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Thursday, December 31, 2015

More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera: Short Thoughts

Well, this book was an emotional roller coaster. It was also more of a general roller coaster too, as after a certain point I just couldn't stop reading and it kept throwing new twists and I was putting everything together.

Despite the smiley face on the cover, this is not really a happy book, though "happiness" is one of its main themes. It's a grim, intense story about memory, sexuality, nature vs nurture, suicide, relationships, hate crimes and homophobia, and all set in the diverse socioeconomic landscape of the Bronx. Furthermore, there's an added science fiction element of a company that can erase memories to make people "recover" and "start over," which allows Silvera to raise a lot of interesting and important questions.

Not everything in life works out how you want it to, after all, but man is that particularly true for our protagonist Aaron Soto. Things seem to be going great with his girlfriend, but while she's away, he finds comfort in a new male friend. Now conflicted about his sexuality, and knowing how his circle of friends won't accept him as gay, Aaron wonders if he can just get the procedure to forget and make everything better. (And then things get complicated in great ways, but I don't want to spoil it!)

Despite the sci-fi aspect, the story still takes place very much in our present, forming a very realistic backdrop of intersections between race and class, and the effects of homophobia and abuse within it. I also appreciated how the feelings of and relationship between the characters were complex. Some of them could have been defined by jealousy, betrayal, and bitterness, but they were instead portrayed in many lights, and their feelings toward each other were not easily categorized, and that made it much more interesting and effective.

More Happy Than Not hurts, but it's thoughtful and tackles some very important subjects and it's absolutely worth the read.

Spoilery section (you have been warned)
The reveal that Aaron had already undergone the procedure was really effective storytelling. It's a twist, but it's also great because it displays so clearly that this is who he's been for his whole life, and all the pieces fit into place so well. The procedure was also described as used for treating mental illness such as PTSD or panic attacks, which made me think about the possible effectiveness and implications of that, even if it wasn't explored directly in the novel.

...I'm still thinking about the ending, I'm not even sure I can coherently say anything. But I think it was fitting for Aaron to be stuck with only prior memories--not that he deserved it, but it made thematic sense. There were parts of his life that he just couldn't escape from, and now he never can.

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Books I Want to Read in 2016

2016 may be a crazy year for me, but it's one I'm excited for in regard to reading because I'm changing things up a bit. In addition to reading what I've got on hand (except anthologies/reference/collected works books which are more of a "read as needed" and "lifetime reading list" type of thing), I want to finally get around to those that have been on my reading list forever, and I want to start a project of reading children's/middle grade classics (and newer releases) that I never got around to. My library and its Overdrive service are going to become my best friends, because I realized that buying them for the purpose of having a good children's collection is not necessary right now and something I can always do later on. Ultimately, by knocking out some of these titles I've wanted to read for a long time, I hope to feel really accomplished with slashing down my reading goals. (Next year: reading more classic YA?)

So! Without further ado, here are books that I'm (very probably) going to read in 2016, accompanied by others of course that I'm not going to plan for. There are a lot more here than I would like, but the middle grade books are short and shouldn't take that long. I'm also not including books that will be released in 2016, as I don't buy most new releases and I'm going to make a separate post about that (I'm excited though!). Chances are one or two might be read next year, though!

Middle Grade
  • Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine
  • Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
  • Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights? by Lemony Snicket
  • Meet the Austins by Madeleine L'Engle
  • A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L'Engle
  •  A House Like a Lotus by Madeleine L'Engle
  • Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce
  • Sandry's Book by Tamora Pierce
  • Wonder by R.J. Palacio
  • Lyra's Oxford by Philip Pullman (I've had this for a long time but I don't think I ever read it)
  • The Truth About Jellyfish by Ali Benjamin
  • The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne M Valente
  • Orbiting Jupiter by Gary D. Schmidt
 And if I have time, I might reread L'Engle's A Wind in the Door and A Swiftly Tilting Planet.

Young Adult
  • More Than This by Patrick Ness
  • Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
  • The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian by  Sherman Alexie
  • Winter by Marissa Meyer (I don't think I'm going to bother to read Fairest)
  • UnWholly by Neal Shusterman
  • Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta
  • The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton
  • Dreams of Gods and Monsters by Laini Taylor
(And possibly: Challenger Deep by Neal Shusterman, None of the Above by I.W. Gregorio, Crown of Midnight by Sarah J. Maas, Falling into Place by Amy Zhang, and/or more of the Unwind books.)


Adult/Literary Fiction/Classics 
  • Going After Cacciato by Tim O'Brien
  • The October Country by Ray Bradbury
  • A collection of George Orwell essays
  • The Celebrated Jumping Frong and Other Stories by Mark Twain
  • A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
  • The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle
  • Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
  • Beloved by Toni Morrison
  • The Martian by Andy Weir
  • Hogfather by Terry Pratchett
 Nonfiction/Other 
  • Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson
  • Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell
  •  Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh

Saturday, October 31, 2015

Twitter

So, I made a Twitter, which was something I had wanted to do for a while to follow authors and other book people, but I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to condense my thoughts to 140 characters. Turns out, I might enjoy it.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

I Crawl Through It by A.S. King: A Rather Personal Review

There are so many reviews whose writers didn't "get" this book, so let me tell you: I got it. In context, I didn't find it all that strange, and it just made sense to me. (I'm not sure what that says about me.) Some of the reasons why I connected are maybe too personal to divulge. Some of my delightful reading experience is just A.S. King's knack for pulling me into a book so it is the only thing I can think about for a while...but this one I think I'm going to be thinking about for a long, long time.

A plot summary is somewhat pointless, but I'll try: this is a surrealist YA novel about buried internal trauma and external pressures and how not facing these problems never work. Two academically gifted teens fly away in an invisible helicopter to try to escape. A victim of date rape swallows herself. A victim of physical abuse tells lies that make her hair grow longer to try to fit in when she is really being abused at home. Everyone is worried about what others think and how they fit in. And someone keeps making repeated bomb threats to the standardized test-addled school, but the students also feel like they're ticking time bombs.

Of course, I Crawl Through It isn't for everyone. It is certainly weird, but I also didn't find it TOO weird, although I am partial to experimental . There is quite a bit of semblance of the real world and plot and character arcs are present as outlined above; none of it felt random to me in context. (Again, I'm not sure what it says about me that I was not at all concerned about, say, independently talking scars.) Most of all, the novel swallowed me up. I didn't feel distanced from it, like I felt distanced from the Vonnegut I read. I read it over a period of less than 30 hours because it wouldn't let me go.

Because I've felt like exploding, too. I've wanted to build an invisible helicopter and fly away. I've had that panic when the letters (aka multiple choice answers to a standardized test) are not correct. I've been concerned about how others perceive me and where I fit in, or if I fit in at all. Maybe sometimes I've even wanted to swallow myself, for different reasons. And so when I got to the part when the individuals on the island (that the helicopter takes the two characters to) rattle off their universities and majors (which were thankfully not all STEM; a stereotype I hate), I almost started crying, because it rang so true.

Plus, there's this quote:


"Because nothing is perfect. Perfect is a myth. I want you to remember this. Perfect is a boldfaced lie. It's a ham sandwich without ham. It's a blue sky on Mondays when it rains on Wednesdays."

And also in the acknowledgments (which also includes the amusing sentence: "Andrea Spooner, please edit this sentence so it somehow conveys the full appreciation I have for your trust."):


"Students readers, thank you for reading. Thank you for writing to me. Thank you for being you. You are not ovals. You are not letters. You are human beings, and every time someone rolls their eyes at you because they think your opinion doesn't count, picture me giving them the finger."

It's a quick read. It may be only a glimpse, but it's powerful. It isn't for everyone, and I'm not even sure I would recommend it to others. But I think it's an experience I think I should share, in the spirit of sharing personal relationships with stories that are in themselves a very personal exploration for the author. That's where the real power and influence of literature resides. Not in a Goodreads consensus, but in reaching the needs of readers, even if it isn't everyone who picks it up.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Goodbye Stranger by Rebecca Stead: A New Favorite

As this was an intensely personal book for me, it warrants quite a personal review.

I believe I first discovered Rebecca Stead's Newbery Medal Winner, When You Reach Me, somewhere between sixth and seventh grade. I had come across its Wikipedia page and saw that it dealt with some time travel theories that even at that age I was intrigued by, thanks to a book on Harry Potter I read (specifically, about the Time Turner and whether they really changed anything), and so I had to read it. Like Harry Potter (the storytelling of which I was quite obsessed with at the time), it had a well-crafted story where everything falls into place, and I loved it. I convinced two of my friends to read it, I went out and bought it, and I read it two or three times within a year. (I would digress more, but we're here to talk about Goodbye Stranger.) And now, I've been increasingly interested in writing middle grade realistic fiction recently, and a few months ago I read Stead's other realistic novel, Liar & Spy, which took me by surprise by the end and I did love it, but I did not have that personal connection and admiration as I had with When You Reach Me. Nevertheless, Stead became one of my favorite authors and an inspiration.

I discovered the upcoming existence of Goodbye Stranger back in January or February and was immediately excited. Friendship? Love? Middle School? Yes, please.

And I was not disappointed. In fact, this may have somehow exceeded my extremely high expectations...right now, I think I love it a little bit more than When You Reach Me, if only because of more personal connections.

Goodbye Stranger follows multiple interlocking storylines. The main one, written in third person limited, is about three seventh grade girls: Bridge (our POV, so to speak), who survived a severe accident when she was younger that left her wondering what her purpose is for living as she tries to figure out her life; Tab, who begins to get involved in feminism and human rights; and Emily, who has developed faster than the other two and is attracting the attention of older girls and boys. They have been best friends for several years and made a pact to never fight, but now they are beginning to take different paths. Meanwhile, Sherm's grandfather left his grandmother after fifty years and Sherm writes letters to him that he never sends, in the midst of forming a close bond with Bridge. And on Valentine's Day, an unnamed girl skips school and reflects upon her friendships that have become toxic; and while this is strange at first because it is written in second person and seems tangentially related, it does match up with the main storyline (and I'm a teensy bit proud of figuring out how before it was revealed), and little details were woven throughout.

It is a complex book, filled with small but important moments, but I did not find it particularly hard to understand. That said, it is subtle, often stating its meanings with metaphors or questions or brief thoughts from the characters, and this works because it's practically about the complexity we begin to see around us as we grow up and our confusion and questions as we wade through them. To be brief, this is something I relate to strongly and it's largely how I view the world. All the characters make some mistakes and do things they regret, but that's part of growing up and ultimately what they did do made them stronger. No one is chiefly good or bad, whether they are adults or kids, parents or teachers, boys or girls. Even if the school administration has some rules that the characters question, there are teachers who question them as well. Friendships are not always pleasant, but not all need to be broken off either.

Bridge isn't sure what the distinction between friendship and something more is--and if it really exists. And oh man, I related to her feelings about this so much. I was never sure either, but I did experience what she does with Sherm: how she looks for him when they might be in the same room, how the time she spends with him takes on a new weight, how she's worried that kissing might ruin any prior platonic relationship they had... It was something so touching and so relatable and I couldn't help but love the little insights into how this young teenager viewed the world.

I wish I had this book in middle school. Not necessarily because my friends were having the same problem, but because in seventh and eighth grade I was enjoying the middle grade sci-fi/fantasy series I read less and less. (Lord of the Rings, which I read about the beginning of seventh grade, was my last love in that department.)  It would not be until my freshman year of high school that I would discover I wanted character-based stories I could relate to, even if the situations of the characters did not appear to be similar to mine at all. But in middle school I didn't know my way around literary fiction/classics and preferred not to read much adult content, and the romance kept me out of the YA titles I saw (which were probably all series as well, because they were the most popular). The Giver and When You Reach Me were great, but I struggled to find much in the middle grade department...and admittedly, I didn't know what I was looking for, either. Goodbye Stranger is middle grade, but it bridges that much-needed gap between middle grade and YA, where the characters are in their early teens and dealing with more mature issues. And this is an age group sorely missing from bookshelves that is so important, and that's something I am inspired to explore in my own writing.

Furthermore, Stead incorporates texting and social media that are such a large part of adolescent communication--and not in a negative way, either. Plus, it's vague enough that it won't be dated in a few years or gets the mechanics of the website wrong; the pages the girls look at might have been interpreted as Facebook a few years ago, but now they can easily be Instagram. Em's storyline does not preach, either, instead presenting the conflicting feelings involved and the consequences happen, but not necessarily should happen. There are some really great points made throughout, and as much as Bridge and Em are wary of Tab repeating dogma from her teacher, they end up reaching some feminist conclusions on their own. I've admitted my uncomfortable relationship with novels considered feminist (see: here), and I think a lot of that was because they weren't too subtle and presented a situation that was just too simple, which made me find holes and parts I disagreed with. Goodbye Stranger is the opposite. (I feel like I should apologize again, but...look, it's just a lot closer to how I view the world and what I like.)

Aside from being complex, the relationships in this novel are so strong. Bridge, Em, and Tab do have their tough moments and disagreements, but they are quick to defend each other, and be there for each other, and just unabashedly love each other. It was so touching and beautiful, especially when it is common to find, in both stories and real life, girls who easily turn on each other. The book doesn't completely live in Bridge, Tab, and Em's flawed utopia, however; it acknowledges that there are girls who hurt other girls, too. (Quite a bit like the little world I lived in with my friends and what I observed from others during middle school.) Meanwhile, the bonds within families, between teachers and students, and between Sherm and Bridge are all strong albeit different.

My final stand-out element in Goodbye Stranger is the setting: New York City (specifically Manhattan, I believe). Stead is a native of the area and still lives there, and she captures the atmosphere perfectly. My father is from Brooklyn and I've spent plenty of time in residential New York (though admittedly I've only been to Manhattan twice), and so much of the setting rang authentic. Most importantly, and an improvement upon her previous novels, Goodbye Stranger is diverse. Bridge's father is Armenian-American (and she isn't whitewashed on the cover!!), Tab's parents are Indian and first immigrated to France before they arrived in New York, and Sherm's grandparents are Italian. (Like Sherm, my dad's side of the family is Italian, though I never got to meet my Nonno and Nonna passed away when I was very young. But I loved the little references to the food! So true.) Elements of their cultures appear because it's a part of their lives--and indeed, a part of New York City as a whole, because if you've been there then you know how much of a blend of cultures it is.

Goodbye Stranger is a book I immediately wanted to reread--not because I felt like I had missed something, but because I loved it so much. For the first time, honestly, I want to buy those little sticky-note tabs to mark all of my favorite passages (annotating a hardcover just feels wrong!). It's definitely going to be something I'll cherish for years to come and it's such a wonderful surprise that it even exceeded my very high expectations.

Friday, July 17, 2015

Grasshopper Jungle, Andrew Smith, and the Struggle of Less-Than-Positive Reviews

Okay, so, I had been especially avoiding reading an Andrew Smith book after everything that went down a few months ago (by the way, I like that article, it's pretty comprehensive and unbiased about it). But I kept eying Grasshopper Jungle with curiosity. Sure, I'd heard better things about 100 Sideways Miles, despite the fact that one got less publicity/awards/etc. But accidentally causing the end of the world with giant praying mantises? That sounds like something I'd really get a kick out of.

But, um, I didn't.

And that brings me to what I want to talk about first before I delve into everything I want to explore about the book: negative opinions. I'm not really a fan of them. Well, actually, I do enjoy reading criticism of things I either don't like or haven't read yet and am not sure if I'll like. But mostly, I like hearing why books and other stories are important to people, and even if there's something I didn't really enjoy or thought was meh, I love reading about how it meant something to others.

Reviews of books I like are pretty easy. And even when there were a handful of books a year ago that I was expecting to like but didn't, I was confident about saying that. Usually, I felt very mixed and could understand why other liked it, but I knew there was something not for me (usually romance). The thing is, it's fairly easy to tell when you are not enjoying a book, but when you don't you are expected to justify that. And often, that is what I feel nervous about.

What makes me question my validity on this particular review is that a large part of what I didn't enjoy was on sort of ideological terms and, I suppose, I'm possibly "doing it wrong." I'm also not very comfortable discussing ideology because as far as I'm concerned, I'm still cooking. There's things I'd like to learn before making any sort of statement.

The first review of this sort was The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, which I had read a few months before blogging regularly and I wrote some general comments when I rated the book on Goodreads when I revived my old account. The book was not for me in some ways which contributed to the way I felt about it, but I had some gripes with it as well. It wasn't until someone my age who I followed on the site read the book and had a similar reaction that I tried to write a bit more and posted it here, although I've since reverted it to draft form because again, I'm afraid of being wrong. Basically, despite all the praise for the book being feminist, there were a few things the main character said that felt less than so, and the conflict seemed so inconsequential because it was so privileged. (I also took some personal offense to how she described her roommate's steady boyfriend--the only guy in the book who isn't a jerk--as sweet but not sexually attractive. But like the rest of this, here isn't the place to explain.)

The second not-too-positive review was Glory O'Brien's History of the Future by A.S. King, one of my favorite authors who also happens to be very good friends with Andrew Smith, another thing making me feel guilty (or possibly hypocritical?) about this post right here. This review I posted after some deliberation, but again I'm shaky in how I feel about it, calling the post "rambles" and deciding not to cross-post it to my Tumblr where most of my traffic comes through. I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as her other work and it didn't come together for me. But I also disputed this apparently feminist book on ideological terms, because I disliked the way Glory talked about other women (something that was never really resolved), and the futuristic aspects were very far-fetched to me--and even though they weren't really meant to be the truth, I think, the amount of reviews describing it as a chilling predication that you could see happening leaves me scratching my head. So once again, was I doing this wrong? Was I betraying other women? (And I actually do like what King has to say on feminism from what I've seen, especially the idea of harmful divides like "girl book" and "boy book.")

With Grasshopper Jungle the story is almost reversed (or so it seems, because why do I feel like these things are polar?), in that I agree with the feminist narrative that this isn't a great book for women, and that bothered me. Just like the above two books bothered me despite their apparent feminist credentials (though with Glory it was more the story as a whole). So I'm fearing backlash from a whole new set of people, I suppose. That, and to be called hypocritical because there are other feminist readings of things that I don't agree with, as pointed out above and with other things I've publicly said that aren't book related. (Yes, I know feminism is ideally a discussion but there have been many interpretations over the years and I don't know exactly where mine fits. And again, things change with experience.)

And this extends across other things I love, as well, and like to write about but am sometimes afraid to. It's something I really want to work on in the future. But right now, let me be honest. Just like Andrew Smith gets praised for. (Snark activated? I think so.) And like he talks about his books and characters not wanting to be put in a box, I also don't want to be put in a box ideologically, which is something I've been struggling with for a little while, and a lot of it goes back to my "words have no meaning" philosophy as well as my general anxiety over what people think. But unlike a lot of things in life, I'm comfortable taking sides on books, as I can tell how I feel about them, and even point out shortcomings of things I enjoyed.

This was not really one of those. Granted, I was enjoying the beginning more than I expected to, but after a while it started dragging and felt like it was going nowhere. I'm not sure where exactly my opinion of this book flipped around, but for the last 150 pages or more I was in the mindset of "ugh let's just get this over with."

(Spoilers from here on out.)

First of all, I'm fine with weird things. That was actually why I wanted to read this. And it disappointed me. It takes quite a while for everything to be set in motion and once it is, the characters are fairly far removed from it, there's a lot of backstory, and the giant bugs are just literally giant bugs. (I mean, I don't know what I expected, but bugs are not particularly interesting.) Also, the novel as a whole was slow going and repetitious, and I think I would have found the backstory more entertaining if I hadn't already read 200 pages talking about similar things. I don't mind repetition as a literary device, which is also used frequently here, but this just felt like it spun its wheels. And it was especially irritating that Austin had to recount what everyone in the town tangentially related to the story was doing before something important happened; this occurred too frequently and the technique lost its value. Some of the family history sections also repeated aspects already told.

I also don't mind the "boy stuff" that is so frequently discussed throughout the novel, although it does kind of bug me that girls who so freely talk about their bodies and sexuality are less frequent to nonexistent in YA. However, I think some things were not warranted, particularly the parts about the vice president, which just seemed overly gratuitous, and again the constant talk got repetitious and lost the effect. I also find generalizations such as "all boys..." or "Polish boys..." which are frequent throughout, to be tiresome and inevitably, wrong. (I even sent some of the quotes to my boyfriend, who disagreed with them.) I mean, I understand that Austin is not supposed to be correct in everything and its part of his character to make these sweeping statements, but he also never learns that much to the contrary. Furthermore, his brother who lost his testicles and a leg in war but is still alive is offhandedly described as "ruined." I understand the fear and some of the humor of losing balls, which is actually topic that comes up a lot, but that seemed a litle disrespectful.

[On a more nitpicky note, Austin tells us about how a chemistry class concoction "looked and felt just like sperm," but that's silly because sperm is microscopic and what he's really taking about is semen. Austin also says that all the boys understood because they masturbated, but only some of the girls saw the comparison. Girls masturbating is only mentioned in passing at once, when Austin thinks about his girlfriend doing it and it turns him on. Basically, I'm just annoyed that this sort of thing is so often the case in YA.]

The best part of Grasshopper Jungle was Austin's struggle with and exploration of his sexuality, but I still found that to be disappointing. To reference that article I linked above again, which based on a quick search the only place I've seen reference this (though Twitter might be a different story), apparently Andrew Smith was on a diversity panel at a conference with many diverse author (who are generally known for writing diversity) and he said he was surprised that Grasshopper Jungle was called a "bisexual book" and that he just wrote what came to him. And honestly, I think it shows. Through the majority of the book, Austin muses on his conflicted desires for his best friend Robby, who is gay, and his girlfriend, Shann. He repeatedly says he is "confused" and fantasizes about threesomes; I don't think these are done as distastefully as they could have been, but I do know that two negative stereotypes about bisexual people are that they are "just confused" or want/should be invited to threesomes. It turns out, just 50 pages from the end of the book, that he has known about the word "bisexual" all along, but he says he's not sure if that's right and he never really confronts it again. At the end, he tells us that he just wants to remain "confused." In other words, he never comes to terms with his identity, which I know is a huge comforting step for LGBT people. I am quite conflicted over this subplot. [An update: When I first published this post, I hadn't come to complete terms with the fact that I'm bi as well...and actually coming to terms with it and discussing it with others has made me feel a lot better. I'm not saying it's the same for everyone, but I still find that subplot very disappointing.]

And now...for the women. Or lack thereof. Aside from Shann, Austin's girlfriend, the only women who appear in the novel (including the history section) are a combination of: mothers who take Xanax (it is not known whether they need it for anxiety or anything like that; Austin tries it and remains ignorant as to its real purpose); women oogled by Austin or other men; women who need to make rules about when to shower for some reason; women having sex with men (usually described from the male POV); a woman turned into a giant praying mantis and, as the only woman, is used for procreation as well as preforming the eating-of-the-mate praying mantis function; prostitutes giving a teenage boy a blow job; an ancestor abused by her brother; an ancestor who was raped and then cheats on her husband and is promiscuous after her husband's death...and then we also learn about Wanda Mae, a sex partner of the guy who created the bug project and she actually has a hobby (water skiing)! His sperm were also defective and she moved on and married someone else (oh yeah, and she was good looking to boot and Austin suggests that's why she was on the project), but I can't help feeling she would have stayed if she had gotten pregnant. (This novel is obsessed with sperm and procreation, I swear.) Basically, all of these characters are tangential to the story and not fleshed out, especially when compared to Robby, Austin, the random people around town Austin talks about in his context-setting bits, and the historical (male) figures.

Shann also given much less to do and appeared less often than Robby in the story, and we don't know too much about her and her desires and lifestyle, despite Austin flat-out saying she's a "complex person." She seemed to genuinely like Austin for personality traits (such as how he tells stories), but although he says he's madly in love with her, he only seems to be focused on getting her to agree to sex. Aside from one little snippet, we don't know about her desires and they never have meaningful discussions about their relationship, which is fine and very teenager-y, but I really wanted to see Austin acknowledge that maybe she does want sex, or is curious, or basically anything outside of Austin's own desires in the relationship. (Like seriously, when he touches her breasts he narrates that she seemed to like he, but he thinks he likes it better. It's all about his pleasure.)

But then it gets worse. After she was initially upset because she found out that he and Robby had kissed (I can't blame her either, that is cheating), giant bug doomsday approaches and they end up having impromptu sex. It's unprotected and awkward and naturally, they both regret it without really saying that directly, though Shann does say how it hurt and she was upset he didn't use a condom. He says, in narration, that this is "unfair" because they hadn't talked about condoms that night and just did what they "needed to do." The thing is, even if she regrets their impulsive behavior that she could have done something about, it's not just her responsibility to make sure protection is used; it's also his. She had told him before that she wanted him to use a condom!

Anyway, even though Austin begins to realize how badly he's treated Robby and Shann, he doesn't get the opportunity to truly confront that. Shann winds up pregnant, prompting Austin to tell us how great his sperm is and that it produced a strong Polish boy (because of course it was a boy). Since they need to "breed" in wake of bugpocalypse anyway, Shann doesn't get much of a say about what she wants to do with the baby or with Austin. Well, presumably. Because it just jumps ahead four years, where the women hang out underground making rules about taking showers and "pouting" and Robby and Austin get to go out and have fun. Austin never brings Shann along for fun. (He also doesn't really have a relationship with either of them.) As you can probably tell after this much detail, the way Shann is treated by the narrative and the other characters is quite frustrating and almost insulting and disgusting, at least to me. She isn't allowed to participated in the same amount of adventure as the boys and her own feelings are hardly taken into account. Added together with the way all of the female characters are practically nonexistent or cast aside, it did not sit well with me.

To cap it all off, there is this quote very near the end: "All boys build roads that crisscross and carry us away." Previously, these roads referred to the various (male-centered) storylines that intertwined, related to Austin's historical outlook. So basically...it's the men tha m

And just to be clear, I don't think that Smith himself thinks of the world this way or treats anyone badly. I just think he didn't realize what he was doing. Some women and girls might enjoy his work, but personally I found it very off-putting.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Top Ten Tuesday: Last Ten Books That Came Into My Possession

Top Ten Tuesday was created by The Broke and the Bookish. This week's topic is the Last Ten Books That Came Into My Possession. This will include print books, ebooks, and library books.

I have actually acquired quite a few books recently, but I am going to eliminate reference books/books for school and books that I've already read (as I gathered a couple of Bradburys for my collection). This list will be in descending order, with the most recent first.

1. A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab: I have not yet read Vicious (which I have owned only for a little while), but I've been snooping around Schwab's vlogs and blog posts for writerly advice and inspiration and I definitely admire her. What made me pick up this book now was my recent obsession with enjoyment of the TV series Fringe, which like this book has parallel universes, and so it seemed appropriate even if the novel is more fantasy-oriented. (As a kid I also loved Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, so channeling those vibes is also welcome.)

2. Midwinterblood by Marcus Sedgwick: I picked this up at a discounted bookstore on a whim (along with those Bradburys I mentioned), though it was somewhere on my Goodreads TBR list. It won the Printz and I've only seen positive reviews, though I haven't really gotten a clear picture of what it's about! Nevertheless, Sedgwick is an interesting writer (I enjoyed most of the stories in The Ghosts of Heaven, his most recent release) with his own style and I'm intrigued.

3. The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater: I picked this up from the library because I can't contain my curiosity any longer. Something about it just seems mysterious and magical and unique, and I really hope I'm not disappointed because I rarely feel compelled to continue series nowadays and I'd like to add one more to the list.

4. I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson: Another library book and my current read. I was also too curious and was looking for a better LGBT read than Grasshopper Jungle.

5. Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie: I got the gorgeous new Barnes and Noble Children's Classic edition and I love it and I hope I love the story just as much. I'm very interested in magical children's stories, so it seems to be for me.

6. Magonia by Maria Dahvana Headley: The reason I went to B&N was to pick this up because I had a coupon. It's a relatively new release and has intrigued me, because it seems different and Neil Gaiman-esque. Seemed like something for me.

7. Bradbury Stories by Ray Bradbury: The ebook version of this was on sale and so I had to get it. It's 100 short stories that Bradbury wrote--some I've read before, some I haven't, but it sounds like a great thing to read gradually.

8. Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith: I couldn't help my curiosity about this accidental-end-of-the-world-with-giant-praying-mantises story, so I checked it out from the library. Unfortunately I ended up not liking it very much, especially as it went on. I am currently polishing my (lengthily and somewhat personal) review.

9. Misery by Stephen King: This was pretty cheap on Kindle and so I snagged it. I had gotten The Shining not too far before and I''m looking to get into King in the future. This one I've heard good things about recently, and my parents also recommended it. (They were pretty big fans

10. Glory O'Brien's History of the Future by A.S. King: While I own several of her books and really enjoyed them, I wasn't sure if this one would be for me, so I picked it up from the library. It was a good choice because I didn't enjoy it very much.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Top Ten Tuesday: Ten Hyped Books I've Never Read

Top Ten Tuesday was created by The Broke and the Bookish. This week's topic is the Top Ten Books I've Never Read.

This is a fairly easy one for me actually, as I often find hyped books not to my taste, or after a while of waiting and thinking I become not interested anymore. So, I am going to try to keep this to books that I think I may actually never read. These are not in any particular order.

1. Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell: This has been a huge hit and at first it seemed like something I would enjoy, and to some extent I still think I may read it at some point just out of sheer curiosity. The original reason why I avoided it was because it looked like it wouldn't end happily and that wasn't really something I wanted to see at that time. (Not that I always want happy endings--quite the contrary--but I'm not much of a fan of star-crossed lovers.) I've also read about the less-than-stellar portrayals of the nonwhite characters.

2. The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky: Unless I'm doing a project on YA lit history (which I have considered doing a blog for at some point in the future, though I'm not so sure now), I don't feel any compulsion to read it. I may have liked it when I was younger, but now I have the suspicion I'll feel like I'm missing something if I do read it.

3. The Son of Neptune and anything else after its publication aside from Throne of Fire (which I already read) by Rick Riordan: I have absolutely nothing against Riordan; I actually think his books are great for teaching kids about mythology. (They certainly are the main reason I remember what I do about it.) I was the right age when Percy Jackson was popular and The Lost Hero was published, and I also read the first two Kane Chronicles Egyptian mythology books, but I fell behind and never read The Son of Neptune or anything after it. I hear they're great, but it's too much of a commitment for me and honestly I was not particularly in love with the characters and plots I did read; after a while, it felt a little formulaic and repetitive.

4. If I Stay by Gayle Foreman: When this was originally popular, it wasn't the sort of book I read. Now that I'm into more serious contemporary novels I felt like I should give it a go, but I sort of lost interest again. Similar to E&P, it looked a little bit too sad and again, I was never particularly interested to begin with. (But again, I might eventually pick this up out of curiosity.)

5. Crown of Midnight by Sarah J. Mass: The original plan would be to read at least this far into the series because everyone in their mother says that this second book is better than Throne of Glass in every way. I do like the idea of a long fantasy series and I did like the way the direction it seemed like the series was going, but I can't say I was really into the world or the characters and so I don't see how reading more would be rewarding for me. There are other series I'm more interested in, anyway.

6. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen: I wasn't a huge fan of Pride and Prejudice and while I'm not going to write off Austen completely, every other book she wrote interests me more than this one.

7. Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard: One of this year's most hyped YA books. I was uninterested in this anyway, but I've heard it feels like a rehearsal of a lot of frequently used YA fantasy tropes, and considering that's how I feel about a lot of YA series I attempt to read, I don't have any desire to read this.

8. Anything after City of Glass by Cassandra Clare (including The Infernal Devices trilogy): While I initially liked The Mortal Instruments, by the time I got to the third book I discovered they were really not for me. I can understand why it appeals to others, but I wasn't a fan of the characters and where the story chose to focus and how it dealt with its content.

9. The Selection series by Kiera Cass: I've heard these are addicting though light, but they don't seem to be for me.

10. Anything by Colleen Hover: I'm not saying that she won't publish something in the future that I'll be interested in, but based on what she has written so far, it doesn't seem to be for me. I've never read New Adult but I'm not much of a fan of romance and from what I've read these have character/relationship dynamics I don't much care for or relate to.

Friday, July 3, 2015

Don't Mind Me

Follow my blog with Bloglovin I have to claim my blog on Bloglovin' again because I changed the URL. It also means I don't have any followers anymore and I don't know how to change that. But hey, come follow me if you're interested!

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Top Ten Tuesday: Books I've Read So Far in 2015

Top Ten Tuesday was created by The Broke and the Bookish. This week's topic is the Top Ten Books I've Read So Far in 2015.

(These are in the order I read them, rather than an official ranking.)

1. 1984 by George Orwell. Okay, I technically only finished the last part of this in 2015, but it's definitely one of my favorites. This is probably one of the most fleshed-out and realistic dystopian worlds I've read (they don't bother brainwashing the lower class with no power, for instance), it had quite a few interesting things to say, and I'm a sucker for endings like that.

2. Unwind by Neal Shusterman. This was quite well-written (particularly on an emotional level) and it reminded me of some books I loved when I was younger, so I adored it. Quite interesting as well.

3. I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak: This was just absolutely lovely and feel-good, I loved it. The ending also got meta and raised some interesting questions about stories and doing the right thing.

4. Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury: This isn't my favorite Bradbury, but it had some very interesting images conjured with his language and touching moments.

5. Reality Boy by A.S. King: I wasn't expecting to like this as much as some of her other books I had already read, but I ended up really enjoying it. I loved some of the questions it asked and the way it slowly revealed the truth of what had been going on.

6. Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury: Reading this collection of essays all at once did get a little bit repetitive (and some, as taken from introductions, are more about him than writing), but it did not fail to inspire me to write about what I loved and what interested me.


7. Liar & Spy by Rebecca Stead: Stead's When You Reach Me has been a favorite of mine since I was in middle school, at which point I also read her debut novel but wasn't as interested in it. However, Liar & Spy, though not as complex in plot as When You Reach Me, still hit me hard with its emotional truths and what the main character was going through. This is the kind of middle grade I'd love to write someday, even if it's a more quieter story than the titles that are the most popular with the age group.

8. "The Man Who Forgot Ray Bradbury" by Neil Gaiman: Okay, I'm cheating a little with this one. I liked Trigger Warning as a whole, but this was the story I bought it for and the one I enjoyed the most. It's a lovely tribute to Bradbury, even more poignant after his death, and it was filled with little references to his stories.

9. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens: This one took me a little while to get into because I was not entirely sure where things were going, but wow, how all of the characters were connected! Aside from how it was crafted, there was plenty of suspense and just general drama. It isn't really a character-focused story, but I can definitely understand why it was so popular at the time.

10. A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness (from an idea by Siobhan Dowd): I'm still crying internally over this, I think. It had some very important things to say about grief and guilt, whether the world and black and white, and if stories with happy endings and optimism are always the best. Also, the illustrations and format of the book were beautiful.

Monday, June 29, 2015

Short Thoughts: A Monster Calls

A Monster Calls, written by Patrick Ness and based on the last story idea Siobhan Dowd had before she died, is a children's/middle grade novel with magic realism about a boy dealing with the cruelties of the word. So basically, my specialty.

The actual book--especially the hardcover edition--is a work of art, with gorgeous and haunting illustrations by Jim Kay. And despite its friendly format, I soon found that this was not a book I wanted to read aloud to children, even older ones. Not only would I be sobbing, but it's just so painful and sad that I wouldn't wish it upon them.

And yet, that would be betraying everything this book tries to do. This is a book about Conor and his mother's cancer treatments, and how that makes the adults and classmates (including bullies) in his life tiptoe around him and not always tell him the truth. His family is more optimistic than they should be, something he knows. And he just traps everything inside. Meanwhile, he interacts with a monster that only he can see and who tells him stories where the characters aren't simply good and evil. The monster teaches the contradiction of human feelings, how guilt and anger have a place, and that resolutions aren’t always happy.

A Monster Calls might be a tearjerker, but it doesn't rely on cheap tricks to achieve that. Rather, the real tears come from the realization that it's all absolutely true.

Friday, June 26, 2015

Glory O'Brien's History of the Future by A.S. King

So...I revamped my blog a little bit and after some serious debating, I think I'm going to continue with it, possibly more than ever. That said, education and real life and my mental state always comes first. Over June when I was on limited wifi so I didn't post anything, I wrote one abandoned post that lacked the enthusiasm I wanted and this one. As with everything I'm nervous about posting this, as it features skeptical me with some strong opinions, but I'm going to work on that not-being-nervous-about-publishing thing.

This one was tricky, and I would have to agree with the many others I've seen who were a little disappointed with this. (A.S. King is still one of my favorite authors, though.) It just didn't quite work for me. Here be rambles.

I'm definitely okay with "weird." Glory and her friend drinking a petrified bat? Sure. Getting transmissions from the future? Sure. But something about Glory's journey felt unfinished, and honestly, it's hard for me to tell you what it is. She learns more about her mother, who committed suicide when she was very young, and find some closure as to how she should view that, I think. I say "I think" because there's so much else going on. She also learns about the history between her parents and her best friend's mother. And she also sees a future that may or may not become true. But more on that later. (But honestly, I'm struggling to come up with much that actually happens, besides learning some things. She graduates and hangs out with her "best friend" and goes to the mall where she meets a couple of people who turn out to be important in this future she's seeing. That's about it..)

Aside from whatever I can't put my finger on that makes Glory's story seem unfinished and undefined, she also is...kind of frustrating. I usually do not dislike or judge fictional characters, especially female characters, unless they're inconsistent and make no sense. I'm not sure Glory is completely consistent, but I'm not going to be that picky. But honestly, I actually felt like Glory didn't change too much. (I'll tackle one viewpoint she definitely didn't change later.) She was at peace and felt in control, I suppose, but again something more powerful was missing. And as for what makes her frustrating, well, she's quite judgmental, especially toward other girls.

So this future, then. According to King, it's meant to be some sort of parody. Good, because it's really unbelievable and that distracted me for a while, as I'm naturally skeptical of everything (which is why I have such a hard time choosing a side on any issue that is remotely political; I think the answers are somewhere in the middle). It consists of this chaotic Second Civil War that begins with the passage of a Fair Pay Act, requiring wage equality for women. Apparently this makes a lot of people angry, and some states find a "loophole" which is...outlawing all women from working. Now, putting aside things like we've had a basic law like this since 1963 (with several amendments since) and nothing terrible happened then, and it's not exactly that easy to eliminate the pay gap (because it also usually reflects career choice and a more institutionalized form of sexism regarding negotiations and applications that's really difficult to stamp out, I think, especially while still maintaining consideration of character and individuality...but this is all theory, of course)...this doesn't really make much sense. It would require a majority of extreme misogynists in the legislature and either first repealing or grossly violating the Fourteenth Amendment and other discrimination laws. (Also, where the heck was the Supreme Court throughout all of this?) And it especially doesn't make sense from an economic standpoint: these employers are getting rid of female workers who they apparently used to pay less only to replace them with men who they'll be paying the same rate they would have paid women. Why would they be upset? Meanwhile, whole industries and businesses will tumble because there will be a shortage of workers.

And with an America that is becoming more socially liberal and less religious (where I'm guessing this whole "victory of for the family" thing is coming from), I'm not buying it. There's a clear correlation of each generation becoming more and more accepting and when we have grandchildren there will be even less of these extreme people elected (we are a representative democracy, after all). Sure, there are other issues like sexual assault and reproductive issues, but fair wages? That's where it all goes to hell? And what about the LGBT community, which faces a sect of people who don't believe their identities really exist or are undeserving of equal rights? Wouldn't they be the ones more likely to face a bleak future?

Ahem.What I think is actually going on with this element is that she originally feels that she has no future because her mother didn't and she doesn't have much reason to do anything, but when she sees what could happen she wants to make a change, so she sees how she will eventually become a hero. (Although I think when she first begins to realize she has a future it's when she meets her apparent future husband, which seems a little at odds with everything she stands for?) And I guess she's seeing this apparently feminist future because she's a feminist herself and believes women are all led astray by consumerism and magazines. (Which, okay. There have actually been several feminist reviewers who felt that this book was too ranty or on-the-nose, and it does feel a little forceful with regards to a few things inserted here or there, but I was more upset about what I'm going to discuss in the next paragraph.)

Sex. Glory has a problem with it that was never really resolved. Don't get me wrong, sex education is important, and that appears to be where the storyline goes at first, with Ellie knowing little and being taken advantage of and getting public lice. But then Glory, who is annoyed that she has to be the one to get the treatment because Ellie can't, repeatedly calls her a slut. In fact, Glory rarely sees value in any other female. Her classmates didn't hate her as much as she thought, but that's about it. She goes to the mall and is disgusted by young women with babies and their boyfriends with tattoos, women with "platinum blonde" hair, women who flirt. She generalizes them all (totally living up to that "the radical notion that women are people" bumper sticker) and believes they're all just brainwashed products of the consumerist patriarchy and she's the only one who's smart enough to not be (though we don't exactly know what she does to avoid these things, I mean, she doesn't make her own clothes or anything). It is understandably frustrating. And she never changes this, either, because a page from the end she reminds us that she "didn't flirt" when she calls her future husband. (Seriously, flirting is not submission. I mean, I guess it can be "trying to please your man," but it can also be taking charge, especially if the guy hasn't taken interest in you yet which is the case through most of these incidents.)

Like a lot of things I know I didn't like or don't agree with, I feel fairly conflicted about Glory O'Brien's History of the Future. It was a fast read, but I didn't particularly enjoy it and it didn't make me think nearly as much as King's other books, nor did I feel involved in the characters and the storyline.

In fact...it looks like there wasn't much at all I enjoyed, except that it was a quick read to tide me over until I Crawl Through It. Sigh.

Sunday, May 31, 2015

May 2015 Wrap-Up

So, things are going to be a little bit different from now on, because I need to figure out what my priorities are and focus on them. I'm only going to be writing reviews for books where there is something personal and/or something larger to discuss, or it's one of my most anticipated reads for this year and I'll probably be excited and want to talk about it as much as possible. This is because I need time for other things.

That said, I'm hoping to finally finish writing about Broadchurch because I had things to say about both seasons when I watched them two months ago, and I'm also planning to blog more about writing eventually. (Also, I'm watching Fringe at a ridiculous pace and so I don't think I'll be doing very in-depth writings about it yet since I've already blown through two seasons, but there may be short metas here and there.)

As for now, I'm going to try to do monthly wrap-ups. In the fall these may become scarce, but hey, it's better than getting behind.

  1. Liar and Spy by Rebecca Stead: If you aren't aware, Stead's When You Reach Me has been one of my favorite books for a while, and in preparation for her new book coming out this year, I decided to read the one novel from her I haven't read. It's not the same puzzle mystery where everything clicks into place as When You Reach Me, but it packed much more of an impact than I originally anticipated. Plus, it even dealt with some bullying issues. Basically, Stead is my favorite middle grade author and I think she had the ability to connect to kids of that age.
  2. Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman: This was a pretty fun collection, though some I was not in the mood for and may benefit from rereads. Still, there were quite a few I enjoyed--especially the Ray Bradbury tribute.
  3. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen: Um, I didn't actually love this. I think I may have enjoyed the reading experience more if I was more familiar with the story beforehand, but as it was written there were just so many characters to keep track of and I can't say any of it really interested me. I hope I enjoy some of her later novels though. I did like the more satiric elements.
  4. Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys: I liked the historical context of this and it was certainly important and well-written; I don't have too much to criticize. But frankly it lacked something more personal for me to connect to, and I wasn't really gripped by it. It did feel uneventful and predictable, which made me less emotionally involved by the time I got to the end.
  5. Pride and Prejudice Graphic Novel (from Marvel): There was no point in this being a graphic novel. It is only dialogue, and I'm still ambivalent on the story itself.

For June I am hoping to read Eon (which I've started but haven't gotten into yet), its sequel Eona (unless I don't get to it in the month after these),  Glory O'Brien's History of the Future, and A Tale of Two Cities.

Saturday, May 2, 2015

Solitaire by Alice Oseman

Life has been pretty crazy so I took a brief hiatus, but I should be back strong in the summer months! We shall see.

If you aren't aware, Solitaire is the debut novel of Alice Oseman, who was just 19 when it was published and 17 when it was written. This was quite a big thing on Tumblr (where she has a presence) last year when the  novel was published in the UK, and naturally it had be interested and inspired. It was published here in the U.S. at the end of March, so I picked up a copy from my library as soon as I could. (By the way, from what I can tell, the U.S. edition doesn't seem to be very altered from the original except in grammar and spelling--it still has very British terms that are not all explained, for example.)

I suppose the best way to begin talking about Solitaire is with our protagonist, Tori Spring. Tori's a pessimist and she's aware of it. She's also an introvert who spends a lot of time blogging (meaning Tumblr) and interacting with anonymous people online. This causes her to be very angry and judgmental toward her schoolmates. It's painful to read, but I think it's a realistic mindset for an introvert who does not get to know who people truly can be inside. She also isn't afraid to dislike things that many other people love (including books), which I know will deter some people, but honestly 1) why do YA heroines have to be so plain so that everyone can relate/like them? 2) these are not necessarily the views of the author and 3) aren't you friends with people who dislike things that you love? Also, after the first third of the book or so, I found Tori much more bearable to read as she got to know some of her classmates a bit better.

Well, primarily, Michael Holden, a strange boy she meets who intrigues and frustrates her. It might sound like a cliche, but in actuality, he's there to open up her mind to the fact that other people can also be interesting. She learns of his amazing speed-skating hobby, of his struggles in school, and of his anger management issues. The two of them grow a bond where sexual attraction is not mentioned once, and I think that's pretty important to show for a change. Relationships are complex. (As I have been saying on this blog when half-hearted romances pop up in books.)

The other character that really stands out is Charlie, Tori's younger brother, who is gay, formerly attempted suicide, and still struggles with mental health. He and his relationship with his sister were probably my favorite things about the book. Then there's Tori's former best friend, Lucas, who comes into her life again; and Becky, Tori's current best friend whom she hasn't gotten along with too well lately and disagrees with at certain parts of the story. These two didn't have as much focus in the story, and although Becky gets some redemption at the end, overall there was a weird lack of developed female characters for a story set in an all-girls school.

And then there's the titular Solitaire, which is a blog-based organization set on staging pranks on the school. These pranks eventually turn dangerous. The thing is, it's quite unrealistic from multiple angles: how the domain solitaire.co.uk existed, how the whole school was hacked and various other things orchestrated, how the school administration doesn't seem too concerned. I believe I saw Alice Oseman say somewhere on the interwebs that this plot came out of her desire for something interesting to happen at school. And, well, the novel doesn't do too much to hide the fact that it's all happening so there is some sort of plot in there while the rest of it can focus on the characters. I think that's something that is understandable as a new writer; I myself have wondered how authors write contemporary without some big scheme of a plot. Nevertheless, it succeeds in its goal of putting the characters in situations that will allow them to develop or reveal what's in their minds and I didn't find it too distracting.

Solitaire's heart is really in mental illness, which manifests (and has manifested) in different forms in Tori, Charlie, and Michael. There is a strong theme of school and schoolwork being unfit for individual people and causing a lot of general unhappiness. This is something that sadly, no matter how much I love learning, I can relate to right now and it's a shame, but it's something we should be talking about. There was also some self-hatred that rang sadly familiar at times. Some darker scenes may have been cut out, but I think the overall effect of Tori believing her life just is this way and the eventual voluntary flirtations with death is believable and done with care.

Despite my reservations about Solitaire, I am really excited to see how Alice Oseman grows as a writer. What she has said so far about her second book (and how she is willing to acknowledge that there are many things she would change about Solitaire at this point in time) has really intrigued me and seems up my alley. I'm really glad she has a voice in fiction and plenty of things to say.

Monday, April 6, 2015

Short Thoughts: Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett

I delayed my "What I've Been Reading" posts to alleviate pressure, and then ended up reading too many to include in one big post. So I've got another idea that should increase my engagement with the non-YA I read as well as my blogging frequency: writing up some quick thoughts on the other books I read. The reason why I review YA is because it's just easier to me; I started reading it to explore it because I was not too familiar with the genre as it is today, and so I approached it with a more critical and objective lens than some of the other things I read. A lot of my critique also came from the angle of relating it to my own experiences.

Anyway, so I just finished Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett. As many of you probably knew, Pratchett passed away in March. I had been familiar with him and had the Discworld series on my radar, but I had not really explored the various titles or read any of them before he died. When that happened, several titles went on sale on Kindle, and the one that most interested me out of the cheapest picks was Reaper Man: essentially, about Death having an existential crisis.

Reaper Man (1991) is actually the eleventh novel written that takes place in the Discworld universe, and the second featuring Death after Mort. While I've been told that the series can be read in any order, I did sort of feel that it may have been better if I had more foundation as to the various beings in Discworld. But it was still enjoyable. (Also, at least according to this--which additionally does a good job of explaining the strange structure--this novel includes a few recurring characters from other books. Or something like that.)

Another unique thing about the series is that it doesn't have any chapter breaks. For me, honestly, it sort of slowed down my reading because I was stopping it more frequently because a scene had ended and I wasn't sure when the next one would end. It's also written in third person omniscient, which lately I've found that I've struggled a bit with if I believe there is one main character that is more important than the others, because then I don't pay as much attention to the other parts of the story that probably end up being just as important. This happened with Reaper Man at times; the wizard Windle Poons (who does not die as he's supposed to because Death quits) is just as much a main character as Death, and while I did find myself focusing for the most part on his section of the story, I didn't enjoy it as much as Death's. Perhaps that was because I just found Death funnier. But alas, this is definitely a reading habit of mine I can work on.

Regardless, Reaper Man was pretty funny. I marked plenty of sentences that amused me, and I found that most of them fell into the category of social commentary, such as "Bill Door made the mistake millions of people had tried before with small children and slightly similar situations. He resorted to reason." Other things are just worded in a subtle but amusing fashion, Douglas Adams-style. Death himself was overall quite sarcastic or at least humorous in his lack of understanding, which was highlighted by his dialogue being written LIKE THIS WITH NO QUOTATION MARKS. And yet underneath all of the humor it had its poignant moments about aging and dying.

Overall, I enjoyed my first foray into Discworld and I look forward to checking out some of the other novels, perhaps starting with all of Death's arc!

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Bloglovin'

Follow my blog with Bloglovin So I joined Bloglovin', which I thought might be a good way to find more bloggers and share what I have to say. Clink the link above to follow me.

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Reality Boy by A.S. King: Review/Discussion

The lure of what remained of A.S. King's backlist that I hadn't read proved too great for me, as I devoured Reality Boy in just two or three days. The thing is, Reality Boy didn't interest me as much as the others that I've read from her (see here and here), and maybe some of it was a little messy, but it did engage me and had me thinking at times.

Reality Boy follows Gerald Faust, a boy who was humiliated on reality television (one of those nanny shows) and subsequent YouTube uploads when he was young. It first appears--and is often billed as--the aftermath of such trauma. But it's actually a little more than that. According to the interview at the end of the paperback edition, King was wondering how the statistics of abused children were present on reality TV, and how hiding that may have distorted everything. And I'm going to try to avoid spoilers (although, frankly, it's kind of the premise), but that's the case here, and it isn't the parents, either--which is something I've never really seen explored before.

One of the first things that jumped out at me from Reality Boy was how King wrote first person from the head of someone not easily accessible at all. Gerald is an angry teenager and at first it's difficult to understand why that is justified. Some of the words he uses may also be perceived as offensive (mostly "retarded"), although this is later addressed. Similarly, love interest Hannah and their relationship has its uncomfortable moments, but the two come to an understanding. I especially liked how she wanted to make sure he knew who she really was (as well as vice versa) before becoming too committed to the relationship, especially as previously, through Gerald's eyes, the novel seemed to glorify her to an extent. Overall, King isn't afraid to make her characters unlikable and, dare I say, problematic, but allows them to grow.

Also, this quote:
"She's human. Sometimes she can be a jerk. Sometimes there is no why."
The other thing I'm noticing about King's novels is how they are written as unfolding events--very similar to the way King writes them, although I'm sure things have been editing and rearranged. King's a "pantser" and not a planner, which means that she starts with an idea but otherwise does not plan her plots before she starts writing. (I'm something in between these two approaches, myself.) And from everything I've read from her so far except Ask the Passengers, each focus character has a backstory that is slowly unveiled through their own narration throughout the novel, though the complexity differs between characters. (Gerald's somewhere in the middle.) Not only does this avoid lengthy backstories told upfront, but it also creates a mystery aspect and the overall effect of getting to know the character just as you would get to know real people.

Even if I didn't enjoy Reality Boy as much as Everybody Sees the Ants and Please Ignore Vera Dietz (but I've given up giving up a real rating, because who cares about numbers?), there was one aspect I could relate to: anxiety over how one is perceived by others. This is something that has always concerned me, but Gerald is definitely in a worse position. Gerald knows that no one knows the truth of what happened to him, and he takes the approach to just recede from interpersonal interactions (which also helps control his anger). This is an option that can definitely sound appealing in that situation, no matter how unhappy or unproductive it can be. But by the end, he gains a bit of perspective.

The worst part is, Gerald has grown up believing lies himself. He believed that there was something wrong with him, that he had a learning disability, that he had no future. All because his family was too afraid to face the true problem. But I think it goes a little deeper than that: this was a problem that was feared to be harder to swallow on TV. It was so much easier to rationalize Gerald's antics as his problem. And the show did nothing to highlight the real issues, even if the nanny seemed to understand at least once. But, as Gerald said, no one would make a reality show about real life.

That's the real tragedy

Friday, March 20, 2015

An Awesome Mini-Essay I Just Had to Share (and comment on)

On Tumblr (courtesy of thebooker -- who is also awesome), I discovered this reply to an ask by Samanatha Shannon, the young British author of The Bone Season series, which I'm frankly not very interested in considering how I don't feel like reading long fantasy series at the moment, but it is nevertheless awesome. I didn't reply to the original post, though I did write some notes in my tags, and I'd like to expound a little bit on that here.

(Also I am so behind with blogging, ack. But today was not a good day.)
http://sshannonauthor.tumblr.com/post/112959377403/what-do-you-think-about-the-portrayal-of-girls-in
In general, I agree with Shannon, and I think she points to a common issue in the world of YA (and possibly entertainment at large): generalizing. I'm not fond of generalizations anywhere, but man does it bug me with books. It's just incredibly simplistic and an uninteresting way to analyze and present something. It almost veers on laziness, reducing a story to just a few buzzwords that become inseparable from it.

Now, obviously some of it is a publisher's marketing choice, the "perfect for fans of X!" or "similar to X!" thing, but the media doesn't do a great job either in perpetuating the idea that YA is all about vampires and "problem stories" and tragedy and dystopia and above all else, romance for silly teen girls, which sort of just reiterates what the average person thinks a teenage girl is like. And even though I've probably never been the best representation of an average teenage girl, and I've had my share of frustration, particularly with the common patterns and unrealistic teen relationships that I've found across the board in YA, the truth is that it's a "genre" (more like market) that is growing and not strict at all. I read The Ghosts of Heaven by Marcus Sedgewick recently, and that contained four stories that did not center around teenagers; admittedly some of the characters were young, but there was one about a dad for goodness's sake. The choice of market does not impose too many restrictions, it seems like.

And, I mean, this isn't meant to detract from the main point either, I just think it's something that can be broadened. I think there's certainly more scrutiny on female characters, and while some of it is well-intentioned I can't deny that it's often had a negative impact on me. There have been times when I've analyzed myself like a character and felt that I wasn't "groundbreaking" enough. Is it bad that I want to have a career in English and writing, even though I have high grades across the board and could have just as well gone into a STEM field? Does it reflect negatively on my abilities that it's my boyfriend who is a fourth-rank blackbelt and I know next to nothing about self-defense, despite the fact that we have a healthy relationship that challenges stereotypes in other ways?

No, it shouldn't, but Strong Female Characters are often only pointed out if they're the badass ones--the Katnisses, as Hale says. Those who have great physical abilities that make them physically equal to men, often in societies that aren't anything like our own. And while it's certainly refreshing to see that (especially on the screen, for me personally), it's just not everything. If you're a person living in this boring world (represented by contemporary fiction, most likely), it doesn't matter if you would survive the Hunger Games or slay a dragon. There are all sorts of facets of life that can make you a strong person, like intellectual ability, compassion, ties with those around you, the will to continue through each day and love yourself, and perhaps most importantly: flaws, the knowledge of their existence, and the will and struggle to be better. And it's also perfectly okay to lean on others--yes, even the men in your life--in times of despair and need.

Just be who you are. You don't have to fit into any criteria.

Saturday, March 7, 2015

I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak: A Review in Two Parts


PART ONE: Spoiler-Free
Lately I've been thinking about objectivity and what I want to do as a blogger. Am I really a reviewer? Sort of, but there are so many of those, and I've always been more interested in my personal engagement and other musings that go beyond the actual "good or bad?" content of the books. Sure, there are some things I mostly want to read to review because I'm curious about them in the critical sense, but I do generally prefer to mostly read books I think I'm going to like.

This would be one of those books.

I read The Book Thief over a year ago and I loved it, but I was not entirely sure if I would be interested in I Am the Messenger. However, after becoming really curious based on the rave reviews and mysterious plot description, and I did really love it. It's a mixture of feel-good with everyday sadness and injustice. Plus, it starts with an amusingly ill-executed bank robbery.

 I Am the Messenger follows Ed Kennedy, a 19-year-old cab driver who is going nowhere in life when he receives a playing card in the mail with three addresses on it. At each of these he finds ordinary people in need of help, and goes about helping them (or hurting, if need be) with occasional interventions from whoever is orchestrating this scheme. Similar events occur with the other three cards (the remaining aces of the deck), with the final card directing him to discover more about his close friends.

This sounds light-hearted and formulaic, but it actually wasn't so simple. I don't want to give too much away, but each card and each story is a little bit different. At first it felt like a Ray Bradbury short story collection, visiting several different people of this town with very different lives with an almost mystical quality. (I mean, what really reminded me of Bradbury was the old woman because it was for me reminiscent of a story in Dandelion Wine.) But these characters do come back. Furthermore, many of the people have sad, helpless stories that can never be fully fixed, and there are some terrifying moments.

I loved I Am the Messenger for its magic. It's more than just the message of "even an ordinary person can help people out"--although that is a powerful message. But the novel is essentially about how there are stories living all around us and much too often, we don't realize that. I think that's part of why I like stories like these so much, because it's like when I discover something small and interesting about my friends or watch someone vlogging or read about lives different from my own. There's a whole world out there and sometimes we only see a small slice of it if we don't look. Even Ed did not realize so many things about his best friends.

A note: Unlike The Book Thief, I think this may have been specifically marketed as YA originally (in Australia), Still, as the main character is 19 and living on his own, it stretches that category, and plus Zusak doesn't really talk down to the audience. In other words, if you're not into YA, I'd still check it out!

PART TWO: Contains Spoilers (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED) 
So, inevitably I must discuss the ending, which is responsible for perhaps the quickest change of emotion I have ever had when reading a book.

As you know if you are reading this, there is an unnamed man who reveals that it was in fact him who orchestrated this scheme, rather than Ed's father before his death in the effort to prevent Ed from becoming like him. The latter did make quite a bit of sense, but this man's explanation?
"I came to this town a year ago, Ed.... Yeah, it was about a year ago, and I saw your father buried. I saw you and your card games and your dog and your ma. I just kept coming back, watching, the same way you did at all those addresses... I killed your father, Ed. I organized the bungled bank robbery for a time when you were there. I instructed that man to brutalize his wife. I made Daryl and Keith do all those things to you, and your mate who took you to the stones... I did it all to you. I made you a less-than-competent taxi driver and got you do all those things when you thought you couldn't. And why? I did it because you are the epitome of ordinariness, Ed. And if a guy like you can stand up and do what you did for all those people, well, maybe everyone can..."

This made me quite angry, honestly. Not only is it highly improbably and there are ethical dilemmas but it just didn't seem to be worth it. Killing and hurting people just to prove a point? However, that was followed up by this:
"Keep living, Ed.... It's only the pages that stop here."
...
He's written about this, I'm sure, the bastard. All of it.
As he walks up the street he pulls a small notebook from his pocket and writes a few things down.
It makes me think that maybe I should write about all this myself. After all, I'm the one who did all the work.
I'd start with the bank robbery.
Something like, "The gunman is useless."
The odds are, however, that he's beaten me to it. It'll be his name on the cover of all these words, not mine.

"The gunman is useless" is, of course, the first line of I Am the Messenger. It would be easy to call this a cheap cop-out where it turns out that it's Zusak (or "an author") all along, but that isn't any fun, is it?

Now, I'm pretty sure the overall point was supposed to be that despite the information that it was orchestrated from the beginning, what Ed did was not any less meaningful. And that's a good point; surely what we read still has impact despite being fictional. But what I find fascinating about this reveal is some of the other questions it raises. Should we view Ed and the others as real people, or as characters tailored to a specific story? Do we really want to orchestrate the world around us to become more like a story? Should we? Does the author have some sort of ethical responsibility?

I'm still thinking about it, actually, which is why this review is so late. Regardless, I Am the Messenger was a delight.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Why Are We Obsessed with Realism?

What is realistic and how is anyone to judge?

It just seems so irrelevant, and yet for many people it's an important factor in judging and critiquing a story. But the truth is that fictional stories aren't real life--in fact, I believe, one of the biggest lessons in life is learning that not everything works out. That sometimes it really doesn't make sense, that sometimes you think things have reached a suitable resolution only to have them return, that it can be quite boring and ordinary. I've got my own little personal history of how I discovered this which hopefully will feed into this blog in the future with the plans I have for posts, but for now I'll leave you with a quote from Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, which is possibly my favorite books of all time for its musings on storytelling and because it captured exactly how I felt about the subject when I read it at the time.
"A true war story is never moral. It does not instruct, nor encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men have always done. If a story seems moral, do not believe it. If at the end of a war story you feel uplifted, or if you feel that some small bit of rectitude has been salvaged from the larger waste, then you have been made the victim of a very old and terrible lie. There is no rectitude whatsoever. There is no virtue. As a first rule of thumb, therefore, you can tell a true war story by its absolute and uncompromising allegiance to obscenity and evil."
This is part of a story called "How to Tell a True War Story," and as you can tell, the truth tends to not usually come out the way we might expect a story to. In fact, The Things They Carried is overall very savvy about storytelling and writing as a medium, which is something I'm sure I'll discuss at a later date once I have finished rereading it. But one of its features is a character named

What actually inspired this post was when I was scrolling through A.S. King's blog and found where she had blogged about John Green reviewing her book Reality Boy in The New York Times. I have not read that particular novel of hers yet (though I will get around to it soon). I had actually seen snippets of this before, and while it's overall quite positive, it does contain this very strange quotation without much of an explanation:
King’s obsession with reality makes the novel drag in places, but it’s nice to see someone subtly parody the over-the-top young adult adventure stories that dominate so-called contemporary realistic Y.A.
This is really amusing to me for a couple of reasons. One, if it's supposed to represent reality, of course it's going to drag. Real life can be boring sometimes. Two...this is coming from the author who wrote about two teens flying to Amersterdam to visit an underground author (in a story whose beats are clearly modeled after storytelling ones, rather than reality--think of the significance of where the sex scene appears in the novel), as well as a book about how one girl left behind a string of obscure clues for her friends could find her. Green writes based on storytelling cues, rather than realism, which is absolutely fine. But isn't he also in the contemporary "reaslistic" genre?

So really, why does being realistic score bonus points (except when it doesn't)? Who is to decide? (And I'm not even going to crack open the can of worms about whether characters are relatable or realistic enough. That's a whole other ball game. [What is it with the cliches today?])

To me, it depends on what you're writing about. You might want to write about the real world and how unfair it is, and that would grant an adherence to some semblance of realism. I also think it's important to represent real-life issues like culture, sexuality, and mental health issues as realistically as possible--though of course, you can deal with the issue yourself and talk to a hundred others who have while writing, but there's always going to be someone who doesn't relate. And that's okay. It's expected.


One of my favorite attempts at realism, which I was reminded of while writing this for entirely different reasons, is Buffy the Vampire Slayer's "The Body," also known as one of the greatest episodes of television ever made. It chronicles the immediate reaction of Buffy discovering her mother just laying on their couch, dead. All the characters have their own way of coping with it. For Xander, it's trying to find some way her death is connected to the overall plot of the season, or some other reason such as a doctor's mistake. Because they're in a TV show, every death has to matter, right? But no, not in real life. Which is what "The Body" attempts to chronicle, as it contains no background music (and thus long stretches of painful silence), not much of a plot, and a lot of focus on the character's perceptions of the world during this time.

Yet, you can also have something set in a world that is not our own and make a comment about realism. Well, to be honest, I'm thinking about The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which is entirely based around hilariously implausible situations. But when you get down to it, it's really about how the real world doesn't make sense. After all, the Ultimate Answer to Life, The Universe, and Everything is "42," and the question? "What is six by nine?"

But equally, it's okay to bend realism to get a story. Stories can be about escapism, or derive humor for intentionally unrealistic situations, or just want to have a coherent and exciting plot that you might not find in real life. And there's nothing wrong with that, either.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Unwind by Neal Shusterman

Unwind is a book I've been wanting to read since I happened across it on Goodreads last year, because the premise intrigued me. And oh boy, it did not disappoint. I stayed up late to finish this one, which I was not expecting to do, but the chapters were so short and so suspenseful that I just couldn't wait. It was slower in the middle and some of the beginning, but it was nevertheless very interesting.

In fact, there's so much to talk about with Unwind that I'm going to break this down into sections.

The Basics
Unwind was at the advent and somewhat predates the YA dystopian craze, as it was released in 2007--two years after Uglies and one year before The Hunger Games. It was originally a stand-alone novel, and yes I'm just going to tell you: it has a pretty definite ending. However, a sequel was released in 2012, followed by two more, completing the "Dystology." Apparently it was originally going to be a trilogy but since the final book was long, the publisher suggested making it four. And if Goodreads is any indication, it stays awesome.

The story takes place in the future after a war over reproductive rights, in which it was decided that life could not be touched after conception until the age of 13. Between 13 and 18 years old, parents have the option of "unwinding" their children, which means that every part of them will be able to be reused in a medical transplant or operation, so they are technically "alive." It follows Connor, whose parents simply didn't care enough to keep him around; Risa, a ward of the state (aka no one wanted her), who was scheduled for unwinding because of budget cuts; and Lev, a "tithe" who was born to be unwound as a religious sacrifice. The three of them essentially end up as fugitives and explore and struggle in this world.

The Worldbuilding
For me, this was the best part. Aside from the Bill of Life, we are not really told too much about this world, and so in the grand tradition of showing instead of telling, Shusterman navigates us through this futuristic society as we follow the kids on their journey. First we are introduced to Connor's pain at being unwound simply because his parents don't really care for him; then we meet Risa at the state home and learn about that aspect a little; and then we are introduced to Lev, tithing, the state of religion, and the complicated feelings some of the pastors and citizens have with the concept.

As they explore the world, we learn more as it is relevant. How some babies are "storked," or left on doorsteps, because mothers don't want them. How there are sympathizers and smugglers for Unwinds. How the harvest camps operate. Racism also still exists, just rebranded with different names for skin color. There are gay couples. And the kids scheduled for Unwinding aren't necessarily supportive of each other.

For me at least, this is a worldbuilding technique that is very effective, and it allowed me feel as though I "fell into the world," which is always satisfying.

The Tension
So I do have to admit here somewhere: part of why I enjoyed this book so much was certainly down to personal nostalgia. When I was younger, one of my favorite series was On the Run by Gordon Korman, as well as its sequel series, Kidnapped. These followed two siblings whose parents had been arrested for treason but they kids were pretty sure they were innocent, and when one of them accidentally burns down the farm-like juvie center they were living in (due to no one wanting to foster them), they race around the country as fugitives to find out the truth and stay alive. While, in hindsight, the series likely stretched credibility (although Kidnapped may have been more probable), it was still very thrilling.

And Unwind, with its own set of runaways, certainly reminded me of the thrill in On the Run. But it still was exciting (not to mention thought-provoking and disturbing) in its own right. The most effective rising tension section was one that consisted of very short chapters that alternated between two sides of a rising conflict with a mob mentality. There was also a great eerie scene in which Unwinding was described firsthand, but overall, I don't want to get into spoilers!

The Politics
Well, this is possibly the most interesting part. Certainly, Unwind is based around the issue of abortion, and very much around a "what if?" situation, as it's probably very unlikely we will fight a war over the topic. That said, Unwind does point out that once wars begin, it's more about crushing and hating the other side that believing in anything. Regardless, you'd think from the premise that it would be pro-choice. In reality, it isn't quite that simple--as should be expected, honestly, by the fact that I've never really seen this book on any banned books lists.

Instead, Unwind looks at both sides as becoming corrupt, as evidenced by this quote by a character:
"On one side, people were murdering abortion doctors to protect the right to life, while on the other side people were getting pregnant just to sell their fetal tissue."
Life is cheap, no longer valued as it once was. The debate and rules took precedent over the actual lives of children, and that's where the real horror lies. There's the fact that anyone is free to have children because they don't have to claim the responsibility, sure, but that isn't solely related to the elimination of early abortion: it's an effect of the war and how the issue became treated. And Unwinding, while disturbing, does serve some useful medical purposes...but how much is too much? As such, there are more contributing factors than simply the law, and it's complex (just like how I love my politics). Additionally, there's a hint of the existence of a soul not attached to the body, and the religious characters do make a point to say that they still believe in a God, but not one that condones Unwinding as they were led to believe.

Any Negatives?
Well, honestly, the characters themselves didn't make a huge impression on me. I certainly liked them and understood what they went through, and Shusterman is fabulous at conveying the emotion (the first chapter is a marvel, as is the end), but as a stand-alone novel (initially, at least), the characterization felt limited...or at least, they didn't stand out to me. I also kind of wish Risa got more screentime because as the respectable one, she changed the least and had less of a focus.

Conclusion
Read Unwind. (I mean, if it interests you.)