Book Thoughts: Anachronistic Historical Fiction

A few months back I wrote about the suspension of disbelief in fantasy and science fiction, and how it's not necessary to counter one fantastic element with everything else being hyper-real, especially when it comes to cultures that oppress minorities.

But...now I'm going to go be all complicated and look at when defying reality feels like it goes a little too far for me.

I started reading This Dark Endeavour: The Apprenticeship of Victor Frankenstein earlier this week, drawn in by the connection to Mary Shelley's original Frankenstein novel. While the writing is great, however, I think this is one of the few books I'm going to give up on before finishing?

Why? The characters are too darn nice.

In Victor's family, girls are educated just as well as boys. Interest in the arts is cultivated just as much as an interest in science. The rich family spends every Sunday cooking lavish meals for the serving staff!

Any one of these things I would have been okay with - heck, I'd probably be okay with all of them - if the characters weren't so damn smug about how enlightened they are. And, like SF dystopia XVI earlier this year, (so far) there's been no explanation of why this family is so magnanimous. Especially if you're a family with some sort of power, some tangible reason to keep the status quo, if you're going to break that status quo I wan't to know why.

Or? I don't want it to be acknowledged. If the Frankenstein's are wise beyond their years, that is awesome, but why not just show them being awesome? Why make them so aware of their awesomeness? If that awesomeness is integral to the plot somehow, then just show us them being awesome in contrast to evil horrible people who subjugate their women and/or servants and/or artists.

For me there's a difference between escapist literature (imagining a world that is better than the one we live in), and...I guess I would call this overeager literature. It emphasizes that the world MAY HAVE been bad, but look at these people who hold our modern values in this antiquated time!!!

Anachronism can be used well - slightly altering the order of events for better drama, bringing in an invention a few years early or a few years late, or setting aside some common bigotries in order to better get to the story you want to tell. But when anachronism is handled poorly, when that anachronism seems to become a plot point, or a point that overshadows the plot, I get turned off.

How important is historical accuracy to you in historical fiction? What do you think about characters holding 21st century values in settings that are decidedly not the 21st century?

Review: Clara and Mr. Tiffany by Susan Vreeland

My first introduction to Susan Vreeland was in high school when I read The Passion of Artemisia. At the time it was being considered for the BBYA list because of the teenage protagonist. It didn't end up making the list, but it was a powerful story - based on the life of Artemisia Gentileschi, a 17th century painter who often depicted strong women of the Bible and mythology. A haunting and captivating story. So when I heard that Vreeland had a new book, I knew I needed to get it - I didn't even look to see if it was based on a real person this time around and just dove in!

Like Artemisia, Clara Driscoll is an artist constricted by society's attitudes about what women can and should accomplish. Instead of paintings, however, Clara works in glass, and is responsible for creating some of the most famous designs for Louis Comfort Tiffany's innovative glass lamps.

While working for Tiffany is a dream come true in some ways, it's incredibly stifling in others. The unionized male glass workers don't appreciate the women's department, headed by Clara, getting some of the greatest commissions. And while Tiffany is rather forward thinking in hiring women at all, he has old fashioned notions about married women, namely that they shouldn't be working. Clara resigned from Tiffany's once before to get married, but returned upon the death of her husband. She longs to have a romantic companion in her life again, but is also loyal to Mr. Tiffany, and then there's the matter of her life's passion in being an artist. How is Clara supposed to choose?

There are also wonderful subplots and minor characters - Clara has several gay friends she interacts with throughout the story, growing quite close to some of them, but my favorite recurring subplot had to be Clara's burgeoning social consciousness and labor organizing. When the male glassworkers start grumbling about all the work the women are doing, Clara organizes all of the women to march to work in solidarity under the banner of labor rights and women's rights. She counsels many of the young women in her department to improve their skills so they can earn more money to support their families, and delay marriage as long as possible to be sure they can start their married lives with a bit of money of their own. She also gets a bicycle, which just makes me want to read Wheels of Change even more (NYPL, Queens Library: WHY DON'T YOU HAVE IT YET?!). I have a feeling Clara's bike rides really illustrate a lot of what that book is talking about.

Clara has some thoroughly modern attitudes, but they're tempered by some truly Victorian attitudes that keep her from coming across as too 21st century, such as buying into the "benevolent" stereotype that women are more attuned to color so it's okay that they are segregated in their own department in the glass factory. She's overall a great character because she has so many different interests, passions, and problems that she truly comes to life. The same can't be said for all of the side characters, as especially some of the men in the periphery of Clara's life are hard to distinguish from each other.

So was Clara Driscoll a real person? Absolutely - though no one knew it until 2006. Because I'm a huge geek I would have liked a longer author's note at the end about Vreeland's research. While she relates the discovery of Clara's letters that led to the re-evaluation of the design of Tiffany lamps, I wondered how much of the characterization of other historical characters were based on fact - especially Louis Comfort Tiffany himself. But hey, I suppose I can find a biography of him on my own and try to learn for myself what may have been fact and what was fiction in Vreeland's complex depiction.

Review: Bitter Melon by Cara Chow

Speech geeks unite!

Debate gets brought up all the time as a geeky competitive high school activity, but I never did it. Because I was caught up in something even geekier: forensics, aka competitive public speaking. So when I saw that Frances joins the speech team in this book, I knew I had to read it, because speech geeks don't get nearly enough love.


Frances's life revolves around her mother. Her mother, an immigrant from China, demands utter perfection from her daughter, sending her to an academically challenging high school to ensure Frances will get into a prestigious college with plenty of scholarships to propel her through medical school, after which Frances will be able to take care of her.

The only problem in this scenario - Frances isn't positive that she wants to follow her mother's map for her life. When Frances is accidentally assigned to speech class rather than calculus, at first she figures she'll just sit in the class for a week or two and then transfer to the right one before the deadline. But as the hip and cool teacher recognizes an innate speaking ability in Frances, she ends up sticking around - the first secret she's kept from her mother. Frances knows on the one hand she is being ungrateful - her mother truly has made great sacrifices, working long hours in order to afford Frances' tuition, not to mention clothes, food and rent. But until taking this speech class, Frances has never had the opportunity to consider her own desires, and what might be driving her mother's quest for Frances' excellence. Is her mother truly concerned for Frances' future? Or merely her own?

Frances's mother isn't a nice person. This is probably an understatement. Reading the physical and, especially, the verbal abuse she puts Frances through is absolutely painful. But Chow does an excellent job of slowly revealing the abuse, as Frances's world is slowly opened through her experiences on the speech team. It's not so much that the team magically opens Frances's eyes, but rather as her teacher encourages her hidden talent, Frances begins to understand the power that words can hold.

While Frances and her mother have a very complex relationship that is the core of the novel, most of the other relationships suffer from lack of definition. The friendship between Frances and Theresa especially seems to be one of convenience, as the girls quickly befriend each other after one kind act on Theresa's part, as Frances seems to have resented the girl for years. After that the friendship's up and downs seem to be defined more by what will complicate Frances' life more than anything else. The romantic subplot also takes awhile to get going, and while her crush's personality may not be the most well developed, the details of their relationship were refreshingly authentic - overpowering deodorant, clammy hands, and sweaty outfits all called to mind my early romances more than any idealized romance novel ever could.

As a speech geek, I can totally vouch for the authenticity of the competitive aspects of the book. Frances' competitions superficially differ from how mine were set up, but different states have different rules, and of course she was competing over 10 years before I entered the high school speech scene. But there are some emotional aspects that will always ring true - and every speaker has faced terrible audience members like Frances' nemesis throughout the book! In more ways than one, the scenes of Frances' speech career are a light and necessary break from the oppressiveness of her home life.

Book Thoughts: Connections to History

Image via Wikipedia

Today marks the 100th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire. It's a tragic event in our national history - 146 people, mostly young immigrant women, died because of unsafe working conditions. When a fire broke out in the factory at 4:40 PM on Saturday, March 25th 1911, the workers on the 8th, 9th and 10th floors found they were locked in. The fire escape tore away from the building, the elevators couldn't move fast enough to ferry the workers to the ground, and the fire department's ladders only reached up to the sixth floor. In desperation, many of the young workers chose to leap from the windows - choosing almost certain death from the fall over suffocation or burning to death.

It's an important part of history - of immigration, worker's rights, and women's rights. And yet I never learned about it in school - I was introduced to the fire through the book Ashes of Roses that I read on my own my senior year of high school. Auch's description of Rose in the fire was incredibly powerful, so much so that the book has stuck with me for almost 10 years and I've included it on my list of Feminist YA novels.

I think part of the reason I have remained fascinated by the Triangle fire is because it was the first historical event that was introduced to me solely through fiction. I've always read historical fiction - it might not be my favorite genre but I don't go out of my way to avoid it. However, I tend to gravitate towards stories that back up a prior interest - like the Salem Witch Trials or the Civil War. I picked up Ashes of Roses because of its connection to women's history, and was bluntly introduced to a tragic aspect of history that had never been mentioned in any of my history classes.


Since Ashes of Roses, historical fiction has become a much larger part of my reading repertoire. I can't say it's an absolute favorite genre because the quality can vary so much between books - good historical fiction must be well written and well researched, while a well written SF novel can entertain me even if some of the science is off. However, I'm always looking for the next story that will fill in the gaps I might not even know I have - like Between Shades of Gray and the Soviet deportations of Lituanians and other Baltic citizens, or Daughter of Xanadu and the life of a warrior princess in 14th century Mongolia.

And I swear I wasn't planning on writing this post when I posted two historical fiction reviews this week!

In commemoration of the fire and its victims, the Remember the Triangle Fire Coalition has organized events both online and around the US, for this weekend. If you can't be in NYC, the official commemoration will be streamed online. In addition, two documentaries have been airing this week, one on HBO and the other on PBS (available to stream online!). I haven't had a chance to watch either yet, but I hope to this weekend.

For me, one of the greatest ironies of the Triangle Fire was that the building was toted as being utterly modern in that it was fireproof. And indeed the exterior was - the building is now the Brown Building and its used for NYU classes. Unfortunately for the 146 garment workers and their families, similar advances in technology weren't used on the interior. Today, take a moment to remember those workers, and those who came after them who fought tirelessly to try to ensure such a tragedy didn't happen again.

Review: Daughter of Xanadu by Dori Jones Yang

Found via: Reading in Color


Considering how much historical fiction out right now is about privileged Western European and American girls in the last 150 years or so falling in love with various bad boys, it's refreshing to find a novel that is so completely different. In Daughter of Xanadu, we're talking 14th century Mongolia, and while there's a certain amount of privilege present (our protagonist is a princess), the romantic story arc is relegated to the back burner. Instead, this is a true coming of age story for a young woman trying to find her place in a world that is simultaneously foreign and totally familiar.

Emmajin is the eldest granddaughter of the great Khan Khubilai. While her sister and other women of the palace are content with the life of luxury being royalty brings, Emmajin has one dream: to become a soldier in her grandfather's army. When foreigners from Christendom come to the palace on a trade mission, the Khan asks Emmajin to work as a spy and befriend the foreign man Marco Polo, and report back on everything she's learned. Emmajin agrees, hoping that her compliance, in addition to her amazing archery and horse riding skills, will ensure her entrance into the army.

Marco is utterly foreign to Emmajin. He cannot shoot an arrow or wield a sword - his only defenses are his wit and his storytelling, less than useless to Emmajin. And yet despite her best defenses, Marco's charm begins to work on Emmajin, and even as her dreams are fulfilled she finds herself questioning if the way of the warrior is truly her destiny.

One thing I absolutely loved about this is that Emmajin becomes a warrior on her own terms, rather than having to masquerade as a man. Yes, being a princess helped, but she also recognizes that in order to be accepted by the men she's going to have to be even better than they are - just as modern women often feel they have to be to compete in male-dominated fields.

Every once in awhile, the relationship between Marco and Emmajin made me a little anxious. Christendom (Europe) and Mongolia are often presented as total opposites - and more often than not Emmajin seems to be coming around to the Western view of how things "should be," so at times I was getting vibes of the Western man civilizing the wild savages of the east. Thankfully, Yang is able to thoroughly describe Emmajin's evolving ideas so it becomes clear it's not just Marco's influence. I'd have liked it if we could have seen Marco adapting a bit more to Mongolian ways so it would be more like a true cultural exchange, but the ending is left open enough that maybe Yang can pull together another book out of that!

Like I said in the introduction, above all else this is Emmajin's coming of age story. She's truly learning what it means to be an adult and have to make tough choices and learn new things about herself. Yang has done an excellent job describing 14th century Mongolia, and by including the familiar character of Marco Polo she has a seamless way to weave all of the amazing facts about this setting into the narrative while rarely dragging down the story. A refreshing change of pace from a lot of the historical fiction/romance out there today! (And a brief aside: a book with a wonderful cover! After the whitewashing controversies of the last few years, 2011 is shaping up to be an amazing year for proudly putting the faces of characters of color on covers!)

Review: Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys

I know it's only March, but I think we have here our first serious awards contender of 2011. If Between Shades of Gray were a movie, it would be a December-released prestige picture, an obvious ploy for an Oscar win, but one it would surely deserve.

It's 1941, and Lithuanian Lina leads a comfortable life. Her parents dote upon her and her younger brother, she has friends and family and crushes, and amazing skills with pencils and paintbrushes that are opening doors to her future education.

But that idyllic life comes crashing down around Lina late one night, when armed men break into the house and pull Lina, her mother and her brother from their beds without explanation.

And so begins Lina's journey - one that stretches thousands of miles, from the quiet suburbs of Lithuania into the frigid depths north of the Arctic circle, as Lina and her family become victims of Stalin's march in Lithuania and the Baltic states at the outbreak of World War II. Her only comforts are her family, her artwork, and her hope that her furtive sketches and notes will be passed hand to hand until they reach her father and he'll escape from wherever he's being held to come find his family.

Lina's and Lithuania's story was totally new to me. I vaguely knew that Stalin's Soviet Union wasn't a great place to be, but had no real idea about the elimination tactics that he used. It's horrifying to think that in some ways this man was our ally - and yet he was using the same tactics as Hitler. Sepetys does an amazing job portraying the dehumanizing tactics used by the NKVD (the predecessors of the KGB) - it's gut churning and horrifying.

Lina is an amazing artist and Sepetys uses her artistic eye to add some beautiful language to a story of hardship and terror. Lina doesn't draw strictly realistic - she's inspired by Munch - which gives Sepetys many opportunities for perfect metaphors, like the snakes crawling out from the neck of one particularly horrid guard's jacket.

I read this book over the course of just one day - and not even a weekend. Even when I had to take breaks, my mind was still in the book. At one point I paused to eat dinner with my husband, and I felt a bit of guilt sitting down to a full hot meal when part of my brain was still in Altai, the first camp Lina is sentenced to. And then when I could get back to reading and reached the end of the book I was crying - almost sobbing. And I don't easily cry at books.

While on the surface Lina's story isn't terribly different from any other fictional Holocaust account, I still feel it's an important contribution to the genre of WWII titles. The writing alone makes it worth a read, but it's also important to remember that in most any conflict there are indeed shades of gray - that even while we may call someone an ally, that doesn't make them (or even us) perfect examples of our ideals.

Reviewed from an ARC picked up at ALA Annual 2010. Between Shades of Gray is available today!

Review: Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly

Two weeks ago I reviewed Donnelly's Printz honor winning A Northern Light as the inaugural book in my What I Missed reading challenge. I chose A Northern Light to go first because I knew Donnelly had another book out that was getting rave reviews, and I figured I might as well read the books in publication order. I am happy I didn't delay any further, because wow, was Revolution ever a trip.

Andi is one angry, troubled young woman. After losing her brother, her father took off and her mother is still having difficulties coping. Andi lashes out at anyone who tries to come close to her and refuses to put any effort into her schoolwork, even as the due date for her thesis approaches. The only thing Andi cares about anymore is her music - and sometimes even that isn't enough to keep the demons away.

Incensed by his daughter's near failure in school, Andi's dad insists she spend Christmas break with him in Paris so she can focus on her schoolwork while he works on a centuries-old mystery: identifying the owner of a heart long said to belong to Louis-Charles, the young prince who was imprisoned during the French Revolution. Though Andi's determined to finish her thesis in record time, she's distracted by the discovery of a diary written by Alex, a young woman who served the royal family right at the height of the Revolution. She is drawn to the diary and can't escape until she reads Alex's chilling final entries. That is, until an ill-fated trip into Paris' famed catacombs leads Andi to re-emerge into Paris in 1795, where everyone seems to think that she's Alex. Is it a bad drug trip, or has Andi actually stepped into the past? And if she's really there, can she change the future?

Wow, is Andi ever a painful person to read about. She is just so angry and hurt by her brother's death and her parents' reactions and Donnelly's writing made her ragged emotions just jump off of the page. Just devastating and heartbreaking. Donnelly also does an excellent job of describing Andi's rapidly declining mental state as Andi relies more and more on anti-depressants to keep her world in focus. Operating under the theory that if one is good, more is better, Andi takes an increasing number of pills throughout the novel and it's never quite clear if some things are happening because she is on too many drugs - or not enough.

It took me to get about halfway through the book before I was totally comfortable with using Alex's diary as our viewpoint into the past. Part of me wanted this to be a straight-up historical novel without all of Andi's angst. Or perhaps the story could have alternated chapters so we were fully immersed in Revolutionary-era France. But as Andi herself became more invested in Alex's story, so did I become invested in Andi as a character and the ways her and Alex's stories complemented and contrasted with each other.

Music fans of multiple stripes will have a lot to love in this book. I was never that great at musical theory, so some of the subtleties of Andi's obsession with the composer Mahlerbeau were lost on me, but this is an extremely musical novel filled with descriptions of both classical and ultra-contemporary music. Bigger music fans than me will probably enjoy sifting out all of the various musical references.

As she proved in A Northern Light, Donnelly has a gift for bringing the past to life through her excellent writing. With much of Revolution set in the 21st century, she proves that she's equally gifted with contemporary characters and problems, but by weaving in elements of history she helps illustrate just how timeless many stories are.

What Have I Missed? Review: A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly

Recommended by: Bob

A Northern Light is one of the books that inspired me to start this challenge. Bob had recommended it to me ages and ages ago, but I never got around to it because I wanted to keep up with all of the new titles coming out. When I started seeing people rave about Jennifer Donnelly's Revolution I knew her name sounded familiar...all because A Northern Light was still in the back of my mind as a book I needed to read! So I decided this needed to be the first book I challenged myself to - and that my reward for getting this challenge under way would be getting to read Revolution next!

In 1906, in a small farming community and summer tourist town, Mattie Gokey dreams of going to New York City to study writing, to share her stories of everyday life with the rest of the world. But realistically, Mattie knows she's never going to leave North Woods. Her mother has recently died, leaving Mattie and her three sisters alone with their father, who can barely bring in enough money to keep food on the table through the winter. Even if she could get a scholarship to cover her tuition, where would she get the money for lodging, clothes and books? And then there's the fact that handsome Royal Loomis has come courting, and Mattie is feeling a surprising impulse to stay at home and settle down.

Taking a summer job at a big tourist hotel to help out her family and put away a little savings for herself, Mattie is implored one day by guest Grace Brown to burn a bundle of letters. Mattie takes the letters, but keeps them hidden, just in case Grace ever asks for them back. Until Grace's drowned body is pulled from the lake, the apparent victim of a boating accident. The young man she was traveling with is nowhere to be found. Mattie begins reading the letters, hoping for a clue as to who Grace was, and maybe for a little guidance from beyond the grave for who Mattie should be.

Donnelly weaves lots of complicated themes into what is on the surface a basic coming of age story with a bit of mystery. Classism is big, ranging from the rich tourists coming in to land that's been settled by poor farmers, to the poor farmers looking down on those who are even poorer. Sexism is the other big one, and all the myriad ways it rears its ugly head. There's the expected views that women shouldn't be educated, but also ideas about what is appropriate for women to be writing about and how to handle sexual harassment. Mattie's best friend is African-American, and she gives us a first hand look at the ugly realities of racism in a Northern state 40 years after the end of th Civil War. Want more? There's also wonderful questions about decency and obscenity, both in people's actions and in literature through the books Mattie's beloved teacher surreptitiously loans her.

My one irritant in this book is the use of Mattie's dictionary word of the day. On the one hand, it's a fun trope and is used well to indicate when a particular chapter is set (the story goes back and forth between the discovery of Grace's body and the months leading up to Mattie taking the position at the hotel). On the other hand, the bit began to wear thin about halfway through the novel as Mattie often would struggle with how the word did or didn't fit how her day was going. I felt that the idea was well established enough at that point that it could have been left to the reader to figure out how a word did or didn't fit thematically, and only have Mattie mention it when it was an important comment on the story.

Huge thanks to Bob for recommending this to me! Next on my list? Meg Rosoff's How I Live Now, winner of the Printz in 2005 and recommended by Rachel!

Review: Taking Off by Jenny Moss

There's a superstition out there that whatever you do on the first day of a new year is something that you'll be doing often for the rest of the year. I'm kind of hoping that I can apply that superstition to books: the first book you read published in the new year should be indicative of how the rest of the year's books will turn out. So I'm really, really glad I chose and AWESOME book to be my first published-in-2011 read.

Annie is a senior in high school in a suburban Texas town facing large, looming questions. Like where is she going to college and what will she do with the rest of her life. Surrounded by engineers who work with NASA, and fellow students who know that college is the next step, Annie isn't even sure she wants to go to college. She loves poetry, and has tried her hand at writing a few times, but is pretty sure she's actually terrible and knows there's no money in the endeavor. She hides her passion from everyone - her divorced parents, her best friend Lea, and even Mark, her boyfriend of two years.

When Lea, the daughter of NASA engineers, invites Annie to yet another dinner party featuring NASA personnel and astronauts, Annie drags her feet until she learns the Teacher in Space, Christa McAuliffe, will be there. She maneuvers her way to sit next to Christa at dinner, and even though the conversation is rather routine, Annie finds herself inspired by Christa's passion for life and following her dreams. While Annie doesn't know the answers to her big life questions yet, she knows she wants to see Christa's launch into space.

Meeting Christa, and roadtripping with her dad and his handsome young friend Tommy to see the Challenger launch, and ultimately the disaster after takeoff, inspires Annie to start taking risks. Small ones first, but bit by bit Annie draws strength and inspiration from Christa's memory, and is finally able to take off for herself.

First of all, I have to give massive props to Jenny Moss for how she carries off the climactic scene of the Challenger's explosion. I knew going in that it was going to happen, and yet when the shuttle finally launched, and then broke apart, my heart was in my throat. I felt like I was right there with Annie, even though Challenger happened when I was barely a year old. 

The romantic subplot in Taking Off is absolutely superb - because it reflects a lot of the indecision that can happen in relationships, especially young ones. I've gotten burned out on the number of YA books that end with the teens finding their soul mates. Annie is content with Mark, but knows they're not soul mates. So refreshing to see a girl exploring her options!

This Friday marks the 25th anniversary of the Challenger disaster, meaning this book is set at a very specific time that is close enough to feel contemporary but long enough ago that the book's intended audience wasn't even born yet. This is historical fiction that will still appeal to people who think they hate the genre, because aside from the Challenger and a few mentions of cassette tapes, Annie's personal struggles are truly timeless.

Review: Dragon Chica by May Lee Chai

Found via: Forever Young Adult

This is definitely a novel with cross over appeal - I'm pretty sure technically it's written as an adult novel, just because of stylistic quirks that aren't part of the YA tradition, but since it covers Nea's young adulthood (we meet her when she's 11 and follow her through the end of high school), it's definitely accessible to teens as well. I could definitely see this being one of those mother/daughter book club picks.

It's the 1980s and Nea, her mother, older sisters, and three younger siblings, are scraping by in Texas. The only Khmer in the community - the only Asians, really - and not knowing if any of their relatives were also able to escape from the Khmer Rouge regime, Nea feels more isolated than the average 11 year old. So when an aunt and uncle write her mother, saying they now live in Nebraska and run a Chinese restaurant there, Nea's mother promptly packs up the family and their few belongings in their beat up car, and drive from Texas to Nebraska.

Nebraska is not the land of dreams as her aunt and uncle promised, however. While Chinese restaurants were prestigious in Cambodia, Nebraskans haven't developed a taste for Asian cuisine yet. The family spends long hours at the restaurant for little pay off, and eventually Nea's sister Sourdi is set up in an arranged marriage with a much older man who her uncle is in debt to. At 16, Sourdi is suddenly put into the role of a grown woman, and Nea loses the one person in the family she feels she can talk to. Nea spends the rest of her teen years feeling increasingly isolated and angry - at the hicks who shout racial slurs at her family, at the family the demands she works when she should be studying, and at the mother who doesn't understand her Americanized daughter.

While this novel covers ages and experiences that are often part of YA novels, it really brought into focus for me some of the stark contrasts between adult and YA. For one thing, YA novels don't usually last very long - I think covering the course of a single school year is the longest period of time I can think of off hand. More often the novel's events will happen in days or maybe weeks. Dragon Chica covers 7 years in under 300 pages. This isn't a criticism, as Chai does an excellent job of picking out the important events over those 7 years, but merely an observation of one of th major differences between YA and adult novels.

Nea's story is painful to read at times, as her family is the victim of some ugly racism. Her family also has some difficulty adjusting to their places in America - her younger siblings are too young to remember their time in Cambodia so they are excused from acting "American," while Sourdi is old enough that she has extensive memories of Cambodia and wishes in many ways to remain true to that heritage. Nea is truly a child of both worlds, with vague memories of Cambodia but an intense desire to fit in as much as possible with her American schoolmates. While parts of Nea's story are surely unique to the Cambodian immigrant experience, large parts of it also seem like they apply to all immigrants, and will be appreciated by anyone with close ties to another country and culture.

Review: Sphinx's Queen by Esther Friesner

I picked this one up in my ARC grab way back at ALA (yes, I'm still working through those books!), solely based on my love of Ancient Egypt. I think Ancient Egypt was the first historical period I became obsessed with and my fascination with the subject hasn't left me yet. So I was very much looking forward to this one, only to be sorely disappointed.

Nefertiti is on the run from the Pharaoh's court, after being accused of a heinous crime she didn't commit. With the help of Amenophis, brother to the crown prince who accused Nefertiti, and Nava, a young Hebrew slave girl, Nefertiti is able to escape Prince Thutmose's clutches and report his treachery to Pharaoh. While Pharaoh and his wife, a power hungry woman determined to see her favored son take the throne one day, are at first disbelieving, Pharaoh agrees that justice must be sought, and grants Nefertiti the chance for a fair judgement before the goddess Bast.

As Nefertiti continues her quest for justice, she finds herself increasingly isolated from her friends and family in the palace. She discovers twists and treacheries that force her to question some of her fundamental beliefs in the gods, but while she knows she may not have all the answers, there is only one just answer to her cause, and she will not rest until the world knows of her innocence - and her love of a certain prince of Egypt...

The biggest problem this novel has is how one dimensional the story and the characters are. While the fundamental plot is strong enough, I found being in Nefertiti's head to be tiring because she was just so. Darn. Good. She never has a selfish thought and is benign and forgiving of all who sin against her. She's so kind and good that she ends up changing the less savory characters in the story with little effort, they're just so charmed by her. She's so perfect that there's really no narrative arc for her - she's essentially a Mary Sue.

The secondary characters are no better. The villains are cartoons until they have the opportunity to really get to know Nefertiti - somehow she inspires them to want to be better people, just for the sake of being good after a lifetime of selfishness. There's also another royal wife who fits almost all aspects of the magical negro stereotype. She's the only character who is highlighted as having exceptionally dark skin (she was originally a Nubian princess before the Pharaoh claimed her as one of his many wives), she's all but forgotten in the palace and prefers to live that way, only suddenly coming out of hiding to help out the fairer-skinned Nefertiti because, again, Nefertiti is such a good person. Her presence is random and really rather jaw dropping.

Amazon tells me this is part of a series - it looks like Friesner tackles the stories of many historical women, and in fact Sphinx's Queen is the sequel to Sphinx's Princess, though this one stands on its own well enough. There's no mention on my ARC version that this is a sequel and there were no glaring holes in the narrative that made me feel like part of the story was missing - unless Sphinx's Princess includes an explanation for why Nefertiti is so perfect. Since I haven't read any of Friesner's other titles, I can't say how this compares to her other works and whether this is a satisfying sequel, but I can say that this gives me no desire to pick up any of her other titles.

Review: Prisoners in the Palace by Michaela Maccoll

Okay, enough slacking off from me! I've had essentially a month's vacation from blogging, and hopefully I've gotten that slacking out of my system. It's the beginning of a new month, the last month of the year, and I'm going to be much better about blogging regularly from here on out!

On to the book at hand: I was already looking forward to reading Prisoners in the Palace: How Princess Victoria became Queen with the Help of Her Maid, a Reporter, and a Scoundrel before Chronicle contacted me and offered me a copy for review (so thanks for that!). If nothing else, I was eager to get my hands on a copy to get a look at the cover up close. The Space Between Trees, reviewed in July, had a beautifully unique cover, with the cutout silhouette revealing a pearlescent paper. This time around the front cover is metallic (I'm like a magpie when it comes to shiny stuff), with the back cover invoking the 19th century equivalent of supermarket tabloid with excerpts of gossipy articles teasing plot points of the book. Underneath the jacket, the book is decorated in a damask design. Chronicle is clearly invested in making their books look just as good on the outside as they are on the inside - and Prisoners in the Palace is quite excellent!


Just as Liza Hastings is preparing for her grand debut into London society in 1836, tragedy strikes - her parents are killed in an accident, leaving Liza penniless and destitute. Through generous family connections, however, Liza is able to apply for a position in the household of Princess Victoria - as a lady's maid. It's a huge step down socially for Liza, but when the other option is to be out on the street, she is determined to make the best of her situation.

A cunning and clever young woman, Liza is drawn into the intrigue of royal life, and the lives of the royal servants. Genuinely fond of the princess, Liza looks out for the naive young woman and does all she can to protect the princess from her predatory guardian, while trying to avoid being fired for impertinence. She is assisted by, as the subtitle says, a reporter and a scoundrel. The newspaper industry was growing rapidly during this era, and Liza teams up with a promising broadsheet entrepreneur to promote Victoria's interests. The scoundrel facilitates Liza's meetings, and even has the chance to be a hero in his own right.

Maccoll has crafted an excellent work of historical fiction. In fact, I think this is even deserving of the title historical thriller, as Laurie Halse Anderson has asked that her historical works be called. Prisoners in the Palace is filled with intrigue and danger, though perhaps on a smaller scale than Chains and Forge. Maccoll truly brings her characters to life through engaging dialog and seamless integration of historical facts into the narrative. History is further brought to life through excerpts of Victoria's journals and other contemporary writings, though Maccoll admits in the author's note that she fudged the date and order of some of these.

This is a novel primarily populated by women, and they are a diverse and engaging group, ranging from disgraced maids to Queens of England. The men don't get as much screen time so they come off flatter in comparison to people like Liza and Victoria, but still support an excellent story.

I enthusiastically recommend Prisoners in the Palace to fans of historical fiction thrillers, and even to those of you who claim you'd rather stick with contemporary or fantasy novels. Maccoll clearly paints the picture of early-19th century England for those of us who know little of the time period, and populates the world with characters who perfectly balance historical and modern sensibilities.

Reviewed from review copy received from publisher.

Review: Wicked Girls by Stephanie Hemphill

Every time I'm ready to write off verse novels, something pulls me back. The last verse novels I read were back in April, Firefly Letters and Crossing Stones and I concluded that, for me, verse novels really only work when they're contemporary stories. For historical novels, I need a vested interest in the material. Then along comes Wicked Girls, covering the Salem Witch Trials that have fascinated me for as long as I can remember...in poetry.

The basic story is well-known by now: in 1692, a group of young women and girls in Salem Village started accusing their neighbors of witchcraft. What followed was a literal witch hunt, as the authorities were determined to drive out all hints of sin in their village, and relied on the testimony of the girls to send 19 people to their deaths, and scores more to prison.

Wicked Girls delves into the inner lives of Mercy Lewis, Margaret Walcott and Ann Putnam Jr., following the girls and their cohorts from the initial incriminations through to the bitter end. Hemphill hypothesizes what drew the girls to accusations of witchcraft and why they continue even in the face of doubts.

I'm truly torn about this book, because on the one hand, Hemphill has crafted an amazing story. There are many theories about why the girls began crying witch, and Hemphill explores the possibility that the girls were essentially drunk on power. Once the girls started making accusations, they suddenly had the attention of the entire town. Powerful men were listening to them, and servant girls were just as powerful as the daughters of the merchant class. Some of Mercy's poems were almost physically painful, as she describes being looked at as a powerful person to be respected, rather than a pretty girl to be lusted after by men young and old. Hemphill also explores some scary "mean girl" dynamics, as the ringleaders try to ensure loyalty among the group, showing just how strong peer pressure can be.

On the other hand, as I said at the start of this review, I'm just not a fan of poetry for historical fiction. The poetry itself is fine, though it was more the content that affected me rather than the style. I can't see what the poetry added to this story that couldn't have been achieved through prose. As I said in my Goodreads review, I wanted to give this 2.5 out of 5 stars as a perfect half-way point, reflecting all the good things I felt about the plot that were essentially negated by the format.

Review: The Red Umbrella by Christina Diaz Gonzalez

No new nonfiction books made it to the library for me last week - well, no new YA. I have a big, serious look at whether gender differences actually exist in the brain, but I'm undecided as to whether that will get a review on the blog. I also finally got my hands on A Family of Readers, which I plan on tweeting like Natasha did.

In the meantime, to satisfy any beginning-of-the-week cravings for facts, I'm going with a historical fiction book.

It's been two years since the Cuban revolution, and while Lucia generally supports the revolution, it's not her top concern. There's school and parties to attend and a cute boy to flirt with before he goes off to do his part for the revolution, educating underprivileged children in rural areas of Cuba.

And then the soldiers come to town. Freedoms are stripped away, and people disappear. Lucia's parents want her to stay as far away from anything to do with the revolution as possible, but that brings suspicions of anti-communism. Even Lucia's best friend seems to be suspicious of Lucia's parents. To protect Lucia and her little brother, her parents decide the safest place for the children would be away from Cuba - in the United States.

Moving from a beautiful island to landlocked Nebraska is only one change Lucia and Frankie have to adapt to. A new language, new clothes, a whole new way of life are waiting for Lucia in America. While at first she was sure this was going to be a short trip - the equivalent of an exotic summer vacation, perhaps - Lucia begins to wonder if she'll ever see her parents, or her beloved Cuba, again.

Operation Pedro Pan was a real movement in the 1960s, and Gonzalez's author's notes explain. Children were sent from Cuba to live in orphanages or foster families in the US in order to protect them from Castro's regime. This need for protection is illustrated by Lucia's best friend Ivette, who joins the revolution whole-heartedly and repeatedly chastises Lucia for not joining her. It's chilling for someone who has only known the freedoms of the US to read Ivette's railing against capitalism.

I absolutely loved the foster family Lucia and Frankie end up with. Maybe I've read about too many evil stepmothers recently, but it was such a relief to read about a US family that makes a real effort to understand another culture and help the kids out in any way that's practical. Truly wonderful family dynamics there.

This week marks the end of Hispanic Heritage month, and while it's more coincidence than anything that I'm reviewing this title now, it's great timing because this is about a little known bit of Cuban heritage in the US.

Sci Fi Friday Review: Behemoth by Scott Westerfeld

It's no secret to long-time readers of this blog that I have a thing for Scott Westerfeld's writing. I wrote my senior thesis on the Uglies series, for goodness' sake! So it's probably no surprise, given my history with Westerfeld's work and my feelings about last year's Leviathan, that I enjoyed Behemoth. Just wanted to get that out of the way in case the curiosity was killing you.

When we last left the crew of the British airship Leviathan, they had just picked up several Austrian passengers, including the son of the recently-assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Alek - not that any of the British crew know that. Alek's lone friend among the crew is a young airman Dylan, who is actually a young woman, Deryn, disguising herself so she can serve in the air force - not that anyone knows about that. The airship is carrying some precious cargo and distinguished guests, including the granddaughter of Charles Darwin, who has some very special eggs she wants delivered to the ruler of the Ottoman Empire before a great war can break out among the European nations in response to the murder of Alek's parents.

The Ottoman Empire is at a crossroads when the Leviathan docks. They are technically neutral in the burgeoning conflict, but are being courted by both German and British forces for an alliance. And all is not well within the Empire, as the current sultan has only been in power for a few years and already militants are planning a coup to replace the monarchy with a democratic government. Alek and Deryn know that technically they are on opposite sides in this war - Clanker and Darwinist, royalty and commoner - but discover they will have to work together, along with an eclectic mix of allies, if they ever hope to achieve their mutual goal: stop a world war from beginning.

If you haven't read Leviathan yet, you absolutely need to read it before reading Behemoth. The story picks up mere days after the end of Leviathan, and the action starts within just a few pages, leaving precious little time to catch the reader up on what happened in the last book. I really liked the fact that Westerfeld just goes with the assumption that the reader already knows the back story, because that means each and every page can be devoted to developing what happens next.

This is one wild ride both similar to and very different from Leviathan. In the last book, we followed Alek wandering in the wilderness towards safety with his body guards, and Deryn spent much of her story alone among the crew out of need to protect her secret. In Behemoth, less physical ground is covered, as the story stays focused on Istanbul, and the story becomes more of a political thriller as Alek and Deryn become involved in the resistance movement - which introduces my favorite character, the feisty revolutionary Lilit, who has dreams of bringing women's liberation to Istanbul. She also has a huge crush on one of our dashing heroes. Lilit is a young woman destined for greatness and could probably support a whole novel of her own!

As expected, there are more great beasties and machines this time around. The Ottoman Empire is a Clanker nation, but they're more in touch with nature than the Germans or Austrians, as their mechanics are based on animals. My favorite was probably the spider-like machine that worked the great library. On the Darwinist side, we finally get to see what was in those eggs that were so carefully guarded in Leviathan and, of course, there's the title beastie, the Behemoth. It's awesome, in every sense of the word.

Because I feel like it's becoming my trademark, I do have to comment for a moment on the romance element of the book. Deryn is beginning to develop "feelings" for Alek. Maybe this just annoyed me because I read it shortly after The Education of Bet and A Golden Web, two other novels about young women dressing up as men, but I'm getting quite tired of girls putting all of their other goals at risk because of some boy that literally thinks they're just one of the guys. Deryn keeps a handle on herself better than the protagonists of the other two books, and it's really just a small bit of this otherwise giant story, but it still rankled me a bit. I am certain Goliath won't go the way of Mockingjay in terms of focus on relationships, but I can't deny there's a little bit of worry in the back of my head. Hopefully, averting World War I will remain the focus.

Rot & Ruin Giveaway Reminder: I'm going to draw the winner for the Rot & Ruin giveaway at 12 pm Eastern time today! If you still want a chance to win, enter here!

Reviewed from ARC picked up at ALA 2010.

Review: The Wonder of Charlie Anne by Kimberly Newton Fusco

Found via: The Fourth Musketeer

First, I'd just like to give a shout out to the Fourth Musketeer blog. I've been getting tons of historical fiction recommendations from there for the past few months, books that I don't always see reviewed elsewhere, so a big thanks to Margo for highlighting these great books!

It's the 1930s, and with the US in the grip of a devastating Depression, Charlie Anne finds herself in the midst of her own depression, following a series of personal tragedies. Her mother died in childbirth (which the baby didn't survive, either), her cousin Mirabel showed up shortly after the funeral to serve as the "new mama" to Charlie Anne and her four siblings, and now her father has gone north with her oldest brother to build roads.

On the home front, Mirabel runs the household with an iron fist, and never seems satisfied with Charlie Anne. Charlie Anne is forced to do all of the menial, domestic chores when she'd much prefer to be outside working with the animals, and Mirabel is constantly reminding her to act like a little lady, with advice from a book on manners she constantly keeps in her pocket. Just when life can't seem to get any drearier, a spark of excitement comes to town in the form of Rosalyn, the new wife of Charlie Anne's neighbor, and Phoebe, the African-American girl about Charlie Anne's age she brings with her. In Charlie Anne's small town, no one has ever seen anyone like this pair - witty, educated, and confident enough to wear trousers in colors like "red pepper red." But difficult times and a fear of change bring out the worst in people, forcing Charlie Anne to confront the ugly racism that can hide even in seemingly-reasonable people.

While this is definitely a novel about the terrible things racism can do to a community, I enjoyed immensely the undercurrent of feminism in Charlie Anne, Rosalyn and Phoebe. While Charlie Anne may not have the words to express quite why it's wrong, she complains about being forced to do chores like cleaning clothes and cooking while her brother milks the cows, when everyone knows Charlie Anne is better with the cows. Rosalyn and Phoebe show up in their daring fashion choices that wouldn't become commonplace for American women for decades, declaring they're the most sensible clothes for anyone who works and plays hard, but Charlie Anne is forbidden from wearing a pair of her own because it's not how proper young ladies are "supposed" to dress, according to Mirabel.

Charlie Anne has a wonderfully earnest voice. She's young enough to still believe in magic in the world, but the rapid succession of her mother's death, her father leaving to build roads, and the ugly face of racism in her family and community, are forcing her to grow up. Hopefully she won't ever lose the sense of wonder she carries through the novel.

Charlie Anne's voice also allows Fusco to overcome one of the hurdles of writing historical fiction - how to explain things that are a matter of fact to the characters but are strange and unfamiliar to a modern audience? Well, Charlie Anne is the sort of person that I think would explain how to make a vinegar pie over and over again to her neighbors, even though they've been doing it themselves for years. She's so eager and thorough that all of the historical descriptions seem totally natural in Charlie Anne's words.

Review: This Means War! by Ellen Wittlinger

The Cold War seems to be the hot topic in YA/MG lit this year. I think Deborah Wiles' Countdown has received the most attention, but there are at least two others I know of that have been published within the last few months. This Means War! is one of those.

Juliet and Lowell have been best friends for as long as Juliet can remember, but their friendship is suddenly at risk when he starts hanging out with a pair of Air-Force-brat brothers who refuse to play with girls. Juliet befriends Patsy, who has also moved to town because of her father's job at the local military base, but her loud and brash ways are no substitute for quiet and sensitive Lowell. When the neighborhood bully worms his way into hanging out with Lowell, and the boys continue to harass Patsy and Juliet, Patsy gets fed up and declares war on the boys. Girls can do anything boys can do, and the two groups of kids (Patsy and Juliet rope in two more girls from school to even out the teams) face off in a series of challenges to prove their superiority.

As tensions escalate among the kids in the neighborhood, life is stressful for the adults as well, as we see through Juliet's eyes. Her parents run the local grocery store that is slowly losing customers to the new supermarket in town. And then of course there's the whole reason new families have been moving to the airbase: the Cold War is in full swing, and what we know as the Cuban Missile Crisis has just begun.

Poor Juliet! Her fear and tension is palpable throughout the book. She's a rather nervous child, but is quite endearing, so I was willing to overlook her nerves. All she wants is her old best friend back and doesn't understand this nonsense over boys and girls not being able to play together. Then her new friend Patsy drags her into this boys vs. girls contest while her family life is getting increasingly stressful and the threat of all-out war is hanging overhead. The nerves are rather understandable in that context, aren't they?

I imagine the boys vs. girls contest will have a lot of resonance with girls who've ever been told we're "not as good" as the boys, and I loved it when the girls decided to turn the tables on the boys and make them compete in traditionally girl-y activities. There's a little bit of gender essentialism going on there, but considering some of the girls excel in the "masculine" activities and some of the boys excel in the "feminine" activities, it's a good counterpoint to what the kids expect will happen.

Double Review: The Education of Bet by Lauren Baratz-Logsted and A Golden Web by Barbara Quick

A backlog of reviews means more double reviews, simply so it doesn't take me two months to catch up with myself. On the other hand, I would probably have reviewed these two together anyway, since they share a few elements: historical fiction, romance between students, and girls disguising themselves as boys in order to receive an education.

In 19th century England, Bet is the orphaned daughter of a maid, and has been the ward of a relative of her mother's employer for most of her life. Bet occupies a precipitous place in a society rigidly defined by class: she comes from the humblest of beginnings and has been raised in the lap of luxury, yet now belongs to neither world. What Bet longs for most, however, is an education - something denied to her and yet forced upon the unwilling Will, great-nephew of her benefactor who lost his parents to the same illness that killed Bet's mother. Will wants a life of glory in the military. Bet wants to go to school. So Bet concocts a plan: since Will is due to be sent to a new school at the start of the term, she will dress as a boy and pretend to be him, leaving Will free to pursue military service.

Away at school, Bet thrives in her classes, but finds interpersonal relationships much more tricky, as she attracts the attention of bullies and generally has no idea about how boys act when girls aren't around. To make matters trickier, she shares a room with an attractive roommate, and discovers that even the best laid plans can have holes in them (for example - in a school full of men and boys, how is she supposed to handle her period?).

A Golden Web is set much earlier, going back to 14th century Italy, and follows Alessandra Gillani, who is thought to be the first female anatomist. As Quick's author's note explains, no one is entirely sure if Alessandra existed or if she was as educated as legend says she is, but Quick paints a rich picture of her possible life. Daughter of a wealthy book maker, back when books were still written and illustrated by the hands of apprentices, Alessandra has access to a wealth of knowledge denied to other girls and women of her age. Threatened with an arranged marriage at 15 by a disapproving stepmother, Alessandra first hides in a convent, then disguises herself as Sandro and makes her way to Bologna to study with the masters of medicine and the fledgling science of anatomy, where her talents make her the enemy of a jealous fellow student, and also attract the eye and support of a handsome student who she may just be able to trust with her secret.

With so much in common, these books are actually vastly different. The Education of Bet focuses almost exclusively on the romance between Bet and her roommate, to the point where at times it hardly even seemed like an historical fiction novel, and the cross-dressing was merely an elaborate plot device to bring the two unlikely lovers together (unlikely thanks to that pesky class difference). A Golden Web spends much more time on historical details, making it totally believable why Alessandra would have to disguise herself as Sandro. And despite her younger age, Alessandra is much better equipped for an extended disguise - even though she set out before she started her period (or "flowering," which is probably the most ridiculous euphemism I've ever heard), she knows it's going to come thanks to her medical books and quickly adapts. Bet has been menstruating for awhile, and yet totally forgot to plan ahead, which struck me as ridiculous. I've been known to forget to have pads or tampons with me on a trip, but that's not because I forgot I was going to have my period, rather I was just too scatterbrained to throw extras in my bag. Bet just forgot it was ever going to happen.

Parts of A Golden Web feel slightly too coincidental to be realistic, and for awhile I wondered if this was actually going to go into a Cinderella-style story since her stepmother is just so wicked. However, I loved Alessandra's special interest in women's bodies and health, and descriptions of her visiting midwives and female healers in the unsavory part of town to learn from their traditional knowledge, handed down orally from generation to generation, and combining that with her schooling.

If you're looking for a fluffy romance, you could do worse than The Education of Bet. If you want a nuanced historical novel, A Golden Web is the book for you.

Review: The Water Seeker by Kimberly Willis Holt

Found via: The Fourth Musketeer

Following up on my Nonfiction Monday post, here's another western-style book, this one set first on the frontier of Missouri, and then on the famed Oregon Trail - which is what made me want to pick up this book. And it didn't hurt that I received the book right around the time this bit of hilarity hit the internet:



I know they updated the game a few times, but you're seriously missing out if you never played the original game for the Apple II. Good times.

Amos Kincaid's life begins in tragedy - his young mother dies while giving birth to him, leaving him to be raised by his rough frontiersman father. Jake Kincaid doesn't think he'd be much of a father to an infant, especially since the only trades he knows - trapping and dowsing - require extensive traveling across wild parts of the country, so he drops baby Amos off with his brother in Missouri, promising to visit when he can.

Amos grows up with his aunt and uncle serving as the only family he knows. His father is a mysterious person who drops by once or twice a year for a few days before moving on again. About the only thing Amos knows about the man is that he's a dowser, someone who can find water beneath the ground, and the talent has been passed down to Amos, though he keeps it secret.

When he's a young teen, tragedy strikes his family again with the death of his beloved aunt. When Jake returns to find his sister-in-law dead and his brother a shell of his former self, he decides it's time to take Amos with him. Jake now has a wife, Blue Owl, and Jake has taken a job as a trail scout along the Oregon Trail. It's still a hard life, but with Blue Owl to help with the boy, Jake thinks it's time for the family to reunite and head West.

This book covers a long period of time, from Amos' birth until he's a young adult, which certainly lends the narrative a sort of epic scope. At the same time, the story is a very quiet one, focusing on Amos' growth as a boy and young man and his relationships on the frontier. It's a quiet and simple novel on one level, yet complex on another. Because of this, I imagine it's going to lose a lot of early readers who don't have some sort of vested interest in the story, as the real action in the story doesn't begin until over halfway through, when Amos heads out along the Oregon Trail.

This is another YA book that I can definitely see having a lot of adult appeal, not among genre fans like Twlight and Hunger Games and Harry Potter found, but among fans of so-called literary fiction. The writing style as a whole has more in common with that genre than most books written for younger readers. The third person narrative often jumps to the adults in the story, especially the women who care for Amos throughout his life. And then there's the subtle and unexpected supernatural element, as the spirit or ghost of Amos' mother appears to these same women as he grows.

Historical fiction fans will find a lot to love in this story, as the excitement and perils of life on the frontier and heading west are each given a fair amount of the story. The one potential for controversy that I can see is in the character of Blue Owl. While it was surprising and delightful to find a Native woman's perspective in the story, I fear she often fell into stereotypes about Native women: quiet, subservient, forever in wonder of "white people's" accomplishments. On the other hand, she's a sympathetic character and after Amos we probably spend the most time looking at the story from her perspective. I would absolutely love to hear the opinion of someone who knows more about Native American cultures (Blue Owl is Shoshone) and representation in lit (especially YA).

Double Review: Ashes by Kathryn Lasky and Once by Morris Gleitzman

I have soooooooooooooooo many books to review it's not even funny, folks. Remind me next time I want to start slacking off on my blogging that should be accompanied by a commensurate slacking off on reading. I'm still reviewing books I read in July. Ack!

Ashes is told by precocious 13 year old Gaby Schramm, growing up in 1930s Berlin. Her father is a professor and often works with Albert Einstein. But a growing darkness in Berlin is starting to encroach on Gaby's idyllic life. Public book burnings. Uprisings against Jewish scholars and shopkeepers. A beloved literature teacher pushing Hitler Youth meetings. And her older sister and her boyfriend seem to be harboring a few secrets, too. Gaby watches as the world begins to collapse around her in the prelude to World War II.

Once takes place well into WWII, beginning in Poland in 1942. Felix is 10 years old and was put in a Catholic orphanage over three years ago to wait in safety until his Jewish parents could return. Felix knows little about what's going on outside of the orphanage and, tired of waiting for his parents, runs away with his precious notebook filled with imagined stories of his parents' exploits in tow. As he searches desperately for his parents, Felix is confronted with the full brutality of the Nazis, witnessing murders and mass graves, and rescuing a surly little girl from a burning house where her parents died. When they reach the city, Felix is still valiantly hoping to find his parents, but is instead confronted with the realities of a ghetto, where the few children left must be hidden in basements to protect them from the trains that would otherwise carry them away.

These are two starkly different looks at WWII in Europe, and once again both cover this familiar territory in fresh new ways. Ashes is a somewhat conventional coming of age story, made remarkable by the time it is set. Once is horrific, as it explores the brutality of the war through the eyes of an innocent child, and doesn't pull any punches.

I enjoyed the complexity of the characters in Ashes, as no one, even the Nazi sympathizers, and one-dimensional. I especially liked that Gaby is both a voracious reader and an excellent student of math and science. So often in books characters are reduced to liking one or the other, their love of books or science used as a sort of shorthand for their personalities. The inclusion of Albert Einstein was done very well, and didn't feel stilted or gimmicky like other fictional appearances of real life characters can be.

Once is absolutely beautiful and horrifying. On one level it's a rather simplistic story, as it's told through the uncomprehending eyes of 10 year old Felix, whose naivety is compounded by his isolation in the remote orphanage for almost four years. While Gaby is on the verge of being a young woman at the onset of the war, Felix is still very much a child. Reading his innocent descriptions of what as an adult reader I know were untold atrocities is disconcerting and extremely effective.