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What's better than a story about the 1918 influenza pandemic? A story about the 1918 influenza pandemic with a tie-in to the Galveston hurricane of 1900 to make my little ambulance-chasing heart go pitter-pat. (Read the plot-oriented flap copy here.) While waiting for the flu to come crashing in, Grim Reaper-style, the question of what happened to Winnie's mama during the storm of the century tantalized me enough to keep my eagerness for a rising body count at bay. Because really, with a story like this, you know from the start that it's only a matter of time until someone important gets laid out. That said, Moss doesn't cheat the Reaper, but in deference to her youngish audience she doesn't go overboard with the death and wholesale panic, either. Small-town drama and family turbulence keep the plot kicking in the meantime, making for a nicely rounded story appropriate for kids who aren't ready to handle the intensity of Fever, 1793 just yet. (Available in February)
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How to Read Literature Like a Professor
In spite of the ridiculous amount of time I spent dipping in and out of this book (let's just say the chestnuts were still roasting on that open fire when I started) I managed to enjoy it. The title may sound like a stiff proposition, but Foster's pretty laid back about the whole thing. He happily acknowledges that a story's got to work first and foremost on the surface or nobody's going to get anything deeper out of it. Or even bother looking, for that matter -- if you need a secret decoder ring to crack the plot, something's amiss. Besides, the point here isn't dissection -- it's about picking up an awareness of literary patterns and trends, and keeping an eye out for those inside jokes, so to speak. There's nifty stuff tucked into the crannies and undercurrents of stories, if you know what to look for. Foster's also got a knack for dishing out quick and dirty plot summaries that let you follow the discussion at hand even if you've never read the book he's spotlighting. I only wish he'd discussed the question of whether the symbolism and allusions and so forth that a savvy reader can extract from a text were put there by a conscious effort on the part of the writer. Because I can tell you there's no way all that stuff is deliberate; it sneaks up on authors, too. I get quite a kick out of the reviewers who claim I used the Perkins doll as a symbol in Miss Spitfire. Heh.
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If you enjoyed stories like... The Borrowers The Rescuers A Fairy Called Hilary ...then you probably ought to spend an hour or so with The Molliwumps. The story may be overly convenient, but the voice is charming enough that you probably won't much care about picking at the plot. Especially if you've ever been a little girl or currently know a little girl to cozy up with over a few chapters.
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So last night I could NOT find something to read. Consecutively tried and abandoned two books by authors I've loved in the past -- one of them considered among the year's best YA novels, no less. In a fit of frustration and morbidity I picked up a book that'd been languishing on my library loan shelf since before Christmas: Hour of Gold, Hour of Lead, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, hoping maybe the lurid bits about the Lindbergh baby kidnapping would pacify me until bedtime. Manalive, did they ever, though not in the way I expected. Anne Morrow Lindbergh's letters and diaries let you crawl way down deep inside her head as the tragedy and aftermath unfold, turning what began as ghoulish curiosity into one of the most affecting reading experiences I've had in a long, long time. Kidnapping is bad enough, but I didn't know Anne Lindbergh's father had also died less than a year earlier. I didn't even know Anne was pregnant with their second child when Charles Jr. was snatched from his crib. And I certainly didn't know Anne was younger then than I am now. All that sucked me in and kept me reading long beyond the police investigation and the grisly discovery in the woods near the Lindbergh's home 10 weeks later. (A discovery made more disturbing for me when I realized I've seen the crime scene photo that Anne Morrow Lindbergh never did.) If ever you've wondered how people manage to find their way through horrors like this, dig in.
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Jacob Have I Loved
Something about this story -- the style, the pacing, the references to Crissfield? -- reminds me quite a lot of Cynthia Voigt's Tillerman Cycle. This is old school children's lit, and it makes me wonder where the change began: with authors, or with kids? The reader, by the way, is perfect. Just the right dash of sullenness without making Sarah Louise sound cranky or unlikeable. And oh my blessed, is there a more hateful grandmother in all of children's lit? Ok, maybe Roald Dahl could pull off a nastier lady, but it'd be a farcical sort of thing, which is an entirely different matter. Paterson actually makes you sympathize with Old Mrs. Bradshaw before all is said and done.
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The Great Gilly Hopkins
It had been a long, long time since I'd read this story. Too long. I knew the gist, of course, and I knew I'd loved it, but I'd forgotten just how a tough a cookie Gilly could be, and what a piece of work is Trotter. Even though I remembered the end, saw it coming, and could recite the last line verbatim, it still packs a head-on gut punch. I've always said this is one of those books I wish I'd written, and now I remember why.
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The Seance
Not a bad mystery, and goodness knows I'm a sucker for anything that revolves around Harry Houdini. The jazz age slang, though it fit the story and the characters' personality, wore on me a little bit. A number of phrases were new to me, and not entirely evident from the context. But hey, it's got Houdini, complete with a mini-lesson in lock picking. And seances, and flimflam artists. Fun stuff, and the plot sure doesn't lag.
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Heart of a Shepherd
When Brother's dad is shipped off to Iraq, along with the rest of his reserve unit, Brother must help his grandparents keep the ranch going. HeÕs determined to maintain it just as his father left it, in the hope that doing so will ensure his fatherÕs safe return. The hardships Brother faces will not only change the ranch, but also reveal his true calling. The understated ones are hardest to review, you know, and they probably get short-changed because of it. But there is something about this book -- it's still hanging with me after a week. Brother's story has a steadiness to it, and although the characters don't burst from the pages, they have a quiet, lingering intensity about them. This is not a book for everyone, but I suspect it's going to mean a lot to a special few. *coughcoughSherrycoughcough* I thought I saw the end coming, but nope, not really.
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Imagine for a moment what Erin Brockovich would have been like if Erin were a 17-year-old with Asperger's syndrome. Ok, Marcelo in the Real World isn't exactly like that, but I've got your attention now, don't I? Good, because Marcelo is worth you attention. The kid's got a voice that stands out every bit as much as Brockovich's boobs and scathing wit, and he will make you consider just how effortlessly you perceive the world. Even if you're accustomed to not seeing the forest for the trees, looking through Marcelo's eyes will make you aware of the leaves. And by the way, it's Mar-SEL-o, not Mar-CHELLO. (Speaking of names, Francisco X. Stork has to be the best name I've ever seen outside of my Spam folder.)
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A Map of the Known World
I owe this book an apology. Shortly after I started it, the mail carrier brought me a fat envelope full of ARCs. One of them was Laurie Halse Anderson's Wintergirls, and from the second I saw that, A Map of the Known World was doomed. A considerate reader succumbing to such temptation would have put Lisa Ann Sandell's book aside for a day or two. Instead, I plowed through it. A Map of the Known World is not a book for racing. Authors do not take the time to choose such pretty words if they don't intend for those words to be savored, and the topics of art and loss deserve more thought than I gave them. Alas. Start here to give this book a better chance than I did. (Available in April)
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 Wintergirls
by Laurie Halse Anderson (High school) Date Read: January 23rd
Among some of my friends, I'm known (mostly) affectionately as "the skinny bitch." But really, I'm the lucky bitch. Among other reasons, I am the size that I am through no effort of my own. Which is why I cringe whenever any of the teenagers I chat with online say they wish they look like me. We joke about it, but I'd secretly like to shake them, these perfectly normal girls who aren't capital-P perfect because they wear jeans that begin with a number instead of a zero. Maybe now I'll just tell them to shut up and read Wintergirls instead. So maybe I've already got you thinking this is a book all about Why Eating Disorders Are Bad. Actually, because it's Laurie Anderson, this is a book about how eating disorders feel, and lemme tell you, it leaves "bad" in the dust. I'm not sure anyone knows better than Laurie how to crawl into the mind of a broken kid and illuminate the tangled mess inside; in Lia's case, disturbing, disorienting, desperate, and utterly compelling. In fact, it's so good that I've overcome my natural ARC-hoarding tendancies and passed it along to one of the best high school English teachers I know. Wintergirls is not a book you just tell people to read -- you'll shove it at them and demand their reaction. Aside #1: If you want to get double your money's worth, brush up on your Greek mythology. Then you'll know why it's totally creepy that I happened to be drinking pomegranate juice while I read Wintergirls. (Even if you don't, I promise the book will still kick butt.) Aside #2: This is the first book I've seen use strikeout text. The effect is super, but I wonder how the audio edition will cope with that? Aside #3: When I think of Laurie Halse Anderson sitting across from me at a Chinese buffet in October where I ate only wonton broth and sushi, I can't help wondering if she silently added me to her watchlist. Seriously -- I bet I weighed less then than Lia does at the beginning of this book. (Available in March)
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Distant Waves
by Suzanne Weyn (Middle school) Date Read: January 30th
Titanic, seances, Houdini, even a fleeting mention of Tsar Nicholas II -- sure seems like I should have loved this book. Sadly, when my Show-vs.-Tell prejudice kicks up, all bets are off. Apparently I'm constitutionally incapable of connecting with the characters when this particular stylistic peeve commands my attention. Distant Waves did make me succumb to the temptation to watch the movie for the first time in a long time, though. (Available in April)
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Because I am Furniture
by Thalia Chaltas (High school) Date Read: January 30th
Anke's father is abusive. But not to her. He attacks her brother and sister, but she is ignored, forced to be an invisible witness in a house of horrors. Believing she isn't worthy of even the worst kind of attention, Anke is on the brink of disappearing altogether... This is the first time in a long time (maybe the first time ever) that the formatting in a verse novel felt completely intuitive to me. The line breaks, the indents, all made sense, even to a prose girl like me. Here comes possibly the vaguest positive review ever: this is a really good book. You should read it. Killer turns of phrase, intense subject matter, all in a format you can gulp down in a single sitting. (Available in April)
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