Diversify Your Reading

Like a lot of young, hip, liberal, college educated people, I like to think that I'm pretty open minded. I like to think that I am aware of my prejudices and that I am deliberately working on getting rid of prejudice from my life.

But take a look at my reading list and tastes, and it's pretty white out there.

What I want to say about my reading is this: I choose books based on the quality of the story. I'll read books about anyone if the writing is good. I am open to reading about experiences and people outside of my world. I read and review LGBTQ books and have had my reviews posted at Gay YA. I'm working on a thesis/journal article about queer YA fiction.

The truth is, these stories aren't that far from my realm of experience. I have quite a few gay friends now. I know their stories and they are part of my story. Just because it's not a popular story here in Idaho doesn't mean it's unfamiliar. So am I really that educated and enlightened? Am I really working on my prejudices? If you knew me back in high school, I think you would give me some credit for growing up and chilling out. It's been a rough journey, and I'm still ashamed when I think of some of the ideals I held, although I'm giving myself credit for changing and growing and recognizing that I still have a ways to go.

But the truth is, I've gotten comfortable in my position again. This really hit home when I was in Philadelphia this summer. I won't go into the exact thoughts or reactions I had because truthfully, I'm still a little ashamed and humbled by them. I've seen a wall that I put up. It's not a particularly big or threatening wall; it's solid but scalable.

Diversity in YA Fiction, a website that, well, celebrates and promotes diversity in YA fiction, offers readers a challenge this summer. Diversify your reading. You can read about the challenge on the site. Here are the books I'm going to try and read by the September 1 deadline.

All photos from Goodreads

Liar by Justine Larbalestier
I think I've written about the cover kerfuffle with this book, but I've not yet read the darn thing, despite high praise from colleagues and reviewers. How can I honestly promote this book if I haven't read it?

The Brothers Torres by Coert Voorhees
I met a librarian who worked at an alternative high school who used this in her book club with the kids.

Farewell to Manzanar by Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston and James D. Houston
The internment of Japanese Americans during WWII is an uncomfortable topic for nice white folk like me. I did a project in a college anthropology class on baseball in internment camps, and Idaho had a camp at Minidoka, which I've visited. But I still don't know enough about this topic, and that's a shame and a crime.

Monster by Walter Dean Myers
Truth. I have avoided Myers books. I don't want to read about Vietnam or Iraq, topics of some of his most popular books. I want to pretend these wars haven't happened/aren't happening. I'm still avoiding Myers's war stories and starting with his Printz Award winning book Monster.

The Demon's Lexicon by Sarah Rees Brennan
This is my one safe choice in the bunch. It's got the paranormal story line I've been digging of late but a diverse cast of characters.

So that's my plan. I'll blog about each book as I read it, as per usual. If you're interested in taking up the challenge to diversify your reading, be sure to check out the details here.

I'm going to try to finish these books mentioned above before school starts. But I've gotten a look at my fall reading list and it's chock full of Dead White Guys (Shakespeare, Hardy, Montaigne to name but a few), and so I'm also going to pledge to diversify my school reading. My profs are really great about letting the students follow their own curiosity as far as term papers are concerned, so I'm going to seek out writers who are women, not white, not European, queer, maybe all of these at once, and diversify my education.

I'll be interested to know what you choose as well.

Welcome to Bordertown

Welcome to Bordertown edited by Holly Black and Ellen Kushner (2011)
Contemporary Young Adult Fantasy, Short Story Collection

from Goodreads

Bordertown stories first appeared in the 1980s. Bordertown is just what it sounds like -- a place between the World and the Realm, a place for misfits and and magic seekers. I haven't read any of the previous Bordertown books, but I've long been influenced by writers who were influenced by or wrote for the Bordertown series: Charles de Lint, Holly Black, Terri Windling, Cory Doctorow, etc. I don't know that I will go back and read the original series of books -- they are set in the 80s and written as contemporary fiction, and I have a feeling they'll come across as dated. I could be wrong, and I might go back some day, but I've got no plans at the moment.

And now to this book. I finally finished it! I've had it for months now, but the nice thing about anthologies is you can read a story or poem here and there and then come back to it later and not have missed a thing. You don't have to remember where you left off on the plot. As with any collection of stories and poems, the quality is uneven. I skipped most of the poetry because it was mostly narrative poetry which just isn't my thing. Well, that's not exactly true. I did like the poem "Stars in Her Hair" by Amal El-Mohtar because it had the rhythm of an old ballad, and I enjoyed coming up with a melody to fit the words.

As for the stories, I really enjoyed "Shannon's Law" by Cory Doctorow. I love the way in which Doctorow combined technology and fantasy. This story is directly responsible for the dream in which I had to create the internet with felt, beads and embroidery floss. Read the story and you'll know why.

I also liked "We Do Not Come in Peace" by Christopher Barzak. The thing that this story, and the anthology in general, sends home is the underlying message that whatever you want to escape and wherever you want to run to, you cannot escape yourself. You always carry that with you. Barzak's story looks at some of the darker sides of the town and what happens when someone decides to stand up.

"The Rowan Gentleman" by Holly Black and Cassandra Clare ties with "A Tangle of Greenmen" by Charles De Lint for my favorite stories, and in part, because they are my favorite writers of the bunch. I like the unexpected twist in the characters in Black and Clare's story, and I love the mix of Native American and European traditions for which De Lint is famous. Black and Clare's story twists with a modern day Robin Hood story. De Lint's is a bittersweet love story. Together they provide a strong finish to a very strong collection.

A Discovery of Witches

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness (2011)
Adult Contempory Fantasy Fiction

From Goodreads

What is up in Library-Lass-Land this month? Four of the last six books I've read this month have been *gasp* not young adult but real adult books!? Age appropriate books!? Lawdy, what is this world coming to? (I've noticed that, in print, my sarcasm and dry humor isn't always so apparent, so that last bit was sarcasm. Like I care if people read YA fiction as adults or literary fiction or nonfiction. Whatever blows your skirt up, as my colorful granny used to say.)

So, I picked this up based on a review by my good friend Annie, who blogs over at Textual Frigate. Our tastes overlap, although sometimes I wonder what the hell she was on when she recommended Book X that I threw at the wall 50 pages in. And I'm sure she's thought the same about me, but that's what makes for a good friendship. However, with this book, I am wholly grateful for her recommendation, just like the time she got me hooked on the Discworld series. Anyway! The book!

A Discovery of Witches is a contemporary fantasy that opens in Oxford's Bodleian Library where Diana Bishop, a witch who tries to deny her powers and live as a normal human scholar, is researching alchemical texts. She calls up one manuscript, the enchanted Ashmole 782, and in doing so, draws the attention of vampire Matthew Clairmont (and a whole host of other creatures) and sets in motion a dangerous series of events.

You can read the synopsis on any number of websites, but what sucked me into this story were Harkness's incredible world building and the two main characters, Diana and Matthew. As Annie noted in her review,  “This is what Twilight could have been with a better heroine...And if it had a better writer.” Diana is strong, stubborn (often to the point of recklessness), passionate and crazy smart. Matthew is complex, with a rich back story you might expect from someone over a thousand years old which is revealed in delicate turns by Harkness.

My one peeve with this book, well, besides the fact that I have to wait til next summer for the next book in the trilogy, is the way Harkness messes with the vampire mythology. Thankfully, there is none of this sparkly vampire nonsense, but vampires can go out in the daylight but don't often do so because it would be too hard to conceal their true nature from the humans. However, Harkness's choice serves the story well and her characters are so complex and interesting that to confine the vampires to this mythology would actually do the story a disservice, so by the end of the story, I forgot my peeves entirely and just got caught up in the story.

One critique against the story I read was that some readers were put off by the high level of detail Harkness put into her world building, particularly in describing the Bodleian, which is integral to the plot. One reviewer dismissed the details as Harkness showing off how well she knew or researched Oxford. But for me, I thought it was brilliant. Perhaps it is because I'm a librarian and scholar, but the details pulled me right in and made me almost start planning for applications for a Rhodes Scholarship and outlining my dissertation, just so I could take a seat in one of the reading rooms. And I think the level of detail was appropriate. A Discover of Witches clocks in at 579 pages, which gives Harkness plenty of room to build up the history of the struggle of witches and vampires and daemons, the creatures of this world. Oh, and so far there have also been ghosts and at least one goddess. Anyway, the detail of the world is always in service of the plot and character development, and I kind of want to read the book again, slowly this time, and bask in Harkness's craft. And this is her first novel! According to her bio, Harkness has written a couple books on the history of science and a blog on wine., both of which show up in the novel and richly add to the details of the story. But damn, I don't know how long it took to write this novel, but I am really in awe of her craft. It is certainly firing up my own creative desires, which have been in a funk lately.

I am very glad I stepped out of my comfortable reading rut and picked up this novel. If you like stories with the paranormal, a little romance (sweetly rendered, perfectly captured to leave the reader wanting more), history, expert world building and excellent characters, do yourself a favor, block out some time, and sit down with A Discovery of Witches. And I am very sorry you'll have to wait til next summer for the sequel.

Stay

Stay by Deb Caletti (2011)
Young Adult Realistic Fiction

from Goodreads

I picked this book up after the fab girls of Forever Young Adult  posted a review, and the book did not disappoint. I read it all today. The book tells the story of Clara Oates and how she tries to escape an obsessed stalker boyfriend, Christian. In alternating chapters, Clara tells us about the relationship from its beginning and how she is trying to move on as she and her father escape to a tiny coastal town in Washington state, the town in which she and Christian have a final dramatic confrontation.

At first I had a little trouble getting into the narrative. Certain phrases would pull me out of the story, particularly as Clara's father, a famous crime novelist, spoke. I had a little trouble believing his dialogue, especially since I kept picturing him as Rick Castle, although Caletti does not describe him this way. But I got caught up in Clara's narrative as she explains her sad and sometimes frightening relationship with Christian. Clara is narrating some time after the events of the story, and though Caletti doesn't specify, I'm guessing 5 to 10 years have passed because the narrator has, to me, a lot more self awareness and shows a lot of thought has gone into the telling of her story. There is a little clue at the end to support this, but I won't give it away because it would effectively give away the end and ruin the very dramatic climax.

Despite a few stumbles with the father's dialogue, Caletti is spot on describing the psyche of a girl who finds herself in too deep with a troubled boy. In part, Clara admits that she enjoyed the power she had over Christian, the power to tempt him physically and emotionally, the power to turn heads. But Clara also admits to insecurities, and Christian's approval went a long way to soothing them. Take this lovely but sad turn of phrase, in which Clara describes some of the insecurities she felt when she was with her first boyfriend:
To me, my body seemed only good enough, something you'd buy if it were 60 percent off, but not at full price (103).

Wow. Just, wow. I think we've all felt that way, although I think if I'd been asked, when I was a teenager (or now, if I'm being honest), what I would have "sold" for, I'd have gone with a deeper discount. Sad, but true.

I love Clara, and I love her best because she is the anti-Bella Swan. It's no secret how much I despise Twilight and why I despise the series, but Caletti, through Clara, puts it very nicely. I haven't researched the book to know if Caletti wrote this as a direct answer to the Twilight series, but bravo either way. The following passage is my favorite of the entire book, and if I do ever get around to writing my thesis or journal article on Twilight, I'm quoting this.

Clara says, "You read all kinds of books and see all kinds of movies about the man who is obsessed and devoted, whose focus is a single, solid beam, same as the lighthouse, and that intense, too. It is Heathcliff with Catherine. It is a vampire with a passionate love stronger than death. We crave that kind of focus from someone else. We'd give anything to be that 'loved.' But that focus is not some soul-deep pinnacle of perfect devotion -- it's only darkness and the tormented ghosts of darkness. It's strange, isn't it, to see a person's gaping emotional wounds, their gnawing needs, as our romance? We long for it, I don't know why, but when we have it, it's a knife at our throat on the banks of Greenlake [referencing a girl murdered by her obsessed boyfriend]. It is an unwanted power you'd do anything to get rid of. A power that becomes the ultimate powerlessness. Right then, on the beach with Finn Bishop, I learned that the most true-love words are not the ones that grasp and hold and bind you, twisting you both up together in some black dance. No, they are the ones that leave you free to stand alone on your own solid ground, leave him to do the same, a tender space between you" (233).

Yes! YES! THIS! I want to have this engraved on a trophy and send it to Stephenie Meyer. True love, real, healthy love is not what Edward and Bella have! Their relationship is a mockery of true love, the love that takes work and effort on both sides, that respects both people in the relationship.

Okay, I feel a rant coming on, so I'm going to stop now and say that I'm going to recommend this book to every girl I know. It's a cautionary tale, but it's well written without getting too preachy and god, Clara is the best in all her flaws and insecurities and strength. There is no neat, happy ending to Clara's story but rather a realistic ending that's not so much an ending but something the readers can see is just one part of Clara's life and that she still has to go on living the rest of it.

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate (2009)
By Jacqueline Kelly

From Goodreads

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate is the story of Calpurnia Virginia Tate, or Callie Vee, an 11 and 3/4 but really almost 12 year old girl growing up in rural Texas. The story takes place in the last half of 1899. Throughout the story, Callie, the only girl in a family of seven children, rebels against the domestic conventions waiting for her and instead turns her attention to science as she and her grandfather catalog and study the plant and animal life of their slice of Texas.

I really loved this book. It was beautifully written and skillfully wrought. It was one of those books I wished would never end. In part, this was because there was no dramatic central conflict, and so, at the end of the book, on New Year's Day 1900, Callie Vee's story was unfinished, but unfinished in the way that a life is unfinished until death, not because Kelly couldn't write. The central conflict is one typical of coming of age novels -- will Callie submit to the role that has been set out for her by family and societal expectations or will she buck convention and pursue a university education, a desire she voices to her beloved grandfather who encourages the budding scientist? The central dramatic issue of the novel -- is the plant Callie and her grandfather discovered a new species of vetch? -- ties into this conflict, although waiting word from the National Geographic Society isn't particularly exciting in terms of plot action. Still, it is an interesting plot thread. But the best part of this novel is the characters. Of course I loved Callie Vee and I am still rooting for her education, but the rest of her family is equally interesting and sympathetic. Sure, I am rooting for Callie to buck her family's expectation that she get married, have children, learn to cook and to put away her scientific curiosity, but her family is a product of its time. Callie's mother worries that if her daughter doesn't make a good match she will have a life of drudgery ahead of her, and no mother wants that for her daughter.

I love the rich historical detail Kelly put into her story. When the story opens, in July of 1899, it is HOT out. Hot like I've surely never felt here in Idaho. So hot that the family invests some money in a newfangled, kerosene powered wind machine which made me cringe in horror. Imagine the fire hazard, all for some cooler circulating air.

But best of all, I loved Callie. She's smart without being too self-aware, funny and sarcastic without being an annoying teenager, and more mature than today's average 12 year old but still clearly a kid with a lot to learn. Callie is a girl after my own heart, particularly with regards to reading. Here is her response after a stuffy librarian denies her a copy of Darwin's On the Origin of Species: One day I would have all the books in the world, shelves and shelves of them. I would live my life in a tower of books. I would read all day long and eat peaches. And if any young knights in armor dared to come calling on their white chargers and plead with me to let down my hair, I would pelt them with peach pits until they went home (16).

This book is so beautifully written and Callie is so engaging, it's almost a shame, because I don't think many kids will read this book. I find, at least where I work, that this is often the case. If it's an award winning book, a work of historical fiction without war or bloodshed or drama, a quiet, domestic sort of book, most kids won't read it. And the beautiful paper-cut look of the cover that I think is brilliant isn't particularly flashy. Still, I will keep trying to get people to read this because it is well worth the time.

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1925)

From Goodreads

If you've read this book before, as I have, chances are you read it in high school. Chances are you were beat over the head with the symbols. (O. M. G!! The green light! The greeeeeeeeeen light!!!) Chances are that damn green light is the only thing you remember from the book.

It's pretty much all I remembered when I started back through it last week, and it's a real shame that for so many people, high school teachers have stripped this elegant and beautiful story down to one green light. I am going to count myself in the group of teachers who inadvertently destroy classic literature, although I never taught American Lit. Unfortunately, so many teachers are stuck with curriculum they aren't passionate about and thus they cling to easily parsed literary devices which are forced upon students. Although to be fair to the teachers, sometimes students are really dense. And to be fair to the students, many teachers are not properly trained to read closely and think deeply. It's unfortunate but true. As I read, I turned over the question of whether or not it's worthwhile to teach classics to students who might not be ready for them and risk turning students off of classic literature. I don't know many of my classmates who would return to Gatsby as I have, and it's a crying shame. This is also a huge question with a thousand variables to consider, so I won't get into it here. It's just something I think about as I do want to go back to teaching, and I'm always thinking of how I might guide students through the books I read without dragging them kicking and screaming through a text and thus killing any curiosity they might have. But I digress.

So, as I read, I turned over the larger questions teaching, the role of classics in public education, and the relationship between young readers and classic literature. But I was also struck by how my relationship to the text had changed and how the story moved me on different levels.

On one level, I was fascinated by how I related to the characters now that I am the same age as Nick and Gatsby and Daisy. Of course, to be moved by great literature, it is not necessary for the reader to be the same as the characters, but there are certain things that no 15 year old can really understand but a 30 year old will feel an immediate glow of recognition. For example, throughout the story, Nick is trying to establish a career in finance. He has returned from serving in the Great War, and, instead of joining a family business, he heads east to New York, to find a career and a place for himself that he is certain he won't find at home.

Fitzgerald's craft captured the bulk of my attention during my reading. I mean, damn, the man can write! It should go without saying, but I was constantly in awe of the way in which, with a few sentences or a paragraph or two, Fitzgerald created the whole world of the story. Take, for example, the afternoon that Nick goes to New York with Tom to meet up with Tom's mistress Myrtle, an afternoon that descends into a drunken mess, in particular the casual way in which Fitzgerald notes how Tom breaks Myrtle's nose in an argument and cements Tom's brutality and a powerlessness to truly control or express himself beyond animalistic action. In less deft hands, this scene could have been transformed into the stuff of Maury Povich shows or tabloid journalism, but in Fitzgerald's hand, the casual cruelty becomes art.

I'll end with a little talk of the symbolism, that damn green light. When I hear people talk about the green light at the end of Daisy's pier as if it were the only thing worth remembering about the book (due I'm sure to the aforementioned forcing down the throat by clumsy teachers), I want to punch something. O-kay. We get it. The light. It's a Symbol. But do any of us remember why it's symbolic? If pressed, before I reread the book, I could have rattled off some pat answer about the light representing something (i.e. Daisy) that Gatsby could never attain. He could look at it but never possess it. And while that's true enough, it's not the whole story. Fitzgerald all but gives us the answer here:

"Daisy put her arm through [Gatsby's] abruptly but he seemed absorbed in what he had just said. Possibly it had occurred to him that the colossal significance of that light had now vanished forever. Compared to the great distance that had separated him from Daisy it had seemed very near to her, almost touching her. It had seemed as close as a star to the moon. Now it was again a green light on a dock. His count of enchanted objects had diminished by one" (87-88).

Further on, on page 90, Nick talks about the "colossal vitality of [Gatsby's] illusion," saying "no amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart."

So yes, the light is a symbol, but it's also a sign post to a greater truth, a truth I missed the first time I read the book. The tragedy of the story is that Gatsby and Daisy and Tom and Nick and Myrtle and Wilson and Jordan built the people in their lives up to be more than people. They were ideal beauty and love, ultimate power, safety and other absolutes no person can ever be. The characters in The Great Gatsby live out this truth: What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person." (I had to say it.)

For more discussion on The Great Gatsby, and it's sure to be lively and passionate, check out the Vlogbrothers channel on YouTube. I don't always agree with what John Green has to say about books (despite my drooling fangirl tendencies), particularly about Catcher in the Rye, but he always has great questions for readers to think about as they read a book.

Brooklyn, Burning

Brooklyn, Burning by Steve Brezenoff (forthcoming, September 2011)

From Goodreads

I was lucky to get an ARC of this book and to write a review for gayya.org, a website devoted to queer YA fiction. If you're visiting me via that site, thanks and welcome! If you've not checked out the site, there are some great, interesting articles, and I highly recommend you check it out.

You can find my review of Brooklyn, Burning here.

You can read my previous posts on the site here, here, and here.

Free Range Knitter: The Yarn Harlot Writes Again

Free Range Knitter: The Yarn Harlot Writes Again by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee (2008)

From Goodreads

I missed a book in my vacation reading roundup, this book about knitting and knitters. Now, I am not (yet) a knitter. It takes me a long time to learn how to do things with my hands. I tend to overthink the process (shocker), and I get frustrated easily, so it's probably not a good idea to have something sharp and pointy around when I'm feeling frustrated and stabby.

What I can appreciate, and I don't know if Stephanie would agree with me, is what happens when some activity takes over your life, an activity that you don't get paid for, particularly in the domestic arts range of activities.

This book is a collection of essays both philosophical and funny, looking at knitting and knitters. Nowadays, it's not so weird to see people, especially young people, knitting away. For awhile, it was the hipster trendy thing to do. The Guardian recently posted an article about the knitting renaissance of the last ten years. But I think the article misses a larger point. I don't think that knitting and other handcrafts have ever gone away, but the Internet has given it, and other activities, a greater prominence by giving it greater visibility.

And all along, knitters like Stephanie have been knitting away.

In one of her essays (and I've returned the book to the library so I can't remember which at the moment), she discusses the cultural and social implications of taking up hand crafts. In others, she writes about what it's like to make something for the people we love (and what happens when they don't properly appreciate the effort). I felt a pang of commiseration when she described the physical restraint required to prevent her from punching someone in the face when he said, "Why put all that energy and money into knitting socks when you can get a pair for a dollar at Wal-Mart?" And oh man, the essay about the missing ball of hand painted sock yarn! Hilarious!

As I said, I don't knit. My main crafting outlet is embroidery/cross-stitch. But I definitely identified with the more philosophical essays that address old-fashioned crafts in a modern world. I talk a little about how I mix the two worlds and about some of the domestic arts books I've read in the last year or so over at my craft blog. I'm currently trying to design an embroidered bag, but we'll see how it goes.

Whether philosophical or screamingly funny, crafters of all stripes, especially those with mildly obsessive tendencies (not like me or anything, no, not at all) will find a bit of themselves in Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's writing.

If you haven't read Yarn Harlot: The Secret Life of a Knitter, I highly recommend it.

Heartless; or, Why So Serious, Part Two

Heartless by Gail Carriger (2011)

from Goodreads

(Seriously, book folks?! You have amazing tools available for cover design and you come up with something that makes the heroine of the story look like a Barbie changing wigs? You couldn't have taken 5 more seconds in Photoshop to give the girl some bangs? *end rant*)

So I've been told that I'm very serious about books and what about reading just for fun? Well, sure, I am serious. I work in a library, I was an English teacher (and want to be again), I'm a writer, and in general, I am a person who thinks all the damn time, mostly about books and stories. And this is fun for me! I think some of this reaction is from folk who equate thinking critically with school and grades and therefore not with fun.

Well, first, some words from the sage of our time, John Green:
What's important is that critical reading can be a way into thinking quite deeply about questions that are difficult and complicated, and not in some like boring and abstract way, like, ‘Oh, in Moby Dick, white is a symbol for nature’s ambivalence to man,’ but instead in a concrete and totally interesting way, like, ‘nature’s complete indifference to you, as expressed by the color white in Moby Dick, is something that you had better get your head around or else you’re going to end up like Captain Ahab.’ So it’s not so much about uncovering secret mysteries for the sake of uncovering secret mysteries, it’s about using story as a way into thinking about our actual lives and how we’re actually living them.

(I'm pretty sure my obsession with John Green is now bordering on creepy, but he is so good at saying stuff! He's a professional writer, sure, but come on!)

ANYWAY, yes, the point of literature is that it is one way for us to explore our own brief time on this planet and a way for us to make that time meaningful. HOWEVER, meaning does NOT always equal serious studious brain-churning cogitation! FUN is meaningful, too!

And my friends, The Parasol Protectorate Series by Gail Carriger is so much fun! It's the literary equivalent of the endless hours I spend at Shari's with my bffs Monicat and Mrs. The Fist, eating cheese fries and drinking coffee that is mostly sugar and talking about everything and laughing and, even now that we are matrons in our thirties, annoying the crap out of waitresses and teenaged patrons as we chortle into the wee hours of the morning.

I was skeptical when I picked up the first book in the series, although my beloved Monicat recommended it and she has yet to steer me really wrong. Vampires? Werewolves? Passe, people. But wait, you say they show up in a steampunk comedy of manners? Sign me up!

Embarrassing covers aside (on book one, the heroine looks like she's broken her spine), Carriger breathes life into the tired vampire/werewolf trope with a witty and kick-ass narrator, Alexia Tarabotti. Set in Victorian England, this series brings together the overplayed supernatural plot devices with a sharp narrator and well-fleshed secondary characters. The stories have more action and adventure than is proper for a young lady of good breeding such as Alexia, but that's all part of the fun. Heartless is the fourth book in the series. Sadly, the final book isn't due out until next March! Thankfully, Carriger wrapped up most of the pressing cliff-hanger elements in this book, so for now, Alexia and company aren't in immediate mortal (or immortal) danger, but I suspect it's just a trick to lull the readers into a false sense of security. I can't wait for the next book!

And you know what else, teacher? In this book, we learn much more about my two favorite characters from the entire series, Professor Lyall and Biffy. I don't want to give away any surprises if you haven't read the book yet (and really, why are you waiting? go! read!), but I definitely gave a hurrah! when some of the good Professor's  back story was revealed, although it is bittersweet (that's not really spoilery because the info given is mostly info we've already gotten from previous books, but it's put together a little more clearly for us).

Tithe

Tithe by Holly Black (2002)

From Goodreads

This is one of the books I sucked down on my vacation last month. I'd read it before. I think Holly Black is one of the best writers of urban fantasy around and you all know my love for the Curse Workers series. Black has a knack for capturing the dark elements of the fairy tale without overwhelming the reader with all the gory details, an excellent skill especially when writing for a young adult audience (or somewhat squeamish adults -- I tried reading the Merry Gentry books by Laurell K. Hamilton -- not for me).

Still, I'm not so sure I like the Modern Faerie Tale series (Tithe, Valiant, and Ironside). Black puts her characters through the ringer, to put it mildly. She's not afraid to kill off characters or torture them. It was particularly difficult for me to read Corny's story line (also, I HATE the name Corny -- one of my readerly prejudices is that it is very difficult for me to get on board with a character with a name I despise, although it is a testament to Black's skill as I writer that I love Corny and am terribly concerned about his arc). I don't want to give away details, but dang! And the Faeries -- they are definitely in line with the Grimms, but sometimes, they are really very grim.

So if the story makes me uneasy, why do I come back to it? I've read the book 4 or 5 times now. As I noted in an earlier post, the one nearly-universal piece of writing advice I've seen and received is that good writers read a lot and they write a lot. I've been very bad and not writing my own stuff lately, but I still read, and I come back to Tithe because I admire Black's writing. I admire the way she puts her characters in mortal danger, the way sometimes, the characters don't escape, but does so with a restraint that never affects the pace of the story but never overwhelms the reader with gory details. She doesn't shy away from the darkness that is necessary for her story. As much as I hated seeing what Corny had to endure, I never felt that she put him through Nephamael's torture just to be shocking. Corny's actions are shocking, but not gratuitously so. Black is in control of her story, and her skill is definitely something I aspire to. I've put some of my characters in peril, but I've never been willing to kill anyone off. (This is also something I admired of Torchwood.) I mean, it would have to serve the story, but I know there are things I've shied away from that would serve the story just because I'm uncomfortable with the subject matter at hand, and I'm nervous about how I might be received if I write about things that might be uncomfortable.

I'd like to talk to Holly Black someday about this -- if she's ever anxious about how her story might be received and how she manages to serve the story anyway. I suspect it's practice, which is usually the answer. Writers gotta write, yo.

Sarah Dessen, What it Means to be a Girl, and Talking to Myself in Public; or, Why so serious?

Discussed in this post:
That Summer (1996)
Just Listen (2006)
Lock and Key (2008)


One post in, and I already want to abandon my new review process. I've been thinking about this process of reviewing, writing my thoughts about the words of others, and I'm not sure I'm any closer to an answer, or at least to a resting place in my thoughts.

If you are a reader, I think you understand what I'm getting at. The conversation between a reader and a text is one of the most intimate conversations to be had because it is, at least in my experience, the conversations in which I am most honest. During the time I read the book, I recognize myself, even if the actual plot bears no resemblance to me or my life. For example, some of the books that have most captivated me reflect somewhat negative aspects of my personality. Take Little Brother by Cory Doctorow. The story is set in the near future, in the aftermath of a terrorist attack on San Francisco. Several teens, out in the wrong place at the wrong time, are taken up by Homeland Security, interrogated, tortured, and basically screwed over by the people who are supposed to protect them. In addition to being completely caught up in what happened to the kids and fearful for their well being (this is one book where I had to read it in one sitting because I couldn't sleep until I knew how Marcus and crew fared), I also had to take a look at my own actions in our society. Am I willing to let my civil liberties be co-opted for a false sense of security? Am I willing to let my prejudices keep me from experiencing a full life? This is also something I've thought about as I learned some friends of mine are going to Pakistan to teach this year. My immediate reaction was fear -- and some of that is based on fact, but if I'm thoughtful and honest, most of my fear is based on what I let other people tell me and not on what I'm willing to seek and learn myself.

And this is why good literature is so important  and so hard to find. Good literature like Little Brother combines a rip-roaring action and suspense story with a story that makes the reader think about his or her own thoughts and actions. But truly good literature doesn't sacrifice craft or plot or well-wrought characters just to make a statement.

So what does this have to do with Sarah Dessen, eh? When I read Sarah Dessen, I find I'm confronting my ideas of what it means to be a girl and to like girly things. Initially, I thought I was just reading something light and fluffy and fun, but as I get sucked into the stories, I start to wonder, why is it that stories about girls and relationships are relegated to light and fluffy? Relationships and girls are not the realms of real literature.

This is an old argument, and it usually resurfaces around the time any major book award nominees are announced. It's an old and stupid debate -- what is chick lit and what is real lit? I think it's stupid because I don't think it's asking the right questions. BUT, I'm really not in the mood to suss the questions out here. It's dissertation territory. Still, I can't help but think about these things as I read. I realize I'm not your average reader, which makes these reviews hard to write. I believe that good lit stirs these questions and ideas in the reader, but my questions live a little closer to the surface of my thoughts, and I think it's mostly because I'm trained to critique literature and because I think too damn much. :-) Also, it's really hard to retell a conversation and still be honest, but if I want to be a better teacher and librarian, it's a skill I need to work on. If I'm too rambly, check out Lizzie Skurnick's book Shelf Discovery: The Teen Classics We Never Stopped Reading. There were many many times I shouted, "Yes! Exactly! That's what I thought!" as I read her book. Well, I didn't shout, per se, but I certainly put exclamation points in the margins.

ANYWAY, Sarah Dessen. I picked up That Summer to read on my vacation because it was a skinny book and it fit in my purse and I didn't expect to have much time to read. But I got sucked into the story of Haven and how she begins to deal with her father's remarriage and her older sister's wedding and with the general mess of being a teenager.

Here's what I find I love best about Dessen's books. Each story focuses on a teenage girl and some problem -- divorce, eating disorder, crazy family drama, etc. What Dessen does well is give us enough drama in the story to keep the plot rolling along without so much angst that you feel like this is a Very Special Episode of Oprah or something. (I also know that these crazy-dramatic stories a la Ellen Hopkins and others have an important place in literature, but sometimes, they're really hard to take, and that's another issue anyway.) I also like that each story is wrapped up on an upswing -- the characters begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but the stories are not wrapped up with a neat bow of Happily Ever After. Dessen's books are like mini documentaries -- they are real life but presented with all the hallmarks of good fiction in mind.

So, despite my carry-on weight restrictions (because I'll be damned if I'll pay baggage fees), I had to go out and buy two more books, which I also polished off (along with Holly Black's Tithe) in my 5 day vacation. First I read Just Listen, which may be my favorite of Dessen's books, in no small part because mix CDs are some of my mostest favorite things in the whole world, and if they are made by cute boys, well, so much the better.

Next I read Lock and Key, which addresses some heavier issues of child abuse and abandonment, but again, Dessen handles the topic in a way so as not to be tawdry but still let readers understand the seriousness of the topic. It's not my favorite because for some reason, Ruby didn't come across as fleshed out as some of Dessen's other narrators, but it was still a good read.

So if this were going to be your typical book review, I'd heartily recommend any of these books, to any reader. I don't know if I'd re-read any of the books, but I'm strongly considering making a Sunday excursion to the library to pick up This Lullaby.

P.S. I owe my students a belated apology for dismissing them as they read these books for "just reading fluff." I don't think I said it to their faces, but I'm pretty sure they could tell. I was wrong. Not only because these are good books, but because who am I to judge what you read? You're all smart and thoughtful young ladies and are capable of taking what you read and making informed decisions and thinking deeply about the stories you encounter. I'm sorry if I made you feel like you were somehow less for picking books with pink covers. I should have been open to learning from you if I expect you to learn from me. I'll do better.

All Pics from  Goodreads