 |
There's nothing like breaking a fiction-fast with a great book. This one MADE me read it. Since I hate writing plot synopses, I'm snitching one right from the publisher marketing: Agnes and Honey have always been best friends, but they haven't always been so different. Agnes loves being a Believer. She knows the rules at the Mount Blessing religious commune are there to make her a better person. Honey hates Mount Blessing and the control Emmanuel, their leader, has over her life. When Agnes's grandmother makes an unexpected visit to the commune, she discovers a violent secret that the Believers are desperate to keep quiet. And when Agnes's little brother is seriously injured and Emmanuel refuses to send him to a hospital, Nana Pete takes the three children and escapes the commune. Their journey begins an exploration of faith, friendship, religion and family for the two girls, as Agnes clings to her familiar faith while Honey desperately wants a new future. It's a compliment to Cecilia Galante that I didn't even notice Honey and Agnes's chapters are set in different typefaces until I was probably 200 pages into the story. What I'm saying is, the voices are naturally distinctive enough that I didn't need to use font-switches as a crutch to help me figure out who was doing the talking. Matter of fact, the girls were so different that I occasionally wondered if the characterizations could have been more subtle. I'm honestly not sure if that's a fair criticism, though. People brought up in such an extreme environment are likely to have extreme views and reactions. And let's not forget that the author herself lived in a religious commune until she was 15. She probably knows a thing or two about how people think and behave in this situation. Agnes in particular makes for an impressive character. Despite the fact that her thinking is...well...warped, she's both believable and likable. That's no small feat for an author to pull off. This may be a book with something to say something about religion, but Cecilia Galante is too smart to turn her story into a pulpit. The plot is quick and intense, and the writing vivid enough that after Honey tasted her fist Big Mac, I just had to do the same. The verdict? The Big Mac may be tasty, but given the choice, I'd rather devour a book as good as The Patron Saint of Butterflies any day.
|
 |
The Opposite of Invisible
How about a short and potentially useless yet positive write-up? This has been one crummy week, so any book that can capture my attention AND help tune out the chaos has to be good. This wasn't what I'd call a page-turner, but it came off as very real and appealing. Plus, I had it read in an evening after another fictionless dry-spell. I'll guarantee you this story deserves more concentration and praise than I can give it right now. However, I can tell you I'll be watching for what Liz Gallagher does next. Fair enough?
|
 |
A Beginning, a Muddle, and an End:
Loaded with wordplay, this is a cute little nibble of advice on writing. Let's just say that if Laurel and Hardy had been an ant and a snail living in the Hundred Acre Wood, they would have sounded rather like this. The plot is on the slim side -- basically Avon the snail decides to write a book and figures out it's Not As Easy As It Seems -- but it's short, sweet, and silly, so why not? If, on the other hand, you're looking for less charm and more direct, concrete writing tips, try Writing Magic by Gail Carson Levine, or just about anything by Ralph Fletcher.
|
 |
Laura Ingalls Wilder's Fairy Poems
This is really just a trifle: five short fairy poems which probably wouldn't garner any notice if they weren't by Laura Ingalls Wilder. They're typical light verse, and the meter falters in a couple spots. The art isn't to my taste, but that's irrelevant. I think I'd be a little cranky if I'd dished out $15.95 for this bitsy volume instead of reading it at the library. Bottom line -- this is best suited to the top tier of Wilder-devotees, and I have not yet reached that pinnacle.
|
 |
As far as I'm concerned, this is THE best reading of Peter Pan out there. Never mind about the Jim Dale edition. Dale may be a whiz with voices and dialogue, but for the old school classics you need an actor who can keep the long narrative passages from going flat. Enter Tim Curry. Curry may not be perfectly adept at female voices, but his prowess with everything else makes me more than willing to overlook that small fault. (Really, how many girl-characters can YOU name in Peter Pan besides Wendy anyway?) He's not only an actor, he's got the knack for storytelling, which will keep you dangling from the story's thread even when the characters aren't talking. A note on the story itself: When you pay attention, it's fascinating just how careless and cruel Barrie's characters can be, yet still come off as loveable. As Barrie himself says, children are "gay, and innocent, and heartless." Nowadays, when kids are so often treated as precious, coddled little angels, the honesty in Barrie's writing strikes me as refreshing, delicious, and brave.
|
 |
Streams of Babel
If you've ever seen Hitchcock's Psycho there's a good chance you missed a few showers. Now with Carol Plum-Ucci's latest, you might find yourself thinking twice before slugging down a glass of tap water. You really don't put this book down very much once you start it. The combination of a bio-terror plot and shifting points of view will keep you on your toes. Being a bit of a dunce at detective work, I like a story where you're sometimes allowed to be half a step ahead of the characters, and such is the case here. None of the characters know as much as you do, but you still don't know quite enough to solve the mystery yourself. That left me feeling just the right combination of smugness and suspense. ps: Nothing supernatural in this book -- the thrills and chills are all rooted in reality, which makes the scenario all the more creepy if you ask me.
|
 |
Okay, fine. I will sacrifice a paperback to the sequel gods tonight. Which is a roundabout way of announcing that despite my weapons-grade case of Sequel Prejudice, Sara Pennypacker's Clementine still has what it takes to make my day. Is Clementine's Letter more of the same? Well yeah, to a certain extent. But when you consider how good the first (and second) Clementine books are, who the heck cares? Someday the fun may wear off, but until then, thumbs way, way up.
|
 |
Life As We Knew It
Meh. It wasn't the grimness. It wasn't the survival-of-the-fittest mentality. It wasn't that the idea of something like this actually happening gives me the willies. It was Miranda herself. She bugged me. Don't get me wrong -- I don't think it's out of line for a teenager to be frustrated, self-centered, and depressed in a survival situation like this. Yet even though I think her reactions were realistic, I still didn't enjoy Miranda's company terribly much. Instead of empathizing with her, I found her borderline whiny. Also, I couldn't quite get a handle on her mom's feelings, or their relationship with each other. For my money, the supporting cast of Jonny, Matt, and Mrs. Nesbitt are the most appealing, sympathetic characters of the bunch. I can't pinpoint any reason or fault on the author's part for my impressions of Miranda and her mom; we just didn't get along, so to speak. On the plus side, the scenario is morbidly fascinating and the suspense slowly gnaws away at you. Clearly, those features overrode my gripes about the characters and kept me reading to the end. Hordes of people think Life As We Knew It is terrific. Bully for them. Chalk this one up as another case of "everything isn't for everybody" and don't feel bad if you're not crazy about it, either. *wink*
|
 |
Molto bene! This is exactly the sort of historical fiction I like best -- inspired by art and based on real events. The plot has everything you'd want in an Italian renaissance setting: passion, murder, art, mayhem, the Medici family wreaking vengeance all over the place. Throw in a famous artist (in this case Bottecelli) and I'm done for. With a tight plot, appealing characters, and adept writing, Primavera is just inches shy of a five-star rating as far as I'm concerned. A pinch or two more sparkle in the writing, and I predict Mary Jane Beaufrand will be giving folks like Shannon Hale a run for their money before too long.
|
 |
This could very well be the most serious children's biography I've ever read. Saying that probably runs the risk of making I Am Scout sound stuffy, but that's not what I mean at all. Charles J. Shields does not write down to kids. Period. I Am Scout bears every hallmark of a solid, respectable biography for any audience: no fluff, no sensationalism, no invented conversations for entertainment's sake, and no dodging of sensitive issues -- like Truman Capote's sexuality, for example, or Lee's mother's mental illness. Matter of fact, now I'm extra curious to read the adult version of this bio, to see just how and where he trimmed it down for young'uns. (I've read In Cold Blood, so I'm particularly hoping for more on Lee's role in how that work came to be.) In essence, the parallels between Harper Lee's life and her characters' are striking, and her response to fame and fandom made me cheer. Learning about Harper Lee from Charles Shields made me want to read To Kill a Mockingbird all over again, and that, my friends, is the sign of a good piece of non-fiction. Plus, I can't help loving a guy who writes non-fiction for kids that includes a heap of endnotes. The only potential downside to this biography is that it's a bit context-bound. Shields seems to write with the assumption that his readers are already familiar with To Kill a Mockingbird. But seriously, if you weren't familiar with To Kill a Mockingbird in the first place, why on earth would you be reading a bio on Harper Lee?
|
 |
Two words: freaking hilarious. Seriously, I sniggered, chortled, and snorted my way through this whole thing. Who knew Judaism, OCD, and anorexia could be such a super combo plate of neurosis? I know, you're not supposed to go around laughing at people with life-affecting disorders, but nobody writes this way if they don't want to pry some sort of vocal signal amusement out of their audience. Trust me: it's ok to laugh. (Just don't read this while sipping a glass of milk, if you get my drift.) Besides, it's not all guffaws and stealthy sarcasm. Periodically I found myself stepping back to think, "Yeouch. This OCD stuff is serious business." In betweent he fits of giggling, you'll be gobsmacked to discover how thoroughly this disorder can permeate someone's thinking.
|
The Patron Saint of Butterflies
