Jenny JaeckelReseñas

Initially, I was excited to read an emotionally moving account of life in the NICU. Unfortunately, I was disappointed. The overall writing style and illustrations were quite dull. I just couldn’t get into it enough to emotionally connect, nor stay focused to read it. That was before getting to p. 74 when I felt shocked/confused about the "I love their fat little vaginas!" line. That little creeper appeared out of nowhere. Then there was p. 75. This just made me angry as an Autistic person. The anti-vaccine conspiracy about ASDs is scientifically unfounded. Its ignorant and dangerous, not to mention highly offensive to those of us actually on the spectrum. Maybe it’s hard for the author to understand but comparing someone's brain to "brain damage" and "diseases" is beyond insensitive. Further, it just plain inaccurate/wrong. And, saying that you don't want to vaccinate to prevent Autism, which vaccines don't even cause, sounds to an Autistic person like you are saying you hate them, their neurology, and their community so much you would rather your child suffer or even die from a preventable illness just so that your child wouldn't be like them. We deal with these and other harmful stereotypes and stigma every single day. Unfortunately, this one is now costing people, children, their lives. I had to stop and calm myself to the point where my anger was more annoyance to even continue the book. Though, it did create an emotional response. The rest of the book was much like the first part, un-intriguing. Also, in case the author cares Allah is just the Arabic word for God (literally ‘the God’ though in English instead of a definite article we just capitalize the G)) and Muslims worship the same God as Jews and Christians. It’s not a different deity. I can't really recommend it to anyone (even to my friends and family with connections to a NICU). On the positive side, Spoiler alert, I’m glad Asa is doing well.

I really do not have the words to express how moving, how vivid, and how captivating this story is. Jaeckel has a way of not only bringing the story to life before your eyes, but evoking emotions that you feel right at your core. The characters are real, not just because of their depth, but because of the way they almost step out from the pages and into your living room. You can't help falling in love with this book from the first chapter, Talia being a brilliant narrator that captures your heart immediately. A coming-of-age story that will stand the test of time for years to come.

I really liked this book after getting used to the diary, inner monologue, writing style. Having been an 18 year old girl (a long time ago) and working with teenage girls in the High School setting as an adult, I really could relate to the awkwardness, doubt, worry and all of those feelings that young people have as they try to make sense of adulthood and striking out on their own. Thank you to the author for allowing me the chance to review your book!

Tale of one family’s Journey from slavery on a sugar plantation in 1785 on the remote French island of Martinique, to freedom in Philadelphia in 1964. Starting with the book of Abeje, a young child of six, who is orphaned, and must take care of her four-year-old brother, Adunbi. Their mother was murdered by an overseer. This story tells how, over the span of two centuries. Abeje soon shows an affinity for becoming a healer. Each chapter of the second book is told from the third person perspective of a different member of the Rougeaux family.

The chapters each take place in a different time period. The writing descriptive, even though some of the old-fashioned words were hard to understand. I just could not connect to this book I found myself plodding through the book to the end.

Thank you to the author for a copy of this book. I was so excited to read this book based on the synopsis. The first chapter was really up my alley as well. I found the author nailed Talia's voice from getting angry at a friend because she felt betrayed to developing crushes. Ultimately, I wasn't able to connect with the characters and did not feel invested in their story. But I did like how realistic the story felt.

This book just didn't do it for me. I understand the concept of coming of age, but Talia's voice was not intriguing. The book was written in a diary style that rambled on and on. I didn't find a connection with any character. It wasn't until about a fourth of the way through the book that I even knew what time period this book took place in. It took me a long time to finish this book because it was a drag with every sentence.

Straightforward if modernish coming of age tale told in a rambling first person. Easy to read and no challenges involved. Could hardly wait to finish it but finish it I did.½

A very modern take on a love story. Modern in the matter-of-fact, frank and open manner the physical aspect of love is handled. The lovers here are as confused as any teenager of any era, but they can talk about it (unlike in the 1960s when this reviewer was a teenager 😂). This feature of the book probably fits well in today’s YA library.

The other remarkable feature is the voice. The book is written in the 1st person of the main character, Talia. At first I was put off by the long rambling sentences. Not exactly Proustian, but in need of editing. But within a couple of pages I connected with the lilt of the modern American teenager. Jaeckel has really nailed the voice. Well done.

As it has been a few decades since I have read either author, I use caution in suggesting that if Nathaniel Hawthorne and Flora Nwapa collaborated on a book, the result might resemble Jenny Jaeckel's Boy, Falling. Jaeckel authors a literary work that critiques the human condition from the perspective of a Canadian woman of color and feminist. Her description of her characters' states of mind and her 19th Century pace of writing resembles Hawthorne's style. Flora Nwapa is a pioneer writer among people of color with her best known work focusing on one woman's life experience in Nigeria. Within their places and times, both Nwapa and Hawthorne have made important inroads into feminist literature. Jaeckel contributes the perspective of an early 20th Century Canadian – turned - American woman within a diverse cast of deeply developed characters not unlike those of the aforementioned authors. She extends her characters farther into cultural diversity than either of them did or probably would, tackling gender issues more diverse than just feminist causes.

There are multiple well – developed characters having distinct issues with society above and beyond the racism that drapes the background. The main character. Jeannette, marries Macon Halvorsen, midway through the book. Macon is a man of great integrity but also overt chauvinism. To some extent, he appears to be brainwashed into a plantation owner's mindset. That is to say, he sees value in himself as primarily a business commodity. To the extent that a plantation owner would value a black man only as a function of his productivity and not as a human being, Macon perceives himself in the same way – a high intensity workaholic of color seemingly incapable of self – value outside of a ledger sheet. Unfortunately, his persona takes a serious toll on his wife.

Much of the book's most engaging plot line consists of Jeanette's own journey of self value, especially in her relationship to her overbearing and not well emancipated spouse. However, the book starts with a boy, Gerard who has a very complex life history of his own, much of which is highly pertinent to today's social issues lateral to feminism. His story of self – actualization constitutes a major part of the beginning of the book. In fact, I wish that Jaeckel kept him closer to the development of the book near its ending.

A theme which I particularly liked is Jaeckel's emphatic call to cultural humanism. Her multiple and complex protagonists are deeply attached to the visual arts, to poetry, and to music which, unlike for the character Macon, fulfill and complete them. Whereas most of her work revolves around race, feminism, and gender identity, her focus easily moves around liberal humanism as well.

My one problem with the book is that Jaeckel is so wrapped up in character that it makes a memory – challenged person like myself mentally stymied. I require an active plot to keep my mind focused. The detail in her writing overwhelms me making it hard to stay engaged. But this effect is as much a reflection of personal weakness than of the author's style, perhaps.

I was thrilled to see Jaeckel's unique style carried through in this sequel. There was definitely more emotion behind this one for me, perhaps because I had already read the first book (although this can totally be read as a standalone). I teared up a few times while reading this, and each time I had to set it down, I felt like I was coming up gasping for air after diving too deep in the ocean. I got lost in the story, watching and feeling it unfold around me. Furthermore, I was a little sad when it ended, and I returned to the real world for the final time. I hope to read more by this brilliant author in the future!

This was an absolutely brilliant blending of historical and literary fiction. A captivating family saga that spans generations, this story will transport you. I found this was more about feeling than seeing what you were reading, if that makes sense. Instead of watching a movie unfold, I felt the story wrapping around me, tugging and pulling me in. I have to applaud how masterfully this was written. Highly recommend, would rate higher than a five if I could.

Disclaimer: An electronic copy of this book was provided in exchange for review by publishers Black Rose Writing, via Library Thing.

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This beautifully-written family memoir traces portions of the lives of enslaved siblings on a Martinique sugar plantation and their descendants, spanning multiple countries and nearly two centuries.

We meet Adunbi and Abeje when they are little more than babes, losing their mother to an act of violence that throws them together to essentially rear themselves, though the community of slaves sees to it that they have food and shelter. As they grow, Adunbi, the older brother, discovers an affinity for working with animals, while younger sister Abeje discovers a strong mystical connection to the plants of the islands and to the interconnectedness of all things. She develops into a self-taught healer as she matures, eventually becoming renowned within the slave community as a powerful obeah, using both native plants and a spirituality the European community considered “black magic” to physically and spiritually heal her patients.

Through the years, we follow the siblings and Adunbi’s descendants as they emigrate first to Canada and some, eventually, to Philadelphia.

And here’s where the story runs into problems. The writing itself is insightful and beautifully crafted, but Jaeckel for some reason has chosen to ping-pong from Martinique in the 1800s to Philadelphia in 1949, then ahead in Philadelphia to 1964, only to backtrack to Montreal in 1925, leap backward again to Montreal in the mid 1800s, then forward to the late 1800s, winding up in New York, Europe, Martinique, and Montreal once again as the 20th century dawns, along with the first glimmerings of the Harlem Renaissance.

It’s a timeline that is confusing to follow and which will send the reader frequently back to the introductory material to look at the family tree, just to satisfy their own mind as to who is carrying the plot at any given moment. (A side note here that in the e-reader version, the tree is not enlargeable and very difficult to read; one hopes that this will be corrected in future editions.) In addition, most of the contemporary sections do little to expand upon the story being told, which is of an enduring Black family whose strength lies in their unbreakable love for one another.

If one can survive the time jumps and follow the thread, the story that emerges is that of change and adaptation and learning to survive and even thrive in a changing culture. The heritage of Adunbi and Abeje follows all of them, in greater or lesser degree, though many are unaware of where their empathy and flashes of insight have come from. Hetty, Adunbi’s daughter, emigrates to Canada as the slave and personal maid of two of the plantation-owner’s daughters, has her freedom purchased by the man she marries, and ultimately becomes active in abolitionist society, aiding escaped slaves who have fled across the border. Eleanor, Hetty’s granddaughter, goes to New York to study music and ultimately joins an all-Black orchestra touring Europe – an event which eventually brings her back to Martinique and creates a satisfying conclusion to the story’s arc.

This is a rewarding read, and misses a 5-star rating only because of the problematic timeline.

A great historical fiction that immerses the reader in a multi-generational saga. Great, well-developed characters. The author does an excellent job of bringing all the story lines together for a satisfying ending.½

I read this book, enjoyed the characters, and felt immersed in the situations. Unfortunately I failed to write a review when the book was fresh in my mind, so I can't elaborate a lot.

This is a novel about family that takes the reader from Martinique to Toronto to Montreal to New York and back again. There is a great family tree at the beginning to help with figuring out who and where characters belong. The book does not follow chronological order, which was frustrating for me at first, but is so worth how and why the author chose to end things. I will be thinking often of the characters and story as it was written in a rich language that remained consistent throughout. There were touches of mysticism and music woven in between the characters' individual stories that connected them in a pleasing way.½

I found the individual stories interesting but it felt kind of choppy and all over the place. As soon as i started to get interested or felt a connection it moved to the next time period. I'm glad i read it but not something I'm going to be rushing to tell people to read.

Hmm, this was an okay read for me. Kept my attention but at the same time, I wasn’t too connected to the characters or their stories. The history was very interesting and I did like learning about the different time periods that jumped from the 19th to early 20th centuries. Probably not something I would’ve picked for myself had it not been an ARC. Lots of different characters and periods of time — though they all did connect. It was...an interesting book.

This graphic novel / memoir tells the author's story of childbirth, complications, and an unexpected 5 months in the NICU in a Canadian hospital with her daughter Asa. The story is told frankly and emotionally, and Jaeckel doesn't sugarcoat her feelings of depression, exhaustion, and worry. There are also sparks of joy in this rough period, and those aren't ignored either. The drawings are done Maus-style, with animals representing the people. While some panels are really expressive and evocative, I found the drawings overall to be overwhelmed by the text and not as integrated as they could be. Jaeckel is very much writing in her own voice here, and the narrative has an honest, but unedited quality to it that wasn't always successful. I also could not get over her anti-vaccination stance, but that may not bother every reader as much as it did me. This book gives us a detailed look into a world that isn't often explored, and while the style didn't always work for me, it was still a worthwhile read.

I have so many thoughts about book, and they're all jumbled up. So bear with me, please. I'll do my best not to ramble. First off, this book is probably well outside of what I normally read. This is fiction yes, but it's steeped in history as well. House of Rougeaux is follows a family through multiple generations, from the days of legal slavery to the cusp of emancipation. It's a beautifully written journey from one familial relationship, to the next, with a little overlap in the stories. I won't lie, I grew really attached to these characters. I lived their lives with them. They were born, lived, and died, all within the pages of this book. As I read, I couldn't help but start to feel like I was a part of the family as well.

My only issue with this book, and the thing that dropped it down a few stars for me, was that as I got closer and closer to the end the less and less I was invested in the characters. Perhaps it was because no one could live up to my favorites from the beginning. Perhaps it was because I didn't always love the decisions of some of the characters towards the end. More likely though, it was because the narrative that I really fell in love with was the idea of plants as healing agents, and the earth being our mother. That idea was less and less prominent as the ending neared, which I suppose is true to real life.

Honestly, overall, I think this was a fairly well executed story! The beginning really stole my heart and, as I mentioned before, following so many generations of this same family was an experience I won't soon forget.

A multi-generational tale of the descendants of an enslaved woman spanning some 200 years, House of Rougeaux covers a lot of territory. I just wish it had done so in a less confusing way. The chapters (segments? short stories? character studies?} do not follow any kind of sensible time structure but rather bounce around throughout time. There is a family tree to reference but for me, any time you have to leave the story to go to a reference page, it's destroying the mood.

This didn't really work for me. It's not strong as a graphic novel and even though I felt sympathy for the family, the whole thing felt weak. I don't recommend it.

In just a few short generations, the descendants of Iya, who was born a slave on the island of Martinique, find themselves living in an entirely different kind of world, faced with opportunities, choices and consequences their ancestors had never known. "House of Rougeaux" follows one branch of a family tree as it spreads across time, following select members in a story that spans nearly 200 years.

Parts of this story were beautiful, but I'm not totally sold on the structure. While I do like the way it is segmented into different characters across generations, there doesn't seem to be any logic to the order in which these stories were told. I don't think it needed to be chronological (in fact, I like that it isn't), but there didn't seem to be any kind of continuing themes or ideas that bridged the gaps between the stories. The common thread was purely familial - all the characters are descendants of the same woman. And yes, there is the family "gift" of some sort of supernatural sight that many of them share. I wanted more than that to tie them all together, though.

I think, because of this, I got tied up in keeping the plotline straight rather than allow myself to soak in the message. I found myself frequently consulting the family tree printed at the front of the book, attempting to keep track of where I was in the story. Adding to the confusion were the few instances of repeated names (Guillame's son Dax's son Guilamme's son Dax) or changing names/nicknames. Some kind of stronger connection from one story to the next would have helped make these transitions less jarring and helped with flow.½

Short stories are not my favorite genre. They stress me out, but this was a pleasant collection. Interesting stories with diverse characters and largely happy endings.

This is a beautiful family saga spanning 1785 to 1964, broken into seven segments. They are enslaved in Africa; carried to Martinique; taken, still enslaved, into Canada; freed; and have to navigate racism, homophobia, and just plain trying to make a living. The Rougeaux family saga is not told sequentially; it jumps around in time which I first found hard to follow but the family tree in the front of the book enabled me to sort it all out.

Iya is taken from her homeland and is later brutally raped and killed when her two children, Adunbi and Abeje are still small. Adunbi later has a daughter, but his wife dies giving birth. It is this daughter, Ayo (Hetty) who is taken to Canada by the plantation’s two white daughters; they teach her to read and when she is bought by a Free Black, Dax Rougeaux, they are all for it. Abeje stays on the island. She has a magical ability to talk to the plants; she knows which ones will heal and which ones will kill. Though she never has children, her influence is still seen in the family tree.

The writing is lovely. There is a richness to the text that absorbed me totally; when I finished the book it was like I was coming up from to sea to take a breath. The people stayed with me at least all through the next day. Before this book I knew nothing about people of color in Canada. They seem to have been treated better there than in the USA! Certainly freedom came earlier. Of course there was still a lot of prejudice to overcome. Five stars out of five.

I wasn't sure about this book as I was reading it. I loved the characters but I spent a lot of time looking back to the timeline, distracted by trying to figure out where everyone fit in. It was confusing that the chapters introduced characters in what felt like random order. But by the end I could tell that the family, the story, had been building, not jumbled, in spite of the disarray, and I did feel like the book had come full circle. I appreciated the overlay of racial and social awareness that added context and depth to the story without taking away from the characters. A sad but hopeful and beautiful book.