Beck's Staff Picks
An engaging and poetic liberation primer, with enormous value to the new and seasoned alike. The book is split into four sections, beginning in Palestine, traveling on to a crash course in global history since 1492, through to Chiapas, Black liberation, and our impossible task ahead. As I read, I felt so many things click satisfyingly into place alongside QuiQui's big picture analyses, while her references offer a thousand worthwhile threads to follow.
Tbh, this did more for me than months of DBT 🤷♀️
"Riveting" might not be a typical descriptor when it comes to theology, but I found myself reading late into the (two) night(s it took me to finish). This is post-Christian, post-secular, apocalyptic political theology, and it's devastating and hopeful and also somehow funny. If the blurb on the back speaks to you AT ALL, pick this one up.
I'm a bit puzzled by the marketing of this as a thriller (Nayler's latest, Where the Axe Is Buried, hits much closer to that mark). It does have sick corporate dystopian vibes and a multi-POV plotline, but be ready for a languid, mysterious and philosophically-rich exploration of AI and the nature of consciousness. Thankfully, that is my shit and I loved it.
Reading this I got the distinct sense that Roberto—a retired professor at NC A&T—was probably a fantastic teacher. Information dense, yes, but never convoluted, this is an essential history of fascism within the US context.
Warm and accessible, this is a perfect introduction to anarchism and the radicality of Jesus' teachings for liberal/progressive Christians. It does not do nearly enough to grapple with the horror of the Christian tradition, but if you're just looking for a lil spiritual comfort food, I'd recommend it for leftist Christians too.
By way of personal anecdotes and reportage on the cases of Jack the Ripper, Ted Kaczcynski and others, Corbett unravels any faith you might have had in wildly popular so-called "criminal profiling." True crime popcorn that brings big "are we the baddies?" energy.
'The way you live your life in our culture, without apology or shame, even if with sadness, makes you extraordinary and special, Nahr.'
Nahr, our main character—a Palestinian woman reflecting on her life from an Israeli prison—is one of the most human figures I've ever encountered in literary fiction. Her story is personal, political, and utterly compelling. While trauma and misogyny (including heavy sexual violence, much of which happens on the page) factor prominently, the moments of cathartic beauty, joy, and intimacy are the beating heart at the center.
N. K. Jemisin's Broken Earth trilogy is set on an alternate earth called the "Stillness," where society is structured around surviving catastrophic climate events—earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanoes—and a deep hatred for Orogenes, individuals with the supernatural ability to control and manipulate geo-energy. This is epic sci-fi world building, profoundly informed by racial injustice and climate change, written by a Black woman. Read all three. They're perfect.
I love a snappy little thriller in a reading slump, but I can almost never recommend them, rife as they so often are with copaganda, deeply unlikeable characters, gratuitous sexual violence, and lackluster reveals. You won't find any of that here—instead, a taut genre-bender exploring themes of trauma, motherhood, and self, with dystopian flair and a hefty serving of domestic suspense.
I'm always surprised how accessible Ann Leckie can make alien politics on a galactic scale. While Translation State is a return to their Imperial Radch universe, it works perfectly as a standalone. Weird, lovable characters and, as always with Leckie, much gender and pronoun fuckery. Thematically, there's a lot here for fans of Becky Chambers' Wayfarers and Martha Wells' Murderbot Diaries (what does it mean to be human, to have humanity?)—especially if you've read those and wish you had more world-building to chew on!
Woof, there's just something that works about this one. It's the definition of trust the process—our main character, Kyr, starts off with an awful case of fascist brain rot and their internal monologue is a lot to stomach. But the plot moves fast and then somehow, faster... and before long my whole heart was in it. Perfect for fans of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, BIG character development, and progressive (as in, fuck-the-)military space operas!