As described a few weeks ago, I'm embarking on a personal reading challenge in 2011 - do some nominal catching up on books that I missed the first time around, focusing on books published between 2003 (when I graduated high school and thus lost my regular access to Cindy & Lynn's stash of books) and 2008 (I didn't start blogging, and thus keeping up on the latest in YA, until December 2008).
I've solicited suggestions from readers and friends, as well as looked at the various awards lists for those years, and have selected the following books so far to read in the next 12 months.
A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly (recommended by a friend on Facebook)
How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff (recommended by Rachel, 2005 Printz winner)
A Curse Dark as Gold by Elizabeth Bunce (also recommended by Rachel)
The First Part Last by Angela Johnson (recommended by Ari, 2004 Printz winner)
Chanda's Secrets by Allan Stratton (2005 Printz honor)
I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak (2006 Printz honor)
Anahita's Woven Riddle by Meghan Nuttall Sayres (2007 BBYA top 10)
Bucking the Sarge by Christopher Paul Curtis (2005 BBYA top 10)
Adoration of Jenna Fox by Mary E. Pearson (recommended by Megan Miranda on Twitter)
That's nine titles so far, which means since I want to read 12 this year, I have three more to pick out over the next 12 months. Hopefully I'll get those through suggestions throughout the year.
January's book will be A Northern Light, since I picked that one up while I was on vacation. And then as soon as I finish that one I'm going to be getting Jennifer Donnelly's newest book, Revolution, since that one's been burning up the blogs for awhile now. The two aren't related, but it seems as good an order to reader her books in as any!
Happy new year, everyone - hope you all have the best of luck in meeting your own reading goals this year!
Showing posts with label reading challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reading challenge. Show all posts
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Nonfiction Monday Review: Curveball: The Remarkable Story of Toni Stone... by Martha Ackmann
Found via: the Amelia Bloomer Project
The full title of this book is Curveball: The Remarkable Story of Toni Stone the First Woman to Play Professional Baseball in the Negro League. Can you see why I abbreviated it?
Today is Labor Day in the US, the traditional marker of the end of summer. While baseball continues for a few more weeks before the World Series, since it's considered a summer sport I thought a baseball biography would be an excellent way to finish out the season.
I've mentioned my love of the game on here a few times, but I have a confession: I don't know much of the history of baseball. My dad knows a ton, at least when it comes to his favorite team, the Braves (boo!), but I tend to focus on the contemporary game. This is probably because a) while I enjoy baseball, my love of the game doesn't run terribly deep and b) when it comes to history, I tend to stick to women's history. Since women have historically been excluded from baseball, the means most of my baseball history concerns the AAGPBL. When I saw this book nominated for the Amelia Bloomer list, I knew I had to read it, since I knew nothing about Negro League baseball, and especially didn't know they'd had a woman play!
Marcenia Lyle Stone, aka Tomboy aka Toni, grew up in Minneapolis in the 20s and 30s and loved nothing more than baseball. She worked hard to prove her stuff and with a bit of persistence and cajoling, she played throughout her childhood on neighborhood boys teams - even going so far once as to knock a decade off of her age in order to qualify for a baseball camp taught by a former pro player!
The odds were stacked against Toni, and she knew it. Not only was she a woman who wanted to play a man's game, but when she was first trying to break into just the minor leagues, baseball was a white man's game - it would be a few years before Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier. But Toni didn't let her race or her gender hold her back, and she made it on to some of the top ranked teams in the Negro League, just as the league was beginning to die out as segregation was eliminated in Major League Baseball and their minor league farm teams.
This is an amazing biography - as I tweeted after finishing the book, Toni Stone is my new hero. Gutsy might be the best adjective for her. Determined. Tenacious. She is an excellent example of what you can accomplish if you follow your dreams, but her story also emphasizes that those accomplishments only came after years of hard work and dedication. Nothing was easy for Toni Stone.
This is also an excellent history of baseball and Jim Crow laws in the mid-century South. There's lots of anecdotes about the history of the Negro Leagues as well as stories from some of the first black Major League players like Jackie Robinson and Hank Aaron that are sure to appeal to any hardcore baseball fan. I had no idea that much of the Negro League play was in the form of Barnstorming matches, where a team would travel all across the country playing exhibition games, making their season stretch from April to November. It makes modern baseball look like a luxury cruise!
Toni spent a lot of her professional time in the South, first as part of her time as a Barnstormer travelling through the region and then playing semi-pro with the Louisiana Creole team. As such we get a first hand view of the terrible and ridiculous Jim Crow laws that were in place. Legal action was threatened in some states if a Negro League team played a white team - or even an integrated team (Jackie Robinson led a touring all star team, made up of white and black players). I have to admit, I never realized how much Jim Crow laws could affect whites as well. I don't say this as some sort of derailing, "racism hurts white people too!" comment, but rather as someone who is realizing in a new way just how much those laws were rooted in fear and hatred. I thought the laws were simply to keep Black people "in their place" while whites had free reign and could go anywhere and do whatever they wanted, but at least when it came to baseball, even if they wanted to play together, the law said they had to be kept strictly separate.
What a scary and terrifying time it must have been.
This is definitely a must-read for any baseball fan or sports history buff. It's an adult title but relatively short (less than 300 pages with a hefty bibliography/notes section in the back) and perfectly appropriate for high school or middle school student suddenly stuck inside for school when she'd rather be playing ball!
This week Nonfiction Monday is hosted by The Miss Rumphius Effect. Be sure to stop by and check out all the other great nonfiction posts this week!
The full title of this book is Curveball: The Remarkable Story of Toni Stone the First Woman to Play Professional Baseball in the Negro League. Can you see why I abbreviated it?
Today is Labor Day in the US, the traditional marker of the end of summer. While baseball continues for a few more weeks before the World Series, since it's considered a summer sport I thought a baseball biography would be an excellent way to finish out the season.
I've mentioned my love of the game on here a few times, but I have a confession: I don't know much of the history of baseball. My dad knows a ton, at least when it comes to his favorite team, the Braves (boo!), but I tend to focus on the contemporary game. This is probably because a) while I enjoy baseball, my love of the game doesn't run terribly deep and b) when it comes to history, I tend to stick to women's history. Since women have historically been excluded from baseball, the means most of my baseball history concerns the AAGPBL. When I saw this book nominated for the Amelia Bloomer list, I knew I had to read it, since I knew nothing about Negro League baseball, and especially didn't know they'd had a woman play!
Marcenia Lyle Stone, aka Tomboy aka Toni, grew up in Minneapolis in the 20s and 30s and loved nothing more than baseball. She worked hard to prove her stuff and with a bit of persistence and cajoling, she played throughout her childhood on neighborhood boys teams - even going so far once as to knock a decade off of her age in order to qualify for a baseball camp taught by a former pro player!The odds were stacked against Toni, and she knew it. Not only was she a woman who wanted to play a man's game, but when she was first trying to break into just the minor leagues, baseball was a white man's game - it would be a few years before Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier. But Toni didn't let her race or her gender hold her back, and she made it on to some of the top ranked teams in the Negro League, just as the league was beginning to die out as segregation was eliminated in Major League Baseball and their minor league farm teams.
This is an amazing biography - as I tweeted after finishing the book, Toni Stone is my new hero. Gutsy might be the best adjective for her. Determined. Tenacious. She is an excellent example of what you can accomplish if you follow your dreams, but her story also emphasizes that those accomplishments only came after years of hard work and dedication. Nothing was easy for Toni Stone.
This is also an excellent history of baseball and Jim Crow laws in the mid-century South. There's lots of anecdotes about the history of the Negro Leagues as well as stories from some of the first black Major League players like Jackie Robinson and Hank Aaron that are sure to appeal to any hardcore baseball fan. I had no idea that much of the Negro League play was in the form of Barnstorming matches, where a team would travel all across the country playing exhibition games, making their season stretch from April to November. It makes modern baseball look like a luxury cruise!
Toni spent a lot of her professional time in the South, first as part of her time as a Barnstormer travelling through the region and then playing semi-pro with the Louisiana Creole team. As such we get a first hand view of the terrible and ridiculous Jim Crow laws that were in place. Legal action was threatened in some states if a Negro League team played a white team - or even an integrated team (Jackie Robinson led a touring all star team, made up of white and black players). I have to admit, I never realized how much Jim Crow laws could affect whites as well. I don't say this as some sort of derailing, "racism hurts white people too!" comment, but rather as someone who is realizing in a new way just how much those laws were rooted in fear and hatred. I thought the laws were simply to keep Black people "in their place" while whites had free reign and could go anywhere and do whatever they wanted, but at least when it came to baseball, even if they wanted to play together, the law said they had to be kept strictly separate.
What a scary and terrifying time it must have been.
This is definitely a must-read for any baseball fan or sports history buff. It's an adult title but relatively short (less than 300 pages with a hefty bibliography/notes section in the back) and perfectly appropriate for high school or middle school student suddenly stuck inside for school when she'd rather be playing ball!
Monday, August 23, 2010
Nonfiction Monday Review: Cleopatra Rules! by Vicky Alvear Shecter
While wandering through the exhibits at ALA, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this cover staring out at me from a backdrop:
Nonfiction Monday is hosted by Playing by the Book this week. Be sure to stop by and check out all the other great nonfiction finds this week!
Also, final reminder for NYC-area readers, Books of Wonder's Mockingjay release party is tonight! I had some uploading fail yesterday, so be sure to check out my post yesterday to see what I'll be wearing so you can introduce yourself at the party!
Review copy was sent to me by the publisher, Boyds Mill Press.
I just had to stop and look around and ask about that book! Luckily, the ladies staffing the Boyds Mill Press booth were more than happy to talk about it and other books they carry featuring strong women and unique takes on history with an excited blogger. Advanced copies weren't available at ALA, but they made sure to mail me a copy as soon as they were available!
I have always loved Cleopatra - when other girls had a princess phase, I went straight to the top and loved the Queen (okay, I enjoyed my share of Disney princesses too, I suppose). One of my favorite Shakespeare plays? Antony and Cleopatra. So to say I was excited about a teen-oriented biography of this much-maligned royal is an understatement.
Shecter takes the haters to task. She hammers home the point that the victors get to write history, so it's likely that much of the Roman-oriented biography that's been handed down through the generations is unflattering at best. In truth, Cleopatra was as loved by her subjects as a Greek Pharaoh could be. Where others in the line of Ptolemy ruled apart from their Egyptian subjects, Cleopatra learned their language (as well as 20+ others!) and their rites and rituals, making her well loved by her subjects.
Cleopatra wasn't a seductress - she gained her power the old fashioned way, through cunning and shows of strength. She allied herself with the most powerful men in the world - Julius Caesar and Mark Antony - to make sure Egypt could remain a sovereign nation. She built up Egypt's armies so they had a chance of defending themselves. And she was something of a book worm, ensuring that she had the strategic knowledge to use her forces in the best way possible.
This is a beautiful book, both in content and presentation. Lots of full-color photographs of Egyptian antiquities are included and there are colorful sidebars and in-sets to highlight important information. The one turn off for me as an adult reader, was that I couldn't get past the writing style. Shecter uses a very slangy voice for the book, going so far as to refer to Octavian as "O-man" at one point. Perhaps this is just what a teen or tween needs in order to pick up a book about someone who's been dead for thousands of years, but it made it a little hard for me to take the book seriously sometimes. I kept hoping I'd get used to it, but I never did.
However, my hang ups wouldn't prevent me from strongly recommending this to someone desperate for a positive look at one of the most powerful women who ever lived. Cleopatra Rules! certainly rocks as a biography.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Review: Princess of Glass by Jessica Day George
Found via: Bookends
Last year (exactly), I reviewed Princess of the Midnight Ball and was...less than impressed. I knew lots of people who loved it, but I could never get into the story myself. So I had no intention of picking up the companion/sequel Princess of Glass. A woman can only take so much disappointment, right? But people were again raving, and this one picks up my favorite fairy tale so I finally caved and gave it a chance.
After the events of Princess of the Midnight Ball left several (male) heirs to various kingdoms dead and a war was narrowly averted, the monarchs from the neighboring kingdoms have proposed a royal exchange program for their eligible children. Hoping to rebuild alliances and maybe find a royal spouse, the Westfallin princesses are part of the exchange program, too. Poppy has been sent to Bretoner, where she's not the most popular person. but is being hosted by a lovely family with a daughter close to Poppy's age.
After spending every evening of her life dancing, Poppy has no interest in dancing ever again. However, as a gracious guest she still agrees to attend the various balls - usually choosing to play cards with the men who don't dance. Though Prince Christian, another exchange royal, is just handsome and kind enough to make her reconsider her stance - until the mysterious Lady Ella starts showing up at the balls, dressed to outshine royalty in her glass slippers and extravagant gowns and captivating every male eye in the room. Especially Prince Christian.
No stranger to magic, Poppy is sure Ella is using some sort of enchantment, and also recognizes that Ella may not be a willing participant. Teaming up with Roger, a member of Bretoner's gentry who knows a little something about magic himself, the pair set to work to find a way to counter Ella's spell and rescue her from her enchantment before it's more than just her shoes that are spun from glass.
Maybe I had low expectations going into this, but I ended up really enjoying Princess of Glass. I've read dozens of Cinderella re-tellings, but this one still found a way to be fresh and add new twists to the tale. I love the allusions to different versions of the tale (I've always liked the stories where Cinderella has three balls to attend, and sure enough Lady Ella has three balls in which to ensnare the prince), and the explanations for the glass slippers and why a man can lose all of his sense and fall in love at first sight.
Poppy may be one of my favorite princesses ever. I personally would much rather be playing cards and swearing colorfully than dancing. After being cursed to dance, it makes perfect sense that a ball would be hell for her, but instead of sitting aside like a wilting wall flower, she's found a way to entertain herself and still be part of the festivities. Choosing her as the protagonist not only gives a direct tie-in to Princess of the Midnight Ball, but also further separates this story from other versions of Cinderella. The story is told from a third person omniscient perspective, so we do get to see bits and pieces from Eleanora/Ellen/Lady Ella's perspective, but most of the time we're with Poppy. Snarky, (relatively) vulgar, Poppy.
As a bonus, like Princess of the Midnight Ball, knitting patterns are included at the end. I know nothing about knitting (I've always stuck to crochet), but it's an interesting addition!
Last year (exactly), I reviewed Princess of the Midnight Ball and was...less than impressed. I knew lots of people who loved it, but I could never get into the story myself. So I had no intention of picking up the companion/sequel Princess of Glass. A woman can only take so much disappointment, right? But people were again raving, and this one picks up my favorite fairy tale so I finally caved and gave it a chance.
After the events of Princess of the Midnight Ball left several (male) heirs to various kingdoms dead and a war was narrowly averted, the monarchs from the neighboring kingdoms have proposed a royal exchange program for their eligible children. Hoping to rebuild alliances and maybe find a royal spouse, the Westfallin princesses are part of the exchange program, too. Poppy has been sent to Bretoner, where she's not the most popular person. but is being hosted by a lovely family with a daughter close to Poppy's age.After spending every evening of her life dancing, Poppy has no interest in dancing ever again. However, as a gracious guest she still agrees to attend the various balls - usually choosing to play cards with the men who don't dance. Though Prince Christian, another exchange royal, is just handsome and kind enough to make her reconsider her stance - until the mysterious Lady Ella starts showing up at the balls, dressed to outshine royalty in her glass slippers and extravagant gowns and captivating every male eye in the room. Especially Prince Christian.
No stranger to magic, Poppy is sure Ella is using some sort of enchantment, and also recognizes that Ella may not be a willing participant. Teaming up with Roger, a member of Bretoner's gentry who knows a little something about magic himself, the pair set to work to find a way to counter Ella's spell and rescue her from her enchantment before it's more than just her shoes that are spun from glass.
Maybe I had low expectations going into this, but I ended up really enjoying Princess of Glass. I've read dozens of Cinderella re-tellings, but this one still found a way to be fresh and add new twists to the tale. I love the allusions to different versions of the tale (I've always liked the stories where Cinderella has three balls to attend, and sure enough Lady Ella has three balls in which to ensnare the prince), and the explanations for the glass slippers and why a man can lose all of his sense and fall in love at first sight.
Poppy may be one of my favorite princesses ever. I personally would much rather be playing cards and swearing colorfully than dancing. After being cursed to dance, it makes perfect sense that a ball would be hell for her, but instead of sitting aside like a wilting wall flower, she's found a way to entertain herself and still be part of the festivities. Choosing her as the protagonist not only gives a direct tie-in to Princess of the Midnight Ball, but also further separates this story from other versions of Cinderella. The story is told from a third person omniscient perspective, so we do get to see bits and pieces from Eleanora/Ellen/Lady Ella's perspective, but most of the time we're with Poppy. Snarky, (relatively) vulgar, Poppy.
As a bonus, like Princess of the Midnight Ball, knitting patterns are included at the end. I know nothing about knitting (I've always stuck to crochet), but it's an interesting addition!
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Review: Scars by Cheryl Rainfield
Found via: I'm Here, I'm Queer, What the hell do I read?
Book received at ALA June 2010
I saw this on Lee's blog back in April. It took my library months to get it in, and I finally got it through the library right before ALA...where I stumbled across Cheryl signing copies in the exhibits! Not that I need more books in my apartment, you know, but it's always nice to have a personalized copy to add to my collection.
Growing up, Kendra was sexually abused in a horrific manner - so horrific, she completely blocked the 
memory of it until six months ago. Even now, after extensive therapy, she can't bring herself to remember the man who did these terrible things to her. To cope, she has thrown herself into her art, creating dark and emotional works that stand in stark contrast to the controlled and pretty landscapes her mother paints. Less healthfully, she has also turned to self harm, cutting herself up and down her arms as a way to control the pain and fear that well up inside of her.
Now, years after the end of the abuse, her abuser is back on the scene, stalking Kendra, leaving her threatening notes in her backpack warning that he will kill her if she tells anyone. Kendra reports this to her therapist, but finds there's no one else she can trust, especially since she doesn't know who he is - or how he's getting so close to her now.
The one highlight in Kendra's life is her budding relationship with Meghan. Meghan saves Kendra from one of the school bullies one day, and Kendra latches on, hoping at first just for a friend before finding that her feelings are growing deeper. Luckily, despite her reputation with the boys, Meghan returns Kendra's feelings.
The stakes for Kendra rise as trouble hits her family. Her father is in danger of losing his job, meaning Kendra may have to change schools, and even stop seeing her therapist, the only person keeping her from actually killing herself. Life has, perhaps, never been darker for Kendra, as her parents threaten to rip all of her supports out from under her. If she can only figure out who hurt her, and is stalking her again, she can find some peace.
I have to admit, part of what drew me in to this book, is the stark and rather disturbing cover. It's the sort of cover that catches people's eye, and then makes them do a double take - this is a side effect of all of that reading in public I do. It's not bright and flashy, but I think it's the one smooth and one horrifically scarred arm that draws me in. It almost looks like a horror movie poster.
And Kendra's life is like something out of a horror movie at times. The novel opens with her telling her therapist that she's being stalked, and I love that it's impossible to tell for awhile whether it's true or if Kendra is paranoid with the sort of unstable personality that could make something like this up. Kendra acknowledges that it sounds crazy, but remains convinced.
The descriptions of Kendra's abuse, both as a child and the harm she self-inflicts, are absolutely brutal. If you're squeamish about depictions of abuse, this might not be the book for you.
In some ways, this felt like a novel of extremes, with a lot of stuff crammed in. Occasionally it stretched credulity, for example there's a big stand off at the end that seemed to come out of nowhere. Also, very briefly at the end, and again in Rainfield's author's note, there's a mention of "ritual abuse," which both Kendra and Rainfield were subjected to, however there's no further explanation. There are support resources in the extensive readers' resource guide related to ritual abuse, which certainly have a place in a book such as this, but it felt like a rather random tidbit to be dropped in during the closing pages of the novel.
Kendra's relationship with Meghan is delightfully a non-issue in the story. Kendra has enough to agonize about without adding sexual orientation to the list, though her parents have some hand wringing over whether she's really a lesbian or if she's just reacting against the abuse. While I felt their relationship developed extremely fast (which happens to lots of plot points across the novel), Meghan's unquestioning support is a beautiful counterpoint to Kendra's parents.
Book received at ALA June 2010
I saw this on Lee's blog back in April. It took my library months to get it in, and I finally got it through the library right before ALA...where I stumbled across Cheryl signing copies in the exhibits! Not that I need more books in my apartment, you know, but it's always nice to have a personalized copy to add to my collection.
Growing up, Kendra was sexually abused in a horrific manner - so horrific, she completely blocked the memory of it until six months ago. Even now, after extensive therapy, she can't bring herself to remember the man who did these terrible things to her. To cope, she has thrown herself into her art, creating dark and emotional works that stand in stark contrast to the controlled and pretty landscapes her mother paints. Less healthfully, she has also turned to self harm, cutting herself up and down her arms as a way to control the pain and fear that well up inside of her.Now, years after the end of the abuse, her abuser is back on the scene, stalking Kendra, leaving her threatening notes in her backpack warning that he will kill her if she tells anyone. Kendra reports this to her therapist, but finds there's no one else she can trust, especially since she doesn't know who he is - or how he's getting so close to her now.
The one highlight in Kendra's life is her budding relationship with Meghan. Meghan saves Kendra from one of the school bullies one day, and Kendra latches on, hoping at first just for a friend before finding that her feelings are growing deeper. Luckily, despite her reputation with the boys, Meghan returns Kendra's feelings.
The stakes for Kendra rise as trouble hits her family. Her father is in danger of losing his job, meaning Kendra may have to change schools, and even stop seeing her therapist, the only person keeping her from actually killing herself. Life has, perhaps, never been darker for Kendra, as her parents threaten to rip all of her supports out from under her. If she can only figure out who hurt her, and is stalking her again, she can find some peace.
I have to admit, part of what drew me in to this book, is the stark and rather disturbing cover. It's the sort of cover that catches people's eye, and then makes them do a double take - this is a side effect of all of that reading in public I do. It's not bright and flashy, but I think it's the one smooth and one horrifically scarred arm that draws me in. It almost looks like a horror movie poster.
And Kendra's life is like something out of a horror movie at times. The novel opens with her telling her therapist that she's being stalked, and I love that it's impossible to tell for awhile whether it's true or if Kendra is paranoid with the sort of unstable personality that could make something like this up. Kendra acknowledges that it sounds crazy, but remains convinced.
The descriptions of Kendra's abuse, both as a child and the harm she self-inflicts, are absolutely brutal. If you're squeamish about depictions of abuse, this might not be the book for you.
In some ways, this felt like a novel of extremes, with a lot of stuff crammed in. Occasionally it stretched credulity, for example there's a big stand off at the end that seemed to come out of nowhere. Also, very briefly at the end, and again in Rainfield's author's note, there's a mention of "ritual abuse," which both Kendra and Rainfield were subjected to, however there's no further explanation. There are support resources in the extensive readers' resource guide related to ritual abuse, which certainly have a place in a book such as this, but it felt like a rather random tidbit to be dropped in during the closing pages of the novel.
Kendra's relationship with Meghan is delightfully a non-issue in the story. Kendra has enough to agonize about without adding sexual orientation to the list, though her parents have some hand wringing over whether she's really a lesbian or if she's just reacting against the abuse. While I felt their relationship developed extremely fast (which happens to lots of plot points across the novel), Meghan's unquestioning support is a beautiful counterpoint to Kendra's parents.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Review: Enlightened Sexism by Susan J. Douglas
Found via: Amelia Bloomer Project nominee
I wanted to love this book so, so much. In high school I read Susan Faludi's Backlash for my AP American Lit class. After seeing the summer reading list was made up entirely of male authors, I asked if there were going to be women included in the actual class before I would agree to actually taking the class. The teacher assured me there would even be feminist literature as an option for our big mid-year report. When it was time to actually choose books for that report...they were all by men again. I basically asked the teacher what the hell, and she said I could read Backlash, warning me some of her positions might be "a little extreme." I ended up loving Backlash, even though it made my project much harder than it should have been (everyone else got to work in groups on fiction novels, so clearly there were some "separate but not-really equal" issues going on here), and when I saw Douglas cites Backlash often in her introduction, I was hoping this would be the early 21st century version of that book and, as it's nominated for the Amelia Bloomer list, some frustrated girl back in Holland might be assigned this more contemporary book instead.
Douglas' theory of enlightened sexism holds that it "is a response, deliberate or not, to the perceived threat of a new gender regime. It insists that women have made plenty of progress because of feminism - indeed, full equality has allegedly been achieved - so now it's okay, even amusing to resurrect sexist stereotypes of girls and women" (9). It "is more nuanced and much more insidious than out-and-out backlash. As Susan Faludi 
amply demonstrated, backlash involves a direct, explicit refutation of feminism as misguided and bad for women. Enlightened sexism is subtler" (11). All well and good so far.
Douglas then goes on to painstakingly dissect what has happened in popular culture since Backlash was first published in 1991, focusing primarily on magazines and television programming, with a little bit of music critique thrown in (she wasn't happy when her daughter was a Spice Girls fan in the 90s, uncomfortable with the group's attempt to pass off their sexuality as a girl power/feminist message). Xena and Buffy are upheld as feminist TV standards. The original 90210 and Melrose Place, which aired at roughly the same time, were an anti-feminist wasteland when it came to portrayals of women, but feminism had clearly influenced the men as they were softer and more affectionate than previous generations of TV men. Shows like Murphy Brown were a grey area, showing a powerful woman successful in her career, but also bringing with it a lot of embedded feminism, as Murphy's achievements were presented simply as "part of the cultural landscape" and it was never mentioned how much she would have had to struggle to achieve such a position in the real world (9). Then Ally McBeal and reality TV came along and this was the beginning of the end.
Magazines for women and men are also skewered, women's magazines for their contradictory advice ("love your body!" on one page and "New miracle diet!" on the next) and male-gaze-centric advice (ever notice how all of those lurid headlines for better sex are about improving his pleasure?), men's magazines (primarily Maxim) for their soft-core porn views of women. She also focuses a lot on the celebrity tabloid culture that has arisen, including how even CNN was focused for days on the non-story of Anna Nicole Smith's death.
I have to admit, I found all of this interesting, but I also had a healthy feeling of "this is nothing new." I don't want to put another nail in publishing's coffin, but I wonder if books like Douglas' are going to be on their way out soon, because almost every topic has already been covered by blogs - and they've even taken some of her reporting farther. In the last chapter Douglas looks at motherhood and how stories of women "opting out" of the workforce have been greatly exaggerated, and the new books and blogs that rising showing women truly struggling with motherhood, not even trying to keep up the veneer of "having it all," and being celebrated for it. Well, that last bit sounds an awful lot like the bad mommy genre that was the talk of the blogs in May 2009 (Enlightened Sexism was published in March 2010). While the book gives a name to a lot of subjects I've thought about before (I particularly liked embedded feminism), for anyone who's been following the conversations on the major feminist blogs, all of this is old news. It's nice having everything in one location, but in the age of blogs, are books like this redundant?
But redundant or not, the most damning part of Douglas' book is...her tone. Okay, I totally cringe to use that word in a discussion of a feminist work, but I'm not sure what else fits here. Basically, Douglas sets up a lot of her arguments as an "us vs. them" battle - and I'm not talking men vs. women. No, for Douglas the "us" is older women (or "vintage females" as she bizarrely refers to herself throughout the text) and the "them" is every one younger who is implicitly held responsible for the popularity of tacky magazines and preposterous reality TV shows. In her conclusion, Douglas presents two possible scenarios of the future, one where a feminist grandmother is surrounded by ridiculous things like potty-training thongs for her granddaughter, who she's caring for while her daughter tries to figure out how to handle going back to work after 6 weeks unpaid maternity leave, and another future in which the feminist grandmother is part of a movement where all older women have risen up and renewed the consciousness-raising strategies of the 70s to revolutionize American culture. In both cases, women of my generation (mid-twenties), are left out of the solution.
I felt similarly about Flow when I reviewed it two weeks ago - how are these books getting nominated for the Amelia Bloomer list? Both are definitely feminist books, so they fit the list's first criteria, but I can't imagine any young woman willingly reading either of these and feeling like she was represented. Both books focus on the experiences and attitudes of women who are at least a decade past their teen years, and the Amelia Bloomer list's charge is to find feminist titles for young readers ranging from birth to 18. There's nothing here keeping a high schooler from reading Enlightened Sexism, and I think the average high schooler could learn a lot, but first she would have to get past Douglas' apparent bias against young women, and that just might be too tall of an order.
I wanted to love this book so, so much. In high school I read Susan Faludi's Backlash for my AP American Lit class. After seeing the summer reading list was made up entirely of male authors, I asked if there were going to be women included in the actual class before I would agree to actually taking the class. The teacher assured me there would even be feminist literature as an option for our big mid-year report. When it was time to actually choose books for that report...they were all by men again. I basically asked the teacher what the hell, and she said I could read Backlash, warning me some of her positions might be "a little extreme." I ended up loving Backlash, even though it made my project much harder than it should have been (everyone else got to work in groups on fiction novels, so clearly there were some "separate but not-really equal" issues going on here), and when I saw Douglas cites Backlash often in her introduction, I was hoping this would be the early 21st century version of that book and, as it's nominated for the Amelia Bloomer list, some frustrated girl back in Holland might be assigned this more contemporary book instead.Douglas' theory of enlightened sexism holds that it "is a response, deliberate or not, to the perceived threat of a new gender regime. It insists that women have made plenty of progress because of feminism - indeed, full equality has allegedly been achieved - so now it's okay, even amusing to resurrect sexist stereotypes of girls and women" (9). It "is more nuanced and much more insidious than out-and-out backlash. As Susan Faludi amply demonstrated, backlash involves a direct, explicit refutation of feminism as misguided and bad for women. Enlightened sexism is subtler" (11). All well and good so far.Douglas then goes on to painstakingly dissect what has happened in popular culture since Backlash was first published in 1991, focusing primarily on magazines and television programming, with a little bit of music critique thrown in (she wasn't happy when her daughter was a Spice Girls fan in the 90s, uncomfortable with the group's attempt to pass off their sexuality as a girl power/feminist message). Xena and Buffy are upheld as feminist TV standards. The original 90210 and Melrose Place, which aired at roughly the same time, were an anti-feminist wasteland when it came to portrayals of women, but feminism had clearly influenced the men as they were softer and more affectionate than previous generations of TV men. Shows like Murphy Brown were a grey area, showing a powerful woman successful in her career, but also bringing with it a lot of embedded feminism, as Murphy's achievements were presented simply as "part of the cultural landscape" and it was never mentioned how much she would have had to struggle to achieve such a position in the real world (9). Then Ally McBeal and reality TV came along and this was the beginning of the end.
Magazines for women and men are also skewered, women's magazines for their contradictory advice ("love your body!" on one page and "New miracle diet!" on the next) and male-gaze-centric advice (ever notice how all of those lurid headlines for better sex are about improving his pleasure?), men's magazines (primarily Maxim) for their soft-core porn views of women. She also focuses a lot on the celebrity tabloid culture that has arisen, including how even CNN was focused for days on the non-story of Anna Nicole Smith's death.
I have to admit, I found all of this interesting, but I also had a healthy feeling of "this is nothing new." I don't want to put another nail in publishing's coffin, but I wonder if books like Douglas' are going to be on their way out soon, because almost every topic has already been covered by blogs - and they've even taken some of her reporting farther. In the last chapter Douglas looks at motherhood and how stories of women "opting out" of the workforce have been greatly exaggerated, and the new books and blogs that rising showing women truly struggling with motherhood, not even trying to keep up the veneer of "having it all," and being celebrated for it. Well, that last bit sounds an awful lot like the bad mommy genre that was the talk of the blogs in May 2009 (Enlightened Sexism was published in March 2010). While the book gives a name to a lot of subjects I've thought about before (I particularly liked embedded feminism), for anyone who's been following the conversations on the major feminist blogs, all of this is old news. It's nice having everything in one location, but in the age of blogs, are books like this redundant?
But redundant or not, the most damning part of Douglas' book is...her tone. Okay, I totally cringe to use that word in a discussion of a feminist work, but I'm not sure what else fits here. Basically, Douglas sets up a lot of her arguments as an "us vs. them" battle - and I'm not talking men vs. women. No, for Douglas the "us" is older women (or "vintage females" as she bizarrely refers to herself throughout the text) and the "them" is every one younger who is implicitly held responsible for the popularity of tacky magazines and preposterous reality TV shows. In her conclusion, Douglas presents two possible scenarios of the future, one where a feminist grandmother is surrounded by ridiculous things like potty-training thongs for her granddaughter, who she's caring for while her daughter tries to figure out how to handle going back to work after 6 weeks unpaid maternity leave, and another future in which the feminist grandmother is part of a movement where all older women have risen up and renewed the consciousness-raising strategies of the 70s to revolutionize American culture. In both cases, women of my generation (mid-twenties), are left out of the solution.
I felt similarly about Flow when I reviewed it two weeks ago - how are these books getting nominated for the Amelia Bloomer list? Both are definitely feminist books, so they fit the list's first criteria, but I can't imagine any young woman willingly reading either of these and feeling like she was represented. Both books focus on the experiences and attitudes of women who are at least a decade past their teen years, and the Amelia Bloomer list's charge is to find feminist titles for young readers ranging from birth to 18. There's nothing here keeping a high schooler from reading Enlightened Sexism, and I think the average high schooler could learn a lot, but first she would have to get past Douglas' apparent bias against young women, and that just might be too tall of an order.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Review: Toads and Diamonds by Heather Tomlinson
Found via: Publisher's Weekly 4/12 and Reading in Color
During the June Bloggiesta, one of the tasks I assigned myself was to tally up how I was doing with the various reading challenges I'd signed up for during the first Bloggiesta back in January. To my surprise, I was already almost finished with one - and reading Toads and Diamonds means I've now read the 5 fairy tale re-tellings I signed up for with the Once Upon a Time challenge! Of course, the challenge was for "at least" five books, so I'll continue to keep track of what re-tellings I read, but Toads and Diamonds will certainly remain one of the highlights of this challenge!
Based upon the Perrault story The Fairies, Toads and Diamonds is set in a fictional India, where society is sharply divided between the ruling class of the Believers and the native followers of the twelve. Diribani and Tana are stepsisters, living with Tana's mother after Diribani's father, a successful jewel merchant, has died. The family is living in poverty, having already sold most of their valuable possessions to keep even the cheapest rice on the table.
Everything changes one day when, after a long and tiring trip to the local well, Diribani meets a poor beggar woman who requests a drink of water. Diribani kindly gives the poor woman a drink, who then reveals herself to be one of the goddesses the Believers worship. She bestows upon Diribani a gift - that whenever the girl speaks precious jewels and beautiful flowers fall from her lips. Diribani rushes home to share her gift with her family. When Tana is sent back out to the well, she stumbles upon the goddess who this time presents herself as rich and beautiful. When Tana hesitates before answering the goddess' question, she is given the gift of speaking snakes and toads. While not as glamorous as the jewels, snakes are revered by the Believers, so Tana is mostly unconcerned - until she realizes that deadly cobras are among the snakes she may make appear.
It doesn't take long for the girls' talents to be discovered. A prince is drawn in by Diribani's beauty and jewels, and offers her refuge in his palace from the local governor who considers her a witch. The governor, who has set a bounty to encourage the locals to kill all of the snakes in the land, also wants Tana killed, but the prince intervenes as well, proposing that Tana live outside of town near the temple, where the snakes will harmlessly slither into the forest.
But even with the protections of royalty and solitude, respectively, the sisters aren't entirely safe. Political intrigue is afoot as different factions jockey for power, and a powerful plague is waylaying much of the population, causing widespread death and famine. As Tana witnesses the cruelty people are capable of, Diribani finds herself isolated in the Believers palace, constricted by customs and morals she doesn't subscribe to, even as she's lulled into a false sense of security about her safety. Did the goddess truly bless the sisters with gifts? Or were they cursed?
The fictional India Tomlinson has created is extremely rich in culture and mythology. Setting up a society that reveres snakes definitely puts a twist on Perrault's tale (where originally it was the arrogant sister cursed with snakes and frogs). She includes an author's note at the end that makes it clear that the two religions she created are fictional, though she did draw from the wide variety of faiths that are celebrated in India today.
The story is told through alternating chapters, as Tana and Diribani spend most of the book apart. Tana's half is more of an adventure story, as she travels the countryside and discovers the extent of the local governor's greed and the results of his shortsightedness. Diribani spends most of her story sequestered away with the rest of the women of the royal court, as the Believers keep women separated from men whenever possible and veiled when the genders must mix. These scenes with the court women gave several examples of the book passing the Bechdel test as Diribani and the court women, including a princess, learn about each other's cultures - including Diribani teaching them the fascinating court dancing that combines dancing with self-defense.
It was wonderful to read a fairy tale story set outside of the traditional European style, that also wasn't focused on romance. While each sister does have a love interest, they are a small part of the story, and the romances blossom in an organic, well-developed way. There is no fairy tale "love at first sight" here - the relationships are built on mutual respect and interests.
During the June Bloggiesta, one of the tasks I assigned myself was to tally up how I was doing with the various reading challenges I'd signed up for during the first Bloggiesta back in January. To my surprise, I was already almost finished with one - and reading Toads and Diamonds means I've now read the 5 fairy tale re-tellings I signed up for with the Once Upon a Time challenge! Of course, the challenge was for "at least" five books, so I'll continue to keep track of what re-tellings I read, but Toads and Diamonds will certainly remain one of the highlights of this challenge!
Based upon the Perrault story The Fairies, Toads and Diamonds is set in a fictional India, where society is sharply divided between the ruling class of the Believers and the native followers of the twelve. Diribani and Tana are stepsisters, living with Tana's mother after Diribani's father, a successful jewel merchant, has died. The family is living in poverty, having already sold most of their valuable possessions to keep even the cheapest rice on the table.
Everything changes one day when, after a long and tiring trip to the local well, Diribani meets a poor beggar woman who requests a drink of water. Diribani kindly gives the poor woman a drink, who then reveals herself to be one of the goddesses the Believers worship. She bestows upon Diribani a gift - that whenever the girl speaks precious jewels and beautiful flowers fall from her lips. Diribani rushes home to share her gift with her family. When Tana is sent back out to the well, she stumbles upon the goddess who this time presents herself as rich and beautiful. When Tana hesitates before answering the goddess' question, she is given the gift of speaking snakes and toads. While not as glamorous as the jewels, snakes are revered by the Believers, so Tana is mostly unconcerned - until she realizes that deadly cobras are among the snakes she may make appear.
It doesn't take long for the girls' talents to be discovered. A prince is drawn in by Diribani's beauty and jewels, and offers her refuge in his palace from the local governor who considers her a witch. The governor, who has set a bounty to encourage the locals to kill all of the snakes in the land, also wants Tana killed, but the prince intervenes as well, proposing that Tana live outside of town near the temple, where the snakes will harmlessly slither into the forest.
But even with the protections of royalty and solitude, respectively, the sisters aren't entirely safe. Political intrigue is afoot as different factions jockey for power, and a powerful plague is waylaying much of the population, causing widespread death and famine. As Tana witnesses the cruelty people are capable of, Diribani finds herself isolated in the Believers palace, constricted by customs and morals she doesn't subscribe to, even as she's lulled into a false sense of security about her safety. Did the goddess truly bless the sisters with gifts? Or were they cursed?
The fictional India Tomlinson has created is extremely rich in culture and mythology. Setting up a society that reveres snakes definitely puts a twist on Perrault's tale (where originally it was the arrogant sister cursed with snakes and frogs). She includes an author's note at the end that makes it clear that the two religions she created are fictional, though she did draw from the wide variety of faiths that are celebrated in India today.
The story is told through alternating chapters, as Tana and Diribani spend most of the book apart. Tana's half is more of an adventure story, as she travels the countryside and discovers the extent of the local governor's greed and the results of his shortsightedness. Diribani spends most of her story sequestered away with the rest of the women of the royal court, as the Believers keep women separated from men whenever possible and veiled when the genders must mix. These scenes with the court women gave several examples of the book passing the Bechdel test as Diribani and the court women, including a princess, learn about each other's cultures - including Diribani teaching them the fascinating court dancing that combines dancing with self-defense.
It was wonderful to read a fairy tale story set outside of the traditional European style, that also wasn't focused on romance. While each sister does have a love interest, they are a small part of the story, and the romances blossom in an organic, well-developed way. There is no fairy tale "love at first sight" here - the relationships are built on mutual respect and interests.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Review: Sprout by Dale Peck
Found via: 2010 Lambda Literary Award finalist
Why, oh WHY aren't more people talking about this book?! Fantastic writing, awesome characters, a great twist on the coming-out story - oh, and green hair, which may or may not have been part of my attraction. Seriously, folks, this is a book you NEED to get reading!
Daniel "Sprout" Bradford moved from Long Island to Kansas after his mother's death on a whim of his father's. Sprout still isn't sure if Kansas was the destination all along or if it's just where his dad ran out of steam. In his new small, insular town, so different from Long Island, Sprout is immediately pegged as an outsider, different, even before anyone knows he's gay or he first starts dying his hair.
It's now Sprout's junior year of high school and the advanced English teacher, Mrs. Miller, has decided to stake her reputation for educating essay-contest-champions on Sprout, going with a junior to ensure she'll have a student with an unprecedented two wins in a row. Sprout spends much of the summer with Mrs. Miller while his best (only?) friend, Ruthie, is visiting Europe, practicing speed writing or writing essays under ridiculous constraints ("don't use the letter e") to prep his writing skills for the big essay contest.
The tutoring with Mrs. Miller continues even as she begins dating Sprout's washed up drunk of a father and into the school year, where Mrs. Miller manipulates Sprout's schedule to make sure he isn't influenced by lesser English teachers. Through Sprout's writing we also see him develop a new friendship with Ty, a small, wiry kid who lives just down the street from Sprout's trailer, and who possibly has more problems in his life than Sprout does.
I'm often asking for more novels that aren't about being gay, where a gay character can have adventures that are totally independent of his or her sexual orientation. I found Sprout to be a twist on that, because in some ways this novel is about being gay - it's just not necessarily Sprout who is struggling with this. In fact, Sprout seems to be 100% okay with himself, and we never see that there was any sort of doubt or questioning in his mind. His sexual orientation is just another part of who he is, like having green hair, and the struggles we see are from other characters, reacting either to Sprout's or their own sexuality.
(Side note about Sprout's green hair: what kind of dye is that kid using?! I've bought hair dye from Wal-Mart before; the only type that should be flaking off is the sort that washes out immediately. If it's the sort that requires bleaching hair and weekly root touch-ups, you're doing something totally wrong if it's flaking off and making you leave green finger prints everywhere. Sorry. Had to get that out of my system.)
This is a very wordy and self-aware novel. It's hard to tell when Sprout's stories are part of an essay and when they're just narration. Sprout is clearly an accomplished writer who has an in-character obsession with the dictionary, which gives Peck a reason to have Sprout using words that most teenagers wouldn't be able to use un-self-consciously. Also, since Sprout is aware that he has readers, Peck is able to slip in some masterful foreshadowing that totally ramps up the tension for the last third or so of the book. I swear it's just one line, but Sprout mentions that he hopes his current behavior will make us forgive him for the terrible stuff that he does later, and later on in the story the tension was almost unbearable for me as I waited for that "terrible stuff" to make an appearance. I absolutely love smart novels, ones that require the reader to step up to the challenge, rather than talking down to the reader.
So now I've read four of the five nominees in the children's/YA category of the Lambda Literary awards (the others being Ash, The Vast Fields of Ordinary and How Beautiful the Ordinary. The library still doesn't have P.E. Ryan's In Mike We Trust). The Lambda awards are being presented TONIGHT (and if tickets weren't $100, I would be there). I'll send out a tweet as soon as I know the winner (you are following me on Twitter, right?) and look for an update here on Friday (or Saturday, if I have a lot to say about the winner!).
Also, if you missed it yesterday, be sure to check out the Gringolandia giveaway posted yesterday!
Why, oh WHY aren't more people talking about this book?! Fantastic writing, awesome characters, a great twist on the coming-out story - oh, and green hair, which may or may not have been part of my attraction. Seriously, folks, this is a book you NEED to get reading!
Daniel "Sprout" Bradford moved from Long Island to Kansas after his mother's death on a whim of his father's. Sprout still isn't sure if Kansas was the destination all along or if it's just where his dad ran out of steam. In his new small, insular town, so different from Long Island, Sprout is immediately pegged as an outsider, different, even before anyone knows he's gay or he first starts dying his hair.
It's now Sprout's junior year of high school and the advanced English teacher, Mrs. Miller, has decided to stake her reputation for educating essay-contest-champions on Sprout, going with a junior to ensure she'll have a student with an unprecedented two wins in a row. Sprout spends much of the summer with Mrs. Miller while his best (only?) friend, Ruthie, is visiting Europe, practicing speed writing or writing essays under ridiculous constraints ("don't use the letter e") to prep his writing skills for the big essay contest.
The tutoring with Mrs. Miller continues even as she begins dating Sprout's washed up drunk of a father and into the school year, where Mrs. Miller manipulates Sprout's schedule to make sure he isn't influenced by lesser English teachers. Through Sprout's writing we also see him develop a new friendship with Ty, a small, wiry kid who lives just down the street from Sprout's trailer, and who possibly has more problems in his life than Sprout does.
I'm often asking for more novels that aren't about being gay, where a gay character can have adventures that are totally independent of his or her sexual orientation. I found Sprout to be a twist on that, because in some ways this novel is about being gay - it's just not necessarily Sprout who is struggling with this. In fact, Sprout seems to be 100% okay with himself, and we never see that there was any sort of doubt or questioning in his mind. His sexual orientation is just another part of who he is, like having green hair, and the struggles we see are from other characters, reacting either to Sprout's or their own sexuality.
(Side note about Sprout's green hair: what kind of dye is that kid using?! I've bought hair dye from Wal-Mart before; the only type that should be flaking off is the sort that washes out immediately. If it's the sort that requires bleaching hair and weekly root touch-ups, you're doing something totally wrong if it's flaking off and making you leave green finger prints everywhere. Sorry. Had to get that out of my system.)
This is a very wordy and self-aware novel. It's hard to tell when Sprout's stories are part of an essay and when they're just narration. Sprout is clearly an accomplished writer who has an in-character obsession with the dictionary, which gives Peck a reason to have Sprout using words that most teenagers wouldn't be able to use un-self-consciously. Also, since Sprout is aware that he has readers, Peck is able to slip in some masterful foreshadowing that totally ramps up the tension for the last third or so of the book. I swear it's just one line, but Sprout mentions that he hopes his current behavior will make us forgive him for the terrible stuff that he does later, and later on in the story the tension was almost unbearable for me as I waited for that "terrible stuff" to make an appearance. I absolutely love smart novels, ones that require the reader to step up to the challenge, rather than talking down to the reader.
So now I've read four of the five nominees in the children's/YA category of the Lambda Literary awards (the others being Ash, The Vast Fields of Ordinary and How Beautiful the Ordinary. The library still doesn't have P.E. Ryan's In Mike We Trust). The Lambda awards are being presented TONIGHT (and if tickets weren't $100, I would be there). I'll send out a tweet as soon as I know the winner (you are following me on Twitter, right?) and look for an update here on Friday (or Saturday, if I have a lot to say about the winner!).
Also, if you missed it yesterday, be sure to check out the Gringolandia giveaway posted yesterday!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Review: Of All the Stupid Things by Alexandra Diaz
Found via: I'm Here, I'm Queer, What the Hell do I Read?
Oh, I wanted to love this one so much. A lesbian romance and coming out story, three girl friends, sports...this had so much going for it on paper, but it falls apart in the execution.
Whitney Blaire, Pinkie and Tara are an inseparable trio of best friends, each quietly wrestling with her own problems. Whitney Blaire is beautiful and rich, but her parents are never around and don't care what she does with herself while she's away. Tara is a star athlete who uses running as a way to block out thoughts of the father that abandoned her when she was little. Pinkie is also missing a parent, her mother who died when Pinkie was a child, and overcompensates by acting as a neurotic mother hen to her two best friends. When Whitney Blaire and Pinkie tell their best friend Tara her boyfriend has been caught fooling around with one of the male cheerleaders, Tara is (naturally) crushed. In the middle of intensive marathon training, Tara doesn't have the time or the energy to handle such a bombshell, and quickly breaks it off, even after Whitney Blaire tries to recant the gossip.
Tara throws herself into her training, until she meets Riley, the new girl in school who's a fellow athlete (a gymnast). With her long black hair and fearless attitude, Tara finds herself drawn to Riley, and discovers she has feelings for the gymnast she's never had for another girl before. As Whitney Blaire and Pinkie discover the depths of this new relationship, they struggle with their own feelings, and what this new revelation might mean for their trio.
There are a ton of subplots going on in this book. Which means it never gets dull, but also means there are some things that don't get as much attention as they deserve. Though I have to say, Pinkie's subplot about dealing with her mother's death, even years and years later, was exceptionally well done. The circumstances behind her mother's death are revealed slowly throughout the story, so that once we know all of the facts some of Pinkie's neuroses make perfect, painful sense.
While I enjoyed the romance between Tara and Riley, I though the opening bit about Tara's boyfriend possibly sleeping with another guy was totally cheap and Tara's reaction was way too sudden. You don't dump your long term boyfriend because of an unsubstantiated rumor like that - without even confronting the guy about it! - unless you've long suspected there's been some hanky panky going on behind your back. Tara hears the rumor, and almost immediately finds said boyfriend and dumps him with next to no explanation. With an opening like that, it was hard to have a lot of desire to stick around for the rest of the story.
Overall I thought Whitney Blaire's and Pinkie's reactions to Tara's and Riley's relationship were good, with one reacting mildly-to-moderately homophobically, and the other accepting Tara with a shrug. I would have liked to have a little more nuance to the homophobic reaction, however. It was great to have a character that had been built up for us as a sympathetic character suddenly have a glaring character defect of homophobia, but it was such a sudden change that my mind was reeling as before the big reveal there was absolutely no clue she could be so harsh and judgmental.
This is Diaz's debut novel, and while Of All the Stupid Things isn't the strongest novel ever, my interest is piqued and I look forward to seeing what else she does.
Oh, I wanted to love this one so much. A lesbian romance and coming out story, three girl friends, sports...this had so much going for it on paper, but it falls apart in the execution.
Whitney Blaire, Pinkie and Tara are an inseparable trio of best friends, each quietly wrestling with her own problems. Whitney Blaire is beautiful and rich, but her parents are never around and don't care what she does with herself while she's away. Tara is a star athlete who uses running as a way to block out thoughts of the father that abandoned her when she was little. Pinkie is also missing a parent, her mother who died when Pinkie was a child, and overcompensates by acting as a neurotic mother hen to her two best friends. When Whitney Blaire and Pinkie tell their best friend Tara her boyfriend has been caught fooling around with one of the male cheerleaders, Tara is (naturally) crushed. In the middle of intensive marathon training, Tara doesn't have the time or the energy to handle such a bombshell, and quickly breaks it off, even after Whitney Blaire tries to recant the gossip.
Tara throws herself into her training, until she meets Riley, the new girl in school who's a fellow athlete (a gymnast). With her long black hair and fearless attitude, Tara finds herself drawn to Riley, and discovers she has feelings for the gymnast she's never had for another girl before. As Whitney Blaire and Pinkie discover the depths of this new relationship, they struggle with their own feelings, and what this new revelation might mean for their trio.
There are a ton of subplots going on in this book. Which means it never gets dull, but also means there are some things that don't get as much attention as they deserve. Though I have to say, Pinkie's subplot about dealing with her mother's death, even years and years later, was exceptionally well done. The circumstances behind her mother's death are revealed slowly throughout the story, so that once we know all of the facts some of Pinkie's neuroses make perfect, painful sense.
While I enjoyed the romance between Tara and Riley, I though the opening bit about Tara's boyfriend possibly sleeping with another guy was totally cheap and Tara's reaction was way too sudden. You don't dump your long term boyfriend because of an unsubstantiated rumor like that - without even confronting the guy about it! - unless you've long suspected there's been some hanky panky going on behind your back. Tara hears the rumor, and almost immediately finds said boyfriend and dumps him with next to no explanation. With an opening like that, it was hard to have a lot of desire to stick around for the rest of the story.
Overall I thought Whitney Blaire's and Pinkie's reactions to Tara's and Riley's relationship were good, with one reacting mildly-to-moderately homophobically, and the other accepting Tara with a shrug. I would have liked to have a little more nuance to the homophobic reaction, however. It was great to have a character that had been built up for us as a sympathetic character suddenly have a glaring character defect of homophobia, but it was such a sudden change that my mind was reeling as before the big reveal there was absolutely no clue she could be so harsh and judgmental.
This is Diaz's debut novel, and while Of All the Stupid Things isn't the strongest novel ever, my interest is piqued and I look forward to seeing what else she does.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Review: Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green & David Levithan
Today is the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia. Unlike other "international" action days, judging by their website this truly is an international event, with leaders in the EU recognizing today, rather than being an American-based project that welcomes participation from overseas. Yeah internationalism! I figured there was no better way to promote a day defending against hatred than highlighting a book that is about love in all of its forms.
Will Grayson has been best friends since 5th grade with Tiny Cooper - who is either the world's largest gay man or the gayest man in the world who is large (the name is ironic). While Will would prefer nothing more than to blend into the woodwork (his two life rules are 1. don't care and 2. shut up), with Tiny around that is effectively impossible. Tiny falls in love approximately once an hour, is determined that Will should be in love too, and is writing an epic musical about his life: Tiny Dancer: the Tiny Cooper Story.
On the other side of Chicago lives another will grayson, who writes all in lower case as a sign of his existential angst (or an easy way to tell the alternating Wills apart if you're cynical). will is gay, though about as closeted as Tiny is out. He has only one friend in real life, the extremely fragile and manipulative Maura, but online an epic romance is blossoming with a boy named Isaac. will's life looks like it may finally be looking up when he and Isaac decide to meet in Chicago.
Once in Chicago, will doesn't find the boy he was looking for - instead running into his namesake, Will Grayson, and being absorbed into the orbit of Tiny Cooper whether he wants to be or not. What follows is an adventure almost as epic as Tiny Dancer about the meaning of life, friendship, and love, platonic and romantic and everything in between.
First of all, I demand that the libretto of Tiny Dancer be released in full. I don't care whether it's only released as an e-book or maybe Green & Levithan could write it for charity a la JK Rowling and her Hogwarts school books, but Tiny Dancer is clearly a masterpiece that deserves its day in the sun. Also I have to thank Green & Levithan for giving me a book that so clearly shows what it's like to be in theatre without making me sit through Shakespeare.
Tiny Cooper is seriously a revelation as a character. Rarely do we meet someone who is so...in love with life but also has deeper layers that are revealed as the story goes on. At first it looks like Tiny is going to be on big (sorry) stereotype, jolly and partying and breaking out into song at the drop of a hat, but it's clear even before we get to see Tiny Dancer that there's a lot more to Tiny than being fabulous. Part of me wants to see a book about him, but in a way Will Grayson, Will Grayson already is, as he's such a major catalyst in the lives of everyone around him - and it's clear they affect him as well (a true sign that someone is more than just a caricature).
While on the one hand having will grayson write all in lower case seems like a cheap and easy way to differentiate the two Wills, the way the two boys talk and think is really what makes the alternating chapters work. Just a few sentences into the first will grayson chapter made me feel like all the air had been sucked out of the room (or subway car, as it were). Will Grayson seems to love life in comparison to will. will can get a bit "woe is me" dramatic at times, but so can Will, and if you can't be melodramatic at 16, when can you be?
As I said above, this is a novel that is about love. There are hookups and breakups throughout the story, and those are certainly a type of love, but really this story is about the type of love that binds people together, whether you want to be or not. After you've been through a lifetime of ups and downs (or even if it only feels like it's been a lifetime), you develop a bond with another person that can't be broken easily. I couldn't help but grin when Will would declare that he loves Tiny (in a totally platonic sense) because we don't see people (especially boys) talk about their friends and family in such a way very often. I've said this is why I love the show Glee, because every time Kurt's dad shows up we're guaranteed at least one "I love you" that you don't really see anywhere else - on what other TV show do you have a father and son who will hug each other and cry and talk explicitly about their feelings? Will and will and Tiny never get quite to that point, but there is a lot of open talk about love, which is absolutely the message the world needs to hear.
Will Grayson has been best friends since 5th grade with Tiny Cooper - who is either the world's largest gay man or the gayest man in the world who is large (the name is ironic). While Will would prefer nothing more than to blend into the woodwork (his two life rules are 1. don't care and 2. shut up), with Tiny around that is effectively impossible. Tiny falls in love approximately once an hour, is determined that Will should be in love too, and is writing an epic musical about his life: Tiny Dancer: the Tiny Cooper Story.
On the other side of Chicago lives another will grayson, who writes all in lower case as a sign of his existential angst (or an easy way to tell the alternating Wills apart if you're cynical). will is gay, though about as closeted as Tiny is out. He has only one friend in real life, the extremely fragile and manipulative Maura, but online an epic romance is blossoming with a boy named Isaac. will's life looks like it may finally be looking up when he and Isaac decide to meet in Chicago.
Once in Chicago, will doesn't find the boy he was looking for - instead running into his namesake, Will Grayson, and being absorbed into the orbit of Tiny Cooper whether he wants to be or not. What follows is an adventure almost as epic as Tiny Dancer about the meaning of life, friendship, and love, platonic and romantic and everything in between.
First of all, I demand that the libretto of Tiny Dancer be released in full. I don't care whether it's only released as an e-book or maybe Green & Levithan could write it for charity a la JK Rowling and her Hogwarts school books, but Tiny Dancer is clearly a masterpiece that deserves its day in the sun. Also I have to thank Green & Levithan for giving me a book that so clearly shows what it's like to be in theatre without making me sit through Shakespeare.
Tiny Cooper is seriously a revelation as a character. Rarely do we meet someone who is so...in love with life but also has deeper layers that are revealed as the story goes on. At first it looks like Tiny is going to be on big (sorry) stereotype, jolly and partying and breaking out into song at the drop of a hat, but it's clear even before we get to see Tiny Dancer that there's a lot more to Tiny than being fabulous. Part of me wants to see a book about him, but in a way Will Grayson, Will Grayson already is, as he's such a major catalyst in the lives of everyone around him - and it's clear they affect him as well (a true sign that someone is more than just a caricature).
While on the one hand having will grayson write all in lower case seems like a cheap and easy way to differentiate the two Wills, the way the two boys talk and think is really what makes the alternating chapters work. Just a few sentences into the first will grayson chapter made me feel like all the air had been sucked out of the room (or subway car, as it were). Will Grayson seems to love life in comparison to will. will can get a bit "woe is me" dramatic at times, but so can Will, and if you can't be melodramatic at 16, when can you be?
As I said above, this is a novel that is about love. There are hookups and breakups throughout the story, and those are certainly a type of love, but really this story is about the type of love that binds people together, whether you want to be or not. After you've been through a lifetime of ups and downs (or even if it only feels like it's been a lifetime), you develop a bond with another person that can't be broken easily. I couldn't help but grin when Will would declare that he loves Tiny (in a totally platonic sense) because we don't see people (especially boys) talk about their friends and family in such a way very often. I've said this is why I love the show Glee, because every time Kurt's dad shows up we're guaranteed at least one "I love you" that you don't really see anywhere else - on what other TV show do you have a father and son who will hug each other and cry and talk explicitly about their feelings? Will and will and Tiny never get quite to that point, but there is a lot of open talk about love, which is absolutely the message the world needs to hear.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Review: Borrowed Names by Jeannine Atkins
Found via: Read Roger
More poetry! But I'm not too bothered I couldn't fit this in to National Poetry Month, as this collection is all about mothers and daughters. Well, three specific pairs of mothers & daughters: Laura Ingalls Wilder and daughter Rose Wilder Lane, Madame C.J. Walker and daughter A'Lelia Walker and Marie Curie and daughter Irene Joiliot-Curie. A perfect post-mother's-day book!
1867 was apparently a banner year, as that is the year the three mothers highlighted in this collection were born. The book is divided into three sections, each focusing on one mother/daughter pair, chronicling the daughter's life as she grows up, watching her mother, learning from her mistakes, and gaining inspiration for her own life. For the daughters are no slouches either: Rose Wilder Lane was a journalist and a biographer before helping her mother turn stories of her childhood into the Little House series; A'Lelia Walker used the fortune she earned as part of her mother's company to support the Harlem Renaissance; and Irene Joliot-Curie joined her mother as a WWI X-Ray technician, saving countless lives, before earning her own Nobel Prize, following in her mother's footsteps by studying radioactivity.
The poetry is well done, as is the biographical content. While I'm no expert on any of these women, Atkins doesn't pull any punches and shows both the ups and downs in these women's lives, including a troubled marriage for Rose and the sexism of the Nobel committee. This bit stuck out for me:
Borrowed Names page 149
It's subtle but spot on, in the way that only poetry can be.
This is the sort of book I would have loved to have available for Ada Lovelace Day. Maybe someone else will pick it up for review next year. While I don't think this would be a replacement for a full biography on any of these women, it's certainly an interesting supplement, and really breathes life into these families in a way a standard biography never can.
Nonfiction Monday is hosted this week by Picture Book of the Day. Check out other great non-fiction posts going up today!
More poetry! But I'm not too bothered I couldn't fit this in to National Poetry Month, as this collection is all about mothers and daughters. Well, three specific pairs of mothers & daughters: Laura Ingalls Wilder and daughter Rose Wilder Lane, Madame C.J. Walker and daughter A'Lelia Walker and Marie Curie and daughter Irene Joiliot-Curie. A perfect post-mother's-day book!
1867 was apparently a banner year, as that is the year the three mothers highlighted in this collection were born. The book is divided into three sections, each focusing on one mother/daughter pair, chronicling the daughter's life as she grows up, watching her mother, learning from her mistakes, and gaining inspiration for her own life. For the daughters are no slouches either: Rose Wilder Lane was a journalist and a biographer before helping her mother turn stories of her childhood into the Little House series; A'Lelia Walker used the fortune she earned as part of her mother's company to support the Harlem Renaissance; and Irene Joliot-Curie joined her mother as a WWI X-Ray technician, saving countless lives, before earning her own Nobel Prize, following in her mother's footsteps by studying radioactivity.
The poetry is well done, as is the biographical content. While I'm no expert on any of these women, Atkins doesn't pull any punches and shows both the ups and downs in these women's lives, including a troubled marriage for Rose and the sexism of the Nobel committee. This bit stuck out for me:
She remembers them taking a train to Sweden
where a woman might earn the Nobel Prize
but would be kept from speaking on the stage
It's subtle but spot on, in the way that only poetry can be.
This is the sort of book I would have loved to have available for Ada Lovelace Day. Maybe someone else will pick it up for review next year. While I don't think this would be a replacement for a full biography on any of these women, it's certainly an interesting supplement, and really breathes life into these families in a way a standard biography never can.
Nonfiction Monday is hosted this week by Picture Book of the Day. Check out other great non-fiction posts going up today!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Review: How Beautiful the Ordinary ed. by Michael Cart
Found via: 2010 Lambda Literary Award Finalist
The subtitle on this should really be "Twelve stories of sex." I really don't want to think of myself as a prude, but there are a lot of teenagers/young adults getting it on in this book - including a poem that wouldn't be out of place in an erotica collection. If ever there was a book that seemed intent on catching the attention of the book-banners, this is it.
I'll admit, that I was a bit put off from this book from page 2, during the introduction, before the stories has even started. As I tweeted on Tuesday, the introduction refers only (and repeatedly) to "gay, lesbian and transgender" folks. As someone who identifies under the "B" in the LGBT acronym, the forgotten bisexual reference really stuck out for me. Now it's totally possible that no stories featuring bisexual characters were submitted (though there are two stories that feature men sleeping with and/or marrying women as well as sleeping with men), but I wish that had been acknowledged in the introduction. I don't want to play oppression Olympics, but I'd bet that bisexual characters are almost as invisible as transgender characters.
So I was already spoiling for a fight with this collection. I was ready to relax after reading the first story and title piece by David Levithan. It's haunting and beautiful, addressed directly to the reader from the general collective of gay people from the past. From there the quality was rather uneven. Stories about gay men outnumber the stories about lesbians which outnumber the stories about transgendered teens. I gradually lost interest as the book went on until I about quit halfway through Gregory Maguire's incredibly long concluding story. I actually like the plot of that one, but it just dragged on for way too long, which isn't a way I'd describe Maguire's other work.
The other 2010 Lambda Literary Award finalists for YA lit are:
Ash by Malinda Lo
In Mike We Trust by PE Ryan
Sprout by Dale Peck
The Vast Fields of Ordinary by Nick Burd
I've read (and linked to my reviews) Ash and Vast Fields of Ordinary, so of the three that I've read so far, I'm rooting for Ash to take the award. I'm waiting for Sprout from the library, but they don't have In Mike We Trust yet, so I don't think I'm going to be able to read all of the nominees before the May 1st award ceremony. What I don't understand is how something as uneven and unsatisfactory as this collection can be nominated while great, groundbreaking books like Almost Perfect and Rage are totally ignored.
If you're a fan of David Leviathan, I can definitely recommend picking up this book from the library to read his short story. If you are looking for more transgender representation in YA lit, the stories in here are good. There are also at least three stories featuring people of color: one about a transgender young man who is half black, half white, another about a gay Thai man and the protagonist of Maguire's concluding story is Iranian-American. If you want some lesbian poetry that is sure to be dogeared and passed illicitly among tittering friends at the lunch table, then this would be worth a look as well. Otherwise, pass.
The subtitle on this should really be "Twelve stories of sex." I really don't want to think of myself as a prude, but there are a lot of teenagers/young adults getting it on in this book - including a poem that wouldn't be out of place in an erotica collection. If ever there was a book that seemed intent on catching the attention of the book-banners, this is it.
I'll admit, that I was a bit put off from this book from page 2, during the introduction, before the stories has even started. As I tweeted on Tuesday, the introduction refers only (and repeatedly) to "gay, lesbian and transgender" folks. As someone who identifies under the "B" in the LGBT acronym, the forgotten bisexual reference really stuck out for me. Now it's totally possible that no stories featuring bisexual characters were submitted (though there are two stories that feature men sleeping with and/or marrying women as well as sleeping with men), but I wish that had been acknowledged in the introduction. I don't want to play oppression Olympics, but I'd bet that bisexual characters are almost as invisible as transgender characters.
So I was already spoiling for a fight with this collection. I was ready to relax after reading the first story and title piece by David Levithan. It's haunting and beautiful, addressed directly to the reader from the general collective of gay people from the past. From there the quality was rather uneven. Stories about gay men outnumber the stories about lesbians which outnumber the stories about transgendered teens. I gradually lost interest as the book went on until I about quit halfway through Gregory Maguire's incredibly long concluding story. I actually like the plot of that one, but it just dragged on for way too long, which isn't a way I'd describe Maguire's other work.
The other 2010 Lambda Literary Award finalists for YA lit are:
Ash by Malinda Lo
In Mike We Trust by PE Ryan
Sprout by Dale Peck
The Vast Fields of Ordinary by Nick Burd
I've read (and linked to my reviews) Ash and Vast Fields of Ordinary, so of the three that I've read so far, I'm rooting for Ash to take the award. I'm waiting for Sprout from the library, but they don't have In Mike We Trust yet, so I don't think I'm going to be able to read all of the nominees before the May 1st award ceremony. What I don't understand is how something as uneven and unsatisfactory as this collection can be nominated while great, groundbreaking books like Almost Perfect and Rage are totally ignored.
If you're a fan of David Leviathan, I can definitely recommend picking up this book from the library to read his short story. If you are looking for more transgender representation in YA lit, the stories in here are good. There are also at least three stories featuring people of color: one about a transgender young man who is half black, half white, another about a gay Thai man and the protagonist of Maguire's concluding story is Iranian-American. If you want some lesbian poetry that is sure to be dogeared and passed illicitly among tittering friends at the lunch table, then this would be worth a look as well. Otherwise, pass.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Review: The Thirteenth Princess by Diane Zahler
Found via: Publisher's Weekly 1/18
Back in my day, the story to re-tell seemed to be Cinderella. Or maybe I just sought those re-tellings out and no one pointed me towards other fairy tales. Either way, I'm pretty sure there's been a marked up-tick in re-tellings of The Twelve Dancing Princesses - this one is the third that I've reviewed for this blog alone! But so long as the stories remain enjoyable, I'm not going to complain.
Zita is the thirteenth daughter of King Aricin and Queen Amara - and their last daughter, as the queen died giving birth to Zita. Devastated, the king banished young Zita to live and work among the servants, naming her after the patron saint of servants, a name very different from her 12 sisters, whose names all begin with 'A.'
When she is 7, Zita discovers that she is, in fact, royalty, and begins a warm and happy relationship with her sisters, spending whatever evenings she can spare in their lush bedroom. The happy arrangement lasts for four years, until the king starts trying to find appropriate suitors for his eldest daughters, and is frustrated that the young women remain mute in front of the visiting princes. Soon all of the princesses start falling ill, and only Zita notices during her late night visits that her sisters' slippers are all worn through.
Zita confides her feelings to her friend Breckin, the stable boy, and together with the help of the forest witch Babette and Breckin's handsome older brother, a soldier, Zita sets out to save her sisters from whatever horrible enchantment has befallen them.
This is neither the most complex re-telling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses I've encountered, nor the most simplistic. Princess of the Midnight Ball I felt stuck too closely to the original story - it really felt like it was just adding details like names to the fairy tale and expanded upon little else. Wildwood Dancing on the other hand made some major changes to the original story, including cutting down on the number of princesses and adding Transylvanian mythology to the curse on the princesses, but it was still recognizable as a fairy tale re-telling and was a great story on its own. The Thirteenth Princess definitely heavily relies on the original story, but adds enough new nuances to remain interesting.
Zita is another plucky young princess in a long line of literary plucky young princesses (who are often set apart from their families by their red hair - physically she definitely reminds me of Princess Amelia from The Extra-Ordinary Princess). She definitely relies on Breckin, his brother, and Babette the witch for help, bu she is as much a part of the action as the boys.
Back in my day, the story to re-tell seemed to be Cinderella. Or maybe I just sought those re-tellings out and no one pointed me towards other fairy tales. Either way, I'm pretty sure there's been a marked up-tick in re-tellings of The Twelve Dancing Princesses - this one is the third that I've reviewed for this blog alone! But so long as the stories remain enjoyable, I'm not going to complain.
Zita is the thirteenth daughter of King Aricin and Queen Amara - and their last daughter, as the queen died giving birth to Zita. Devastated, the king banished young Zita to live and work among the servants, naming her after the patron saint of servants, a name very different from her 12 sisters, whose names all begin with 'A.'
When she is 7, Zita discovers that she is, in fact, royalty, and begins a warm and happy relationship with her sisters, spending whatever evenings she can spare in their lush bedroom. The happy arrangement lasts for four years, until the king starts trying to find appropriate suitors for his eldest daughters, and is frustrated that the young women remain mute in front of the visiting princes. Soon all of the princesses start falling ill, and only Zita notices during her late night visits that her sisters' slippers are all worn through.
Zita confides her feelings to her friend Breckin, the stable boy, and together with the help of the forest witch Babette and Breckin's handsome older brother, a soldier, Zita sets out to save her sisters from whatever horrible enchantment has befallen them.
This is neither the most complex re-telling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses I've encountered, nor the most simplistic. Princess of the Midnight Ball I felt stuck too closely to the original story - it really felt like it was just adding details like names to the fairy tale and expanded upon little else. Wildwood Dancing on the other hand made some major changes to the original story, including cutting down on the number of princesses and adding Transylvanian mythology to the curse on the princesses, but it was still recognizable as a fairy tale re-telling and was a great story on its own. The Thirteenth Princess definitely heavily relies on the original story, but adds enough new nuances to remain interesting.
Zita is another plucky young princess in a long line of literary plucky young princesses (who are often set apart from their families by their red hair - physically she definitely reminds me of Princess Amelia from The Extra-Ordinary Princess). She definitely relies on Breckin, his brother, and Babette the witch for help, bu she is as much a part of the action as the boys.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Review: The Less-Dead by April Lurie
Found via: Publisher's Weekly 1/11
Wow. This book has some heavy stuff - religious bigotry and an apparent serial killer on the loose, targeting some of the most vulnerable kids in Austin, Texas.
Noah Nordstrom has grown up as the son of the Bible Answer Guy, a local evangelical Christian radio personality. Noah has summarily rejected all of his father's beliefs, prefering to almost single-mindedly pursue his dream of breaking into the Austin music scene with his buddy, Carson. While taking a break from playing on the streets in Austin, Noah befriends Will, another student at his school for troubled kids who shares Noah's interest in music and poetry. Will and Noah quickly become friends, before it turns awkward when Noah realizes that not only is Will gay, but he has a crush on the adamantly-straight Noah.
Before Noah can resolve the awkwardness lingering between them, Will is brutally murdered, the third victim of a serial killer who has been targeting gay kids in the foster care system. Only, the killer was supposed to be in jail before Will was murdered - either there's a copy cat on the loose, or they locked up the wrong guy.
At the crime scene, Noah pocketed Will's poetry journal, and is shocked to discover the murderer has apparently left cryptic clues about his next victim. Unsure of who to talk to, or who he can even trust, Noah sets out to investigate on his own. The killer is clearly targeting those who are unimportant, and in some ways are considered "less-dead" than if someone like Noah turned up murdered; Noah is intent on proving that Will's life mattered, and thus his death did, too.
Ugh, like I said, heavy stuff here. But Lurie handles it well for the most part. Occasionally the various characters can start sounding a little preachy (though ironically, I didn't catch the Bible Answer Guy ever sounding that way. Mostly it happened with the kids), or the dialogue just felt stilted. Certainly not enough to dampen my enjoyment.
Lurie includes an extensive author's note at the end of the book, thoroughly debunking the usual Biblical claims against homosexuality. I highly doubt her explanations are going to pursuade anyone who truly believes the Bible is an infallible divine document, but it could be a lot of help to someone who is struggling with their sexuality and their faith.
There's some great supporting characters here. Carson, Noah's friend who's obsessed with girl's and pissing off his super-atheistic father, is a great supporter of Noah who undergoes his own character arc on the sidelines. After Will's death, Noah also begins hanging out with two of Will's homeless friends, Quindlan and Doomsday - a street preacher who holds his faith very dear. There's also the mysterious Hawk, another student at the school who was a friend of Will's and seems to want to help Noah, but Noah isn't sure if he's actually trust worthy.
I highly recommend this one. It's a great story of acceptance and redemption, as well as a bit of a mystery as Noah tries to use the flimsy clues he has to track down the killer before he can strike again.
This title not only falls under the GLBT Challenge banner, but also is part of April's mini-challenge, to read a YA novel.
Wow. This book has some heavy stuff - religious bigotry and an apparent serial killer on the loose, targeting some of the most vulnerable kids in Austin, Texas.
Noah Nordstrom has grown up as the son of the Bible Answer Guy, a local evangelical Christian radio personality. Noah has summarily rejected all of his father's beliefs, prefering to almost single-mindedly pursue his dream of breaking into the Austin music scene with his buddy, Carson. While taking a break from playing on the streets in Austin, Noah befriends Will, another student at his school for troubled kids who shares Noah's interest in music and poetry. Will and Noah quickly become friends, before it turns awkward when Noah realizes that not only is Will gay, but he has a crush on the adamantly-straight Noah.
Before Noah can resolve the awkwardness lingering between them, Will is brutally murdered, the third victim of a serial killer who has been targeting gay kids in the foster care system. Only, the killer was supposed to be in jail before Will was murdered - either there's a copy cat on the loose, or they locked up the wrong guy.
At the crime scene, Noah pocketed Will's poetry journal, and is shocked to discover the murderer has apparently left cryptic clues about his next victim. Unsure of who to talk to, or who he can even trust, Noah sets out to investigate on his own. The killer is clearly targeting those who are unimportant, and in some ways are considered "less-dead" than if someone like Noah turned up murdered; Noah is intent on proving that Will's life mattered, and thus his death did, too.
Ugh, like I said, heavy stuff here. But Lurie handles it well for the most part. Occasionally the various characters can start sounding a little preachy (though ironically, I didn't catch the Bible Answer Guy ever sounding that way. Mostly it happened with the kids), or the dialogue just felt stilted. Certainly not enough to dampen my enjoyment.
Lurie includes an extensive author's note at the end of the book, thoroughly debunking the usual Biblical claims against homosexuality. I highly doubt her explanations are going to pursuade anyone who truly believes the Bible is an infallible divine document, but it could be a lot of help to someone who is struggling with their sexuality and their faith.
There's some great supporting characters here. Carson, Noah's friend who's obsessed with girl's and pissing off his super-atheistic father, is a great supporter of Noah who undergoes his own character arc on the sidelines. After Will's death, Noah also begins hanging out with two of Will's homeless friends, Quindlan and Doomsday - a street preacher who holds his faith very dear. There's also the mysterious Hawk, another student at the school who was a friend of Will's and seems to want to help Noah, but Noah isn't sure if he's actually trust worthy.
I highly recommend this one. It's a great story of acceptance and redemption, as well as a bit of a mystery as Noah tries to use the flimsy clues he has to track down the killer before he can strike again.
This title not only falls under the GLBT Challenge banner, but also is part of April's mini-challenge, to read a YA novel.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Book Links: 24 hour read-a-thon!
Next Saturday is the 24 hour read-a-thon, a challenge to read as much as possible for 24 hours!
I am not the greatest at pulling all nighters (in college I learned eventually that instead of staying up all night to finish papers, I should go to sleep early and wake up at 4 or 5, and when I got the last Harry Potter book the only reason I stayed awake to finish it was because my friends and I camped out at Starbucks all night!). Since there is no 24 hour Starbucks in my neighborhood (sacrilege!) I probably won't be going that full 24 hours, but I'm going to be reading as much as possible! I have a huge stack of library books, and reading just one book every day or two isn't putting much of a dent in it.
I'll be blogging here periodically throughout the day, like I did during the Bloggiesta. I'll probably just have one post that I'll update as needed, so you won't be flooded with new posts. Check in to cheer me on, or let me know if you're participating, too, and I'll cheer back!
I am not the greatest at pulling all nighters (in college I learned eventually that instead of staying up all night to finish papers, I should go to sleep early and wake up at 4 or 5, and when I got the last Harry Potter book the only reason I stayed awake to finish it was because my friends and I camped out at Starbucks all night!). Since there is no 24 hour Starbucks in my neighborhood (sacrilege!) I probably won't be going that full 24 hours, but I'm going to be reading as much as possible! I have a huge stack of library books, and reading just one book every day or two isn't putting much of a dent in it.
I'll be blogging here periodically throughout the day, like I did during the Bloggiesta. I'll probably just have one post that I'll update as needed, so you won't be flooded with new posts. Check in to cheer me on, or let me know if you're participating, too, and I'll cheer back!
Friday, March 12, 2010
Review: Ice by Sarah Beth Durst
Found via: Liz B at A Chair, a Fireplace, and a Teacozy
My cat, Gopher, thinks that books are pillows. He approves of Ice!
My love of fairy tale retellings is well documented here, but Ice gave me something new to ponder. It re-tells a story I'd never heard before, East o' the Sun, West o' the Moon, and I've been trying to figure out if I like retellings of familiar or new stories more.
Not that it really matters when the story is so well written, as Durst's is here (even after going through and reading two versions of the original, my opinion holds).
As a little girl, Cassie's grandmother told her the story of how her mother made a deal with the Polar Bear King that went sour, and condemned her to being swept away to the ends of the Earth. At 18, Cassie recognizes that the story was just a way of explaining her mother's death to a little girl, and is far too focused on her life as a budding scientist with her father in an Arctic research station to think of childhood fairy tales.
Until Cassie learns that some fairy tales are true. There is a Polar Bear King, and part of her mother's bargain including betrothing her unborn daughter to become the king's wife. Cassie makes a deal of her own with the king in order to secure her mother's rescue from the trolls' castle east o' the sun and west o' the moon. In return, Cassie returns with the Bear to his castle of ice near the North Pole.
The Polar Bear King is, of course, not a real bear - he is a munaqsri, a "caretaker of souls." Every species on the planet has its own munaqsri (sometimes several for large populations, like humans, but the polar bears only have the one) who takes the souls from the dead in order to give them to the newborns of the species. Bear wants a wife so he can have children to take his place, but with the intelligence of humans, rather than polar bears. Cassie is appalled - she is only 18! She doesn't want to be a wife yet, let alone a mother - but she remembers her deal to save her mother's life, and consents to the marriage.
But because this is a fairy tale, that bargain she struck with Bear has a price. When Bear is forcefully wrenched from her by the trolls after Cassie violated the rules of the bargain (rules Bear couldn't tell her about, as part of the rules), Cassie finds herself alone and several months pregnant in the middle of the arctic. That is the start of her adventure to save her husband - a journey that takes her not only across the world, but beyond, to the castle east o' the sun and west o' the moon, both helped and hindered by other magical creatures along the way.
I absolutely loved most of this book. By the time I finally got this one from the library I'd forgotten what fairy tale it re-told, and actually was seeing a lot of Beauty and the Beast in Cassie's relationship with Bear. Perhaps that was intentional on Durst's part, because bits like Cassie arranging to visit home aren't in any of the original stories I read. Durst did, however, include excellent allusions to the original stories - one translator's last name is Dasent, which just so happens to be Cassie's last name in the novel. Another great touch is Durst's totally original take on trolls - fantasy lovers need to read this book for the trolls alone, because while I haven't read a lot of fantasy I'm pretty sure you've never seen trolls like these before.
One thing that was simultaneously awesome and uncool was Cassie's pregnancy. First of all, how the pregnancy came about was seriously uncool. But then Cassie goes on this epic journey, contents of her uterus be damned, because she has a quest she must complete in order to save her husband. They're on totally different scales, but as I was reading this in the middle of Olympic fever I couldn't help but think of Kristie Moore, the Canadian curler who was 5 1/2 months pregnant during the game. We have this cultural trope that pregnant women are delicate flowers who should just lay in bed eating bon bons for the duration of their pregnancy (but, y'know, not too many, lest they get fat). Cassie does some stuff that I'm sure isn't recommended for pregnant women, but then again we're also in a fairy tale so we can let it slide. But the other uncool part of Cassie's pregnancy comes from all the other characters who think that Cassie shouldn't be allowed to do anything because her fetus is practically sacred. She is literally imprisoned until she convinces other characters that she agrees with them. It definitely provided some great drama, and Cassie proves them all wrong, but it still freaked me out a little bit. But I guess since it wasn't really the good guys who were hindering her, that was probably the point.
One other weird thing: it seemed to me like Cassie has some misplaced anger issues. She spends a lot of time railing against her father for lying to her about the truth behind her grandmother's stories and for failing to rescue her mother from the trolls, when it's her mother that made the deal that arranged for Cassie to marry a supernatural being when Cassie was merely an infant. Her dad really had nothing to do with it.
Ice is an excellent story, period. It definitely doesn't rely on previous knowledge of East o' the Sun, West o' the Moon to be enjoyed. It's a flat out fantasy adventure story, that turns a few tropes on their heads, with a dash of romance for good measure. Highly recommended.
My cat, Gopher, thinks that books are pillows. He approves of Ice!
My love of fairy tale retellings is well documented here, but Ice gave me something new to ponder. It re-tells a story I'd never heard before, East o' the Sun, West o' the Moon, and I've been trying to figure out if I like retellings of familiar or new stories more.
Not that it really matters when the story is so well written, as Durst's is here (even after going through and reading two versions of the original, my opinion holds).
As a little girl, Cassie's grandmother told her the story of how her mother made a deal with the Polar Bear King that went sour, and condemned her to being swept away to the ends of the Earth. At 18, Cassie recognizes that the story was just a way of explaining her mother's death to a little girl, and is far too focused on her life as a budding scientist with her father in an Arctic research station to think of childhood fairy tales.
Until Cassie learns that some fairy tales are true. There is a Polar Bear King, and part of her mother's bargain including betrothing her unborn daughter to become the king's wife. Cassie makes a deal of her own with the king in order to secure her mother's rescue from the trolls' castle east o' the sun and west o' the moon. In return, Cassie returns with the Bear to his castle of ice near the North Pole.
The Polar Bear King is, of course, not a real bear - he is a munaqsri, a "caretaker of souls." Every species on the planet has its own munaqsri (sometimes several for large populations, like humans, but the polar bears only have the one) who takes the souls from the dead in order to give them to the newborns of the species. Bear wants a wife so he can have children to take his place, but with the intelligence of humans, rather than polar bears. Cassie is appalled - she is only 18! She doesn't want to be a wife yet, let alone a mother - but she remembers her deal to save her mother's life, and consents to the marriage.
But because this is a fairy tale, that bargain she struck with Bear has a price. When Bear is forcefully wrenched from her by the trolls after Cassie violated the rules of the bargain (rules Bear couldn't tell her about, as part of the rules), Cassie finds herself alone and several months pregnant in the middle of the arctic. That is the start of her adventure to save her husband - a journey that takes her not only across the world, but beyond, to the castle east o' the sun and west o' the moon, both helped and hindered by other magical creatures along the way.
I absolutely loved most of this book. By the time I finally got this one from the library I'd forgotten what fairy tale it re-told, and actually was seeing a lot of Beauty and the Beast in Cassie's relationship with Bear. Perhaps that was intentional on Durst's part, because bits like Cassie arranging to visit home aren't in any of the original stories I read. Durst did, however, include excellent allusions to the original stories - one translator's last name is Dasent, which just so happens to be Cassie's last name in the novel. Another great touch is Durst's totally original take on trolls - fantasy lovers need to read this book for the trolls alone, because while I haven't read a lot of fantasy I'm pretty sure you've never seen trolls like these before.
One thing that was simultaneously awesome and uncool was Cassie's pregnancy. First of all, how the pregnancy came about was seriously uncool. But then Cassie goes on this epic journey, contents of her uterus be damned, because she has a quest she must complete in order to save her husband. They're on totally different scales, but as I was reading this in the middle of Olympic fever I couldn't help but think of Kristie Moore, the Canadian curler who was 5 1/2 months pregnant during the game. We have this cultural trope that pregnant women are delicate flowers who should just lay in bed eating bon bons for the duration of their pregnancy (but, y'know, not too many, lest they get fat). Cassie does some stuff that I'm sure isn't recommended for pregnant women, but then again we're also in a fairy tale so we can let it slide. But the other uncool part of Cassie's pregnancy comes from all the other characters who think that Cassie shouldn't be allowed to do anything because her fetus is practically sacred. She is literally imprisoned until she convinces other characters that she agrees with them. It definitely provided some great drama, and Cassie proves them all wrong, but it still freaked me out a little bit. But I guess since it wasn't really the good guys who were hindering her, that was probably the point.
One other weird thing: it seemed to me like Cassie has some misplaced anger issues. She spends a lot of time railing against her father for lying to her about the truth behind her grandmother's stories and for failing to rescue her mother from the trolls, when it's her mother that made the deal that arranged for Cassie to marry a supernatural being when Cassie was merely an infant. Her dad really had nothing to do with it.
Ice is an excellent story, period. It definitely doesn't rely on previous knowledge of East o' the Sun, West o' the Moon to be enjoyed. It's a flat out fantasy adventure story, that turns a few tropes on their heads, with a dash of romance for good measure. Highly recommended.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Review: Serendipity Market by Penny Blubaugh
Found via: Kirkus Best YA of 2009
A month and a half into 2010 and I'm still catching up on 2009 titles. I blame my library for taking ages and ages to get new books in (and then arbitrarily deciding when I can and can't request paperbacks for interlibrary loans!). Keep your fingers crossed that I do well on that interview on Thursday so I can buy more books (and more bookshelves to hold them!)
Serendipity Market is more of a short story collection than a novel, though the stories are all told in order to support the novel's "plot." When Mama Inez notices that the spin of the Earth is off-kilter, she issues magical invitations to eleven guests who meet her at the Serendipity Market in order to tell their stories and set the world right again.
That's really the whole plot, and characters like Mama Inez don't get developed they way they would in a traditional novel. But the stories are just delightful enough to make up for this. Each story is a twist on an old fairy tale or nursery rhyme - "Cinderella" told by the lizard who is transformed into one of her coachmen, a Pecos Bill tall tale told by Sluefoot Sue, and "The Princess and the Pea" told by the prince (who isn't really looking for a princess) are just a few of the stories. I found myself skipping over the little bits of framing that surrounded the stories, because it just felt like it came out of nowhere - there's no explanation for why the Earth is off balance, why Mama Inez can detect it, or why the stories will set everything right again. I was much more interested in the stories themselves, and I think other fans of re-told fairy tales will like these short vignettes as well. They aren't quite re-imagined stories, as most of the major details are the same; rather the stories are just told from a different point of view, like the elves in "The Shoemaker and the Elves" telling the story of how they helped the shoemaker in exchange for a roof over their heads after they are separated from their family.
This is a quick read, and a nice light addition after reading some heavier-hitting books.
A month and a half into 2010 and I'm still catching up on 2009 titles. I blame my library for taking ages and ages to get new books in (and then arbitrarily deciding when I can and can't request paperbacks for interlibrary loans!). Keep your fingers crossed that I do well on that interview on Thursday so I can buy more books (and more bookshelves to hold them!)
Serendipity Market is more of a short story collection than a novel, though the stories are all told in order to support the novel's "plot." When Mama Inez notices that the spin of the Earth is off-kilter, she issues magical invitations to eleven guests who meet her at the Serendipity Market in order to tell their stories and set the world right again.
That's really the whole plot, and characters like Mama Inez don't get developed they way they would in a traditional novel. But the stories are just delightful enough to make up for this. Each story is a twist on an old fairy tale or nursery rhyme - "Cinderella" told by the lizard who is transformed into one of her coachmen, a Pecos Bill tall tale told by Sluefoot Sue, and "The Princess and the Pea" told by the prince (who isn't really looking for a princess) are just a few of the stories. I found myself skipping over the little bits of framing that surrounded the stories, because it just felt like it came out of nowhere - there's no explanation for why the Earth is off balance, why Mama Inez can detect it, or why the stories will set everything right again. I was much more interested in the stories themselves, and I think other fans of re-told fairy tales will like these short vignettes as well. They aren't quite re-imagined stories, as most of the major details are the same; rather the stories are just told from a different point of view, like the elves in "The Shoemaker and the Elves" telling the story of how they helped the shoemaker in exchange for a roof over their heads after they are separated from their family.
This is a quick read, and a nice light addition after reading some heavier-hitting books.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Review: Mare's War by Tanita S. Davis
Winner: 2010 Coretta Scott King Author Honor
This one managed to stay under my radar for awhile. I have no excuses - if it's been under yours as well, consider this your wake up call to get a copy for yourself ASAP!
Octavia and her older sister Tali are under strict orders from their parents to look after their grandmother, Mare, as she takes them on a road trip from California to a family reunion in Alabama. Neither sister is very enthusiastic - Mare isn't your ordinary grandmother, from her name to her long painted finger nails, to driving like a maniac. She's an embarrassment more than anything else.
But the long drive leaves plenty of opportunities to talk (and talking is something Mare loves to do). She regales her granddaughters with stories from her long life, from working as a maid and helping raise her sister in Alabama...to joining the Women's Army Corp in World War II! Mare was a member of the 6888 Central Postal Directory Battalion, the only all-female, all-African-American battalion to serve in WWII. Mare tells of the extensive training she underwent, the harrowing journey across the Atlantic to England, and serving her tour of duty overseas, where attitudes towards blacks were far, far different from in the US.
I think if this had strictly been Mare's story, we'd be hearing this talked about in the same breath as Flygirl - two very different stories of African-American women in WWII, but similar in some respects. However, Mare's War feels a bit didactic at times; after any major revelation in Mare's story we need to cut back to Tali and Octavia reacting in horror that people were ever so uninformed. There are reaction chapters for everything from the implied abuse Mare and her sister suffered from their mother's boyfriends to racism in Europe to the revelation of a lesbian friend. While I appreciated the inclusion of these details in Mare's narrative, I felt like we were being hit over the head with the message that people in the past were Wrong (which they totally were, but did we need that message repeated with every injustice Mare faced?).
I absolutely loved Mare, both as a young woman and as a grandmother. I would have loved to have her as a grandmother when I was growing up. Well, I probably wouldn't have liked being dragged on a road trip, but other than that I thought she was just awesome. It's because of her characterization that I'm including this book in my list of books read for the Women Unbound reading challenge. Defining fiction books that fit into the challenge is a little trickier than non-fiction, but as this is a look at an important and interesting aspect of women's (and African-American) history, I feel it counts. Plus, an individual woman doesn't get more unbound than Mare!
Cover comments: Not one, not two, but three African American women on this cover!
At the book jacket literary cafe, the art director from Simon & Schuster mentioned that they'll often go with illustrated covers for books that are intended more for academic markets - books that fit in well with various bits of curriculum. The cover, combined with the occasional heavy-handedness on the Messages in the text, makes me think there was probably a big push to get this into classrooms and libraries.
This one managed to stay under my radar for awhile. I have no excuses - if it's been under yours as well, consider this your wake up call to get a copy for yourself ASAP!
Octavia and her older sister Tali are under strict orders from their parents to look after their grandmother, Mare, as she takes them on a road trip from California to a family reunion in Alabama. Neither sister is very enthusiastic - Mare isn't your ordinary grandmother, from her name to her long painted finger nails, to driving like a maniac. She's an embarrassment more than anything else.
But the long drive leaves plenty of opportunities to talk (and talking is something Mare loves to do). She regales her granddaughters with stories from her long life, from working as a maid and helping raise her sister in Alabama...to joining the Women's Army Corp in World War II! Mare was a member of the 6888 Central Postal Directory Battalion, the only all-female, all-African-American battalion to serve in WWII. Mare tells of the extensive training she underwent, the harrowing journey across the Atlantic to England, and serving her tour of duty overseas, where attitudes towards blacks were far, far different from in the US.
I think if this had strictly been Mare's story, we'd be hearing this talked about in the same breath as Flygirl - two very different stories of African-American women in WWII, but similar in some respects. However, Mare's War feels a bit didactic at times; after any major revelation in Mare's story we need to cut back to Tali and Octavia reacting in horror that people were ever so uninformed. There are reaction chapters for everything from the implied abuse Mare and her sister suffered from their mother's boyfriends to racism in Europe to the revelation of a lesbian friend. While I appreciated the inclusion of these details in Mare's narrative, I felt like we were being hit over the head with the message that people in the past were Wrong (which they totally were, but did we need that message repeated with every injustice Mare faced?).
I absolutely loved Mare, both as a young woman and as a grandmother. I would have loved to have her as a grandmother when I was growing up. Well, I probably wouldn't have liked being dragged on a road trip, but other than that I thought she was just awesome. It's because of her characterization that I'm including this book in my list of books read for the Women Unbound reading challenge. Defining fiction books that fit into the challenge is a little trickier than non-fiction, but as this is a look at an important and interesting aspect of women's (and African-American) history, I feel it counts. Plus, an individual woman doesn't get more unbound than Mare!
Cover comments: Not one, not two, but three African American women on this cover!
At the book jacket literary cafe, the art director from Simon & Schuster mentioned that they'll often go with illustrated covers for books that are intended more for academic markets - books that fit in well with various bits of curriculum. The cover, combined with the occasional heavy-handedness on the Messages in the text, makes me think there was probably a big push to get this into classrooms and libraries.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Review: Calamity Jack by Shannon and Dean Hale, illustrated by Nathan Hale
Found via: Maw Books
On the last day of 2008 I posted my review of Rapunzel's Revenge and noted at the end that a sequel was in the works...a sequel which I totally forgot about until I saw Natasha's post at Maw Books about the launch party for Calamity Jack!
Luckily for me, my library shipped this to me right away...as opposed to the two months in transit another book took.
Not that I'm impatient or anything.
Calamity Jack opens with some brief bits of biography of Jack's early life as a budding criminal mastermind, before picking up the story where Rapunzel's Revenge left off. In the first book, Jack was the one who was off balance, as the West was Rapunzel's turf. Now the dynamic duo have returned to Jack's hometown, where he hopes to settle a score with the giants in charge and repair the damage his beanstalk did to his neighborhood and his mother's bakery.
When Jack left, the local giant Blunderboar was a gangster bully who had his hands in several cookie jars. When Jack returns, he finds out that Blunderboar has been busy, gaining city contracts to use his personal giants as a supplementary police force in the face of intermittent attacks from giant Ant People that keep invading the city. He's also holding Jack's mother prisoner as his personal baker (he always requires she use special flour...that's probably made of human bones) and has placed a bounty on Jack's head.
Jack is more determined than ever to make good on his promises to his mother, but it's clear he's going to need more help than just Rapunzel. Jack teams back up with a former colleague, Prudence the pixie (who has a love affair with hats like I have with shoes), and Frederick Sparksmith the Third, a slightly naive newspaper man who ran the last press that dared to oppose Blunderboar until the presses were destroyed in an attack by the Ant People. Everyone has their own skills that will have to be at their sharpest in order to save the day.
I think I enjoyed Rapunzel's Revenge more than Calamity Jack. The first story was much more of a straight-up adventure/quest story - while Calamity Jack has lots of introspection and angst. Also I got a little annoyed with how overprotective Jack was of Rapunzel - sure, she's never been to "the big city" before, but do you really think this woman is incapable of taking care of herself? And I did appreciate how at the first chance she got she was out of the clumsy dress and into sensible pants.
I think I just really wanted another Rapunzel story!
Cover thoughts:
Rapunzel's Revenge and Calamity Jack both take place in an Old West-style fantasy world, and as part of that world there are Native American peoples. Jack is clearly intended to be read as a Native American (even if in this world the term 'Native American' doesn't exist - it hasn't ever been said this is America we're in!) and is shown as such on the cover! Interestingly enough - the infamous Bloomsbury is the publisher on this one. I'm sure part of the reason everyone is portrayed accurately on the cover is because the illustrator throughout the text also drew the cover.
On the last day of 2008 I posted my review of Rapunzel's Revenge and noted at the end that a sequel was in the works...a sequel which I totally forgot about until I saw Natasha's post at Maw Books about the launch party for Calamity Jack!
Luckily for me, my library shipped this to me right away...as opposed to the two months in transit another book took.
Not that I'm impatient or anything.
Calamity Jack opens with some brief bits of biography of Jack's early life as a budding criminal mastermind, before picking up the story where Rapunzel's Revenge left off. In the first book, Jack was the one who was off balance, as the West was Rapunzel's turf. Now the dynamic duo have returned to Jack's hometown, where he hopes to settle a score with the giants in charge and repair the damage his beanstalk did to his neighborhood and his mother's bakery.
When Jack left, the local giant Blunderboar was a gangster bully who had his hands in several cookie jars. When Jack returns, he finds out that Blunderboar has been busy, gaining city contracts to use his personal giants as a supplementary police force in the face of intermittent attacks from giant Ant People that keep invading the city. He's also holding Jack's mother prisoner as his personal baker (he always requires she use special flour...that's probably made of human bones) and has placed a bounty on Jack's head.
Jack is more determined than ever to make good on his promises to his mother, but it's clear he's going to need more help than just Rapunzel. Jack teams back up with a former colleague, Prudence the pixie (who has a love affair with hats like I have with shoes), and Frederick Sparksmith the Third, a slightly naive newspaper man who ran the last press that dared to oppose Blunderboar until the presses were destroyed in an attack by the Ant People. Everyone has their own skills that will have to be at their sharpest in order to save the day.
I think I enjoyed Rapunzel's Revenge more than Calamity Jack. The first story was much more of a straight-up adventure/quest story - while Calamity Jack has lots of introspection and angst. Also I got a little annoyed with how overprotective Jack was of Rapunzel - sure, she's never been to "the big city" before, but do you really think this woman is incapable of taking care of herself? And I did appreciate how at the first chance she got she was out of the clumsy dress and into sensible pants.
I think I just really wanted another Rapunzel story!
Cover thoughts:
Rapunzel's Revenge and Calamity Jack both take place in an Old West-style fantasy world, and as part of that world there are Native American peoples. Jack is clearly intended to be read as a Native American (even if in this world the term 'Native American' doesn't exist - it hasn't ever been said this is America we're in!) and is shown as such on the cover! Interestingly enough - the infamous Bloomsbury is the publisher on this one. I'm sure part of the reason everyone is portrayed accurately on the cover is because the illustrator throughout the text also drew the cover.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
