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340 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 2018
Secondhand Origin Stories is a superhero fiction that doesn’t simply include tight suites, godly strength, and world-saving; instead, it’s a journey of four young people who try saving the world while discovering themselves—a good, diverse representation and straightforward mention of unfortunate social issues is an extra candy on Halloween.
Overall, I can’t recommend this book enough for the number of reasons I loved it.
Disclaimer: I received a digital copy of this via the author for my participation in a blog tour.
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We are the science fiction of former decades. They wrote about us long before we existed. When I came into the outside world, I knew enough to find out how they saw us. Dating back before our founders were born, I could find us in stories. Always the same. Gods, or monstrosities. We are Superman, or we are Frankenstein’s monster. And half the time, even if we would be Superman, we end up monsters anyway.
“I think today goes into my top five for worst days. Whew.”
“I’m going to rank it as number two,” Jamie agreed.
“Guys, I need pizza,” Opal contributed.
The thought of pizza was like the sun bursting through storm clouds. “God, yes.” Yael agreed fervently. Xe hadn’t eaten today.
Xe was wearing a t-shirt declaring that “every pizza is a personal pizza if you try hard and believe in yourself”.
And, since I got the choice, I’d rather help people without having to hurt anybody else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’ve got superheroes. But if I can run the rest of my life without violence, I’m going to. A superhero can defend the world from supervillains, but somebody’s still got to haul around furniture, create decent jobs, and look out for people in a bad situation trying to start over. There’re more problems superheroes can’t handle than ones they can.
Eventually, he turned to xyr. “What do I call you, then?”
“What?”
“You’ve banned me from calling you my daughter. But I don’t think you want me to call you my son.”
“Oh. No. That’s…really not any better for me.”
“Then what do I call you?”
“Just call me yours.”