Dr. Eitan Green has the perfect life, a neurosurgeon with a wife and two children, until he accidentally runs over an Eritrean migrant in his car. The migrant’s wife, Sirkit, finds his driver’s license near the body, and goes to Eitan’s house to demand reparation. While Eitan is prepared to offer money, what Sirkit actually wants is for him to set up a clinic for the refugee community and provide free medical care. There is the added danger of the violence faced by the refugees, as well as Eitan’s wife Liat being the detective in charge of tracking down the driver in the hit and run.

Waking Lions is a powerful story about race and privilege and what it means to ‘do the right thing.’ I like the characterizations of Eitan and Sirkit, and the development of their relationship, from the wariness of the initial blackmail to the burgeoning respect as they begin to work together to provide medical care. Liat was an interesting character, and I wish her character had been developed more, as her naivete over her husband’s role in the hit and run stretched credulity after a while, especially given her purported ‘gift for reading people.’

The story starts off a bit slow, and it takes a while for the story to get going, but it’s worth plowing through. And Sirkit’s character in particular is slowly revealed as much more complex than simply a grieving widow who wants to help her community, and I especially liked how the truth of her relationship with her husband was revealed over time.

Waking Lions is a dense novel about some important issues, and provides a glimpse into a world I have rarely encountered in fiction.I like the insight the book provides into the lives of refugee communities in Israel, and the struggles they face even just to survive. It’s slow and introspective, an intimate story about broad political topics, and it challenges expectations.

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Thank you to Hachette Book Group Canada for an advance reading copy in exchange for an honest review.

I’m a huge fan of classic detective fiction, so it’s no surprise that I absolutely adored Chan Ho-Kei’s novel/collection of interconnected short stories The Borrowed. Told in reverse chronological order, The Borrowed follows the career of Kwan Chun-dok, a legendary Hong Kong detective, and his protege, Inspector Lok. The stories all take place at significant moments in Hong Kong history (e.g. the Tiananmen Square Massacre in 1989, the Handover in 1997), and I wish I knew more about Hong Kong history so I would have appreciated the links more.

The stories are all also told in classic detective fiction style, with Kwan Chun-dok displaying brain power similar to Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot. Similar to classic detective fiction, the puzzles are all brain teasers, with a satisfying big reveal at the end as the detective unmasks the culprit. The stories are all compelling and character-driven, and I love the satisfying resolution of each. The first story in particular ended with a reveal straight out of a Conan Doyle novel, mischievous and smart.

The stories are all also interconnected, with a character from one story reappearing in a later story, which would have taken place at an earlier time. I think I may have missed some of the reappearances (for example, a reappearance in the final story — or earliest, chronologically — seems to have major significance, but I had to flip back to find out what it could be), but I still enjoyed the stories overall.

I’m also a sucker for mentor/protege relationships, and I love how Kwan Chun-dok saw potential in Inspector Lok from early on, and developed him to take on his mantle. I also like how we saw Kwan Chun-dok as a young man, coming into his own abilities and making mistakes that would help shape the genius he’d become.

I admit I thought the reverse chronological approach to be nothing more than a clever gimmick at first, and I wasn’t much of a fan, but I found that I enjoyed getting to know Kwan Chun-dok in reverse order. We are so often used to the story of a brilliant young man who develops his own talents and becomes legendary that it’s an interesting effect to meet him first at the apex of his brilliance and then slowly get to know the man behind the legend, as he is revealed to be increasingly more vulnerable.

Hong Kong as well becomes a vivid character in its own right in these stories, as Chan Ho-Kei’s writing brings the city to life on the page. This book makes me want to read more Hong Kong police procedurals, or possibly even more of Inpector Lok’s adventures beyond his career with Kwan Chun-dok.

The Borrowed is such a fun book to read, and I highly recommend it for any fan of classic mysteries and police procedurals.

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Thank you to House of Anansi for an advance reading copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

I love, love, love this book! El Deafo is about a deaf bunny named Cece who is self-conscious about wearing her Phonic Ear (a hearing aid strapped to the chest and connected to a microphone) at school, and creates a superhero persona, El Deafo, to gain confidence in making new friends. Cece’s story is inspired by the childhood of the author, Cece Bell, and while the events and characters may have changed somewhat, the author’s note maintains the Cece’s emotions are based on how Bell often felt as a child.

It’s a funny and entertaining story, with a light humour that belies the depth of emotion being conveyed. I was moved by Cece’s desire to fit in, and by her experience of always being different in a way that she can’t hide. Her self-consciousness about her hearing aid and worry that people were staring at her are emotions that many readers, whether deaf or hearing, can relate to, and my heart broke just a little every time she thought she found “a true friend”, only to lose the friendship because of one snag or another.

I think this story will appeal to many ages; I found myself relating to Cece’s desire for belonging even as an adult. I cringed whenever she had an embarrassing misunderstanding, I felt bad when a friend she really liked stopped wanting to see her, and I got all giddy when a cute guy moves into her neighbourhood. The illustrations are adorable, and I especially love it when Cece literally goes heart-eyed around the cute guy, and conversations around her turn into gibberish because she stops paying attention.

People at school aren’t overtly mean to Cece, and I appreciated seeing how even well-meaning people can make mistakes when engaging with deaf people. For example, some of Cece’s classmates speak slowly and loudly to her when that doesn’t really make them easier to understand, and only serves to make Cece feel self-conscious that they’re talking differently to her than to everyone else. Or a friend realizes Cece isn’t quite following a TV show, and so turns up the volume, when really all it does is make the nonsensical sounds from the TV just sound louder, but still nonsensical. (Fun fact: soap operas are easy for Cece to follow because the actors often speak directly to the camera, and in close up.)

There are also things Cece’s friends do as hearing people without realizing that it would pose a challenge to her. For example, Cece finds sports challenging, because multiple people shout instructions at her, and she may not always see their lips clearly or know where to turn. Or at a sleepover, Cece’s friends continue chatting after lights out, without realizing that she can no longer see the conversation. There’s also a cringe-worthy, yet all-too-possible, example of a girl who befriends Cece and constantly introduces her to other girls as “my deaf friend.” This girl doesn’t intend to be mean, but we see how much it hurts Cece to be known as just “the deaf girl.” At one point, she decides to aim for really high grades so that she could become known as the smart girl rather than the deaf one.

I read this book as a hearing person and can’t say how a deaf or Deaf reader will respond to this book, but I hope that they may see some of their own experiences in Cece, and also be moved by the story. The story is based on lived experience, though Bell is careful to note that her experiences are unique to herself and in no way represent the experiences of other deaf peopleHer Author’s Note is also a great primer on deafness and on Deaf culture. She also notes that because she learned speech before she became deaf, her parents “were able to make decisions for me that kept me mostly in the hearing world,” and while fascinated by Deaf culture, she has “not, as yet, pursued a direct role in it.” As a hearing person, I found this very informative, particularly as it provides some context for how her experience as a deaf person who reads lips and uses a hearing aid is located within a much larger range of experiences of deafness.

This is such an entertaining, informative, and moving book. It won the Newbery Honor in 2015, and the Eisner Award for Best Publication for Kids (ages 8-12), and I can understand why. I highly recommend it for readers of all ages, and it’s a great book for parents and teachers to share with children.