Reviewed by Warren Maxwell

Melding poetic forms, candid conversations, and calls against injustice, these poems are confessional, communal, rage-filled, compassionate, and above all, kind.

Melding poetic forms, candid conversations, and calls against injustice, these poems are confessional, communal, rage-filled, compassionate, and above all, kind.

“Dustin’s instinct is to argue against the compliment—that’s life with a narcissist parent. He (begrudgingly ) writes thank you.”

Zooming into the experiences, frustrations, and joys of modern life with a magnifying glass, the slim volume of poetry, Repeat As Needed, offers validation, commiseration, and critique of the way we live our lives.

In a fingerprint-like poetic voice that captures the unique cadences and peculiarities of the author, poems like “Things That Definitely Suck” list the myriad awfulnesses that one encounters on a day-to-day basis, or once in a lifetime, in one foreboding block of text .

“Stuck on a Ferris wheel with a full bladder. Missing buttons. Chipping a tooth. A dust allergy. Misogyny.”

Elsewhere, poems are minimalistic haikus, elegant villanelles, literal conversations traded back and forth with other poets, and quixotic repartees against the cliched comments that heterosexual people make about homosexuality. The diversity of form is thrilling, but it’s the poetic voice winding through each piece that makes this an enthralling read.

“Sob.
Sob until God fears
you’ll one up His flood.”

Each poem in Repeat As Needed is accompanied by a subheading that name-checks an inspiration or literary jumping off point. This in itself creates a beautiful sense of poetic lineage and history—it is a collection very much in touch with contemporaries and forbearers.

When viewed in combination with the two explicit conversation poems (“Dustin Wants To Write A Poem With Caridad” and “Dustin Wants To Write A Poem With Nicole”) that trade block paragraphs between Brookshire and another poet—each poet writing about themselves in the third person—this collection takes on the aspect of a community. Many voices are drawn into contact with Brookshire’s. The lively chatter between poets and thinkers actively performs some of the values that become apparent in the collection’s denunciations of homophobia, misogyny, and discrimination of all stripes.

“When I was straight,
my father would say,
I’d rather one of my sons
blow my brains out
than tell me he’s gay.”

Among the real pleasures of reading these poems is discovering the way poetic form and the uses of concrete space inflect a voice. Brookshire’s voice doesn’t falter in navigating brutalist blocks of text, slim lines of repetition, and meandering, minor epic stories of being frightened by religious tales as a child. Yet, each new structure on the page brings out another aspect of Brookshire’s language. There is the heavy potency of a poem that can simply declare “All we had was lust” and let those lines resonate alone on the page. Then there’s the prolix excitement of a voice that loves speaking and free associating as we see in “Things That Definitely Suck” and the conversation poems. Through different forms, the different faces of the poet come into beautiful relief.

A passionate, richly articulated snapshot of life, poetic community, and the many identities that are wrapped up in a single individual, Repeat As Needed is a gorgeous poetry collection.

Thank you for reading Warren Maxwell’s book review of Repeat As Needed by Dustin Brookshire! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post STARRED Book Review: Repeat As Needed appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Samantha Hui | Content warnings: cancer

A vital memoir about the dangers of inheriting silence

S. L. Collins’ Stopping to Feel is an intimate memoir that explores the long-casted shadow of generational trauma, the complex ways we inherit emotional habits, and the courage it takes to unlearn them. At its heart, the book is an examination of grief and deep emotional suppression.

Through lyrical prose and poignant metaphors, Collins delves into the internal fractures that result when love and pain coexist unspoken. She invites readers to reflect on how much of our identity is shaped by what we avoid, and what we can become for others when we finally allow ourselves to feel.

“I was so grateful to have a dad who could fix up the physical wounds, but I wouldn’t realize for two more decades how bad he was at acknowledging and healing emotional ones.”

The memoir centers on Sasha’s relationship with her father, Boris Romanowsky, a devoted police officer admired by his community but emotionally distant at home. As a child, Sasha sees him as a strong and dependable hero, always willing to help others. But his strength doubles as a mask, hiding deep grief and a refusal to confront his own pain and past.

When he is diagnosed with a cancer that has taken the lives of many of his own family members, he faces the disease with a mix of stoicism and denial. As his illness advances, Sasha begins to recognize how his coping mechanisms of avoidance, emotional withdrawal, and constant busyness have shaped her own ways of dealing with life. In her effort to better understand her elusive father, she also uncovers troubling truths about his childhood that shed light on his behavior. The memoir follows Sasha’s path through burnout, therapy, and ultimately, forgiveness, as she strives to break generational patterns and build a healthier emotional legacy for her own children.

“I held on for dear life and kept pedaling–Dad was right, if I just kept moving, I wouldn’t crash.”

The structure of Stopping to Feel enhances its emotional resonance. Divided into four parts—Collins’ childhood and early brushes with family loss followed by her father’s colon cancer diagnosis, his recovery, and the cancer’s return—the book traces not just events but emotional evolution. Told mostly chronologically, the narrative allows readers to witness the slow unfolding of patterns that repeat over generations.

Collins’ talent lies in her ability to reveal, over time, how she and her father mirror each other, how his need to “just keep moving” becomes her own, and how both of them crash under the weight of avoidance. As the book spans decades, we also witness the cumulative effect of anxiety, showing how small emotional habits calcify into lifelong struggles. The structure allows the reader to not only see the cycle but feel how difficult it is to break.

“I remember the stories she told me, but otherwise, my memories come to me as feelings, rather than visions. Confusion. Disgust. Disbelief. Relief. Sadness. Fear. But most of all, shame.”

One of the book’s most powerful strengths is in Collins’ poetic storytelling. A particularly unforgettable image involves her father as a child landing on a stick that breaks off inside his foot, and never telling his parents out of fear of being a burden. Decades later, she wonders whether that fragment still lived inside him as he was cremated: “Did the piece of wood ignite, finally free after all those decades of being ignored?” It’s a haunting metaphor for the buried pain that defines this memoir; wounds left unspoken don’t disappear, they fester, they shape us, and sometimes they become our legacy.

“How could I parent small children and nurture their big feelings and emotions when I could barely understand my own? How could I be a loving parent and a distressed child at the same time?”

Ultimately, Stopping to Feel is about confronting grief, facing uncomfortable truths, and daring to feel in a world and a family where avoidance means survival. It’s a memoir for anyone grappling with emotional inheritance, caregiving, or the silent toll of trauma. Readers who appreciate honest explorations of mental health, family complexity, and emotional resilience will find themselves deeply moved by this story. More than anything, the book is an invitation to pause, reflect, and feel…before it’s too late.

Thank you for reading Samantha Hui’s book review of Stopping to Feel by S.L. Collins! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post STARRED Book Review: Stopping to Feel appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Alexandria Ducksworth

Welcome to a thrilling world with ancient magical creatures and age-old rivalries bound to fight once more.

Being part fae is not all it’s cracked up to be. In Halja’s tiny seaside village, if you have anything to do with the fae, it’s considered more of a sin than anything.

Once young Halja discovers a devastating family secret, she moves out of town and meets the Sourcerer Eilith and the mysterious tattooed Byrgir. Eventually, though, the High Priestess who worships the new god Enos imprisons Eilith for conjuring shadow creatures. 

Halja knows for sure her beloved mentor wouldn’t have committed such a crime. She vows to save Eilith along with Byrgir and the friends she makes along the way. While Halja’s relationship with Byrgir grows beyond mere companionship, she builds a deeper relationship with herself as her fae family history slowly unravels.

Angelina Kelly knows how to grab readers’ attention. One of the most appealing elements of this book is the magical people in Halja’s world. Any mention of a Selkie will get me excited, so it’s an understatement to say I was intrigued by how this whole ancestry journey starts—with the discovery of her mother being one of those part-seal creatures from Celtic and Scandinavian mythology.

The book’s pacing is another of its highlights. Family secrets, the dismantling of a village crush—we’ve always got a good excuse to keep moving from points A to Z. Every chapter is set in new domain, whether physical or emotional, and it’s quick about it!

The feud between the magical Fae and the holy Paragons of Light presents an interesting note on the world’s politics. Humans and Fae have a long history of conflict. In the very beginning, the two races share magic and one world, but power, greed, and paranoia has split them apart. 

Nowadays, the fae endure little tolerance from humans, as humans believe the fae are tricksters bound to harm. The Paragons of Light’s mission is to bring everyone into the light of their god, Enos, and away from the darkness of the fae. The rivalry is similar to the ancient religious battle between Christianity and Paganism. The fae would be part of the old Pagan ways along with its magic while the Paragons of Light, similar to Christianity, is everywhere, stamping out the old Pagan religions.

Halja goes through tremendous growth in this story, but she wouldn’t have become the strong woman she is by the end of the book without the support of her secondary characters. Her friends, Elenwen and Eilith, help her grow her magic, while Byrgir trains her to be a warrior in the heat of battle. In the beginning, Halja could only run away from her enemies. With a little training, magic, and confidence, Halja faces her monsters without a second thought.

Fans who love anything from Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses to Holly Black’s The Cruel Prince must give The Source of Storms a read. The book is filled with adventure, lore, and just enough romance to keep readers on their toes. Good news is: this is just the first book in what I hope to be a long series.

Thank you for reading Alexandria Ducksworth’s book review of The Source of Storms by Angelina Kelly! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post STARRED Book Review: The Source of Storms appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Samantha Hui

A moving, heartfelt story about the realities of caregiving and the proclivity to long for the past

“I have decided that this must be some kind of unholy litmus test. A test that exposed my character, the raw pulp of who I really am—and I am failing that test.”

Strawberry ice cream, little fibs (fiblets), and cute animal videos on the good days; broken wrists, forgotten names, and outbursts on the bad. Alfredo Botello’s Spin Cycle: notes from a reluctant caregiver is an uninhibited, earthy look into the complexities of caring for a loved one who gradually becomes someone they didn’t used to be.

The novel adeptly explores unresolved trauma, caregiver guilt, and the difficult journey of coming to terms with both. Through this story of caregivers, readers are invited to reflect on what it means to love in an unfair world and care when the days feel as though they are filled with more tears than laughter.

“They aren’t kids, so just being and playing isn’t good enough. They aren’t ‘broken’ grown-ups as Sweet P said, yet we expect them to reason and remember like we grown-ups do. They’re something else, but our world hasn’t primed us for that, hasn’t told us it’s something worth loving and celebrating.”

Ezra Pavic finds comfort in the certainty of mathematics, prefers beating around the bush to speaking directly, and knows the pain and shame of failing despite doing everything right. When his once lively mother begins to lose her reading glasses, forget words, and even misplace her car in a Walmart parking lot, Ezra’s desire for certainty is shattered, becoming nothing more than a childhood fantasy. 

In an attempt to cope with his mother’s mental and physical decline, Ezra starts APPA—Adults Patiently Parenting Adults—a support group where he and his nine eccentric students process the trauma of caring for parents with dementia. But can someone who over-analyzes every situation to the point of inaction make the most important decision of his life?

The novel is structured nonlinearly, with Ezra confiding in his longtime friend Danny about his brief time running APPA. These conversations with Danny are interwoven with scenes from his sessions at APPA and his time with his mother in the assisted living facility. Alfredo Botello writes with exceptional precision, his prose engaging and purposeful, heartfelt without being overly sentimental. The characters are brutally real and flawed, yet always capable of redemption. This novel feels like sitting down with a close friend who needs to vent—a friend who will gradually bare their soul, no more, no less—as long as you’re ready to listen with an open mind and heart.

“All these years I had spent trying to get her to do things ‘right’ again, trying to ‘fix’ her, fix the dementia. How absurd. I just assumed she was the student, and I was the teacher. My imagination failed me. I was learning from her.”

Spin Cycle forces its readers to ask themselves a difficult question: If I were in the same position, would I have the grace and patience needed to care for a parent suffering from dementia? The book digs even deeper, suggesting that perhaps patience isn’t the most important quality when caring for a parent with dementia. With all the history, all the baggage, and all the resentment that comes with such a relationship, a regression of the mind doesn’t require looking to the past for answers. Readers are taken on a humanizing experience where they have no choice but to forgive themselves for their past crimes of impatience, frustration, and missed “I love yous.”

Thank you for reading Samantha Hui’s book review of Spin Cycle by Alfredo Botello! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post STARRED Book Review: Spin Cycle appeared first on Independent Book Review.