Queer Book Review

Hollow Review

Book: Hollow
Author: Taylor Grothe
Publisher: Peachtree Teen
Year: 2025
Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

Synopsis : “After a meltdown in her school cafeteria prompts an unwanted autism diagnosis, Cassie Davis moves back to her hometown in upstate New York, where her mom hopes the familiarity will allow Cassie to feel normal again. Cassie’s never truly felt normal anywhere, but she does crave the ease she used to have with her old friends.
Problem is that her friends aren’t so eager to welcome her back into the fold. They extend an olive branch by inviting her on their backpacking trip to Hollow Ridge, in the upper reaches of the Adirondacks. But when a fight breaks out their first night, Cassie wakes to a barren campsite – her friends all gone.
With sever weather approaching and nearing sensory overload, Cassie is saved by a boy named Kaleb, who whisks her away to a compound of artists and outcasts he calls the Roost. As Kaleb tends to her injuries, Cassie begins to feel – for the first time in her life – that she can truly be herself. But as the days pass, strange happenings around the Roost make Cassie question her instincts. Noises in the trees grow louder, begging the question : Are the dangers in the forest, on the trail, or in the Roost itself?
In a world where autistic characters rarely get to be the hero of their own stories, Cassie Davis’ one-step-back, two-steps-forward journey to unmasking makes Hollow as much a love letter to neurodiversity as it is a haunting tale you’ll want to read with the lights on.”

Review : This is a strange review for me; I spent the majority of my time reading Hollow absolutely certain this would be a 5-star-review kind of book. It was impeccably written, impossible to put down, and left me with so many questions bouncing around in my mind – waiting, waiting, waiting for the big reveal that would tie things up and explain the nuances and mystery of the book. Sadly, within the last quarter of Hollow, the plot completely fell apart, the twists and turns Grothe had to take in order to explain the strangeness became overly complex, and left me with so few answers I am almost totally baffled as to why and how it ended the way it did. The sharp turn toward confusion is something I’ve been mulling over for two days since reaching the ending and I’m having a hard time coming to terms with this as a purposeful choice and not a mistake in storytelling.

It’s worth saying that Hollow is genuinely so well written for the majority of the story, it’s a dark and winding suspense-filled mystery of a book filled with nuance and palpable anxiety as we experience Cassie’s world both externally as her camping trip goes horribly awry, and internally as we bounce back and forth between flash backs to a bullying incident at her last school and her present internal world as she navigates a new autism diagnosis. Hollow as a whole is a beautiful metaphor for the neurodivergent experience of masking, or putting on a face for each set of specific circumstances one might find themselves in during a day-to-day existence. Cassie returns to her hometown after living in the city with her family, following a mental breakdown that lead to an autism and trichotillomania diagnosis. She’s lost touch with her friends and upon returning, in an effort to rekindle their friendship, she’s invited on their annual backpacking trip into the Adirondack Mountains. Everything seems fine, at least on the surface, until the first night of their trip leads to too much to drink, blacking out, and waking to find half of her friends have left the group behind. With an imminent storm approaching, Cassie leaves the campsite behind to find and rescue her friends before something terrible happens. It’s during her initial panic as she searches for the rest of her group that Cassie stumbles, spraining her ankle, and finds herself being rescued by a strange boy she’s never seen before – Kaleb. This is where things begin to take a strange turn.

Kaleb and his mother Stasha live in a remote part of the mountains in a small, off grid community called the Roost. It’s here that Cassie is allowed the space to rest and recover while the storm rages around them, taking a break from searching for her friends until the storm passes and they can get radio signal to the rangers down the mountain. Within the Roost are several families, most of whom have stumbled across the community and have chosen to stay, each living in a small home that seems to have been built by Kaleb’s parents. While staying at the Roost, Cassie discovers that there’s a secret language everyone speaks, some strange mixture of different dialects and languages from across the globe. The members of the Roost seem pleasant, though there’s never quite a sense of ease, as they continue to speak in a foreign language Cassie is unable to get a grasp of, and the books are all written in some unknown tongue she’s equally unfamiliar with. Kaleb continuously tells Cassie how unfair it is that her friends have left her on the mountain to fend for herself and says repeatedly that they’ll have to pay for what they’ve done, which gives a nice sinister backdrop for the scene Grothe has created. While in the Roost, Cassie begins to notice that there are carved wooden dolls…everywhere. They seem to surround the Roost, filling buildings with their haunting, carved faces, peering down from rafters, and generally giving an air of strangeness to the entire community. There are so many instances like this where Grothe is clearly making a point about neurodivergence, the way humans interact with a known dialect and jargon that doesn’t always reach the people who might stand on the fringes or feel as though they can never quite get a foothold in with those who so easily adapt. There’s a profound message of accessibility and acceptance within this storyline, but there’s also a lot left to be desired when it comes to unfolding the story outward into an ending that makes sense.

*Spoilers Ahead* As the book begins to really unravel at the end, so much comes to light about the Roost and the community of people who live there – really driving the point home that Cassie has simply never felt as though she belong, that in wearing a mask she’s as wooden as the dolls who surround the compound. The masks neurodivergent people are often forced to wear are ill fitting and a source of tremendous discomfort and I think Grothe does so well in addressing this concept with simultaneously creating a super creepy drama through which it might unfold. It’s how things come apart at the end that really left me struggling for answers; as Cassie finally starts to put the pieces of the Roost’s strangeness together, she realizes (too late) that Kaleb is actually her good childhood friend, Blake. Yet, in all the time she’s spent at the Roost – and this is another issue I find with the actual storytelling of the book, as the time she’s spent there seems to range from a week to several months with zero explanation beyond perhaps some kind of magic?? – she never once recognizes Kaleb as Blake, literally one of the friends on her camping trip. And not only that, somehow Kaleb / Blake is supposed to have created the entire Roost on his own, carved all the members of the community, and also kidnapped several hikers? Over the course of how long? The time frame, the inexplicable inability to recognize even Blake’s voice or mannerisms or scent (which she mentions multiple times), and the complete lack of explanation for all of the above lead the ending of the book to ultimately fall to pieces on top of a well written few hundred pages. I think there’s a singular moment early on where Cassie mentions briefly that she’s been diagnosed with face blindness, which I think might explain being unable to recognize Blake as Kaleb on it’s most base level, but it’s never mentioned again and without working a little harder to tie things together, it feels loose and confusing at best.

The unknown language spoken in the Roost and the unfamiliar written language in the books are never really explained, and while I can appreciate that the spoken language serves as an analogy for how Cassie feels disconnected from neuro-normative folks, the written language being something totally foreign to her feels like an aspect of the book that was written initially and then forgotten about when it came time to wrap things up. The ending of the book is unclear, deeply confusing, and left me with more questions than answers, which is an unsatisfying way to end a suspenseful, magical novel. I really do appreciate the parallels Grothe draws between those who stand on the fringes of the world and Cassie’s experience at the Roost, I love that Cassie was written to give neurodivergent individuals a place to be the hero, but I don’t know that it was completely successful when everything was all said and done. Cassie spends a lot of time back-and-forthing between staying in the Roost and leaving, even when her friends are dying around her, so much so that it felt as though the point was being made, mistakenly, over and over and over again. It felt like Grothe was hammering it home a little too hard, and in doing so neglected wrapping up crucial elements of the plot. I wanted to give this book 5 stars so badly! I wanted the ending to be better than it was, to make more sense than it did, and to give more of a feeling of completion than I was left with. Sadly, the ending spoiled most the book for me and I had to go with 3 stars. I think there’s room to figure things out and make it make more sense, but I also think it’s not super likely to happen at this stage and I’m sad for that and for Cassie’s story.

Advice : I think this book had a lot of potential – if you like crows, if you like something vaguely sinister, if you want to see a neurodivergent person be the hero, wow! You’ll definitely have something to dive into with Hollow. However, I want to recommend that you don’t get your hopes up for the puzzle pieces to fit together at the end – they don’t. This one might be best checked out from your local library first.

Paper Doll Review

Book: Paper Doll
Author: Dylan Mulvaney
Publisher: Abrams Image
Year: 2025
Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

Synopsis : “When Dylan Mulvaney came out as a woman online, she went viral overnight, emerging as a trailblazing voice on social media. Dylan’s personal coming-out story blossomed into a platform for advocacy and empowerment for trans people all over the world. With her “Days of Girlhood” series, she connected with followers by exploring what it means to be a girl, from experimenting with makeup to story times to spilling the tea, while never shying away from discussing the transphobia she faced online. Nevertheless, she was determined to be a beacon of positivity.
But shortly after she celebrated day 365 of being a girl, it all came screeching to a halt when an innocuous post sparked a media firestorm and right-wing backlash she couldn’t have expected. Despite the vitriolic press, Dylan was determined to rediscover the light, even in the darkest of situations.
In Paper Doll, Dylan pulls back the curtain with a witty and intimate reflection on her life pre- and post-transition. She covers everything from her first big break in theater to the first time her dad recognized her as a girl to how she handled scandals, cancelations, and…tucking. It’s both laugh-out-loud funny and powerfully honest, and is a love letter to her younger self, who didn’t experience the queer joy she now lives daily.”

Review : Dylan Mulvaney’s breakout book Paper Doll is an exploration into girlhood, bouncing back and forth between her first 365 days immediately after coming out as a girl, told through journal-ish entries, and her life during what she refers to as “post-beergate”, a reference to the wildly public, months long, right-wing backlash to her Bud Light partnership on TikTok. Dylan prefaces the book with the note that she writes how she talks, and while I appreciate the candor, I think the style in which she’s written this book felt stilted and, at times, a bit inauthentic. I don’t want to be misunderstood here – Dylan does delve into a lot of personal and intimate topics on an authentic level, but the delivery leaves something to be desired. Paper Dolls reads less like how someone’s talking to you as a friend, and more like how someone might be talking in a viral video which became a bit of a challenge. I think it will find it’s perfect audience, but stylistically, it wasn’t my favorite writing.

But that brings me to the first point I’d like to make before we really get into this review : content warnings. Dylan is open and honest about the mental health struggles she’s endured through her life, both before transitioning and while navigating beergate. She discusses body dysmorphia (but also bodily joy!), suicidal ideology, disassociation, depression, people pleasing, and anxiety. If any of the above topics feel difficult for you, please approach this book with gentleness. Dylan has a positive and upbeat way of conveying her experiences, but she also doesn’t shy away from the very real struggles that many queer and trans people experience, she speaks about her own struggles with frankness and it’s important to say so up front. She does include a small content warning, but doesn’t specify what the content might be, so please be kind to yourself if you choose to read this book.

Aside from the challenges this book faces with writing style, I found Dylan’s use of tense to be loose, at best. I think it’s an ambitious move to jump from present to past tense between two different writing styles (as discussed above), and perhaps that was a bit overly ambitious here for a first book? I was left wondering what was happening with the editing process as her journal entries bounced from tense to tense – most glaringly at the start of the book. I did find that her voice and style and tense all smoothed out a bit as the book went on, but the tense jumping was hard to get past as I was reading. While this is still an uncorrected proof, I did feel that there were additional editorial corrections needed and I’m not sure how much of that will happen prior to the initial printing. Either way, tense and tone alone were enough to warrant this book 3 rather than 5 stars, for me.

I appreciated how much Dylan spoke about both the good and the bad, with Paper Dolls traversing intense moments of public outcry – I wonder if anyone in the US was able to navigate the last few years without seeing some highly public right-wing figure shooting cases of Bud Light in protest over a small partnership with a trans girl living her life on social media. It’s important to see how our actions impact the people we see as celebrities, particularly those whose fame has happened seemingly overnight thanks to apps like TikTok. No one is immune from the harmful actions and words of internet trolls and bullies and it’s commendable that Dylan opened her world up to us, not only as a content creator, but as an author, sharing her grief, her disappointment, and her darkest moments from within these spaces. There’s a great strength that arises from this book, and while a lot of what Dylan’s written comes across as pink and poppy and bubblegum-flavored (or maybe Dominos pan pizza flavored), she allows herself to be witnessed as something more.

Finally, my last critique. While Dylan at times makes mention of her absolutely enormous privilege, both as a content creator and as a passing trans girl, they are brief and occasionally feel a bit performative. She mentions her privilege but doesn’t necessarily mention what she’s doing to amplify those around her who have less privilege – she acknowledges, but brushes past. I felt at first as though maybe it’s asking too much for someone who’s been thrust into the spotlight to use their precious resources to be an activist, but ultimately I came to the conclusion that those with platforms as large as Dylan’s have a responsibility to do the work. And I think Dylan might be, or at least is trying to, but I also think it’s addressed in a way, in her book, that feel glib and passive. It comes across as performative, and that rubbed me the wrong way.

I think Paper Dolls offers and important insight into so many people’s favorite content creator, into coming out, and into the perception of girlhood, something each girl in the world gets to define for herself. It might not be the perfect book, but it was fun and enjoyable to witness the queer joy Dylan cultivates in her life. It’s a quick read, it’s compelling, and it felt approachable, most of all.

Advice : If you love Dylan Mulvaney, if you enjoy a queer book, if you like a memoir, or even if you simply followed along as beergate unfolded, I think you’ll enjoy this book. If you don’t enjoy social media jargon, you might not like how this book was written, but it’s a quick read so maybe that’ll make up for it!