2020-02-27 - Cashew Cheesy Mac - 0002 [flickr]

Cashew Cheesy Mac

Another winner! Roasted red peppers lend this dish both a distinct taste, and its eye-popping, boxed mac & cheese, neon orange color.

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2020-03-03 - Blushing Baked Ziti - 0011 [flickr]

Blushing Baked Ziti

This is where things started to spiral for me (metaphorically, not literally, though – good eye! – I did swap out the ziti for fusilli). Despite my initial skepticism, I decided to give this casserole a whirl, mostly because I had a brick of tofu with a close expiration date. At first blush (lol), it reminded me of spaghetti pie: just with a differently shaped macaroni, and more layers (read: steps). Rather than the classic configuration of pasta-tofu-red sauce-optional shredded cheese, it goes red sauce-pasta-red sauce-tofu-pasta-red sauce-tofu.

So many layers! So much long division! So much work! So much mess everywhere! All for a dish that just left me wishing I’d made spaghetti pie instead (insert sad face here).

Honestly, this recipe is way more complicated than it needs to be, and I don’t think the many (so many!) extra layers do anything for it. If anything, I felt like the ricotta tofu didn’t bake as thoroughly, and with the sauce and pasta in such close proximity, you may as well just mix them from jump street.

Fwiw, the nut parm (made with ray almonds and nutritional yeast) is seriously amazing. I am putting it on all the things now.

2020-03-13 - Free Mac - 0003 [flickr]

Free Mac

Last and sadly least (SO SAD!), we have the Free Mac. The sauce is mix of onions, carrots, and potatoes boiled in a vegetable broth, then run through a blender to create a mock cheesy sauce. I actually don’t think this would be bad if not for the broth: with three cups of the stuff, this mac & cheese ends up tasting a lot like vegetable soup. Not bad, necessarily, but disconcerting: you have a dish that looks like one thing (macaroni and cheese) but tastes like another (veggie soup).

My suggestion: use water in place of broth, in whole or part, and add extra spices to taste.

This is the rare macaroni and cheese dish that improves as leftovers: once the sauce has had a chance to soak into the pasta, the taste of veggie soup isn’t quite so overwhelming. It’s also really good mixed with a mildly flavored couscous in a 1:1 ratio. (I like preparing it on the stovetop with a little vegan chicken broth, carrots, and corn.)

So there you have it: two A recipes, two C minuses. Not my most glowing cookbook review. Blame the sky-high expectations that accompany any mention of vegan mac-n-cheese.

BUT, if you’re half the vegan mac & cheese fan I am, you probably want to take Vegan Mac and Cheese for a spin anyway. There are some neat ideas in here, and I can’t wait to try the Cheesy Mac Muffins (but probably using my own junk food mac & cheese concoction; there’s no beating Daiya, mkay).

(This review is also available on Amazon, Library Thing, and Goodreads. Please click through and vote it helpful if you’re so inclined!)

tweets for 2020-04-27

April 28th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-26

April 27th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-25

April 26th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-24

April 25th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

Book Review: Eat, and Love Yourself by Sweeney Boo & Lilian Klepakowsky (2020)

April 24th, 2020 7:00 am by mad mags

The artwork is marvelous, but the story *just* misses the mark.

three out of five stars

(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through Netgalley. Trigger warning for eating disorders.)

It would be kind to say that Mindy’s stuck in a rut. At twenty-seven, she’s deferred college to the point that she now feels too old for it. She works long hours as a barrista and barely socializes. Her best/only friend Shaé is both sweet and loyal; unfortunately, she also has a long track record of saying exactly the wrong thing when it comes to Mindy’s weight, which has been a sore point her entire life.

Mindy’s struggled with disordered eating since she was a kid, including binge eating following by purging. She has painfully low self-esteem and body dysmorphia, which holds her back in life: from making friends, dating, trying to achieve her goals, and making the most of her one wild and precious life.

Until, one late night/early morning, Mindy happens upon a weird, hippy dippy, New Agey candy bar at her local bodega, and picks it up on a whim. “Eat and Love Yourself,” it entreats her. With each bite, Mindy is transported, ghost-like, to a memory from her childhood. In each scene, her “food issues” command a large presence.

In flashbacks, she witnesses her well-meaning but oblivious parents arguing over her eating habits; a young Mindy keeping a food journal; a teenage Mindy blowing off a cute guy at school, because he couldn’t possibly like her; and much worse.

Thankfully, adult Mindy is much kinder to her young self; with the help of “Eat and Love Yourself” (man, why couldn’t you be dark chocolate instead of milk!?), Mindy takes a tentative step on the path to self-acceptance and healing.

I wanted to love Eat, and Love Yourself – I cannot tell you how much! – but I just feel like there’s a piece missing. The story ends abruptly, at a point that literally had me protesting, “Wait, that was it!?” I can’t even say that the ending is hopeful, since it feels incomplete: has Mindy made peace with her body? I’m not 100% sold.

Plus there’s this really odd multiple-Mindys sequence in the very first pages that I thought would be explained (or at least referenced!) at end, but no such luck. I guess we’re just to take it as a (day)dream sequence? Personally, I find my original interpretation – Mindy starts some radical body acceptance movement, becoming an overnight sensation, and so everyone starts copying her unique style – much more satisfying.

That said, that artwork is gorgeous – as in comma, drop dead. Mindy is freaking adorable, with her bopping teal ponytail and geekalicious oversized owl glasses. I just wanted to give her a smushy hug and then borrow her combat boots indefinitely.

There’s a lot in the story that did hit home with me, especially all the underhanded comments from mom and dad that gradually eroded Mindy’s self-esteem.

Eat, and Love Yourself is a welcome contribution to the literature on eating disorders, self-esteem, and the beauty industrial complex, but it could have been so much more. I mean, magical chocolate bars! What a great idea!

(This review is also available on Amazon, Library Thing, and Goodreads. Please click through and vote it helpful if you’re so inclined!)

tweets for 2020-04-23

April 24th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-22

April 23rd, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-21

April 22nd, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

Book Review: We Are All His Creatures: Tales of P. T. Barnum, the Greatest Showman by Deborah Noyes (2020)

April 21st, 2020 7:00 am by mad mags

This could have been spectacular.

three out of five stars

(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through Netgalley.)

“Never is the joke on you, my boy. Remember that. The power is yours. Count your worth in coins.”

As an afterthought, he added, “Your parents certainly do.”

“We have very few pictures of any of us.” She lifted one of the many cabinet cards of General Tom Thumb. “Papa always liked them better.”

The subtitle of We Are All His Creatures: Tales of P. T. Barnum, the Greatest Showman is a bit misleading, as the eleven loosely connected short stories gathered in these pages are only marginally about PT Barnum. Rather, Noyes concerns herself with the people trapped in Barnum’s orbit, and imagines how his actions might have affected them.

Naturally, this is a pretty complicated subject: while Barnum arguably created gainful (and even profitable) means of employment for disabled folks who, in some cases, were considered “burdens” on their families, his exhibits leaned into racist, sexist, and albeist tropes, thus perpetuating the bigotry that drove many of Barnum’s performers into his arms. Though he was an outspoken abolitionist later in life, Barnum quite literally built his career on the back of Joice Heth, an elderly African-American slave who Barnum purchased and exhibited as “the 161-year-old nursing mammy of George Washington.” He even exploited Heth in death, offering her body up for a public, for-pay autopsy to “prove” her age and authenticity.

Given this, I expected that Noyes would elevate the voices of the performers who both prospered and suffered under Barnum’s thumb. Instead, there’s a mix of perspectives here: while some stories are told from the POV of performers (or their friends and family), the majority of the narrators – 6/11 – are Barnum’s female family members. The stories cross a nearly fifty-year time span and often occur at crucial (and tragic) moments in Barnum’s timeline:

The Mermaid (1842)
Caroline, the eldest of the Barnum girls, is itching to see her father’s newest acquisition: the Feejee mermaid, being displayed several floors above the family’s living quarters in the American Museum. Since daddy has precious little time for her, she’s determined to take matters into her own hands.

The Mysterious Arm (1842)
Young Charlie Stratton, who will eventually come to be known as General Tom Thumb, has just been recruited by PT Barnum. As he stays at the Museum, training for his upcoming European tour, Charlie befriends the Barnum sisters – including baby Frances and her older sister Helen.

Returning a Bloom to Its Bud (1845)
Charity Barnum, long-suffering wife of PT Barnum, pregnant with her fourth child and grieving the loss of her third, reflects on her life as she sets sail for the States after eight months spent touring Europe with her husband and his performers.

Beside Myself (1851)
When young Josephine agreed to tour the county with her childhood friend Jenny Lind, aka the “Swedish Nightingale,” she had no idea that it would mean losing herself – or the man that she loves.

We Will Always Be Sisters (1852)
Helen, now a young woman living on her father’s estate in Connecticut (Iranistan), is haunted by the ghost of her baby sister Frances – and by her older sister Caroline’s upcoming nuptials.

The Fairy Wedding (1863)
Robert Todd Lincoln, son of Abraham Lincoln, inadvertently finds that his visit to the White House is set to coincide with the visit of Charles Stratton and Lavinia Warren Stratton, as part of their three-year “honeymoon” tour, stopping in DC at Mary Todd’s request. Angry with his parents’ insistence that he not take up arms against the Confederacy, and still grieving the loss of his younger brother Willie, Robert’s disgust with the affair forces him to confront his relationship with his parents, as well as his own humanity (or lack thereof).

An Extraordinary Specimen of Magnified Humanity (1865)
It’s just another day for Anna Swan, a giantess from Nova Scotia who left her job as a teacher to join Barnum’s troupe: brunch with her friend Lavinia Warren Stratton, a lecture or two, and bedtime. And then a fire ravages the American Museum, killing most of Barnum’s nonhuman menagerie, nearly trapping Anna in its flames, and displacing them all.

The Bearded Lady’s Son (1868)
Sixteen-year-old Jack is the illegitimate son of a bearded lady who just landed a spot in Barnum’s roster. Trouble is, they’ve got to keep his existence a secret – Barnum can’t risk any whiff of impropriety in a show that struggles to avoid the margins. So Jack spends his days sketching the animals in Barnum’s menagerie…animals who, once again, are about to stoke the (literal) fire of Barnum’s vanity.

It’s Not Humbug If You Believe It (1869)
On the eve of William Mumler’s trial for fraud – at which her own father, none other than PT Barnum, is set to testify for the prosecution – Pauline commissions Mumler to take a spirit self-portrait of her. She hides it in a book in her father’s library, where it will sit for more than twenty years.

All Elephants Are Tragic (1889)
As the family gathers at the Barnum property in Bridgeport, Connecticut, to witness the demolition of the Waveport cottage to make way for the Marina house – Barnum’s gift to his second, much-younger wife Nancy – the newest, arguably most vilified member of the Barnums reflects on her fifteen years with PT Barnum, his daughters, and their children.

What Makes You Think We Want You Here? (1891)
Told from the perspective of Barnie – really named Helen after her mother, and then renamed by Barnum once he became estranged from Helen the elder – the Barnums have gathered at the deathbed of the family’s larger-than-life patriarch: to say goodbye, and to reminisce.

While the writing is skilled enough, and some of the stories engaging (the recurring theme of fire is especially compelling), the overall result just fell flat for me. I feel like this is something I should have enjoyed, thoroughly, and yet…and yet. With few exceptions, it’s weirdly boring and lacking in emotion.

I was disappointed that Noyes didn’t focus exclusively on the performers, even though not all of their narratives proved all that memorable.

Centering the women in Barnum’s life might also have worked out well, but mostly it felt like the stories didn’t go much of anywhere.

Honestly, I think the most eloquent writing manifests in Noyes’s narratives surrounding the nonhuman exhibits who suffered and died agonizing deaths in the multiple fires that destroyed Barnum’s museums over the years. For example, in “An Extraordinary Specimen of Magnified Humanity” Anna Swan bears witness to the deaths of countless animals – snakes, cats, moneys – even as she fights to overcome her shock-induced paralysis and save herself:

She sailed and swayed over the sea of hats in the street, yet another audience, a uniform mass applauding with joy, it seemed, such joy — as much because some kind soul had released the birds from the aviary upstairs, and almost as one they burst from a corresponding window, a wheeling, feathered blur: parrots, cockatoos, mockingbirds, hummingbirds, vultures, and eagles, even the great, stiff, clumsy condor. The crowd in the street seemed to sway with them as they flapped free, and for the instant Anna floated on air as her rescue crew paused to take in the sight, and for the merest instant she felt it, too, swaying there, the beauty of the moment.

Also heart wrenching is the tale of Jumbo the elephant, purchased from the London Zoo to tour in the Barnum & Bailey Circus, who sacrificed himself in a railway collision to save the life of a young calf. For his heroics, his corpse is dismembered and put on display by Barnum, exploited as a commodity even in death as “the Double Jumbo.” (Talk about a callback!) In “All Elephants Are Tragic,” second wife and “interloper” Nancy Fish considers her husband’s oh so brief mourning period and his shameful treatment of a “friend”:

As another of her husband’s British “acquisitions,” Nancy identified with Jumbo. […]

A year after the loss of Jumbo, the circus’s Winter Quarters in Bridgeport, the biggest animal training ground in the world, was leveled by fire, killing most of the animals. All Nancy remembered of that night was that poor Gracie the elephant had tried to swim to safety … making it all the way to the lighthouse before she sank under the waves. All elephants were tragic, it seemed to Nancy, captives stolen from their homes and made to perform against their wild natures.

THIS. This is the content I came here for. Immerse me in a chapter written from the perspective of one of Barnum’s nonhuman performers, the most long-suffering of them all. The fishes and monkeys forcibly joined to make the Feejee Mermaid (posthumously, obvs) perhaps, or the white whales boiled to death in their tank. Maybe Helen’s cranky old cat, banished to the Museum by Charity, never to be seen again.

Give me an act of nonhuman rebellion, or a whisper of feminist solidarity between h. sapiens and the furred and feathered creatures: for we are all their (read: the capitalist patriarchy’s) creatures.

(This review is also available on Amazon, Library Thing, and Goodreads. Please click through and vote it helpful if you’re so inclined!)

tweets for 2020-04-20

April 21st, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-19

April 20th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-18

April 19th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-17

April 18th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

Book Review: Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo (2020)

April 17th, 2020 7:00 am by mad mags

Diagnosis: Murder

four out of five stars

(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through NetGalley. Trigger warning for misogyny and violence against women, including sexual assault.)

The girls stowed away repulsive, frightening experiences with males deep in their hearts without even realising it themselves.

Jiyoung was standing in the middle of a labyrinth. Conscientiously and calmly, she was searching for a way out that didn’t exist to begin with.

Jiyoung did not feel good as she checked ‘NO’ with her own hand. The world had changed a great deal, but the little rules, contracts and customs had not, which meant the world hadn’t actually changed at all.

Kim Jiyoung lives in a small apartment on the outskirts of Seoul with her husband, Jung Daehyun, and her baby daughter Jung Jiwon. A middle child who grew up in a working class family, Jiyoung attended university and landed a job at a small marketing agency after graduation. One of just a handful of women, she enjoyed her work well enough but quit after just a few years to have and raise Jiwon.

About a year after Jiwon’s birth, Jiyoung started exhibiting strange symptoms: she would “become” other people. Always women, always known to her, both living and dead: for example, her own mother, Oh Misook, or Cha Seungyeon, a mutual college friend of both Jiyoung and Daehyun who died in childbirth. Alarmed, Daehyun sought the help of a psychiatrist; Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 is presented as the doctor’s case study of Jiyoung.

Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 is basically a laundry list of the misogynist slights that Korean women – and especially Korean mothers – are subjected to, both historically and in contemporary society. (Ditto: women who dare to live and breathe and exist in any patriarchal society. As someone born and raised in the United States, I found roughly 97.8% of Jiyoung’s experiences easily translatable across cultures.) Even as I explain the plot this way, it seems like Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 should make for a fairly tedious read; and yet, it’s anything but.

As Jiyoung’s psychiatrist traces a path through her early childhood, high school and university years, marriage, and motherhood, we’re forced to bear witness as a young girl’s spirit is beaten down, degraded, and eroded – just like her mother’s and grandmother’s before her – while, as outsiders looking in, we are powerless to stop it. We are watching a murder: psychological, emotional, psychic, spiritual. A death by a million cuts: some tiny, others not so much. Intergenerational trauma galore.

There are the “smaller” microaggressions, such as how the boys are always allowed to go first: served the first (and best) portions of food at home, or permitted to do their presentations first at school. Then there’s the bigger stuff: gender discrimination in hiring and pay; limited career opportunities and pink collar jobs; sex-selective abortion; the indoctrination into rape culture, starting in elementary school; sexual harassment and assault; the pressure to have children; and the simultaneous idolization and vilification of stay-at-home moms.

When Jiyoung finally “snaps,” you’ll wonder why it took so long. Her adoption of other personas isn’t the disease, but rather a symptom: of a society that dismisses, denigrates, devalues, and outright hates women. Only by becoming other women can she challenge the status quo. They function as Jiyoung’s protectors, when Jiyoung is barred from protecting herself. (Sometimes.)

I hate to quote Alyssa’s father, because he is 110% one of the pricks this story is about, but when the gif fits…
——————————

The coup de grace is the psychiatrist’s personal notes at the end, wherein he recounts his own wife’s struggles, thus positioning himself as the rare male beast, better suited to understanding Jiyoung’s predicament than most. Mansplaining meets “not all men,” while completely and utterly failing to help either beleaguered woman. It’s enough to make you wonder why Jiyoung didn’t opt for a female psychiatrist … but only if you missed the entire point of the book.

(This review is also available on Amazon, Library Thing, and Goodreads. Please click through and vote it helpful if you’re so inclined!)

tweets for 2020-04-16

April 17th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-15

April 16th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags

tweets for 2020-04-14

April 15th, 2020 2:00 am by mad mags
  • RT @ddale8: Trump bashes the WHO for praising China's supposed transparency. "I don't THINK so," he says.
    Trump himself praised China's s… ->
  • RT @risarodil: A slightly different variation of an earlier piece. I just wanted to draw Rosa again 👑 🪓 @iamstephbeatz @nbcbrooklyn99 https… ->
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    Homeless Americans sleeping… ->
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  • RT @jonfavs: Biden, Bernie, Warren, Schumer, Pelosi and every other elected Democrat should go on TV tomorrow and let people know that the… ->
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Book Review: That Can Be Arranged: A Muslim Love Story by Huda Fahmy (2020)

April 14th, 2020 7:00 am by mad mags

An inspired follow up to Yes, I’m Hot in This.

four out of five stars

(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through NetGalley.)

I adored cartoonist Huda Fahmy’s debut book, 2018’s Yes, I’m Hot in This: The Hilarious Truth about Life in a Hijab. In it, she challenges and straight up slays the bald-faced bigotry and racist, sexist, and Islamophobic microaggressions hurled her way. (As a Muslim WOC living in Amurica, sadly there is little shortage of such.)

In many ways, That Can Be Arranged: A Muslim Love Story feels like a natural progression: her husband and BFF Gehad is a frequent character in her comics (as is his ubiquitous red shirt), and of course her readers are dying to know how those two crazy (read: delightfully nerdy!) kids got together.

Huda and Gehad’s was an arranged marriage – but, as you’ll see, arranged marriages (not to be confused with forced marriages) take many forms. In her parents’ case, this meant marrying after just a single meeting – and divorcing many years later.

Huda, by contrast, spent several years trying to get matched with a suitable man. After turning down her only suitor (who turned out to be a stalkery sociopath), she spotted her dream dude by chance at an Islamic studies conference and promptly fell head over heels (all at the ripe old age of twenty-four – the horror!). She appealed to Sheik Z (aka Doctor Love), also in attendance, for relationship advice; it was Qadar (destiny) when he set Huda and Gehad up.

What came next was a chaperoned courtship (involving some of the funniest panels in the book; to wit: Huda’s mom eavesdropping on their Pokemon debate), meeting the ‘rents, setting a date, the kitab (signing of the marriage contract) and, finally, the walima.

Like Yes, I’m Hot in This, That Can Be Arranged dispels a lot of misconceptions that non-Muslims might have about arranged marriages. For example, while their courtship was governed my myriad rules, Huda and Gehad had he final say in whether to do the thing (again: arranged, not forced). I especially loved how she compared her own experiences to Jane Austen, giving many Western readers a reference point to relate.

I can’t wait to see what Huda does next. (Me, I’m rooting for the cat hotel!)

(This review is also available on Amazon, Library Thing, and Goodreads. Please click through and vote it helpful if you’re so inclined!)