“Harley Quinn: The Animated Series Volume 1: The Eat. Bang! Kill. Tour” by Tee Franklin — Sebastian Strawser

In “Harley Quinn: The Animated Series Volume 1: The Eat. Bang! Kill. Tour,” Tee Franklin paints a beautiful picture of LGBTQIA+ love, adventure and chaos. The story begins with Poison Ivy leaving Kite Man at the altar, fleeing the Gotham City Police Department with fellow criminal Harley Quinn. Throughout their Thelma-and-Louise escapades, the two women learn more about themselves and their love for one another.

I loved this book because of its humanizing portrayal of Harley and Ivy’s relationship. There are its lovey dovey ‘highs’ and its messy, broken ‘lows.’ While Police Commissioner Gordon sees them as nothing more than low-life criminals, readers instead see their humanity. They’re beautiful, awe-inspiring women that love, laugh, cry and regret as all humans do. In a society that treats being LGBTQIA+ as something to demonize and destroy, the unapologetic telling of Harley and Ivy’s story sends the message that needs to be sent. 

“The Last Sweet Bite: Stories and Recipes of Culinary Heritage Lost and Found” by Michael Shaikh — Emerson Prentice 

In “The Last Sweet Bite,” Michael Shaikh writes about the impact of atrocities on the cuisines of cultures across the globe and through time. Shaikh dissects USSR occupation by discussing the Czech Republic’s restrictive menus under the regime. He exposes the plight of the Uyghurs in China by emphasizing their loss of culinary history. Shaikh speaks on the complicated legality of the culturally significant coca leaf in Bolivia, and he highlights the usage of salt water in cooking as a method of  remembrance for Tamils in Sri Lanka. Throughout this book, Shaikh includes personal experiences from each of these communities, along with images and historical recipes for readers to follow at the end of each chapter.

This book was incredibly informative yet riveting. Despite the heavy topics, Shaikh kept the book very engaging and even, at times, hopeful. I took away so much about the complexities of the relationship between cultural histories and the cuisines associated with them. This book truly allowed me to expand my culinary knowledge from the perspective of what is missing from those communities and served as a remarkable reminder that food is connection above all else. 

“The Knockout Queen” by Rufi Thorpe — Blyss Cleveland

“The Knockout Queen” chronicles the unlikely friendship that forms between protagonists Michael and Bunny, and the devastating incident that tears them apart. Bunny is a tall, wealthy athlete destined for the Olympics, while Michael is a gay, working-class teen who moved in with his aunt and cousin after his mother was incarcerated. Despite living next to each other for several years, they remain separated by the politics of cliquishness that maintain exclusive social circles in high school. After a chance encounter, they bond over feeling isolated and navigating the struggle of finding suitable respective romantic partners. 

The central theme of “The Knockout Queen” is that life sometimes gives people a bad hand. It is a rather sad story, and one of the most comforting novels I have read in awhile. In a culture where optimism bias reigns supreme, it is an exercise in empathy to engage with an engrossing narrative about the aftermath of injustice. Once it becomes clear that the events are being told from some point in the future, there is hope that Michael and Bunny survive the upheaval. Ultimately, the reader is forced to sit with the characters’ grief of missing one another after their relationship changes. 

“The State Must Provide: Why America’s Colleges Have Always Been Unequal―and How to Set Them Right” by Adam Harris — Adeline Lee

In “The State Must Provide,” Adam Harris traces the history of racial inequality in American higher education and the systemic exclusion of Black Americans from education. He explores the establishment and development of historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs), which emerged from a post-Civil War push for agricultural education. Harris also examines the HBCUs’ struggles for survival as state legislatures withheld funding and as activists and plaintiffs fought legal battles for education equality. 

This book was eye-opening and humbling to read for me as a student pursuing higher education. Harris’ writing stood out for how powerfully it humanizes history; his portrayal of activists and plaintiffs not only through their work but also through their personal fears and struggles was devastating yet inspiring. It forced me to reflect on my own privileges and to reconsider the true purpose of my education — an opportunity that others fought so desperately for. I now feel a stronger obligation to use my access to education to advocate for greater equity and inclusion in academic spaces.

“The Hour of the Star” by Clarice Lispector — Kaylee Chan

One summer afternoon, I sat down and committed to reading Clarise Lispector’s “The Hour of the Star” in one sitting. It did not disappoint. This gem of a novella casts a pitying lens at an unlikely subject — the downtrodden Macabéa, an impoverished orphan struggling to get by and find love in the slums of urban Brazil. Starry-eyed to a fault, she remains largely oblivious to the helplessness of her life circumstances. The real ingenuity of the novel shines through the narrator, Rodrigo, who breaks the fourth wall in order to reflect on the futility of telling Macabéa’s story. At times, he considers skipping ahead, fabricating a happier ending, or abandoning the story completely. However, he ultimately — and, perhaps, bravely —- commits to telling the story as is.

The novella gave me a deeper appreciation for literature’s capacity to foster empathy. What starts as an account of the life of an unremarkable young girl turns into a wider, philosophical rumination about the stakes of storytelling and the value of stepping into the shoes of someone wholly apart from you — even if only for an afternoon. As tragically short as my time with Macabéa was, her story will stay with me for a long while.