The Pengrooms by Paul Castle

★★★★★

I love the inclusivity of an LGBTQIA+ children's book, especially one that doesn't feel heavy-handed. This book is just a cute story about a pair of penguins - presumably both male based on the title - who make and deliver custom wedding cakes to other animal couples, culminating in the penguins' own wedding.

Some of the couples just happen to be same-gender: the flamingos are both grooms, the giraffes are both brides, and the genders of the mice are not specified. (I think the blue-haired mouse looks female and the pink-haired mouse looks male, which makes for a fun flipping of the "pink for girls, blue for boys" societal norm.)

The illustrations are ADORABLE. Absolutely adorable. If my kids were still little, I think I would really enjoy reading this to them and poring over the pictures, picking out my favorite details.

Just to note, I already knew about male-male penguin couples, and a bit of online research turned up references to male-male flamingo pairings and female-female giraffe pairings (though rare), so I appreciate that the animal couples are scientifically feasible.

To the Stars by George Takei

★★★★★

I LOVE George Takei!

I actually first read this book back in college for a Japanese culture class. In fact, George Takei was a guest speaker! Anyway, I recently read George Takei's latest graphic novel, It Rhymes with Takei, and realized that the graphic novel borrows a lot from this book - so much so that I was inspired to re-read it (again). I wanted to piece together a fuller picture of his life, pulling together events from both books into a single timeline.

This memoir focuses first on his family growing up, then chronicles his acting career, as well as his political and civic activism. Even when I read this book 30 years ago, I remember noting that it never mentioned romantic relationships at all. Little did I know, back then, that the "journalist Brad Altman" whom he thanked in his acknowledgements, and who once visited him on location during a film shoot, was actually his significant other!

George Takei's writing is descriptive and engaging. The first part is invaluable in its telling of an American childhood spent inside the barbed-wire fences of Japanese American concentration camps. The strength and comfort George Takei drew from his parents - from Daddy and Mama - made my heart swell. Throughout the book, he periodically returned to his Japanese American roots as he recounted events from his life as an actor or as an activist. Sometimes, the two identities overlapped, as when he tirelessly advocated for Sulu's promotion, a fictional development that not only benefited his character, but also illustrated the "virile meritocracy" (p. 398) that was missing in real life as Asian Americans ran into "glass ceilings" that halted their professional advancement (now specifically termed "bamboo ceilings"). Inspired in part by his father's example, George Takei came to be extensively involved with progressive politics and civil rights activism. He has a life-long commitment to the ideals of "an American culture, strengthened by its diversity instead of balkanized by it" (p. 210), perfectly represented in Gene Roddenberry's vision for Star Trek: "infinite diversity in infinite combinations." (p. 405-406)

I wasn't even a fan of Star Trek when I read this book in college, but I'm a big fan now, and it was great fun reading all his behind-the-scenes stories about the TV series, the films, his friendships with his co-stars, and even his thoughts on the "new" The Next Generation series.

It Rhymes with Takei by George Takei

★★★★

Another great graphic memoir by George Takei. While I am a huge fan of George Takei, I'm not accustomed to reading graphic novels, so I admit this style of storytelling always takes some getting used to for me.

There are certainly LGBTQIA+ books for kids, but I would categorize this one as YA. There's nothing explicit, but the graphic novel medium was pretty effective at suggesting more extensive meaning behind a few chosen words, particularly when sexual activity was involved. Also, gay slurs do appear in the dialog.

George Takei didn't publicly come out as gay until he was 68 years old, and this graphic memoir explains why. Being gay was a constant source of fear and anxiety for him. He lived a tortured life, always in dread of being exposed, afraid that his sexuality becoming public would destroy his acting career. It may even have held him back from political aspirations. Sadly, some of his concerns were validated when a private coming out caused a distressing rift in his family.

It was comforting to read how George Takei's Buddhist upbringing helped him to accept himself and avoid the common pitfall of self-hatred. (p. 30-31) And I absolutely loved reading about how he met his husband Brad and how their relationship grew. 

In addition to chronicling George Takei's personal relationship with his own sexuality and his activism for the LGBTQIA+ community, the book also touched upon other issues such as immigration, politics, racial equity, and police brutality. In one poignant observation illustrating a common thread throughout history and current events, George Takei realized that "even my fellow Japanese Americans who had been exploited themselves, were nonetheless capable of exploiting others." (p. 37)

Bits and pieces reminded me of his 1994 autobiography To the Stars, which I read decades ago and can't remember too well anymore. I pulled out the book for a quick comparison and had fun discovering that some lines in the graphic memoir were taken from the autobiography almost verbatim! But even when telling of the same event, the perspectives presented sometimes differed between the books. For example, when recounting a college production called Portraits in Greasepaint, both books described it as a stepping stone on his career path because a casting director saw him in that performance and ended up casting him in a film; however, the graphic memoir also mentioned a romantic relationship with a fellow male cast member (p. 96), additional context that was not included in the 1994 book, which did not discuss his sexuality at all. I just might re-read To the Stars, to piece together the narratives from both books and mentally integrate them into a more complete picture. 

While overall a very inspiring book, I was a little conflicted about the ending. Much was made of how Biden defeated Trump in 2020, how the "worst policies of Trump's grievance government" were "repudiated", and how we, as a nation, "regained our deepest sense of [decency]." (p. 325) But then, the following pages acknowledged that now, in 2025, "once again, it is a heady time and a fraught time." (p. 328) The book is a timely reminder that progress is possible, and that "the strength of our nation is in its abundant diversity" (p. 333), yet there was no reckoning of what Trump's 2024 re-election says about America. 

Apropos nothing, it was surprisingly jarring to see some of the illustrations depicting the norms of an earlier time, e.g. George Takei riding a motorcycle without a helmet in 1964 (p. 128) and George Takei holding his infant nephew in his arms in the back seat of a car - no car seat! - in 1966. (p. 166)