summer reading, part 1: the yiddish policemen's union, atonement, and new moon

Seeing how my reading of books has recently far out-paced my reviewing of them, I'm attempting to catch up with three mini reviews today and three more to follow shortly. Mea culpa for my tardiness, and enjoy your weekend, sweetness.

The Yiddish Policemen's Union, by Michael Chabon

(418 pages, 2007 - paperback)

You may remember that I finally read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay last summer and loved it so much that it's now safely on the short list of my all-time favorite books. Eager to read more Chabon this summer, I dusted off my unread copy of The Yiddish Policemen's Union and hoped that it was at least half as good as "Kavalier and Clay." And half as good is about right.

Perhaps the best thing about this book is its premise. The Yiddish Policemen's Union is a noir murder mystery set in an alternate world where Jewish refugees have set up camp in Sitka, a long strip of land along Alaska's panhandle, after the 1948 collapse of the state of Israel. Although the settlement is a massive success, the land is merely on loan from the U.S. government, so when the government suddenly decides to let the lease expire, the Jews of Sitka find themselves turned away from yet another home.

As the novel begins, Reversion is just around the corner and washed-up homicide detective Meyer Landsman has discovered that a murder has taken place in the flea-bitten hotel he's been living in since his divorce. Perhaps because every aspect of Landsman's life has turned disastrous, he becomes obsessed with solving the murder of his neighbor - a former chess prodigy who was once widely thought to be the Messiah. It's a mystery that no one seems to want solved but Landsman, but with little else to live for, it's a mystery that Landsman feels he must solve regardless the cost.

Again, the best thing about The Yiddish Policemen's Union is how imaginative it is, though that's hardly the only thing its got going in its favor. It's also quite funny in parts, a poignant love story, and a nice little mystery. Does it reach the heights Chabon achieved with "Kavalier and Clay"? No. But is it worth your time just the same? Sure. I'd say so.

My Grade: B

Atonement, by Ian McEwan

(351 pages, 2001)

Ian McEwan is one of those authors I've long been embarrassed at having never read, so when I found a hardcover copy of Atonement on sale for $2 at a used book store, I figured his time had finally come. And wow. I've been missing out.

By now I'm sure that most of you have seen the recent film adaptation of McEwan's novel, so I won't bother with too much plot summary. Basically, 13-year-old Briony Tallis, a girl who lives and breathes stories, is confused by something she sees between her sister Cecilia and Robbie Turner, the housekeeper's son. When something much more deviant happens later that evening, Briony points an accusing finger at innocent Robbie and spends the rest of her life trying to atone for her crime.

Since Atonement was such a wonderful film, I almost made the mistake of passing on the source material. How I forgot the golden rule that the book is almost definitely better than the movie, I do not know. McEwan's Atonement is a masterpiece - gorgeously written, a successful experiment of structure and perspective, and a impressively accurate portrayal of the inner workings of a thirteen-year-old girl. Additionally, it's a true testament to the author's storytelling abilities that, having seen the film, I already knew what was coming, and yet I still found the plot absolutely engrossing. Simply put, Atonement is a freaking great book. There's only so many ways I can say it.

My Grade: A

New Moon, by Stephanie Meyer

(563 pages, 2006 - paperback)

Say what you will about me, but I ain't no book snob. I will read almost anything. I guess I'd rather be a part of the conversation than be able to claim some sort of literary purity. Enter New Moon. Now, if you ask my students about New Moon, they'd probably say something like, "Squee! Team Edward! Team Jacob! Like, ZOMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" But they're largely crazy people, so let me lay some truth on you instead.

Twilight is not a very good book for reasons I've already adequately spelled out here. But New Moon? Well, it's even worse. Meyer's writing is just as awful in this second installment, but heroine Bella is even more annoying and (I can't believe I'm saying this, by the way) the whole thing suffers from a long absence of Edward in all of his dreamy, glittering twee glory. Werewolf Jacob tries to replace him, but Edward proves to be - embarrassingly enough - irreplaceable. The Cullens are the Twilight saga, and if you send them out of town for much of the book, then New Moon is the result - boring filler while we wait for Edward to stop pouting and resume saving his bland girlfriend's life every couple of hours.

My Grade: D+

weekly book review: twilight, by stephenie meyer

Yes, I did it. I read Twilight. I blame peer pressure.

If you happen to live under a rock (a nice rock, but a rock just the same) and have no idea what Twilight is about, then this is really all you need to know: Girl moves to a town filled with vampires, girl falls in love with vampire, vampire loves her back, girl falls down a lot, vampire glitters in the sun, girl wants to become a vampire, vampire says, "Oh, hell no!," girl pouts. It's essentially a romance novel but with no sex and vampires. And every teenage girl in America is OBSESSED with it.

Now, I could compose a thorough review of this teen phenom, however, I'm pretty well convinced that another review of this bloody book is the absolute LAST thing the world needs. Hence, here's some scattershot (and mostly snarky) thoughts instead:

• Bella Swan (aka "girl") is positively ridiculous. Her name is ridiculous, her overplayed clumsiness is ridiculous, and her complete and utter disregard for her own safety is ridiculous. The very moment she meets Edward (aka "vampire") she's ready to die for him. There's never even a moment of uncertainty, really. She truly doesn't seem to care whether she lives or dies, and the number of times her life is in danger in this book is absurd. She can barely walk out of her house without risking a piano falling on her head. I guess that might be attractive to a predatory vampire, but pleeeeese.
• Stephenie Meyer's writing is close to awful. I could almost see her struggle to use the word "literally" correctly. She sprinkles the beginning of her book with obvious and clunky references to Adam and Eve's apple, but then seems to forget about the allusion after fifty pages or so. She writes primarily in independent clauses, but when she wants to get fancy she'll connect them together with a semicolon. Hence, there are far too many semicolons. After seventy or so pages I managed to ignore the bad writing (perhaps it got better?), but it very nearly made me quit before I got too far.
• Even though it's a vampire book, it makes a certain sort of sense that it was authored by a Mormon. The teens in this book have very little parental supervision, yet there's no sex, no booze, no drugs, no swearing, and no smoking. I don't even think there was any coffee.
• It's a perfect book to read on the treadmill. Big font.
• Sunlight, rather than hurting vampires, turns their skin to GLITTER. Twee!
• Despite all of this, Twilight is addictive. However, it's addictive like MD 20/20 is addictive - it'll do in a pinch, but it will leave you with a fierce headache and wondering why you woke up on the railroad tracks wearing your pants on your head.

In short, do not let anyone tell you this is a good book. It is not. HOWEVER, its appeal is undeniable. I knew it was sort of awful, and yet I COULD NOT PUT THE BLOODY THING DOWN. Glittery vampires in love, yo! Pass the MD 20/20, 'cause I'm thinkin' 'bout getting New Moon hammered!

Twilight
Stephenie Meyer

2005, 498 pages (Paperback)

weekly book review: the hunger games, by suzanne collins

Regarding the sci-fi/fantasy genre, I've recently come to this very simple conclusion: if it takes place in outer space then I probably won't like it, but if it's set in a dystopian future world then I probably will. And although I'm not positive what it means about my fundamental psychology that I'm a tad obsessed with horrific future scenarios, I guess I have a pretty good idea.

Anywho...

I recently finished The Hunger Games, which is the first book in a planned trilogy set in, yes, a dystopian future. The United States is gone, and what is left of North America (now Panem) has been divided up into thirteen districts, ruled over by a dictatorship run from a city simply called The Capitol. Like most dictatorships, life in The Capitol is swanky and well-fed, while the poor saps in the surrounding districts exist in varying levels of starvation, squalor, toil and strife. And it's very unlikely that things will improve anytime soon. District 13 once had the audacity to rebel, and - *poof!* - no more District 13.

In order to ensure that the remaining twelve districts aren't tempted to follow in the footsteps of District 13, the television-obsessed Capitol devised The Hunger Games: a annual lottery in which two children - one male, and one female - are selected each year from all twelve districts and forced to fight it out in "The Arena." The lone winner gets fame and fortune, while the 23 losers get a cruel, televised death. It's a yearly, crushing reminder of how much power The Capitol wields, and is required viewing for all of Panem.

The heroine of The Hunger Games is a incredibly resilient and resourceful young lady named Katniss Everdeen who hails from District 12, or what used to be called Appalachia. The folks in District 12 are desperately poor, and the kids unlucky enough to "win" spots in the Games are rarely competitive. Katniss is, of course, a notable exception. When her little sister had the misfortune of being selected, Katniss did the unimaginable and volunteered herself in her place. Further complicating matters is the second contestant from District 12, Peeta Mellark, who has a very obvious crush on the plucky Katniss despite the fact that the two are about to spar off in a fight to the death.

Personally, I could have done without this side love story, but I also understand that romance is a basic requirement for teen fiction. Another quibble I had is that the ending felt abrupt, but then I had also managed to forget that The Hunger Games is only the first book in a planned trilogy, so a hasty ending is a forgivable offense. Other than that, I really, really enjoyed The Hunger Games, despite one truly disgusting scene, some eye-rolling lovey-dovey moments, and a nagging feeling that I'd read parts of it before (*cough!*TheRunningMan*cough!*). It may not have been perfect, but it hooked me early and hooked me hard; I devoured the thing in two sittings, and am eagerly awaiting the release of Collins' next installment, which I believe is due to be released this September.

In a nutshell, The Hunger Games is gritty, absorbing and inventive, even if not 100% original. Fans of dystopian lit. should approve.

Suzanne Collins

The Hunger Games

2008, 384 pages

book review: paper towns, by john green

A paper town is a utter fiction - a place that exists only in maps created by mapmakers eager to keep potential thieves from plagiarizing their work. In a sense, Margo Roth Spiegelman is a fiction too. To Quentin Jacobsen, she's a miracle - a sort of manic pixie dream girl who's "the kind of person who either dies tragically at twenty seven like Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, or else grows up to win the first-ever Nobel Prize for Awesome." 

Adorably nerdy Quentin (Q) seems to have spent his entire life in love with with myth of Margo, so when she shows up in his bedroom - dressed like a ninja inviting him to join her on a campaign of nocturnal vengeance - he is too flattered to refuse. It's a wild night that leaves play-it-safe Q exhausted, exhilarated, and hopeful that he and Margo can rekindle the friendship they one had as very small children in a time before deeply entrenched social cliques.

Apparently, Margo does not share the same sentiments, because come morning she is gone. Mere weeks away from graduation, Margo has seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth, although no one but Q seems too terribly concerned. She has, however, left a web of clues behind - clues which Q believes she has left because she desperately wants to be found. With little more to go on than a marked-up copy of Leaves of Grass, Q sets off to unravel the mystery of where his dream girl has gone, and in the process learns something perhaps more important: There are no dream girls. There are only girls, and loving the idea of someone is unfair to the actual person whom you've romanticized into fiction.

I heard about Paper Towns while attending a conference on notable new releases in Young Adult Fiction, and was eager to read it after my presenter called it a "masterpiece." Personally, I think that word may have been too freely applied; however, Paper Towns is one of the best books written by one of the best Young Adult authors doing it today. It's a fresh and compelling mystery that is smartly written and, at times, laugh-out-loud funny. Maybe I wouldn't call it a masterpiece, but it is really quite excellent. If you're a person who, like me, maintains a Young Adult library, then consider Paper Towns a must-have addition.

Paper Towns
John Green
2008, 305 pages

monday book review: little brother, by cory doctorow

Little Brother is the highly readable and frighteningly plausible story of Marcus, aka "w1n5t0n," a 17-year-old gamer and hacker living in 2015 San Francisco.  Precocious, wickedly smart and a fierce lover of privacy, Marcus spends much of his time subverting his school's absurdly intrusive surveillance system, a system that treats its students like criminals under the guise of safety.  

Things were certainly annoying for Marcus before terrorists attacked San Francisco's Bay Bridge, but afterward life becomes just plain hell.  Finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, Marcus and his friends are arrested under suspicion of terrorism, falsely imprisoned in a secret location, and made to endure "enhanced interrogation" techniques.  After his eventual release, Marcus finds that his city has become a police state, and its inhabitants treated more like potential terrorists than free citizens.  Many seem willing to endure the new regime, accepting it as a necessary evil in the wake of the attacks, however Marcus knows better.  The Department of Homeland Security is completely out of control, and if no one else is willing to step up and fight then Marcus will take it upon himself to take his city back.

As an avid skimmer of Boing Boing, I felt as if I'd been hearing about Doctorow's newest novel since it was a mere literary fetus. (Doctorow being both the author of Little Brother and the coeditor of the aforementioned blog, which is by far my favorite nerd blog.) However, despite my exposure to the title I'm not exactly in the habit of reading a novel simply because its author keeps insisting on its awesomeness, so I sort of ignored the brief period of incessant Little Brother posts on the site, never feeling a strong compulsion to read Doctorow's 1984-inspired young adult novel.  Fast forward several months and I, while attending a conference on new YA releases, was once again reminded of the book that set the Internet nerd herd on fire.  The presenter just GUSHED over Little Brother, so I finally broke down and started to read it.  

And dear me, but I was hooked by page five.   "Unputdownable" is a word that is greatly overused in the book industry, but even still I can't think of a better - although, admittedly, made-up - word to describe Little Brother.  It's freaking unputdownable.  I tore through it in a day despite it heft - abandoning hygiene, sustenance and sleep until I reached the end.  Sure, there were things that bugged me.  It oversimplified issues of homeland security and the author's politics (although mine own) were beyond transparent, however the story was so darn good that although I noticed these flaws I didn't really care about them.

I recently listed this title as my favorite YA release of '08, but the truth is that it was probably one of my favorite literary releases of '08, period.  Little Brother is smart, cool, gripping, scary, and - dare I say - important.  Really. I can't recommend it enough.

Little Brother

Cory Doctorow

2008, 382 pages

weekly book review: this lullaby, by sarah dessen

Although I review nearly all the books I read, I honestly wasn't planning on reviewing This Lullaby; I guess because I've already written on a string of YA titles recently and figured interest would be minimal.  But, I then felt bad for Ms. Dessen for some reason, and so here it is anyway.  I'll leave it to you to decide your own level of interest...

As far as love goes, Remy is a cynic.  Having a mother who's been married five times will do that to a girl.  She's had her fair share of boyfriends, but Remy always knows to give them "the speech" before things get too serious.  She's a careful girl with big plans, and isn't about to let any man disrupt her meticulous life.

That is, until she meets Dexter.  On the surface, Dexter is the polar opposite of Remy.  He's messy, free-spirited, disorganized, and hopelessly romantic.  He's also a musician, just like Remy's father - a man Remy has never met, and who she only knows through the lyrics of the famous ballad he penned for her: "This Lullaby."  Although Remy knows that Dexter is not the man for her, he refuses to accept her cold logic.  His relentless persistence eventually pays off, and although Remy knows their relationship won't last - that it's just a summer fling -  the longer they're together the more serious it gets, and the harder it becomes for her to harden her heart and throw this one over.

As a high school English teacher, it's been a small source of embarrassment for me that I've never read a Sarah Dessen novel.  She's one of those names that is constantly being buzzed among students and critics alike, and so though the premise of this novel hadn't particularly hooked my attention, I decided to give it a shot just the same.  

From this one, admittedly limited experience, I really appreciated Dessen on a feminist level. Remy is a fairly realistic teenage girl who is strong, independent, and who isn't looking for a boy to "complete" her.  In that respect, Remy is a great role model for young girls.  She takes care of herself, and shows girls that marriage is not requisite to happiness.  If I had a teenage daughter, I would whole-heartily encourage her to read Dessen's novels; and because they're so engaging, I don't think my fictional teenage daughter would put up much of a fight.   Furthermore, it is nice to read a YA title where no one is in a gang, dealing with substance abuse, battling an eating disorder, suicidal, getting raped, murdered or murdering someone else.  Seriously, YA books without these issues are becoming increasingly rare, and it's refreshing to read something that's not as weighty in its subject matter, yet still doesn't sacrifice intelligence.

So, even if This Lullaby wasn't necessarily the book for me, it's a title that I'm happy to own and feel comfortable lending out to pretty much any teenage girl.  If you know one,  Sarah Dessen is a good author to share.

This Lullaby

Sarah Dessen

2002, 345 pages

weekly book review: thirteen reasons why, by jay asher

Clay Jensen comes home from school to discover a mysterious package, addressed to him and anonymously left on his front porch. His excitement turns into curiosity when he opens the box to discover it full of cassette tapes, each side numbered from one to thirteen in dark blue nail polish. But after popping the first tape into an old cassette player, Clay's excited curiosity quickly turns to sick dread as the voice he hears on the tape is that of Hannah Baker - a girl who was his classmate, his crush, and who committed suicide two weeks earlier. Hannah's unexplained death rocked her community, hitting sweet and sensitive Clay particularly hard. It was widely assumed she left no explanation behind for why she chose to end her life, however the voice Clay hears speaking through the tape indicates that this is not so. Hannah has thirteen reasons why she decided to end her life, each explained in full in the tapes that have fallen into Clay's possession. Apparently, Clay is one of those reasons, and in order to discover why he must listen to Hannah's tapes, regardless of how difficult a job it may prove to be.

What first struck me about Jay Asher's novel is how much young adult fiction has changed since I was a kid. My clearest memories of the genre include books like Judy Blume's Blubber - novels that taught strong lessons about bullying and the importance of empathy. In another era, pushing the envelope meant writing about teenage sex (Forever), drug use (Go Ask Alice), or eating disorders (The Girl in the Mirror). But while these topics were once considered shocking and sometimes taboo, this is clearly no longer the case. Sex and drinking are now accepted elements of the genre, so it takes much weightier issues such as suicide, child prostitution and murder to shock us. At times, I find this depressing. And yet, I can’t help but see it as a natural sort of evolution. I don't think Asher set out to shock readers with Thirteen Reasons Why, rather he saw a story that begged to be told; one that, unfortunately, hits many young people in a very real way.

What struck me next was a feeling of intense inferiority. Here I am, struggling to pen my own young adult novel, when I pause to read Asher’s debut - his clever, strong-voiced, well-crafted, suspenseful debut. Part of me wanted to hate this book, not because I didn’t enjoy it, but because it filled me with such strong feelings of jealousy. Thirteen Reasons Why is a wonderful novel, and Jay Asher is a talented storyteller. It speaks to adults as well as it speaks to kids, and I know this because once I cracked it, I couldn’t put the little bugger down. Listening to Hannah tell the posthumous story of her downward spiral and ultimate decision to give up is as thought-provoking as it is absorbing, and her voice rings clear and feels tragically real.

Overall, Thirteen Reasons Why is about the importance of listening, both to what is said as well as to the clues that go unspoken. Like much of today’s serious young adult fiction, it’s a sobering read, but it’s also a terrific book. I just wish I had come up with the idea first.

Thirteen Reasons Why

Jay Asher

2007, 288 pages

weekly book review: story of a girl, by sara zarr

"I was thirteen when my dad caught me with Tommy Webber in the back of Tommy's Buick, parked next to the old Chart House down in Montara at eleven o'clock on a Tuesday night. Tommy was seventeen and the supposed friend of my brother, Darren.

I didn't love him.

I'm not sure I even liked him."

Deanna Lambert is widely regarded as the town slut, a distinction awarded to her after her father caught her in the act of having sex, and her partner then decided to publicly tout the experience as a badge of honor. Nevermind that Tommy was her first and only sexual encounter, the story of what she had done, how she was discovered, and the age gap between her and her partner proved enough to destroy her reputation in a sleepy little town where there's little else to discuss and whose memory is long. There's nothing else that Deanna would prefer than to take back what she did, to have had the confidence and the maturity to have not given into the pressuring of an older boy, but it's too late, the deed is done, and as a result she seems to have forever lost the respect of her peers and, most devastatingly, of her father.

I've recently been on a bit of a young adult literature kick - good research for the young adult novel that I'm somehow going to write this month - and although young adult novels can be a bit of a crapshoot, I'm pleased to say that Zarr's Story of a Girl was a true gem. The characters are vivid, complex and totally realistic, especially the protagonist, who hates Tommy for what he did to her, yet still can't help but be attracted to him all the same. For his part, Tommy is like so many teenage boys who pressure younger girls for sex: idiotic, but not necessarily evil, and burdened with his own confusing set of emotions.

And while it certainly is an interesting character study, the biggest thing that Zarr's novel has going for it is the weightiness and import of its subject matter. With teens becoming sexually active at younger and younger ages, it becomes increasingly important for them to see what the consequences of sexual activity can be, and not just the larger consequences like pregnancy or STDs. What too many kids don't seem to realize until it's too late is the emotional and social toll that sex can take on someone who simply isn't mature enough yet to handle it.

Ultimately, Story of a Girl is the story of how the decisions we make follow us, and how our missteps can, unfortunately, come to define us. This a lesson that I see too many young adults learn the hard way, making Story of a Girl a very worthwhile read for any teen.

Story of a Girl

Sara Zarr
192 pages, 2007

in celebration of banned books

Being Wednesday, today brings us smack dab in the middle of banned books week, and though it's depressing to think that we're living in a time where such a recognition remains necessary, necessary it nonetheless remains. So let's recognize, yes?

Here is the ALA's list of the most frequently challenged books of 2007/2008, and though I haven't read them all, I have read most of them. In fact, three of the titles on the list happen to comprise my favorite three young adult works of all time: Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War, Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass, and Stephen Chbosky's The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Copies of all three books currently reside in my classroom library, and I frequently recommend and lend each title to my students. So, does that make me an irresponsible adult? Well, I guess it depends on who you're asking. But since there are those who would deem me irresponsible, I suppose I deserve the right to defend myself by defending the aforementioned titles.

And so defend I will. *Ahem*

The Chocolate War is #2 on the list, and is awarded that "distinction" for being sexually explicit, as well as containing offensive language and scenes of violence. And I will assure you that it does indeed contain all of those things. (Well, assuming you think a subtly written and very brief masturbation scene is reason enough to declare an entire book "sexually explicit." And maybe you do. Because you're a Puritan, perhaps.)

As far as young adult authors go, Cormier was one of the most intense. His books are dark, complex, and troublesome. They focus on subject matter such as the dangers of mob mentality (The Chocolate War), anger and revenge (Heroes) and insanity (I Am the Cheese). But underneath the violence lies an important message: Life is hard. Evil people exist. But, you do not need to become one of them! Be strong. Be brave. Be better. Who wouldn't want their child to hear such a message? Furthermore, how can this message be realistically delivered to a fourteen or fifteen-year-old kid in a story devoid of violence and offensive language? You can't have a resurrection without a crucifixion, folks. Cormier, particularly in The Chocolate War, speaks to the importance of personal responsibility and the dangers of mindless conformity. And really - this is something we should be protecting teens from?

The Perks of Being a Wallflower, 10th on the list, is charged with containing homosexual characters, being sexually explicit, containing offensive language, as well as being unsuited to its age group. With the exception of the latter, I again assure you that all accusations are true. But the language is more realistic than gratuitous, and the "sexual explicitness" is largely due to the fact that the protagonist eventually reveals himself to be a victim of molestation, an issue which is handled tactfully, honestly, and not particularly graphically. And unfortunately, 15 out of every 100 Americans is either a victim or a victimizer of child molestation, so failure to address this topic isn't doing any of us any favors.

And yep, there are homosexual characters in the book. Just like there are homosexual people in life! You know that idyllic small town you grew up in where everyone was "normal"? Well, hate to break it to you, but it didn't exist. There is no normal, diversity isn't scary, and the faster kids learn all that the better off we all are in the long run. Do you know what happens when homosexuality is connected with hatred and fear rather than understanding and empathy? Matthew Shephard happens. Think on it.

Finally, and perhaps most bizarrely, is The Golden Compass, reaching #4 on the list for its "religious viewpoint." Ahhh, where to begin... So author Philip Pullman is a self-proclaimed atheist. So freaking what? The book is a fantasy, and unlike other famous fantasy stories before it (*cough!* TheLionTheWitchandtheWardrobe *cough!*) it is not a particularly religious (or anti-religious) book. But so what if it was? If your faith is such that it can be shaken merely by reading a fantasy fiction book penned by an atheist, then I hate to break it to you - your faith was pretty damn weak to begin with.   

Nevermind that the dissenters aren't even pretending to separate the author's life from his work. We live in a scary time when an artist's religious affiliations (or lack thereof) are sufficient grounds for the censorship of his work. In the words of Pullman himself, banning a book on religious grounds is "the worst reason of the lot," and "destroying intellectual freedom is always evil." 

And what are the critics protecting our dear little children from by keeping them away from Pullman's trilogy? A epic adventure where the young female protagonist is depicted as being daring, tough, brave, intelligent and wholly capable. Nope. We wouldn't want our young girls (and boys, for that matter) reading that garbage...

To conclude, I would sincerely recommend any of the above titles to readers both young and old. Each is beautifully written, moving, and has brought something fresh, complex and incredibly valuable to the table.

And let's be honest - banned books are simply just more fun.

monday book review - prep: a novel, by curtis sittenfeld

Lee Fiora is an average, middle class girl who feels like she is meant for far greater things than her Indiana hometown.  Convincing herself that trading her Midwest family in for a fancy East Coast prep school is the answer, Lee becomes a scholarship student at the wealthy and prestigious Ault School, where she quickly learns that gaining admission isn't the same as gaining acceptance.  Prep chronicles Lee's four years at Ault, starting out as an insecure and lonely freshmen, leaving as a love-sick and angst-ridden senior, and reminding us just how very important all this felt at the time.

Coming-of-age stories are hard.  Being a teenager is so awkward, clunky, and uncertain, and it's difficult for any adult to write truthfully about that period without being tempted to go back and make revisions, creating a protagonist who's wittier, cooler, or more dangerous than most of us ever really were.  So when I finally picked up Prep - a book that was something of a critical darling when it was released and touted as a female version of The Catcher in the Rye - it was with strong feelings of reservation that I began.  After all, I had been burned many times before by the coming-of-age novel, and female authors tend to be the worst offenders for some reason. 

So, imagine my delight when Prep turned out to be everything it was lauded to be - a smart, honest, insightful, and often embarrassing trip back to one's formative years that doesn't make apologies or unnecessary revisions.  It was far from perfect, often painful, and at 449 pages sometimes felt a bit long, but these criticisms were easy for me to overlook seeing as I've never related to any fictional character the way I related to Lee Fiora.  Apart from the boarding school element, reading her story was like revisiting my own high school years, complete with all the heartbreak, angst, and feelings of self-doubt that it entailed.  Lee's decisions are often questionable, her insecurities difficult to reason, and she can often be downright unlikeable, but if we're being honest with ourselves - weren't we all? Aren't some of us still?

With Prep, Sittenfeld nailed what it's really like to be a teenager - or at least what it was really like for me - and in so doing restored my faith in the genre.  No small feat, that.

Prep: A Novel

Curtis Sittenfeld

2005, 448 pages

sold, by patricia mccormick - part two: the dilemma

Due to the nature of my job, I find myself reading a fair amount of young adult literature, and while I wouldn't ordinarily feel compelled to publicly review one, Sold was different. Reading it was - to put it mildly – a bittersweet experience, and although I had no intention of staying up until 2 am reading it straight through, I couldn’t help myself. Once begun, it begs to be finished. But after two hours of reading, pausing only every now and then to take a deep sigh and at one point even cry, I found myself with a dilemma on my hands: Despite being geared towards young adults, how on Earth do I give such a mature and horrific book to one of my students? And furthermore, should I?

Of course, this would be a non-issue if I didn’t feel so strongly that this is an important story for young people to spend some time walking around with. Issues of social justice are of high import to me as an educator, and by the time they become teenagers, young adults should not only be aware of what’s happening in the world, but they should start getting angry about it. After all, while it is not my place to lessen or belittle anyone’s painful experiences, my students live very happy and comfortable lives in comparison with the sort of children McCormick's book deals with, and it’s important that kids know this so they can put their own challenges in perspective. Of course, I’d also hope that they tuck some of this knowledge away and maybe be part of future efforts to change some of the world’s atrocities. What can I say; I’m a dreamer.

But the dilemma isn't whether or not I teach my students about the unspeakable events of both the past and the present. I'm an educator. That's my charge. The issue is  whether or not I give them a novel filled with gritty details on the subject. At what point do we say that a fourteen-year-old kid is exactly that - a kid? She should be allowed to retain a certain semblance of innocence, and while understanding that modern slavery and child sex trafficking happens, she need not spend several days getting inside the head of one of the victims, seeing what she sees and feeling what she feels.

My school's librarian has already taken her stance on this issue. She has purchased a copy of Sold, and keeps it - along with several other titles she has deemed overly controversial - on a special cart kept locked inside her office. Like buying a pornographic magazine at Barnes and Noble, no one announces that the pieces are available, but if you have the inside knowledge and make discreet inquiries you can get your hands on the goods. I suppose I could do something similar with my classroom library, however it just doesn't feel right to me. As a teacher, my fundamental job is to educate, even when it hurts.  

But, now the question shifts: If I were a parent, what choice would I make?  While the primary objective of a teacher is to educate, the primary role of a parent should be to love and protect, so as a parent (which, being that I'm not one, I'll need to take a trip to imagination-land here), would I give a book like this - a book detailing the abandonment, drugging, rape and emotional devastation of a sweet, innocent and trusting teenage girl - to my child?  

The answers is, I honestly don't know.  What do you think?

sold, by patricia mccormick - part one: the book review

AM I PRETTY?

In the days after the hugging man leaves, I consider myself in the mirror. My plain self, not the self wearing lipstick and eyeliner and a flimsy dress.

Sometimes I see a girl who is growing into womanhood. Other days I see a girl growing old before her time.

It doesn't matter, of course. Because no one will ever want me now.

Lakshmi is thirteen-years-old. She lives a simple and, albeit impoverished, relatively happy existence with with her Ama, infant sibling and gambling-addicted stepfather in a Nepalese village buried deep in the Himalayan mountains. She is a loving and obedient daughter and the best student in her class, but when a monsoon comes, devastating her family's home and the crops they rely on for sustenance, her simple life takes a catastrophic turn. In order to compensate for the family's crippling loss, Lakshmi's stepfather - who likens little girls to goats, "Good as long as she gives you milk and butter..but not worth crying over when it's time to make stew" - decides to sell Lakshmi away to a Calcutta brothel for the paltry sum of four hundred dollars.

Early in the novel, Lakshmi's Ama gives her this warning: "it is a woman's fate to suffer (and) simply to endure is to triumph." Told through a series of spare, free-verse vignettes, Lakshim's story is devastating, and yet somehow she endures, which - considering the myriad horrors she experiences - is most definitely a triumph.

Before writing Sold, Patricia McCormick traveled to Nepal and India, interviewing both the families who sell their children (some intentionally, some because they were tricked by unscrupulous traffickers) and the children who have been sold into the trade. Thanks to her first-hand interviews and observations, Sold - although fiction - feels intensely real. Lakshmi's story could be that of any one of the 400,000 children currently in bondage, working off their bloated debts in Indian brothels, and it was that realism - mixed with a beautifully simplistic style of storytelling - that led me to devour this novel in one sitting, despite the fact that every single page found a new way to break my heart.

Sold

Patricia McCormick

2006, 272 pages

(Expect the second part of this post: "Sold: Where the Review Got Away from Me" sometime tomorrow. For tonight, I am tired. A hex on Daylight Savings Time!)

monday book review: three novellas, three quickie reviews

Last Night at the Lobster, by Stewart O'Nan 

(2007, 146 pages)

Set in a Red Lobster on its final day of operation, Last Night at the Lobster makes unlikely heroes out of chain restaurant managers and argues that pride can be found from performing the most menial tasks. I picked this book up based on Stephen King's raving recommendation, but although it was an enjoyable enough way to spend a few hours, the characters never felt fully developed to me, and - probably due to its claustrophobic setting - I couldn't shake the nagging feeling it would have succeeded better as a play rather than a novel.

In Search of Mockingbird, by Loretta Ellsworth 

(2007, 181 pages)

Erin, a smart, bookish high school sophomore, takes a lone, cross-country trip on a greyhound bus in the hopes of meeting Harper Lee, gaining a better understanding of a mother she never knew, and discovering whether she truly has what it takes to be a writer. In Search of Mockingbird draws heavy thematic and character inspiration from its namesake while still managing to stand alone on its own merits, and while fans of To Kill a Mockingbird would certainly enjoy it, reading "Mockingbird" is not necessarily a prerequisite. It is a poignant and well-written piece, although it's the sort of young adult fiction I can see adults apt to reflect on their teenage years enjoying more than actual young adults.


Steps Through the Mist: A Mosaic Novel, by Zoran Zivkovic (Translated by Alice Copple-Tosie, 2007, 125 pages)
Fantasy and Science Fiction aren't generally my genres; nonetheless, I picked up this existential "mosaic novel" because I like trying to be a well-rounded reader. Zivkovic uses the motif of fate as a thread to weave together the stories of four diverse women. It was a weird little thing, but I enjoyed it; I can see how fans of Jean-Paul Sartre would too.

books: 9 down, 15 to go: the dead fathers club

The Dead Fathers Club (Matt Haig of The Guardian) is a retelling of Hamlet, where the protagonist is a 11-year-old boy named Philip Noble whose recently deceased father appears to him as a ghost, claims that Philip's Uncle Alan killed him to usurp his position of "king of the CASTLE," and demands that Philip kill his uncle so that his death is avenged, he can avoid "The Terrors," and move on to the afterlife. The novel is macabre, funny, poignant, and (to me, anyway) unputdownable. At times, it reminded me of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time as well as Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, which are two other books that I also enjoyed more than a little bit. But please don't think that all the comparisons mean that Haig's writing style is unoriginal. I didn't feel that way at all. I loved this book both for its highly engaging story as well as the fact that Haig has a simple, beautiful way with words that would often give me pause. I highly recommend it, and although I suppose it's technically a young adult book I see how it really would appeal to most anyone. Unless, that is, you are a person who is terribly sensitive to correct punctuation usage since Haig, like my freshmen, simply cannot be bothered most of the time.

To conclude, here is a passage from The Dead Fathers Club that I was particularly found of. Enjoy.

I woke up and it was still dark. There was sound of a train far away and it was like the world was doing a sigh. Sometimes when you wake up you are in a different time like you have gone in a time machine and the time I was in was before Dad died.

Everything was normal and Dad was in bed with Mum in the next room sleeping with his arm flopped over her and I was thinking about going to see Derby with him on Saturday. It was going to be good and my thinking was getting faster and less sleepy and pushing me through time until I was in this morning.

Then I knew Dad wasnt in the next room and he was not taking me to the Football and when I remembered a heavy feeling came into my brain.

In the future there will probably be scales that can weigh how heavy memories are and it will be like when Mum and Renuka went to Weightwatchers. People or special doctors and Brainwatchers will say This memory is very heavy you need to lose weight in your brain.

Then they will tell you to exercise your brain in the right way to make it lighter.

My brain was so heavy this morning I didn't think I would be able to get it off the pillow without shaking out some of the pictures in my head of Dad. Like the picture of him when he flicked water on me and Mum when he was in the swimming book in Rhodes and we were dry on the sunbeds...or the heaviest picture of all which was when we went to Sconce Hills in the snow and his face was red and cold but his hands were warm in his woolly pattern gloves and I was still little enough not to be scared of holding his hand and he was dragging the sledge.

He was looking down at me and his words made clouds in the air and snowflakes turned into rain on his nose and his words said Come on Ill race you to the top... And then when we were at the top we both crunched onto the snow on our backs and laughed clouds up to the sky and I sat on my elbows and looked at him lying in the snow and felt the most happy ever but then I cant remember anything else because the picture is snow and melts in my brain.

Up Next: Heart-Shaped Box, by Joe Hill

a book club of one: king dork

On the recommendation of a friend, I have just finished King Dork, a novel with a painfully dorky teen protagonist who hates The Catcher in the Rye and the people who idolize it, most likely because he doesn't recognize how Caufield-eque he really is. I guess the novel is Young Adult, but as a high school literature teacher I've read enough YA lit. to know quality from crap and this is quality. As a person who a) teaches painfully dorky boys, b) witnesses the horrors of high school on a daily basis behind the safety of a teacher's desk, c) enjoys a good mystery/comedy/coming-of-age story as much as the next gal, and d) adored The Catcher in the Rye so much that she considered naming her first born son "Holden," it probably goes without saying that I really enjoyed the novel and would highly recommend it to others (unless you take issue with "colorful language" and scenes depicting awkward, teenage intimacy - i.e. - Mom, you might want to pass on this one). Oh, and did I mention it was written by Frank Portman of The Mr. T Experience? 'Cause it was.

JMW over at A Special Way of Being Afraid does this thing called "Archive of the Week" where he posts excerpts from books he likes, and I thought I'd steal that idea for this post. Here's my favorite insightful/angst-ridden/poignant passage from the book. Enjoy.

The title of The Catcher in the Rye comes from a misquoted poem by Robert Burns, which Holden Caufield elaborates into a mystical fantasy about saving children from falling off a cliff. There are all these kids playing in a field of rye, and he stands guard ready to catch them if they stray from the field. A lot of people have found this to be a very moving metaphor for the experience of growing up, or anxiety about the loss of innocence, or the Mysterious Dance of Life. Or any random thing, really…. The brilliance of it, though is that the people in the Catcher Cult manage to see themselves as everybody in the scenario all at once. They're the cute, virtuous kids playing in the rye, and they'’re also the troubled misfit adolescent who dreams of preserving the kids' innocence by force and who turns out to have been right all along. And they'’re also the grown-up moralistic busybody with the kid-sized butterfly net who is charged with keeping all the kids on the premises, no matter what. Somehow, they don'’t realize you can'’t root for them all.

Say you'’re a kid in this field of rye. You try to find a quiet place where you can be by yourself, to invent a code based on "“The Star-Spangled Banner," or to design the first four album covers of your next band, or to write a song about a sad girl, or to read a book once owned by your deceased father. Or just to stare off into space and be alone with your thoughts. But pretty soon someone comes along and starts throwing gum in your hair, and gluing gay porn to your helmet, and urinating on your funny little hat from the St. Vincent de Paul and hiring a psychiatrist to squeeze the individuality out of you, and making you box till first blood, and pouring Coke on your book, and beating you senseless in the boys'’ bathroom, and ridiculing your balls, and holding you upside down till you fall out of your pants, and publicly charting your sexual unattractiveness, and confiscating your Stratego, and forcing you to read and copy out pages from the same three books over and over and over. So you think, who needs it? You get up and start walking. And just when you think you'’ve found the edge of the field and are about to emerge from Rye Hell, this AP teacher or baby-boomer parent dressed as a beloved literary character scoops you up and throws you back into the pit of vipers. I mean, the field of rye.

Sound good? I'’m sorry, but I'’m rooting for the kids and hoping they get out while they can. And as for you, Holden old son: if you happen to meet my body coming through the rye, I'd really appreciate it if you'’d just stand aside and get out of my fucking way.