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| It won't hurt a bit. Promise. |
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
What I Was
What I Was (2007) by Meg Rosoff
I was twelve or thirteen when I read A Separate Peace, young enough to not really understand the idea of subtext but well-read enough to get an idea that something was going on under the surface of the story. So when I picked up What I Was, on both the recommendation of my friend Kate and a previous encounter with Rosoff's work, the chilling and masterful How I Live Now, I expected a story that was more than just the sum of the plot. I wasn't prepared to be knocked sideways by the book.
I expected something along the hazily remembered lines of A Separate Peace -- boy's boarding school, secrets, tragic event that irrevocably shaped the characters lives -- and What I Was delivers that, no question. But what really knocked me out was Rosoff's prose (and the twist in the end, I totally did not see that coming).
A while back I was lucky to attend a reader's advisory workshop with rock star librarian Nancy Pearl, and she suggest that, when conducting a reference interview, librarians try to learn if patrons like books because they want to connect with a character, because they want to be swept up by a plot or because they like to get wrapped up in the language. I've always considered myself to fall mostly into the character camp, maybe 60% of the time, with plot at 30% and language at 10%. I have kept on with some rather poorly written books because I cared deeply about the characters.
I cared very deeply about H, the narrator, an old man looking back on the year that changed him forever. But Rosoff's prose wrapped around the characters and the action in such a way that left me seething with envy and addicted to the story.
I will quote my favorite passage here. In this section, H has tricked his parents into thinking he was staying at school and his school into thinking he's with his parents over the Easter holiday, when really he is staying with Finn, the orphaned boy who lives alone in a cottage on an island slowly being reclaimed by the sea and with whom H has become infatuated and obsessed.
The entire book is gorgeous and dreadful, in the old sense of the word. The further I progressed through H and Finn's story, the more I filled with dread as it moved towards the inexorable outcome -- even the twist only drove home the dread more fully into me.
I'm not sure I could handle reading books like Rosoff's more than once or twice a year (although I have Just In Case lined up after Terry Pratchett's latest). Rosoff puts her readers through their paces, and the experience is exhausting but worth every second.
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| from Goodreads |
I expected something along the hazily remembered lines of A Separate Peace -- boy's boarding school, secrets, tragic event that irrevocably shaped the characters lives -- and What I Was delivers that, no question. But what really knocked me out was Rosoff's prose (and the twist in the end, I totally did not see that coming).
A while back I was lucky to attend a reader's advisory workshop with rock star librarian Nancy Pearl, and she suggest that, when conducting a reference interview, librarians try to learn if patrons like books because they want to connect with a character, because they want to be swept up by a plot or because they like to get wrapped up in the language. I've always considered myself to fall mostly into the character camp, maybe 60% of the time, with plot at 30% and language at 10%. I have kept on with some rather poorly written books because I cared deeply about the characters.
I cared very deeply about H, the narrator, an old man looking back on the year that changed him forever. But Rosoff's prose wrapped around the characters and the action in such a way that left me seething with envy and addicted to the story.
I will quote my favorite passage here. In this section, H has tricked his parents into thinking he was staying at school and his school into thinking he's with his parents over the Easter holiday, when really he is staying with Finn, the orphaned boy who lives alone in a cottage on an island slowly being reclaimed by the sea and with whom H has become infatuated and obsessed.
I hated getting up in the cold and slept buried up to my eyes in blankets, removing them only to wrap my hands around a warm cup of tea. Finn had added sugar to mine unprompted, and I turned away to hide my flush of pleasure. I knew that if I waited in bed for him to build up the fire and perform his morning tasks, the hut would gradually fill with a kind of fuggy warmth, so I lay still, savoring the familiar sounds and postponing reentry into fill consciousness for as long as possible.
Nothing in my life so far compared to those first minutes of the day, half sitting in bed, still swaddled in warmth and with no imperative to move, just staring out the window as the first pale streaks ignited the sky. I liked to watch the boats chug slowly past our window: fishing boats returning from a long night of work, sailboats from the nearby estuary taking advantage of the favorable tide, little tugs on their way back to port. At night, passenger ships twinkled on the horizon like stars. (109-110)Man.
The entire book is gorgeous and dreadful, in the old sense of the word. The further I progressed through H and Finn's story, the more I filled with dread as it moved towards the inexorable outcome -- even the twist only drove home the dread more fully into me.
I'm not sure I could handle reading books like Rosoff's more than once or twice a year (although I have Just In Case lined up after Terry Pratchett's latest). Rosoff puts her readers through their paces, and the experience is exhausting but worth every second.
Monday, October 24, 2011
James and the Giant Peach
James and the Giant Peach (1961) by Roald Dahl
Oh Roald Dahl, perennial favorite of children the world over! As if I needed to introduce your stories.
I decided to read James and the Giant Peach because I want to pick up a few of the books that I didn't read when I was a child and to re-familiarize myself with the books and authors that I recommend to the children who come to the library. Like the titular fruit, this is a sweet story, though it is not without Dahl's characteristic shades of darkness. James is, after all, a lonely orphan, and his guardians, Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker, are baddies of the first order.
Dahl's books beg to be read aloud, and I think I'll pick up a title or two for my little cousins for Christmas.
What are some of your favorite children's novels? Or, what classic children's books have you not read that you would like to read? Mary Poppins and The Borrowers are top on my list. There are also some new series I'd like to try out, like the Frannie K. Stein series and the Sisters Grimm, Fairy Tale Detectives series.
And with James and the Giant Peach, I tie my 2010 book reading number, and today, I passed my 2010 numbers with What I Was, a piece of amazing adult literary fiction by Meg Rosoff (review to follow).
Happy reading, peeps!
 |
| from Goodreads |
Oh Roald Dahl, perennial favorite of children the world over! As if I needed to introduce your stories.
I decided to read James and the Giant Peach because I want to pick up a few of the books that I didn't read when I was a child and to re-familiarize myself with the books and authors that I recommend to the children who come to the library. Like the titular fruit, this is a sweet story, though it is not without Dahl's characteristic shades of darkness. James is, after all, a lonely orphan, and his guardians, Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker, are baddies of the first order.
Dahl's books beg to be read aloud, and I think I'll pick up a title or two for my little cousins for Christmas.
What are some of your favorite children's novels? Or, what classic children's books have you not read that you would like to read? Mary Poppins and The Borrowers are top on my list. There are also some new series I'd like to try out, like the Frannie K. Stein series and the Sisters Grimm, Fairy Tale Detectives series.
And with James and the Giant Peach, I tie my 2010 book reading number, and today, I passed my 2010 numbers with What I Was, a piece of amazing adult literary fiction by Meg Rosoff (review to follow).
Happy reading, peeps!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Listomania
Because I'm mostly caught up with homework and not sure I want to read in bed tonight, I'll kill some time on the internets.
My friend Amanda might be the smartest person I know, like, in the classical scholar sense. She posted a couple of Top Ten entries over on her blog. I'm somewhat ashamed to say that I've only read one of her "Top Ten Books I Read Over and Over" listed books, and...I didn't even like it that much.
I go to a pretty Western university, so the light of the ivory towers does reach us here in the Rockies, but it's not as blinding as it might be in, say, New Haven. But traditional scholarly pursuits hold a significant cachet among the profs and students, even if football holds an outward sway over the population. For someone like me, with, shall we say varied academic interests, I sometimes find myself feeling out of place. Not because students like my dear Amanda make me feel bad. Amanda is pretty rad all around. But our lists, as you will see, are rather different. But after a spirited dinner with a professor and some fellow students, I feel pretty good about my corner of academia. We also decided that my job at the library is an equivalent of an adjunct university professor, so I'm rechristening myself as an adjunct librarian.
And so, here are some lists from an erstwhile academic and adjunct librarian.
2. Emily of New Moon by LM Montgomery*
3. The Song of the Lioness by Tamora Pierce*
4. The Immortals by Tamora Pierce*
5. Jack of Kinrowan by Charles de Lint
6. Tam Lin by Pamela Dean
7. American Gods by Neil Gaiman
8. The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patrica C. Wrede*
9. The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros
10. Bulfinch's Mythology
Amanda also listed Ten Books Essential for Civilization and Humanity. I've read three out of ten this time! I would agree with some of her choices, but I have a few others.
Ten Books Essential for Civilization and Humanity
1. 1984 by George Orwell
2. Complete Works by William Shakespeare
3. The Odyssey & The Illiad by Homer
4. The Metamorphoses by Ovid
5. The Tao Te Ching by Lao Tsu (this translation is particularly lovely)
6. The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell
7. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
8. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
9. The Essential Calvin and Hobbes by Bil Watterson
10. The Rights of the Reader by Daniel Pennac
What books would you include on your lists?
*I mean the whole series here. Individual titles would take over my whole list.
My friend Amanda might be the smartest person I know, like, in the classical scholar sense. She posted a couple of Top Ten entries over on her blog. I'm somewhat ashamed to say that I've only read one of her "Top Ten Books I Read Over and Over" listed books, and...I didn't even like it that much.
I go to a pretty Western university, so the light of the ivory towers does reach us here in the Rockies, but it's not as blinding as it might be in, say, New Haven. But traditional scholarly pursuits hold a significant cachet among the profs and students, even if football holds an outward sway over the population. For someone like me, with, shall we say varied academic interests, I sometimes find myself feeling out of place. Not because students like my dear Amanda make me feel bad. Amanda is pretty rad all around. But our lists, as you will see, are rather different. But after a spirited dinner with a professor and some fellow students, I feel pretty good about my corner of academia. We also decided that my job at the library is an equivalent of an adjunct university professor, so I'm rechristening myself as an adjunct librarian.
And so, here are some lists from an erstwhile academic and adjunct librarian.
Ten Books I Read Over and Over (and Over and Over)
1. Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery*2. Emily of New Moon by LM Montgomery*
3. The Song of the Lioness by Tamora Pierce*
4. The Immortals by Tamora Pierce*
5. Jack of Kinrowan by Charles de Lint
6. Tam Lin by Pamela Dean
7. American Gods by Neil Gaiman
8. The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patrica C. Wrede*
9. The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros
10. Bulfinch's Mythology
Amanda also listed Ten Books Essential for Civilization and Humanity. I've read three out of ten this time! I would agree with some of her choices, but I have a few others.
Ten Books Essential for Civilization and Humanity
1. 1984 by George Orwell
2. Complete Works by William Shakespeare
3. The Odyssey & The Illiad by Homer
4. The Metamorphoses by Ovid
5. The Tao Te Ching by Lao Tsu (this translation is particularly lovely)
6. The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell
7. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
8. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
9. The Essential Calvin and Hobbes by Bil Watterson
10. The Rights of the Reader by Daniel Pennac
What books would you include on your lists?
*I mean the whole series here. Individual titles would take over my whole list.
Friday, October 21, 2011
A Matter of Magic
A Matter of Magic (omnibus edition of Mairelon the Magician (1991) and The Magician's Ward (1997) by Patricia C. Wrede
What is it about Regency fiction that is so appealing? Why has this love affair with all things Austenian and beyond taken such a hold, particularly among women of my generation? I mean, there are approximately 8 billion and seven Regency set novels, Jane Austen reworkings, stories of women who live their life by Jane Austen's rules? I haven't read too many of these sorts of books, although I find the perceived gentility of the era absolutely appealing, but if the stories are handled poorly (Jane Austen Ruined My Life, for one), they smack of desperation and getting a man. Not that I don't want a husband, but readers who think that Jane Austen's books were simply about landing a hubby miss the subtleties of the work.
ANYWAY, A Matter of Magic contains two Regency era stories of Kim and Mairelon, a street kid and a magician. Kim is one of my favorite spunky heroines, rising from thief to magician-in-training over the course of the stories, with Mairelon, or Richard Merrill to use his real name, in charge of her training. And with Kim's streetwise upbringing, Wrede gives the readers a chance to compare the worlds of the drawing room gentilesse and the gritty London life.
I guess I do like the way that romance is often quite subtle in these stories -- longing glances, hands held in a dance, letters and handkerchiefs and locks of hair as love tokens. No, I don't guess I like these. I know I like these pieces of a Regency story. It's a refreshing change from the half-naked teenage vixens dancing for leering men that passes for sexy these days. I fear I would make a complete mess of the complicated societal rules in place, but there is definitely a part of me longs for some sort of agreed upon, if bizarre, protocol. Wrede doesn't leave out the swoon, but her focus is on Kim as she transforms from homeless kid to an educated lady of Society, and I find those sort of transformation stories appealing, particularly in stories like Kim's, where the heroine isn't shuttled around by her elders and guardians. She takes a hand in her destiny, although she is given considerably more freedom than her peers because she is a wizard (or will be a wizard). Average ladies don't get the same choices, and since I am decidedly average, I would not want to time travel to the Regency without a TARDIS ready by.
If you like your Regency with a dash of magic, I recommend Patricia Wrede and Caroline Stevermer's Sorcery and Cecilia series of epistolary novels or Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (which more period-accurate language). And for a fun what-if-I-was-Lizzie-Bennett experience, the miniseries Lost in Austen is a delight. Also check out Regency House Party, a dating show in which the contestants live by Regency rules and hope to make a good match. This is one of my guiltier pleasures, although there's nothing to feel guilty over when music, TV or books are involved.
 |
| from Goodreads |
What is it about Regency fiction that is so appealing? Why has this love affair with all things Austenian and beyond taken such a hold, particularly among women of my generation? I mean, there are approximately 8 billion and seven Regency set novels, Jane Austen reworkings, stories of women who live their life by Jane Austen's rules? I haven't read too many of these sorts of books, although I find the perceived gentility of the era absolutely appealing, but if the stories are handled poorly (Jane Austen Ruined My Life, for one), they smack of desperation and getting a man. Not that I don't want a husband, but readers who think that Jane Austen's books were simply about landing a hubby miss the subtleties of the work.
ANYWAY, A Matter of Magic contains two Regency era stories of Kim and Mairelon, a street kid and a magician. Kim is one of my favorite spunky heroines, rising from thief to magician-in-training over the course of the stories, with Mairelon, or Richard Merrill to use his real name, in charge of her training. And with Kim's streetwise upbringing, Wrede gives the readers a chance to compare the worlds of the drawing room gentilesse and the gritty London life.
I guess I do like the way that romance is often quite subtle in these stories -- longing glances, hands held in a dance, letters and handkerchiefs and locks of hair as love tokens. No, I don't guess I like these. I know I like these pieces of a Regency story. It's a refreshing change from the half-naked teenage vixens dancing for leering men that passes for sexy these days. I fear I would make a complete mess of the complicated societal rules in place, but there is definitely a part of me longs for some sort of agreed upon, if bizarre, protocol. Wrede doesn't leave out the swoon, but her focus is on Kim as she transforms from homeless kid to an educated lady of Society, and I find those sort of transformation stories appealing, particularly in stories like Kim's, where the heroine isn't shuttled around by her elders and guardians. She takes a hand in her destiny, although she is given considerably more freedom than her peers because she is a wizard (or will be a wizard). Average ladies don't get the same choices, and since I am decidedly average, I would not want to time travel to the Regency without a TARDIS ready by.
If you like your Regency with a dash of magic, I recommend Patricia Wrede and Caroline Stevermer's Sorcery and Cecilia series of epistolary novels or Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (which more period-accurate language). And for a fun what-if-I-was-Lizzie-Bennett experience, the miniseries Lost in Austen is a delight. Also check out Regency House Party, a dating show in which the contestants live by Regency rules and hope to make a good match. This is one of my guiltier pleasures, although there's nothing to feel guilty over when music, TV or books are involved.
Monday, October 17, 2011
The Name of the Star (All Hallow's Read)
The Name of the Star (2011) by Maureen Johnson
Well! What a story! I took advantage of the sick day (and the fact that I was pretty well caught up on my reading for school) to read this book. Yes, ghost stories are not my thing. Well known, well documented, still get the creeps thinking about even the mildest of stories. But I figured since I'd be sleeping on the couch again, and since it is the most secure sleeping area in the apartment, well...
I have to say, well played, Maureen. Well played. This book was the perfect amount of creeptastic. It gave me just enough chills to ensure uneasy dreams for the next few nights but not so many that I am concerned for my sleeping habits. Unfortunately, I will probably never be able to ride a subway again, thanks to the combined efforts of The Name of the Star and Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, but whatever. Subways are overrated. Buses are where it's at, yo.
Johnson excels in setting the scene, and I felt like I was at Rory's school, unfortunately so when there were spooky doings afoot. It was like watching a movie, and this is what you want when reading a spooky whodunit. And it's not that her characters were underdeveloped, but this book was much less about the protagonist's interior life than perhaps books like The Bermudez Triangle. This book was spooky spooky action. Put in the context of all her books, it shows the great range of Johnson's writing, and I am excited to read more.
And I don't want to spoil the plot, but I'm really glad there are good ghosts, like Jo, just as there are good people and bad people. And even though Jo was meant to have died in the Blitz, I pictured her as the pilot from that Torchwood episode "Out of Time," Diane. And AND I loved the nerdy Doctor Who references. Jammy dodgers indeed.
I am ready for the sequel, Ms. Johnson.
 |
| from Goodreads |
I have to say, well played, Maureen. Well played. This book was the perfect amount of creeptastic. It gave me just enough chills to ensure uneasy dreams for the next few nights but not so many that I am concerned for my sleeping habits. Unfortunately, I will probably never be able to ride a subway again, thanks to the combined efforts of The Name of the Star and Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, but whatever. Subways are overrated. Buses are where it's at, yo.
Johnson excels in setting the scene, and I felt like I was at Rory's school, unfortunately so when there were spooky doings afoot. It was like watching a movie, and this is what you want when reading a spooky whodunit. And it's not that her characters were underdeveloped, but this book was much less about the protagonist's interior life than perhaps books like The Bermudez Triangle. This book was spooky spooky action. Put in the context of all her books, it shows the great range of Johnson's writing, and I am excited to read more.
And I don't want to spoil the plot, but I'm really glad there are good ghosts, like Jo, just as there are good people and bad people. And even though Jo was meant to have died in the Blitz, I pictured her as the pilot from that Torchwood episode "Out of Time," Diane. And AND I loved the nerdy Doctor Who references. Jammy dodgers indeed.
 |
| source |
I am ready for the sequel, Ms. Johnson.
If there's one good thing about this whole NBA debacle...
...it's that I'm taking home some good books to read, books that might otherwise have been lost in the shuffle of my life.
I know, I know. I should read the books anyway, award nominees or not. But I'm just a small town, small time blogger and a student, as well you know. I gots sonnets and plays to read, yo. Incidentally, Glengarry Glen Ross made me almost physically ill as I read it, with horrible flashbacks to my horrendous call center job -- not as high stakes as real estate, but I swear our bosses must have cribbed from the play in some of their pep talks. I suspect that was part of Mamet's plan, this reaction. And reading it as this Occupy Wall Street 99% movement is gaining strength and visibility... Anywhoosies...
There are tons of great responses to the Chime/Shine debacle on many other great blogs, authors weigh in on Twitter and their own blogs. I definitely agree that the way the situation was handled was not in the least classy, but I don't feel like I can weigh in on the relative merits of any of the books because I haven't read them.
Still, one good thing from this controversy -- the attention focused on these books will, I hope, bring more readers to the books. I'm sort of ashamed to admit that it often takes controversy or media attention to bring my focus to books that might deserve my attention based on merit alone, but the reality is that sometimes, it takes a glaring spotlight to help sift through the infodump I start each morning with. Possibly, this is the only good to come from a challenge to or banning of a book. I read somewhere (and I'm not sure I could ever find the article again, so this could be wishful thinking or a plot from another book) about a kid who started a secret banned book library in his/her locker after a rash of bannings in his/her school. Talk about awesome.
Like I said, I'm a small time blogger and student. I'm pretty tech savvy and all that, but there are only so many hours in the day. I follow about 60 people on Twitter and subscribe to at least that many blogs. I rely on digital sources rather than the print publications my colleagues use in part because I need to keep my physical work space relatively clean to keep stress levels manageable, but also, as Publishers Weekly and School Library Journal issues make their way around the staff, by the time they'd get to me they'd be a month or two old. (Which reminds me, I need to ask my boss to order a copy of Mastiff -- squee!)
Thanks to the NBA announcements, I have Gary D. Schmidt's Okay For Now on my table.
This novel is a companion to the phenomenal The Wednesday Wars, another book I probably wouldn't have read had it not been a Newbery Honor book. Though it is certainly my loss, straight-up historical fiction isn't usually my cup of tea, so I tend not to keep track of these sorts of books. But I did love The Wednesday Wars, so I'm excited for Okay for Now. And you can bet you'll see Shine and other NBA nominees on this blog, but probably after the semester is over.
P.S. Awesome-sauce blogger Leila Roy, from bookshelves of doom, wrote on Kirkus about books she would have missed had she not been reading potential Cybil nominees, so I'm glad I'm not the only one with a huge TBR pile (or that I am not the only one who *sometimes* judge books by their covers.) Sometimes, reading through lists of award winners and nominees is a great way to discover new and awesome books. In my case, reading through the Newbery list would be challenging because historical fiction seems to figure disproportionately higher on that list than others I've seen.
P.P.S. I'm not starting Okay for Now today. I'm bundled up on the couch with an ill-timed sick day (ill-timed because I'd already put in for some vacation days so I could get ahead on some school work -- stupid body with stupid timing and stupid disregard for the need to do some stupid research), reading the excellent A Matter of Magic and then on to The Name of the Star (which I am reading in part because I can't - and don't want to - escape Ms. Johnson's pervading online presence and in part because of the shiny shiny cover... sooo shiny).
I know, I know. I should read the books anyway, award nominees or not. But I'm just a small town, small time blogger and a student, as well you know. I gots sonnets and plays to read, yo. Incidentally, Glengarry Glen Ross made me almost physically ill as I read it, with horrible flashbacks to my horrendous call center job -- not as high stakes as real estate, but I swear our bosses must have cribbed from the play in some of their pep talks. I suspect that was part of Mamet's plan, this reaction. And reading it as this Occupy Wall Street 99% movement is gaining strength and visibility... Anywhoosies...
There are tons of great responses to the Chime/Shine debacle on many other great blogs, authors weigh in on Twitter and their own blogs. I definitely agree that the way the situation was handled was not in the least classy, but I don't feel like I can weigh in on the relative merits of any of the books because I haven't read them.
Still, one good thing from this controversy -- the attention focused on these books will, I hope, bring more readers to the books. I'm sort of ashamed to admit that it often takes controversy or media attention to bring my focus to books that might deserve my attention based on merit alone, but the reality is that sometimes, it takes a glaring spotlight to help sift through the infodump I start each morning with. Possibly, this is the only good to come from a challenge to or banning of a book. I read somewhere (and I'm not sure I could ever find the article again, so this could be wishful thinking or a plot from another book) about a kid who started a secret banned book library in his/her locker after a rash of bannings in his/her school. Talk about awesome.
Like I said, I'm a small time blogger and student. I'm pretty tech savvy and all that, but there are only so many hours in the day. I follow about 60 people on Twitter and subscribe to at least that many blogs. I rely on digital sources rather than the print publications my colleagues use in part because I need to keep my physical work space relatively clean to keep stress levels manageable, but also, as Publishers Weekly and School Library Journal issues make their way around the staff, by the time they'd get to me they'd be a month or two old. (Which reminds me, I need to ask my boss to order a copy of Mastiff -- squee!)
Thanks to the NBA announcements, I have Gary D. Schmidt's Okay For Now on my table.
 |
| from Goodreads |
P.S. Awesome-sauce blogger Leila Roy, from bookshelves of doom, wrote on Kirkus about books she would have missed had she not been reading potential Cybil nominees, so I'm glad I'm not the only one with a huge TBR pile (or that I am not the only one who *sometimes* judge books by their covers.) Sometimes, reading through lists of award winners and nominees is a great way to discover new and awesome books. In my case, reading through the Newbery list would be challenging because historical fiction seems to figure disproportionately higher on that list than others I've seen.
P.P.S. I'm not starting Okay for Now today. I'm bundled up on the couch with an ill-timed sick day (ill-timed because I'd already put in for some vacation days so I could get ahead on some school work -- stupid body with stupid timing and stupid disregard for the need to do some stupid research), reading the excellent A Matter of Magic and then on to The Name of the Star (which I am reading in part because I can't - and don't want to - escape Ms. Johnson's pervading online presence and in part because of the shiny shiny cover... sooo shiny).
Sunday, October 16, 2011
This Just In...New Discworld Book!
Did you know Terry Pratchett has a new book out? Snuff, the 39th Discworld book? I'm first on the holds list for it, and believe you me, I am setting aside homework to read it, when I get it in.
You haven't read any Discworld books? For shame. (You have? Huzzah!)
My dear friend Annie introduced me to the series, starting me off with Jingo, which, in addition to being crackingly funny like all of Pratchett's books, is a meditation on war and imperialism. My favorite of the series is Thief of Time, also a ripping good yarn but with a delicious meditation on the nature of, well, time. And any book with Sam Vimes, commander of the Ankh Morpork constabulary is well worth a read. Vimes and witch Tiffany Aching are my favorite characters of the bunch. I love that Vimes is a man of unwavering principle, but not a man unwilling to bend when the situation requires, and Pratchett is a genius as he shows just what that means. And Tiffany is smart and capable and tough as nails as she watches over her people, the people of the Chalk. She'll tell off princes and take on monsters armed with nothing more than a frying pan and a sense of righteous anger. She is a perfect role model and a wonderfully rich character.
If you're waiting, like me, for your hold to come in, take a gander at this lovely article about Sir Terry from this week's Guardian. And seriously, if you haven't read any of Pratchett's books yet, do yourself a paper and hie you hence to your local library or bookseller and START READING.
 |
| from Goodreads |
You haven't read any Discworld books? For shame. (You have? Huzzah!)
 |
| source |
My dear friend Annie introduced me to the series, starting me off with Jingo, which, in addition to being crackingly funny like all of Pratchett's books, is a meditation on war and imperialism. My favorite of the series is Thief of Time, also a ripping good yarn but with a delicious meditation on the nature of, well, time. And any book with Sam Vimes, commander of the Ankh Morpork constabulary is well worth a read. Vimes and witch Tiffany Aching are my favorite characters of the bunch. I love that Vimes is a man of unwavering principle, but not a man unwilling to bend when the situation requires, and Pratchett is a genius as he shows just what that means. And Tiffany is smart and capable and tough as nails as she watches over her people, the people of the Chalk. She'll tell off princes and take on monsters armed with nothing more than a frying pan and a sense of righteous anger. She is a perfect role model and a wonderfully rich character.
If you're waiting, like me, for your hold to come in, take a gander at this lovely article about Sir Terry from this week's Guardian. And seriously, if you haven't read any of Pratchett's books yet, do yourself a paper and hie you hence to your local library or bookseller and START READING.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
I Kill Giants
I Kill Giants (2009) by Joe Kelly and J.M. Ken Niimura
Barbara Thorson is ready to kill some giants. She stalks the streets with Coveleski, her mighty giant-smashin hammer. Barbara stands up to bullies and she is a badass Dungeon Master.
She's also a little girl with a big weight on her shoulders.
At first, Barbara reminded me of one Helga Pataki of the Nickelodeon cartoon Hey Arnold!, one of my all time favorite cartoons. And like Helga, Barbara is dealing with some big issues with a big show of bravado. But I can't say more without revealing key plot details, so I'll give you a big old Spoiler warning. If you don't want to know what happens, don't read below the photo. I did warn you.
So, man. I promised myself that I wouldn't read any books about illness or death, especially death of a parent, not after my dad got sick this year. I've been repressing all this stuff, not dealing. It's not healthy, but it's what I'm doing. We all know my abiding fan-girling for John Green, and even for him, I won't be reading The Fault in our Stars, not for a good long while.
So I was a little sucker punched when I realized that the giant Barbara faced was the impending death of her mother. I thought maybe that her mother had a mental illness, but she actually died. And then I read the back story. Kelly sketched out the story while he was at the hospital with his dad while his dad was undergoing physical therapy after losing a leg to diabetes (just as my dad did back in 2007). Kelly's father passed away in 2008, just before the last chapter of the story was published. My dad is still alive, luckily, but still, it's so hard to deal with the death of a parent (or serious illness), no matter how young (or old) the child may be.
Although, as Barbara learns, we are stronger than we know. Hiding from the giants only make them scarier. We may not have magical hammers to bash the giants away, but if we're lucky, we have a support system to help us along when (not if, but when) the giants come to call. Barbara has a great system and so do I.
Barbara Thorson is ready to kill some giants. She stalks the streets with Coveleski, her mighty giant-smashin hammer. Barbara stands up to bullies and she is a badass Dungeon Master.
She's also a little girl with a big weight on her shoulders.
At first, Barbara reminded me of one Helga Pataki of the Nickelodeon cartoon Hey Arnold!, one of my all time favorite cartoons. And like Helga, Barbara is dealing with some big issues with a big show of bravado. But I can't say more without revealing key plot details, so I'll give you a big old Spoiler warning. If you don't want to know what happens, don't read below the photo. I did warn you.
So, man. I promised myself that I wouldn't read any books about illness or death, especially death of a parent, not after my dad got sick this year. I've been repressing all this stuff, not dealing. It's not healthy, but it's what I'm doing. We all know my abiding fan-girling for John Green, and even for him, I won't be reading The Fault in our Stars, not for a good long while.
So I was a little sucker punched when I realized that the giant Barbara faced was the impending death of her mother. I thought maybe that her mother had a mental illness, but she actually died. And then I read the back story. Kelly sketched out the story while he was at the hospital with his dad while his dad was undergoing physical therapy after losing a leg to diabetes (just as my dad did back in 2007). Kelly's father passed away in 2008, just before the last chapter of the story was published. My dad is still alive, luckily, but still, it's so hard to deal with the death of a parent (or serious illness), no matter how young (or old) the child may be.
Although, as Barbara learns, we are stronger than we know. Hiding from the giants only make them scarier. We may not have magical hammers to bash the giants away, but if we're lucky, we have a support system to help us along when (not if, but when) the giants come to call. Barbara has a great system and so do I.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
No More Adventures in Wonderland: A Response
Maria Tatar, a highly influential scholar of folklore and children's literature, wrote an interesting op-ed piece in the New York Times today, and while I respect her years of study and expertise, I have some reservations on her readings of modern middle grade and young adult dark and dystopian fiction.
In the beginning of her article, Tatar discusses the delicate balance of light and dark Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan, which was first published one hundred years ago. She discusses the way stories like Alice, Peter and Wendy and even Where the Wild Things Are temper the dark with the absurd, lightening the tone with humor and, by extension, sparing children from exposure to real horror.
Then she contrasts these books with The Graveyard Book, which begins like this: There was a hand in the darkness and it held a knife. The hand that wields that knife then goes on to kill the protagonist's family. Tatar is right -- this is an unpleasant way to begin a story (although, without giving away spoilers if you haven't read the book, it gets better). But you know what? I'm reading James and the Giant Peach (first published in 1961 -- halfway between Peter and Katniss) for the first time, and it starts out pretty much the same way. Oh, there's no knife, but dead parents are dead parents, and Bod Owens is raised by ghosts, sure, but I'd take my chance with them than with Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker any day. Bod Owens has loving, if unconventional guardians in the denizens of the graveyard, family who protects and educates Bod and prepares him for the world. Alice, Wendy, John, Michael, Peter and the Lost Boys learn they must rely on themselves in the wilds of Neverland, hardly the safety zones Tatar imagines.
Tatar goes on to discuss the darkness found in Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy and J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books before jumping to one of the darkest series in modern young adult literature, The Hunger Games.
Tatar writes, "It’s hard to imagine Carroll or Barrie coming up with something like that. They were as passionate about their young readers as they were about the books they wrote."
Well, yes, it certainly is hard to imagine Carroll or Barrie coming up with Katniss and her friends, but what Tatar fails to note is that the series she discusses do not belong on the same shelves, so to speak. Where the Wild Things Are is a picture book, Carroll and Barrie's books are shelved in the children's section and The Hunger Games are solidly young adult material.
Tatar is not condemning the violence of Katniss's world, nor is she giving a rallying cry for a return to innocence in children's literature, as so many who speak out about The Hunger Games and its ilk will. Tatar writes, "No one is about to slam the brakes on these new engines of storytelling, nor should they. There is much to say in favor of the move to obliterate the divide between books written for children and adult fiction." But, she also writes, "Still, it is hard not to mourn the decline of the literary tradition invented by Carroll and Barrie, for they also bridged generational divides." and in this sentence, I think Tatar is absolutely mistaken.
Literature of the sort created by Carroll and Barrie is not in decline. Series like Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Margaret Peterson Haddix's Shadow Children, Eoin Colfer's Artemis Fowl and many more like these balance the darkness and anxieties children experience and enter the " imaginative worlds of children — where danger is balanced by enchantment — and reproduced their magic on the page," though Tatar claims that no other writers manage this but Barrie and Carroll.
What I find most disappointing about this article is that once again, children's and young adult fiction are lumped into one giant pile. Just because these books may share space on the library or book store shelves does not mean they should be treated as the same. Children's and young adult literature is as complex, diverse and nuanced as adult literature, in which you find books darker than night and lighter than day, sometimes both in the same story.
I am also disappointed that article leaps at The Hunger Games and holds it up as The Example of Books Children Are Reading. Sure, we can't keep copies of The Hunger Games on the shelf at my library, but neither can we keep Diary of a Wimpy Kid, The Lost Hero, How to Train Your Dragon, Along for the Ride, Clementine, Shiver, Stormbreaker, Looking for Alaska, The Name of the Star, Knuffle Bunny (since Tatar introduced picture books), and loads others on the shelf. Try finding The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe or The Wizard of Oz, Little House on the Prairie, Matilda or Alice and Wonderland on a given day, and your chance of taking it home right then is about 50/50. The point is, kids and teens, on the whole, read widely and well, just as adults do.
I understand this is an opinion piece, not a scholarly treatise, but I wonder what it will take for scholars, for the estimable editors of The New York Times and other bastions of journalism, for the public at large to begin to see the rich diversity of material that sits in the children's section?
And what this also tells me is that if (when...if) I decide to get my PhD*, I've got a good place to start, giving children's and young adult literature a proper critical eye, and I've got the desire to share children's literature in all shades of light and dark with schools, libraries, newspapers, scholarly journals, and most importantly, with the kids who need to read them.
*darn it
In the beginning of her article, Tatar discusses the delicate balance of light and dark Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan, which was first published one hundred years ago. She discusses the way stories like Alice, Peter and Wendy and even Where the Wild Things Are temper the dark with the absurd, lightening the tone with humor and, by extension, sparing children from exposure to real horror.
Then she contrasts these books with The Graveyard Book, which begins like this: There was a hand in the darkness and it held a knife. The hand that wields that knife then goes on to kill the protagonist's family. Tatar is right -- this is an unpleasant way to begin a story (although, without giving away spoilers if you haven't read the book, it gets better). But you know what? I'm reading James and the Giant Peach (first published in 1961 -- halfway between Peter and Katniss) for the first time, and it starts out pretty much the same way. Oh, there's no knife, but dead parents are dead parents, and Bod Owens is raised by ghosts, sure, but I'd take my chance with them than with Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker any day. Bod Owens has loving, if unconventional guardians in the denizens of the graveyard, family who protects and educates Bod and prepares him for the world. Alice, Wendy, John, Michael, Peter and the Lost Boys learn they must rely on themselves in the wilds of Neverland, hardly the safety zones Tatar imagines.
Tatar goes on to discuss the darkness found in Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy and J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books before jumping to one of the darkest series in modern young adult literature, The Hunger Games.
Tatar writes, "It’s hard to imagine Carroll or Barrie coming up with something like that. They were as passionate about their young readers as they were about the books they wrote."
Well, yes, it certainly is hard to imagine Carroll or Barrie coming up with Katniss and her friends, but what Tatar fails to note is that the series she discusses do not belong on the same shelves, so to speak. Where the Wild Things Are is a picture book, Carroll and Barrie's books are shelved in the children's section and The Hunger Games are solidly young adult material.
Tatar is not condemning the violence of Katniss's world, nor is she giving a rallying cry for a return to innocence in children's literature, as so many who speak out about The Hunger Games and its ilk will. Tatar writes, "No one is about to slam the brakes on these new engines of storytelling, nor should they. There is much to say in favor of the move to obliterate the divide between books written for children and adult fiction." But, she also writes, "Still, it is hard not to mourn the decline of the literary tradition invented by Carroll and Barrie, for they also bridged generational divides." and in this sentence, I think Tatar is absolutely mistaken.
Literature of the sort created by Carroll and Barrie is not in decline. Series like Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Margaret Peterson Haddix's Shadow Children, Eoin Colfer's Artemis Fowl and many more like these balance the darkness and anxieties children experience and enter the " imaginative worlds of children — where danger is balanced by enchantment — and reproduced their magic on the page," though Tatar claims that no other writers manage this but Barrie and Carroll.
What I find most disappointing about this article is that once again, children's and young adult fiction are lumped into one giant pile. Just because these books may share space on the library or book store shelves does not mean they should be treated as the same. Children's and young adult literature is as complex, diverse and nuanced as adult literature, in which you find books darker than night and lighter than day, sometimes both in the same story.
I am also disappointed that article leaps at The Hunger Games and holds it up as The Example of Books Children Are Reading. Sure, we can't keep copies of The Hunger Games on the shelf at my library, but neither can we keep Diary of a Wimpy Kid, The Lost Hero, How to Train Your Dragon, Along for the Ride, Clementine, Shiver, Stormbreaker, Looking for Alaska, The Name of the Star, Knuffle Bunny (since Tatar introduced picture books), and loads others on the shelf. Try finding The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe or The Wizard of Oz, Little House on the Prairie, Matilda or Alice and Wonderland on a given day, and your chance of taking it home right then is about 50/50. The point is, kids and teens, on the whole, read widely and well, just as adults do.
I understand this is an opinion piece, not a scholarly treatise, but I wonder what it will take for scholars, for the estimable editors of The New York Times and other bastions of journalism, for the public at large to begin to see the rich diversity of material that sits in the children's section?
And what this also tells me is that if (when...if) I decide to get my PhD*, I've got a good place to start, giving children's and young adult literature a proper critical eye, and I've got the desire to share children's literature in all shades of light and dark with schools, libraries, newspapers, scholarly journals, and most importantly, with the kids who need to read them.
*darn it
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Empire State: A Love Story (Or Not)
Empire State: A Love Story (Or Not) (2011) by Jason Shiga
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| from Goodreads |
Awww, Jimmy! You're such a cutie pie! This graphic novel is a sweet story about Jimmy, a librarian (^_^) from Oakland, who decides he loves his best friend Sara. Unfortunately, Sara has just moved to New York City, and Jimmy isn't sure he wants to leave Oakland. Still, he decides he has to at least try, and, emulating his favorite movie Sleepless in Seattle, he writes to Sara and asks her to meet him atop the Empire State Building on President's Day (since Valentine's Day has passed). Do they fall madly in love and live happily ever after? Maybe (or not).
This sweet story is a quick read, but it's worth the time. And I just loved Jimmy. I, too, took a trip to see if I could make a romantic relationship work with a friend. I flew to France -- it didn't work. It was an unmitigated disaster. But whatever. It's all turgid water of the Seine under the gilded Alexandre III bridge, right? And as Jimmy knows, sometimes it's worth it just to try.
And how much did I love the scene where Jimmy gets off the bus in NYC and does a little happy dance because someone swears at him, just like in a movie? A lot. That's how much. Not that I was ever so naïf when I was in Paris. Nope, not me.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The Five Fists of Science
The Five Fists of Science (2006) by Matt Fraction, illustrated by Steven Sanders
Science! No longer the realm of the fop, the dandy, or the physicist! Science! No longer the purview of the landed gentry or the monied upper classes! Science is Today! Science is Now! Science is You! (from the jacket)
Five Fists of Science? More like the Five Fists of Awesome! Rather, the Seven Fists of Awesome, because Bertha was just as fighty as Tesla, Twain and Tim. Sure, Seven Fists of Science doesn't trip as trippingly as Five Fists of Science, but must we make this all about the dudes?
Soapboxy aside, this book was pretty much made of awesome. Tesla and Twain team to fight the black magic cabal of JP Morgan and Thomas Edison? Awesome. Automatons? Awesome. Witty dialogue including a shout-out to Mutant Enemy? Awesome.
This book is cracking good fun, kids. And it reinforces what I've long been taught by television , movies, and Kate Beaton comics: Tesla good, Edison bad. I mean, Edison probably wasn't into black magic, but that's just cuz he was too busy jacking Tesla's inventions.
Also, with the automatons fighting big scary creatures, this book is a win for fans of Scott Westerfeld's Leviathan series, in stores (and libraries) now!
(And this is my 100th post! Thank you to the tens of lovely peeps who read!)
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| from Goodreads |
Five Fists of Science? More like the Five Fists of Awesome! Rather, the Seven Fists of Awesome, because Bertha was just as fighty as Tesla, Twain and Tim. Sure, Seven Fists of Science doesn't trip as trippingly as Five Fists of Science, but must we make this all about the dudes?
Soapboxy aside, this book was pretty much made of awesome. Tesla and Twain team to fight the black magic cabal of JP Morgan and Thomas Edison? Awesome. Automatons? Awesome. Witty dialogue including a shout-out to Mutant Enemy? Awesome.
This book is cracking good fun, kids. And it reinforces what I've long been taught by television , movies, and Kate Beaton comics: Tesla good, Edison bad. I mean, Edison probably wasn't into black magic, but that's just cuz he was too busy jacking Tesla's inventions.
Also, with the automatons fighting big scary creatures, this book is a win for fans of Scott Westerfeld's Leviathan series, in stores (and libraries) now!
(And this is my 100th post! Thank you to the tens of lovely peeps who read!)
All Hallow's Read
I'm not sure if you know this about me, but I cannot handle scary books or movies. I can't even handle little bitty kids' books about ghosts. It's true. I am a 100% scarredy cat, and I've come to peace that. I prefer my dreams filled with pleasant images, and I prefer to be able to fall asleep so as to have these dreams. And no, no matter how many times you ask, I will not watch zombie movies with you, French or no, so stop asking!
But I've read a few scary books in my day and will occasionally read a creepy ghost story. So if you are looking for something to give you just a few frissons this All Hallow's Read, check out a few of these titles.
First on the list is the book that left me scarred for life, the magnificent The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson (1959). Jackson is one of the most underrated authors in modern times. Her short story "The Lottery" is the first story that made me realize there was something going on behind the surface plot and action. My favorite books are her nonfiction books about raising her kids and about writing, well before Erma Bombeck came on the scene. But the atmospheric horror of The Haunting of Hill House gutted me. And don't confuse the story with the terrible movie The Haunting, which starred Liam Neeson and Catherine Zeta Jones -- I don't care what people say, it is so loosely based on the book as to detach itself from the novel entirely. But kids, this book messed me up. Even Jackson was messed up by the story, and it's her book! In one of her books on writing, she tells how, as she wrote the novel, she'd get so scared that she had to read Little Women each night, just so she could get to sleep. That's some darn scary writing, kids.
Neil Gaiman writes some darn scary stories, and since I first heard about All Hallow's Read through his blog, it's only fitting that he find a spot (or three) on the list.
I read Coraline (2001) to the 8th graders I student taught, and the middle of the day is the perfect time for this delightfully creepy tale. You'll never look at buttons the same way after reading this book.
The Graveyard Book (2008) is the story of Nobody Owens, a boy raised in a graveyard after his family was murdered. Even better than reading this Newbery Award winning book is to listen to Gaiman reading the audio book, with musical chapter breaks of Ben Sollee and Bela Fleck playing the Dance Macabre.
Neverwhere (1996) isn't so much scary as dark, but the villains, Messers Croup and Vandemar are the most terrifying killers I've ever read. And this book did me no favors as I visited London and rode the Tube.
I just got The Name of the Star (2011) by Maureen Johnson, and this will be my official All Hallow's Read. Johnson is one of my favorite authors, but this book marks a departure from her usual realistic fiction (not counting Devilish, which does feature some kick-ass demon slaying -- and cupcakes). The Name of the Starhas ghosts, Jack the Ripper, and London, one of my favorite things anyway, but I trust Johnson to spin a good yarn that won't leave me quivering in my jar (if you don't know what that last bit means, you must not follow Johnson on Twitter, and that's a darn shame).
And if you get too scared, you can always take a cue from Shirley Jackson and read Little Women, or Forever Young Adult's fan-frigging-tastic summary. Happy Reading!
But I've read a few scary books in my day and will occasionally read a creepy ghost story. So if you are looking for something to give you just a few frissons this All Hallow's Read, check out a few of these titles.
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| Cover pics from Goodreads |
Neil Gaiman writes some darn scary stories, and since I first heard about All Hallow's Read through his blog, it's only fitting that he find a spot (or three) on the list.
I read Coraline (2001) to the 8th graders I student taught, and the middle of the day is the perfect time for this delightfully creepy tale. You'll never look at buttons the same way after reading this book.
The Graveyard Book (2008) is the story of Nobody Owens, a boy raised in a graveyard after his family was murdered. Even better than reading this Newbery Award winning book is to listen to Gaiman reading the audio book, with musical chapter breaks of Ben Sollee and Bela Fleck playing the Dance Macabre.
Neverwhere (1996) isn't so much scary as dark, but the villains, Messers Croup and Vandemar are the most terrifying killers I've ever read. And this book did me no favors as I visited London and rode the Tube.
I just got The Name of the Star (2011) by Maureen Johnson, and this will be my official All Hallow's Read. Johnson is one of my favorite authors, but this book marks a departure from her usual realistic fiction (not counting Devilish, which does feature some kick-ass demon slaying -- and cupcakes). The Name of the Starhas ghosts, Jack the Ripper, and London, one of my favorite things anyway, but I trust Johnson to spin a good yarn that won't leave me quivering in my jar (if you don't know what that last bit means, you must not follow Johnson on Twitter, and that's a darn shame).
And if you get too scared, you can always take a cue from Shirley Jackson and read Little Women, or Forever Young Adult's fan-frigging-tastic summary. Happy Reading!
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| Last Year's Pumpkin. Maybe this year I'll carve the Earl of Oxford? |
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Daytripper
Daytripper (2011) by Gabriel Bá and Fábio Moon
What is the most important day of your life? Is it the day you first fell in love? The day you married? The day your first child was born? These are the questions Daytripper asks and examines through the life of Brás de Oliva Domingos, a young Brazilian obituary writer and son of a world famous writer.
Daytripper is a gorgeous, lyrical and philosophical graphic novel. The story is infused with touches of magical realism echoed in the art, art that was both unutterably gorgeous and and touched with whimsy.
I wish I could say more about this book, but it would just read like a bland technical critique of philosophy, although I want to bring this to my love poetry class because I see a lot of parallels between the story and the theory and philosophy discussions we've had in class. But that doesn't really do you any good. Better to read the book, then put it away and live your important days. As Moon writes in the afterword:
And for more work by the twins, check out their blog for their new work and information on their previous publications.
And PS: I had my mind well and truly blown today when I found out a college friend did some lettering for Wandering Son! Literature Swoon!
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| from Goodreads |
What is the most important day of your life? Is it the day you first fell in love? The day you married? The day your first child was born? These are the questions Daytripper asks and examines through the life of Brás de Oliva Domingos, a young Brazilian obituary writer and son of a world famous writer.
Daytripper is a gorgeous, lyrical and philosophical graphic novel. The story is infused with touches of magical realism echoed in the art, art that was both unutterably gorgeous and and touched with whimsy.
I wish I could say more about this book, but it would just read like a bland technical critique of philosophy, although I want to bring this to my love poetry class because I see a lot of parallels between the story and the theory and philosophy discussions we've had in class. But that doesn't really do you any good. Better to read the book, then put it away and live your important days. As Moon writes in the afterword:
We wanted that feeling that life was happening right there, in front of every one of us, and that we were living it.
And we did live it.
And sometimes we die to prove that we lived.
And for more work by the twins, check out their blog for their new work and information on their previous publications.
And PS: I had my mind well and truly blown today when I found out a college friend did some lettering for Wandering Son! Literature Swoon!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Motel Art Improvement Service
Motel Art Improvement Service (2010) by Jason Little
I picked this book up on a whim, and I rather enjoyed it. Motel Art Improvement Service tells the story of Bee, an 18 year old New Yorker who embarks on a solo bike ride to San Francisco. Well, that's what she intends, but then a run in with some douche bag frat boys causes her to wreck her bike and put her ride on hold. While she hangs out at a motel, recuperating and planning her next move, she meets Cyrus, an artist who works his way from motel to motel, cleaning rooms by day and "improving" the motels' art by night. And he also takes a lot of drugs.
While Cyrus certainly isn't my idea of an awesome dude, Bee decides to go along with him for a bit, taking a job at a motel in Newark to earn cash for a new bike. There are some sexytimes, run-ins with motel staff and a psychotic drug dealer on shore leave, and other adventures. I'll let you read the book to see if Bee sticks with Cyrus or continues on her ride.
I quite liked Bee. The gal's got sass. I will definitely check out Little's first book of Bee's adventures, Shutterbug Folies.
I also really liked Little's art work. It was a nice combination of cartoony and realistic -- sometimes the warts and all realism grosses me out, and too-cartoony big-headed weird characters take me right out of the story. Bee would fit right in with Daria Morgendorffer, which is all right by me.
If you like amusing, realistic stories, sassy heroines and a dash of sexytimes in your graphic novels, you will love this book.
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| from Goodreads |
I picked this book up on a whim, and I rather enjoyed it. Motel Art Improvement Service tells the story of Bee, an 18 year old New Yorker who embarks on a solo bike ride to San Francisco. Well, that's what she intends, but then a run in with some douche bag frat boys causes her to wreck her bike and put her ride on hold. While she hangs out at a motel, recuperating and planning her next move, she meets Cyrus, an artist who works his way from motel to motel, cleaning rooms by day and "improving" the motels' art by night. And he also takes a lot of drugs.
While Cyrus certainly isn't my idea of an awesome dude, Bee decides to go along with him for a bit, taking a job at a motel in Newark to earn cash for a new bike. There are some sexytimes, run-ins with motel staff and a psychotic drug dealer on shore leave, and other adventures. I'll let you read the book to see if Bee sticks with Cyrus or continues on her ride.
I quite liked Bee. The gal's got sass. I will definitely check out Little's first book of Bee's adventures, Shutterbug Folies.
I also really liked Little's art work. It was a nice combination of cartoony and realistic -- sometimes the warts and all realism grosses me out, and too-cartoony big-headed weird characters take me right out of the story. Bee would fit right in with Daria Morgendorffer, which is all right by me.
If you like amusing, realistic stories, sassy heroines and a dash of sexytimes in your graphic novels, you will love this book.
Midnight Sun
Midnight Sun (2007) by Ben Towle
Midnight Sun is based on the true story of the 1928 wreck of an Italian airship over the Arctic. Many of the details are true, although in this story, the rescue effort is scaled back to that of a single Russian icebreaker ship, on which a New York reporter is sailing, sending back information to the papers at home.
The book's clean and simple illustrations evoke the stark landscape of the crash and the predicament of the crew of both the airship and the icebreaker. In some ways, the art enhanced a feeling of starkness for me. This isn't a white-knuckle thrill ride, to be sure, nor is it simply a storyboard for a Michael Bay film. As such, I found that I didn't get too attached to the characters and it was easy for me to read through the story quickly and reach the end with a feeling of polite disinterest for the fate of the crew, even though I knew this was based on a true, probably harrowing story.
And frankly, I liked that. My mother, she loves all these survival against all odds types of stories, white knuckles and all. She loves stories of mountain climbing expeditions gone awry and shipwrecks and plane crashes. Me, not so much. I found the clean illustrations and limited dialogue refreshing. So if you're expecting a story of the triumph of the human spirit over adversity, books by Jon Krakauer, well, this book might not be for you. But it was just fine for me.
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| from Goodreads |
Midnight Sun is based on the true story of the 1928 wreck of an Italian airship over the Arctic. Many of the details are true, although in this story, the rescue effort is scaled back to that of a single Russian icebreaker ship, on which a New York reporter is sailing, sending back information to the papers at home.
The book's clean and simple illustrations evoke the stark landscape of the crash and the predicament of the crew of both the airship and the icebreaker. In some ways, the art enhanced a feeling of starkness for me. This isn't a white-knuckle thrill ride, to be sure, nor is it simply a storyboard for a Michael Bay film. As such, I found that I didn't get too attached to the characters and it was easy for me to read through the story quickly and reach the end with a feeling of polite disinterest for the fate of the crew, even though I knew this was based on a true, probably harrowing story.
And frankly, I liked that. My mother, she loves all these survival against all odds types of stories, white knuckles and all. She loves stories of mountain climbing expeditions gone awry and shipwrecks and plane crashes. Me, not so much. I found the clean illustrations and limited dialogue refreshing. So if you're expecting a story of the triumph of the human spirit over adversity, books by Jon Krakauer, well, this book might not be for you. But it was just fine for me.
Wandering Son, Volume One
Wandering Son, Volume One (2010) by Shimura Takako, Matt Thorn translator
Finally, we have a T in the LGBT category! Wandering Son is a gorgeous graphic novel that explores issues of gender through the lives of two young protagonists -- Shuichi, a boy who longs to be a girl, and Yoshino, a girl who wants to be a boy. This volume covers the kids fifth grade year as they start overt explorations of what it might be like to be the other gender and they recognize in each other kindred spirits.
This book is lovely and fascinating on so many levels. As children on the cusp of puberty, their questions of gender are almost completely desexualized -- not totally, because more and more, kids have at least some idea of humans-as-sexual-beings, even if they are misinformed. This story, then, is one of what it means to have your inner being not match your outward appearance, what happens when the two don't match, how we acquire our ideas of what we are "supposed" to be as opposed to what we are or what we should be.
Further complicating the issue is the way in which language forces us to check a single box when we discuss gender -- at least in English. The issue is muddier in Japanese, and translator Matt Thorn wrote a short essay, included at the end of this volume, which discusses the ways in which Japanese personal pronouns and honorifics allow for more flexibility than English pronouns, and how much of that complexity is lost in translation. The essay piqued my interest in studying the way languages besides English facilitate the construction of gender identity, but if I really decide to pursue this, please stop me. I am not prepared to get a degree in linguistics or learn another language.
Anyway, despite the difficulty posed by the cultural differences between American and Japanese constructions of gender, this book can be a valuable tool for discussion of the construction of gender, and besides, it's seriously just a lovely lovely book. I cannot wait for Volume Two, due out in January 2012.
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| from Goodreads |
Finally, we have a T in the LGBT category! Wandering Son is a gorgeous graphic novel that explores issues of gender through the lives of two young protagonists -- Shuichi, a boy who longs to be a girl, and Yoshino, a girl who wants to be a boy. This volume covers the kids fifth grade year as they start overt explorations of what it might be like to be the other gender and they recognize in each other kindred spirits.
This book is lovely and fascinating on so many levels. As children on the cusp of puberty, their questions of gender are almost completely desexualized -- not totally, because more and more, kids have at least some idea of humans-as-sexual-beings, even if they are misinformed. This story, then, is one of what it means to have your inner being not match your outward appearance, what happens when the two don't match, how we acquire our ideas of what we are "supposed" to be as opposed to what we are or what we should be.
Further complicating the issue is the way in which language forces us to check a single box when we discuss gender -- at least in English. The issue is muddier in Japanese, and translator Matt Thorn wrote a short essay, included at the end of this volume, which discusses the ways in which Japanese personal pronouns and honorifics allow for more flexibility than English pronouns, and how much of that complexity is lost in translation. The essay piqued my interest in studying the way languages besides English facilitate the construction of gender identity, but if I really decide to pursue this, please stop me. I am not prepared to get a degree in linguistics or learn another language.
Anyway, despite the difficulty posed by the cultural differences between American and Japanese constructions of gender, this book can be a valuable tool for discussion of the construction of gender, and besides, it's seriously just a lovely lovely book. I cannot wait for Volume Two, due out in January 2012.
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