Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for sending me a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

What drew me to picking this book up was the fantastic representation of the MC being queer, non-binary and autistic along with the added element of a murder mystery. I adored the relationship between Sam and his adopted, single father, Junius who share a beautiful, loving and compassionate bond. Junius is such a strong character who stands by Sam through and through and was a clear winner for me in this story. When Sam moves to his new school he meets Shep who tells him that the house they have relocated to witnessed a death 30 years ago. Shep is insistent that it was infact a murder not a natural death and this leads to Sam and Shep going on a thrilling mission to uncover the truth. At times I felt the plot was a little dragged and the target audience, younger than me, but overall this is an enjoyable read with plenty queer representation and characters who you will fall in love with! I truly believe this would be a fantastic book for many young adult readers out there who would connect with Sam and his exploration of self, in a heartbeat.

This book was absolutely enthralling. A young adult murder mystery centering around a character who is queer, nonbinary and neurodivergent (autistic). Expertly plotted, with living, breathing characters, I'd definitely encourage anyone of any age to read this as soon as they can get their hands on it!

Sam Sylvester (they/them) was adopted at the age of seven by their single father, Junius Sylvester, with whom they have a wonderful, loving and supportive relationship that I enjoyed every minute of. When the book begins, we know little of Sam's immediate past, only that there was an incident that threatened their safety, prompting their dad to relocate them to an older home in the small town of Astoria.

When Sam first arrives at Astoria High, they know no one and the principal offers that they attend the school's QSA (Queer/Straight Alliance), an invitation that they accept. This is where they officially meet their friend and neighbour, Shep. Shep is quick to loop in Sam about a murder that happened in the home that Sam has just moved into with their father. When Shep's mom was in high school, her classmate, Billy Caplan, died of anaphylactic shock due to a peanut allergy, which the whole town has since dubbed a "tragic accident". Shep does not believe that Billy's death was an accident, and Sam's intuition tells them that she is right. Despite warnings from their parents as well as a mysterious classmate who seems to be threatening Sam's life, Sam and Shep know that Billy Caplan deserves the truth, and they are intent on being the ones to find it.

Sam was such an incredible protagonist, and I loved how casually and unapologetically queer this book was. With Sam's dad being aroace, two bi side characters and Sam being queer and on the ace spectrum (and having a whole-ass conversation about how their autism is not related to their asexuality nor their gender identity!), this book is chock-full of queer representation. While it doesn't shy away from tough topics such as violence against queer/trans folks, it is an ultimately hopeful book about finding yourself and learning to love yourself for everything you are, and finding the people who will love you for you, too

I just finished this book and I have a lot of thoughts.

The plot is interesting: a decades-old possible murder mistery, being investigated by two teenagers that want to bring justice to the victim.

I love how diverse the characters are. Especially Sam, our protagonist, who was genuinely one of the most likeable characters I have ever read.

The relationship between Sam and their dad was probably my favorite part. It was heartwarming to see just how much their Dad cared, how much their Dad tried. That man would have done anything for Sam's safety and happiness. The moments they shared were just so... real. (Best dad ever!)

The romance was cute, but it wasn't particularly captivating. It almost felt a little bland? But that's not exactly a bad thing.

However - I do think that the investigation bits were too few and too short. The case was mostly solved by coincidences and that's not exactly what I expected, considering the mystery in itself should have been a central piece.

Another thing I did not like was how forced the dialogue sometimes felt. The author seemed like they were forcing themselves to write like they think teenagers would speak and it just ended up being... well, cringe-inducing.

Overall, I really liked this book. It's a fun read and I would definitely recommend to my friends.

One of the funky paradoxes of reading a bunch is that it's pretty much a given to forget *why* we elect to read as a pasttime - but every now and then a book trundles along that pulls you out of a rut and reminds you of what, exactly, you get out of this in the first place. I'm not exaggerating when I say that when I picked up The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester on a total whim, Sam's story roped me in from page one; beyond the grounding effect of their sober, reflective narration I don't think I need to relate how refreshing it was to have a protagonist who shares the particulars of being non-binary, ace-spec, and neurodivergent (though I personally can't speak to the autism rep). The regular talk of pronouns (and all the positive reception Sam gets in this new environment) and the off-hand references to binders and special fixations and stims and other everyday realities of belonging to these specific subgroups made me feel really seen (if you'll excuse the platitudinous phrase), and there wasn't a beat where it felt forced or excessive or anything short of normalcy.

What seems to be a pretty standard fresh-start narrative is preceded by a scarring event that has pushed Sam and their envy-inspiring ride-or-die supportive father figure (who single-handedly restored my faith in humanity) to relocate, and as the plot progresses and we slowly get the scoop on what happened, this elaboration is paired with a pitch-perfect rendering of how trauma shapes our experience of our surroundings and the relationships we forge within them, and the soul-shattering effort that goes into recalibrating everything about and around us after the fact. It's with this gradual edge-of-your-seat grasp of their past that everything that goes *good* for Sam further along - the found family that they stitch together for themself at their school, the gentle electricity of the pure-hearted romance between Sam and Shep - is so rewarding to follow; Sam's endeavour to make a home for themself in this new setting, reassuring themself and their dad that this is the place for them every step of the way (even with the eerie occurrences and the nerve-wracking trouble they get into while trying to unravel their suspicions about the unresolved tragedy that transpired in their very room thirty years prior) pays off so resolutely and resonates so profoundly to so many in a similar boat.

*The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester* is by no means an easy read, but the sheer range of raw, hurting, hopeful emotions it manages to evoke in spades is one of the numerous reasons for which it hit all the right notes for me, and I know I'll be preordering the physical release pronto, because it's one of those rare books I feel has earned a prime spot on my all-time-favourites shelf.

Thank you to NetGalley and Astra Publishing House for kindly passing on this ARC! 💫