Mar 31, 2009

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now by Andre Jordan

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now is an unusual book. I really enjoyed it, and so I mean that in the best possible way. The book is a memoir about the author's struggled with depression, and yet to call it that is both completely accurate and a little daring.

I say this because the word "memoir" will probably make readers expect a narrative sequence, and that's not what you'll find here. Instead of using a straightforward narrative, Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now tells its story through a collection of drawings that illustrate little moments, situations, or particular emotions. For me, the unusual structure was actually a very nice surprise.

I have to confess: the reason why I bought this book is because it's named after a Smiths song. That and the fact that Andre Jordan picked another Smiths song for his recent Book Notes at Largehearted Boy. And I'm telling you this because I think that my being a Smiths fan actually increased my appreciation of this book. There aren't any references to their music beyond the title, and you definitely don't need to be a Smiths fan to appreciate it. But Andre Jordan's drawings kind of resemble Morrissey's lyrics in some ways. They're sad, yes, but they have a sense of humour. They're funny and tender and self-conscious and ironic. As I'm a big believer in laughing at ourselves even when things are at their worst, I really enjoyed this book.

As Terry Pratchett always says, funny is not the opposite of serious, and the humour doesn't mean that the book doesn't deal with depression in a serious manner. But again, I don't think you need to have experienced a depression to enjoy it or find bits of it familiar. Those at all acquainted with loneliness, sadness, disillusionment, confusion or awkwardness (and who isn't?) will surely recognize some of the moments Andre Jordan depicts.

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now made me laugh, smile and tear up. Most of all, I loved it because it's a perfect example of how art can be used to create a meaning for even the bleakest moments of our lives.


For a better idea of what to expect from this book, watch the video below and visit Andre Jordan's blog, A Beautiful Revolution.

(If you've read this book too, leave me your link and I'll be glad to add it here.)

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Mar 30, 2009

Girl Meets Boy by Ali Smith

Girl Meets Boy uses the myth of Iphis, from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, as a point of departure to tell a beautiful story about homophobia and sexism, female sexuality and love. In the original myth, Iphis is a girl who is raised as a boy because her father threatened her pregnant mother to kill the baby if it was female. Years later, the supposedly male Iphis falls in love with Ianthe, and they become engaged. The day before the wedding, worried that as a female she will never be able to satisfy her wife, Iphis prays to the gods for a miracle. And just in time for her wedding night, she is turned into a man, and s/he and Ianthe live happily ever after.

Needless to say, this is not what happens in Girl meets Boy. The story is not so much a retelling of the myth as a whole new story that explores the myth’s themes in a different light. The book is divided into sections: in the first, Anthea tries and fails to fit into the life her older sister is hoping she’ll fit into. In the second section, Imogen, Anthea sister, tries to deal with her fact that her sister is gay:
(My sister would be banned in schools if she was a book.)
(No, because the parliament lifted that legislation, didn’t it?)
(Did it?)
(I can’t remember. I can’t remember either way. I didn’t ever think that particular law was anything I’d ever have to remember, or consider.)
Imogen, unfortunately, has co-workers such as these:
You know, I say, it said in the paper this morning that teenagers who are gay are six times more likely to kill themselves than teenagers who aren’t.
Good. Ha ha! Norman says.
Dominic’s eyes cloud. Human species, self-patrolling, he says.
They start talking as if I’m not there again, like they did when they were talking about work.
There is another section from Imogen’s point of view later in the book, and that was what made me go from really, really liking this book to absolutely loving it. I won’t tell you what happens, but I will say that in this section Imogen grows into a much more complex and interesting character.

Also, Anthea and her girlfriend Robin do something awesome. I’d love to tell you what it is, and I could, since this isn’t really a book that can be spoiled. But I’d much rather make you curious enough to pick it up. The most interesting thing, however, is that we see what Anthea and Robin do from Imogen’s perspective, and her reaction is not what you might have expected at the beginning of the book.

Girl meets Boy is a short book, but it’s so rich. I know that Ali Smith’s writing doesn’t work for everyone, but personally I love it. The more I read her, actually, the more I love her. I love her tenderness, her subtlety, her rawness, her humour and her warmth. I loved the way she explored gender in this story – the way we perceive it, the way others perceive it, the ingrained sexist practices that are still seen as natural by so many.

I also loved the way she explored sexuality. Rhinoa was absolutely right: this book has one of the most beautiful and moving sex scenes I’ve ever read. Did you know, by the way, that the reason why sex between women wasn’t made illegal in Victorian times was because it was decided that it didn’t exist, and thus there was no point in even making it illegal?

A nice bonus is the fact that the story is mostly set in Inverness, a city I love. I really enjoyed revisiting familiar places as I read the book: the old Town House, the riverside, the Ness isles, the old church that was turned into a second hand bookstore.

Girl Meets Boy is up there with Dream Angus as my favourite book in the Canongate Myth Series so far. I need to get my hands on: Binu and the Great Wall next.

More beautiful bits:
She had the swagger of a girl. She blushed like a boy. She had a girl’s toughness. She had a boy’s gentleness. She was as meaty as a girl. She was as graceful as a boy. She was as brave and handsome and rough as a girl. She was as pretty and dainty and delicate as a boy. She turned boys’ heads like a girl. She turned girl’s heads like a boy. She made love like a boy. She made love like a girl. She was so boyish it was girly, so girly it was boyish, she made me want to rove the world writing our names in every tree.

Tell me what it is, I say.
It’s water, Robin Goodman says.
No, I say. I mean, what’s the correct word for it, I mean, for you? I need to know it. I need to know the proper word.
She looks at me for a long time. I can feel her looking right through my drunkness. Then, when she speaks, it is as if the whole look of her speaks.
The proper word for me, Robin Goodman says, is me.

Then I saw her smile so close to my eye that there was nothing to see but the smile, and the thought came into my head that I’d never been inside a smile before, who’d have thought being inside a smile would be so ancient and so modern both at once?

Anthea, do you really think you’ll change the world a single jot by calling yourself by a funny name and doing what you’ve been doing? You really think you’ll make a single bit of difference to all the unfair things and all the suffering and all the injustice and all the hardship with a few words?
Yes, she says.
Okay. Good, I say.
Other Opinions:
Rhinoa’s Ramblings
Valentina’s Room
Bart’s Bookshelf
Adventures in Reading
Feminist Review
Books & Other Thoughts
Paperback Reader

(If I missed yours, please let me know.)

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Mar 29, 2009

The Sunday Salon - On Short Stories and On Being Two

The Sunday Salon.com

Hello everyone. I'm joining the Once Upon a Time Challenge's Short Story Weekend for the first time today, and I'm going to tell you about three amazing short stories: "The Biography of a Bouncing Boy Terror" by Ysabeau S. Wilce, "Pip and the Fairies" by Theodora Goss, and "26 Monkeys, Also The Abyss" by Kij Johnson.

"The Biography of a Bouncing Boy Terror" (which I found because Memory recommended it a while ago) is about the Victorian folk hero Springheel Jack. The setting is fantastic, but my very favourite thing about it is the mock-Victorian language, which is a delight. Just take a look at the first paragraph:
Once upon a time, my little waffles, far across the pale eastern sands, a baby boy bounced from his mother's womb into a dark and dangerous world, into a land well full of hardship, turmoil, and empty handball courts. This boy, starting tiny and growing huge, would one day become a legend in the minds of his minions, a hero in the hearts of his hobbledehoys, the fanciest lad of them all: Springheel Jack!
How can you not want to read further? Also, I love the formating of the .pdf. The lettering and the illustrations give it the look of a Victorian pamphlet, which somehow makes it even more fun to read. I'd tell you more about it, but with short stories it's particularly easy to say too much. So I'll just encourage you to read it instead.

Next I read "Pip and the Fairies", the reason being that Gavin recommended Theodora Goss to me yesterday, and Gavin has excellent taste. I wasn't familiar with her before, and judging by this story, I had been missing out. "Pip and the Fairies" is the story of Philippa Lawson, whose mother, Susan, wrote a series of children's books starring her as a child: Pip and the Fairies, Pip Meets the May Queen, etc.

Years later, and after her mother's passing, the now adult Phillipa can no longer remember if the books were based on stories she told her mother, or if her childhood memories come from the books. She returns to the house where the grew up, hoping the find out. "Pip and the Fairies" is a beautiful story about memory, the imagination, disappointment and loss. And it has an absolutely wonderful and very fitting ending. I won't say more than that, but if you have a few minutes to spare, read it.

I saved the best for last: "26 Monkeys, Also the Abyss" is my favourite of the lot. Kij Johnson is quickly becoming one of my favourite writers. In this story we meet Aimee, who runs a carnival act. Her biggest trick is making 26 monkeys disappear onstage. Except it's not really her trick: the monkeys climb into a tub and vanish without a trace. Hours later, they come back, sometime bringing little things with them. Aimee has absolutely no idea where they go, or how, or why.

This story is a perfect example of why I love fantasy so much: it takes an outwordly situation and uses it to convey emotions that are familiar to all of us. And it does it better than a realistic story ever could. Also, the writing - how could I not love a writer who comes up with sentences such as these?
Aimee has had the act for three years now. She was living in a month-by-month furnished apartment under a flight path for the Salt Lake City airport. She was hollow, as if something had chewed a hole in her body and the hole had grown infected.
Or these:
Because there's always a reason for everything, isn't there? Because if there isn't a reason for even one thing, like how you can get sick, or your husband stop loving you or people you love die - then there's no reason for anything. So there must be reasons. Zeb's as good a guess as any.
This story is a finalist for both the Nebula and the Hugo Awards. I hope it wins. Do yourself a favour and read it. You won't regret it.

A side note: Via Theodora Goss' website I found this link: several writers recommend YA titles for adults who still stubbornly refuse to read YA. Several books I love were recommended, including Peeps, Ursula Le Guin's brilliant Annals of the Western Shore trilogy, and Terry Pratchett's even more brilliant Tiffany Aching books.

The Tiffany Aching books were recommended by Delia Sherman, who also recommended Ysabeau S. Wilce's Flora Segunda, and actually linked the two. That + the fact that Darla D did the exact same earlier this week + Memory's enthusiasm + the story I read today = I caved and finally ordered the book. I also ordered Kij Johnson's The Fox Woman and Skelling by David Almond (I'm blaming Mariel and Nick Hornby for the last one). I had Uglies and Nick and Norah's Infine Playlist in my cart for a while, but in the end I saved them for next time. What about you? Bought any books you're particularly excited to read lately?


Now for something completely different:

No, it's not my birthday, but things mean a lot is two today. It's odd: sometimes it feels like I only started this blog yesterday; other times it feels like it's been longer, especially when I think of the friends I've made. I can't believe that two years ago I didn't know Debi or Chris yet, for example. I feel like I've known them for ages.

I love the fact that I'm still in touch with the people who commented on my very first post. But I also love the fact that I keep discovering new bloggers and making new friends. Looking back on some of my first book posts, I notice how much the way I write has changed. I think the main difference is that those early posts read a lot line reading journal entries: I was writing without keeping in mind that some of the people who would read my thoughts would not be familiar with the books in question.

Although I still think of my blog as a reading journal, I definitely do keep that in mind these days. I like the fact that I do, as it forces me to make an extra effort to put things that would go without saying if I was writing just for myself into words. And doing so makes me realize that maybe they don't go without saying after all.

Anyway: the point of this is to say thank you. Thank you for reading, whether you comment or just read, whether you're new or have been with me from the start. And to celebrate, a giveaway! Two years, two winners: one of the winners will get a book of their choice from the ones I've posted about here. The other winner will get a Mysterious Awesome Package. The contents of the package will be tailored to the winner's taste, and I'll do my best to make the Awesome Package truly awesome. Rather than have you comment here to enter, I decided to draw the winners from the comments on all my regular posts at the end of the week. This post will count, but so will everything I post between today and next friday, the 3rd of April.

Once again, thank you. This blog has become one of the most rewarding hobbies I've ever had. It's been a fun couple of years, and I hope to be around for many more.

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Mar 28, 2009

Weekly Geeks and Cats and How to Herd Them

This week's Weekly Geeks is a revival of a theme we did last year:
1. Write a post encouraging readers to look through your archives (if you have your reviews in a particular place on your blog, point them there), and find the books that they have also written reviews. Tell them to leave a link to their review on your review post. For example, I've written a review for Gods Behaving Badly and Jane Doe leaves a link to her review of Gods Behaving Badly in the comments section of my review.

2. Edit your reviews to include those links in the body of the review post.

3. Visit other Weekly Geeks and go through their reviews. Leave links for them.

4. Leave a note somewhere on your blog to let people know this is your new policy.

5. Write a post later this week letting us know how your project is going
I'm very happy that this theme is being revived. I love finding other reviews to link to, for many reasons: because it contextualizes my opinion as one of many, because it's a way to reach out to other bloggers, because I think it's useful for readers, because it helps us remember where we first heard of a particular book, etc.

So: here is my archive. You are more than welcome to leave me your links.

And I suppose that now is a good time to bring this up: please please please don't be shy about leaving links. The reason why I'm saying this is because I can feel reluctant about it myself. I worry that I'll look like a spammer, even though rationally I know there is no reason to. But if I read your blog and have left your review out, I absolutely guarantee it wasn't on purpose. Most likely the reason is that Google Reader searches only go so far back. (Speaking of which, did you know there is a Book Blogs custom search engine?) If I don't read your blog yet, here's a chance for me to discover it.

In any case, your links will always be welcomed.



Cat herding time! I missed the fun last year because I was drowning in challenges. I'm close to reaching that point again this year, but who cares! Renay is hosting Herding Cats II: Attack of the Hairballs, and there's no way I'm going to miss it again. The rules:
1. Make a list of five books you love. Directions:
  • Five. I'm as serious as a beached whale.
  • All titles must be books you've read in 2007, 2008 or 2009.
  • Please don't list a series; just the first book. If you really want to list a book in the middle of a series, you can, but it has to be that specific book.
  • Feel free to share why you're putting the book on your list, because I am nosy.
2. Post your list:
  • in your own journal, in the comments here, whatever is fine. Share the link to the list here.
  • Lists should be public (no locked entries, no logging in to view).
3. Browse the new book list. Stay a while. Read a few (eta: if you want; not even reading is required this time around if you don't have time to commit to a new challenge but still want to share your favorites).

4. If you review your books, you can share the reviews. You know, if you want. No pressure. Definitely not.
This was hard and painful, but after twenty mental revisions at the very least, here's my final list:
  1. The Good Fairies of New York by Martin Millar - Sadly I read this book about a week before I started blogging in March 2007, which means that even though I've gushed about it in the comments of every blog, I don't have an actual post that concentrates all my gushing. One more reason to read it again! I love it because it's funny, it's serious, it's extremely tender and sweet in a subtle and absolutely not sappy way, it has glbtq characters, and it tells one awesome story.

  2. Nation by Terry Pratchett - Yep, I'm predictable. But there's no way I could leave it out. I don't think I've ever read a book that sumps up my way of looking at the world as well as this one. It's a book in which dreadful things happen, but it's in no way bleak. It's hopeful, it's full of wisdom and respect, and it's intelligent. The last few chapters in particular perfectly capture that feeling of awe we get when looking at the universe, a feeling that is usually associated with faith. And I know that people of faith experience it, but non-believers do too, and it can be very emotionally satisfying even without a belief in our own permanence. What I mean is, it's not all nihilism and despair. Actually, none of it is nihilism and despair. Anyway, I'll shut up now. I love this book.

  3. Monkey Beach by Eden Robinson - I love this book, and I hate the fact that I never actually wrote a proper post about it. Monkey Beach is the story of LisaMarie, a First Nations young girl living in modern day British Colombia and trying to find her place in the world. It deals with the conflict between her traditional culture and the modern world, but it's also a very personal story about growing up and dealing with grief and loss. It's an amazing book and it deserves more attention.

  4. The Watermelon King by Daniel Wallace - If you've been reading this blog for a while, you might have heard me go on about this book before. But I actually haven't done it in some time, so here it goes again: This book is about a fictional small town (Ashland, Alabama) and a strange ritual involving watermelons. And it's about Thomas Rider, who returns to the place where he was born so he can unveil his past. Just recently I came across something (and sadly I can no longer remember what it was) that made me realize that the plot of this book actually mirrors a well-known fairy tale. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you which one or exactly how without major spoilers. I'm not completely sure if that's what Daniel Wallace was going for, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was. He is that awesome. I still remember reading Big Fish again and realizing how some of the scene mirrored the twelve labours of Hercules and gaining even more respect for him. Also, the writing. Oh, the writing.

  5. Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan - I also couldn't leave this one out. I just couldn't. It's only been a month and I already want to read it again. And again. It's so tender, so perceptive, so wise. But as in this case my unabridged gushing is quite recent, I'll leave it at that.
There! I still haven't decided what I'll read from the master list, but two I really want to include are The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart and Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchet. We'll see about the rest.


Still on cats: Maree is hosting a Catch Up on Challenges Mini-Challenge in April. As this post clearly evidences, I could use some catching up. The goal is to read 4 books for different challenges you joined. And there's a cat in the button! Who can resist that?

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Mar 27, 2009

What it Takes to Pull me Through by David L. Marcus

For the Try Something New Mini-Challenge, Chris sent me What It Takes to Pull me Through, a book about teenagers in trouble. David L. Marcus is a journalist who spent over a year following a group of teens at the Swift River Academy, a therapeutic boarding school where teens were sent so they could be helped through problems like drug abuse, eating disorders or depression, among others. He focused on a small group of teens in particular, all from very different backgrounds and experiencing different problems, and he wrote about their lives and their reactions to the therapeutic program.

Before you read the rest of this post, you should read Chris’ review of this book. Chris is a lot more knowledgeable about these topics than I am – he’s an actual counselour who especially likes working with teens, while me, well, I’m someone who gave up psychology just as her internship was about to begin and never looked back.

That's actually one of the reasons why this book was outside my comfort zone. I hadn’t read anything to do with psychology in over four years. But Chris told me that this book was more of a personal story than a theoretical book, and he was right. He was also right about the fact that it almost reads like fiction at times – I was completely involved in these kids' stories and I had a hard time putting the book down. Without further ado, here are my answers to the questions Chris asked me:

1. Since this is all about trying something new, what did you think of this type of book?
You know, I’m not even sure what type this book belongs to, but I know I certainly liked it enough to want to read something else of its kind. I remember you describing it as a sort of therapeutic school memoir, and other than being third person, that’s exactly right. Since I mostly already answered this question in my intro, I’ll leave it at that.

2. Did you have a favorite "character"?
My favourites were Tyrone and D.J. They were the ones I felt closer to. While most of the other kids ended up at Swift River for going out and doing drugs, having lots of unprotected sex, being aggressive etc., those two were more the quiet, nerdy type.

Tyrone had been depressed for a very long time. He’d get up in the morning and pretend to get ready for school. Then he'd walk around the block until his mother left for work, and go back home and stay in bed all day. He’d delete the school’s call saying he’d been absent from the answering machine before his mother got home, and so this situation went on for over a year before she found out.

As for D.J, he was sent to Swift River after he ran away from home. He was one of the youngest kids in the school, if not the youngest ( he was fourteen), and when he arrived he didn’t seem to be able to pinpoint what was wrong. It turns out that his parents’ refusal to acknowledge that the fact that he was adopted might bother him was a problem, as was the fact that he was tired of being known as ADD kid.

3. What did you think of the counselor's method of helping the kids? Did you think it was effective?
Some things I liked; others not so much. I liked the fact that a lot of what was done at the school was meant to teach the kids to be honest with themselves. Some of them were in grave need of that. And with that honesty eventually came acceptance.

I didn’t like the fact that the school sometimes seemed to be unnecessarily authoritative. They came up with arbitrary rules that were implemented just for the sake of making them follow rules. Or with rules that had a reason for existing, but about whose benefits I have some doubts.

I’ll give you an example: when two people, like Tyrone and D.J., were getting close and socializing mostly with each other, they’d put them on a ban. This means that they could no longer spend any time together, and so they were force to go out and socialize with other people. I understand what they were trying to do with that, but I also think that some people are naturally more comfortable with having a small number of close friends rather than a larger group of people they’re friendly with. Trying to force them to act otherwise will only make them uncomfortable, and will probably not even achieve much. And I don’t see why option b) has to be “healthier” or more desirable than option a).

Another thing that bothered me was that Rudy Bentz, the director of the program, didn’t always seem to give teens the credit they deserved. I was seriously annoyed when he gave Gennarose, the kid’s English teacher, trouble for using Heart of Darkness in class. According to him,“a teacher simply couldn’t have bunch of Swift River Kids, many of whom had endured their own heart of darkness for years, reach such a gruesome, upsetting book without the guidance of a trained counsellor.

Seriously? Someone who says something like this simply cannot have any clue about what literature is or what it does. I was very happy that Gennarose stood her ground.

4. Did anything surprise you about the book?
I was surprised that David L. Marcus was completely invisible in the book. We know that he was there all along for fourteen months, but in the book there are no references to his presence, other than the obvious fact that if he hadn’t been there there would have been no book. On the one hand, I understand why he did this. His invisibility makes the reader feel closer to the kids, since there is no intermediary. But on the other hand, you have to wonder what his influence was. He is bond to have had some. How did the kids react to the fact that a book was being written about them? We are never told.

5. What did you love?
I loved that I grew to really care about the whole group. I loved that rather than labelling these kids, the author shows what happened in their lives to make them act and feel the way they do. We feel that what we are seeing are real teenagers, really people, rather than “clinical cases”, and I really appreciate that.

6. Anything that you hated?
Well, hate is probably too strong a word, and this is a problem with Swift River rather than with the book, but I sometimes felt that their approach was too normative; that they had this model of what a “well-adjusted teen” was like that the kids would ideally become more and more like. And there are mentions of things like “internet addiction” or “oppositional defiant disorder”, both of which bother me a lot.

I of course see why a teen skipping school and doing nothing but be online all day is a problem, but I would argue that the internet is not the cause of the problem. If the same teen was doing nothing but watch TV all day, would they label it “TV addiction”? Probably not, because TV is more socially acceptable. I know that this mistrust of the internet is beginning to disappear, but the book was written five years ago, and that was more the case then than it is now. There are other things of the sort, like Tyrone constantly being told that playing Final Fantasy for hours = baaaaaaad. Skipping school to do it is bad, obviously, but why are the games themselves “destructive” if they’re not being played at the exclusion of everything else? Would he be told the same if he was spending all those hours reading instead? Reading is also a solitary activity, but it's socially perceived as being more constructive. I’d spend large amounts of time in my teens both on the internet and playing Final Fantasy, and though some might argue otherwise, I don’t think I turned out as badly as that.

I suppose I should explain about “oppositional defiant disorder” too: I can easily see that label being used as a tool of control, just like the label “hysteria” was used to control women. And in many ways, our society is still doing the same. I honestly believe that the word “disorder” is thrown around entirely too much.

7. How likely are you to read more about this subject now?
More likely than I was before, that’s for sure. I’m very interested in teenagers, and though I usually read about them in fiction, I’m open to trying non-fiction too. And this book is a good example of how rewarding that can be. Even though there’s a lot in traditional psychology that I have problems with, books like this make me think. They inform me and help me articulate my own positions, and I like that a lot.

I’ll leave you with a quote from the very first page of the book:
Adolescence has always been turbulent, but it is more complicated today than it was just a couple of generations ago. An extensive study published in the journal Pediatrics found that nearly one in five children and adolescents suffer from some sort of behavioural or emotional illness—nearly triple the level of twenty years before. Another study found that the onset of bipolar disorder, one called maniac depression, has fallen from the early thirties to the late teens. At the same time, the number of young people in America who committed suicide tripled over thirty years before levelling off in the 1990s.
More than about “kids these days”, I think this says something about society, its expectations about young people, and its definition of “illness”.

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Mar 26, 2009

Heartbreak Soup by Gilbert Hernandez

Heartbreak Soup is the first volume of Hernandez’s stories about Palomar, a fictional small town somewhere in Latin American (population: 386), and the lives of its inhabitants. Palomar has been called the Macondo of comics, and it’s easy to see why. In fact, it’s no coincidence that at one point one character reads One Hundred Years of Solitude and says, “It’s funny and sad and warm and sleazy and…and progressive and crazy and intelligent and just plain brilliant..!” It is, and so is Heartbreak Soup.

I’ve said before that I don’t like divorcing the text from the art when talking about comics. But Heartbreak Soup begins with a long piece of narration that perfectly sets the tones for the stories that follow, and I really want to give you a taste:
As well as giving baths for a living in those days, Chelo was also a midwife. She can tell you stories. It was Chelo who talked Vincent’s mother Gabriela into not drowning him when he was but a few minutes into our grey world. Jesus Angel took two days to remove himself from his weary mother Rita. Witnesses to the birth agreed it looked like Jesus might stay inside his mother forever, but the moment after Chelo suggested a caesarean section, out he came as if he had heard her and understood that he was already making things difficult for everybody. Aurora and Israel were burn to Elissa and Juan Diaz without incident. Four years later when the twins were playing jacks in the street, a total eclipse struck; the sunshine returned soon enough and everything seemed normal, save one thing: Aurora was gone.
And so they begin, the stories about Chelo, the midwife turned sheriff who carries the burden of the whole town’s secrets; about Luba, unmarried with four daughters, desired by men and mistrusted by women, and constantly having to deal with gossip; about Pipo, pregnant by Manuel at age fourteen and later married to abusive Gato; about Manuel and Soledad’s tragic friendship. And so on.


This is brilliant stuff. Palomar really comes to life in these pages. The more I read, the more I grew to like the characters, and the more satisfying the stories became. These characters are flawed and funny and tender and tremendously human, and by the end I cared deeply about them all. The book gets better and better as it moves along. When I reached the end, in fact, I went back to the start and read the first story again. Now that I knew the characters intimately, I appreciated it a lot more. And let me tell you, it took some self-restraint to keep myself from reading through the whole thing again.



The stories span years, and they deal with topics like loneliness and disappointment, sex and love, friendship and parenthood, small town gossip, sexism, community, domestic violence. You name it: if it’s human, it’s in here somewhere. And this being Latin America, we do get out share of supernatural occurrences—there are ghosts and mischievous spirits and brujas wailing for their long-dead babies in the night.


Gilbert Hernandez has written many stories about Palomar. They actually began as part of the Love and Rocket series he wrote with his brother Jaime. For this reason, I was confused about where to start reading the Palomar stories for a while, but then I came across this handy reading order guide. Now that I’m done with the first book, I will soon be ordering a copy of Human Diastrophism. I can’t wait to meet these characters again.



Other Opinions:
Grovel

(Let me know if I missed yours.)

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Mar 24, 2009

The Lost Years of Merlin by T.A. Barron

The Lost Years of Merlin opens with a six-year-old boy washing ashore in old Wales. He has no memory of who he is or where he came from. He cannot even remember his name. Beside him is a woman – she tells him her name is Branwen, his is Emrys, and she is her mother. But that’s the full extent of what she’ll reveal about their past.

The two settle in a Welsh village, but they’re never quite accepted. Branwen is a healer, and though the villagers make use of her skills, they also whisper that she’s a sorceress. As for Emrys, he’s called a bastard and constantly picked on and cast aside. Years pass, and after a tragedy drives them from their home, Emrys decides that to find out who he is, he must unveil the mystery of his past. He says goodbye to his mother, and his journey leads him to the mysterious island of Fincayra. And there to Druma Wood, where he meets a girl named Rhia. Sometimes strange has been happening in Fincayra—something that has more to do with Emrys own story than he initially realizes.

The Lost Years of Merlin is well-written, complex and full of interesting characters. But sadly, for some reason I didn’t enjoy it quite as much as I was expecting to. I can’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe I expected the story to have a different emotional tone. Or maybe it was because I could see everything that happened coming. Or most likely of all, it was just the mood I was in. This is by no means a bad book.

Indeed, some of it reminded me quite a bit of Lloyd Alexander’s lovely Prydain series. Not because either of them is unoriginal, of course, but because both series draw from some of the same myths. Also, Shim the giant, and the moments of comic relief involving him, were very very Prydain-esque. It’s possible that Barron meant it as a tribute. My edition of the book actually has a blurb by the great Alexander himself.

In the author’s note, T.A. Barron says of this series:
This tale, spanning a few volumes, will attempt to bridge the gap. The story begins when a young boy, without any name and without any memory of his past, washes ashore on the coast of Wales. It concludes when that same boy, having gained and lost a great deal, is ready to step into a central role in Arthurian legend.
As I said the other day, these gaps are actually part of what interests me the most about myth retellings. The Lost Years of Merlin doesn’t quite read like an Arthurian story. It takes place completely outside the known stories, so you don’t need to know them to enjoy it or to make sense of it. But if you do know the myths, the book will probably resonate with you even more, and you’ll make connections that might escape other readers. It's not that those who are new to Arthurian retellings will miss any essential connections. It's just that fans of the myths will get something extra out of it. Interestingly enough, despite taking place outside the known stories, the book still feels very much mythic. And that's part of its charm.

This is the first book in a series, but it works perfectly as a stand-alone. By the end of the book, Emrys has found what he was looking for. You can tell that his story is not over, but this chapter of it is. So if you’re worried about starting yet another series, fear not. You can easily stop after one book without being left without any closure.

Some good bits:
‘Stories may not be real in the same way as this poultice, my son, but they are real nonetheless. Real enough to help me live. And work. And find the meaning hidden in every dream, every leaf, every drop of dew.’

She turned to me. ‘What else do you wish for?’
‘Well…books.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes! I would love, really love, to bury myself in a whole room full of books. With stories from all peoples, all times. I heard about such a room once.’
And later:
Books everywhere! Books of all thicknesses, colors, heights, and also languages—judging from the varied scripts and symbols on the covers. Some bound in leather. Some so tattered that they wore no covers at all. Some formed of papyrus scrolls from the Nile. Some made of pergametium from the land the Greeks called Anatolia and the Romans called Lesser Asia with the feel of sheepskin.
Books sat in rows on the sagging shelves that lined the walls. They lay stacked in piles on the floor, so many that only a narrow path remained from one side of the room to the other. They huddled in a mound beneath the heavy wooden table, itself cluttered with papers and writing supplies. They even covered most of the bed of sheepskins in the cover.”
I just had to smile.

Reviewed at:
The Hidden Side of a Leaf

Bart's Bookshelf
Melissa's Bookshelf

(If I missed yours, let me know.)

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Mar 23, 2009

Gorillas in the Mist by Dian Fossey

Gorillas in the Mist is Dian Fossey’s account of thirteen years spent studying mountain gorillas on the Virunga volcanic mountains. The Virungas are in central Africa, on the border between Rwanda, Uganda the Democratic Republic of Congo. After a false start in what was then Zaira, Dian Fossey established the Karisoke Research Center in the Rwandese Volcanoes National Park. There, she studied several groups of gorillas and fought for conservation until her violent murder in 1985.

At one point she says, “One of the greatest drawbacks of the Virungas is that it’s shared by three countries, each of which has problems far more urgent than the protection of wild animals.” Indeed, if conservation often proves difficult even in more privileged countries, imagine what happens when problems like hunger, overpopulation and political instability are also at stake. She says of Rwanda:
Rwanda is one of the most densely populated countries in the world. Consisting of only 10.000 square miles, about one-eight the size of Kenya and smaller than the state of Maryland, Rwanda contains 4.7 million people, a population expected to double by the end of the century. Rwanda, known as “the little Switzerland of Africa”, is also one of the world’s five poorest countries, with about 95% of the population barely managing to survive on small farm lots, called shambas, of about two and one half acres each.
This was written in 1982. Rwanda now has over ten million people, most of which still live in extreme poverty. And some years after Dian Fossey’s murder, the country faced a civil war, followed by a genocide. Almost a million people were killed.

Overpopulation results in pressure for more land to cultivate, and so more and more land belonging to the National Park is regularly cleared for cultivation. As for violence, well, it’s difficult enough to control poaching under normal circumstances. Imagine how difficult it must be when the population itself is getting killed.


In Dian Fossey’s time, before the Civil War, she did succeed in establishing anti-poaching patrols. But despite this, gorillas from some of the groups she studied were killed by poachers. First Digit, then Uncle Bert, the group’s silverback leader, and his partner Macho. Uncle Bert and Macho died defending their baby, who was the poacher’s target.

Fossey and the other researchers continued to follow the group after the massacre, and so they were able to study the full impact of the leader’s demise. Sadly, as it often happens among gorillas, with the leader gone the group fell apart. Some other members were killed in conflicts with other groups, including a baby killed by another leader so that its mother became available for reproduction sooner. Poaching, then, was indirectly responsible for the death of more than just those three gorillas.


As you can tell by now, Gorillas in the Mist is an often sad and worrisome book, and it’s meant to be one. But it also has scenes like this:
Brilliant moonlit nights brought out the gamin in Cindy whenever she heard elephants bellowing and trumpeting around the waterhole. If let out of the cabin, she always ran directly toward the nearest elephant herd, some fifteen to twenty animals, to run playfully between their legs. I’ll never forget the sight of the tiny puppy yapping and nipping at elephants’ heels like a wearisome fly, yet somehow avoiding being flattened out into an elephant-sized pancake

And there are also wonderful scenes with the gorillas themselves. The book is about establishing the research centre, about fighting for conservation, about the tragic effects of poaching and capturing baby gorillas for zoos (the chapter on Coco and Pucker broke my heart). But it’s also about how gorillas live, about their development, about their habits and social organization. To which I say: wow. I’ve always loved gorillas, but now I love them even more.

I liked Dian Fossey’s voice a lot. I remember reading something once about her being unpleasant and difficult to work with, but that’s really not how she comes across here. Of course, this is her book, and I’m not going to say that her version of things is the definitive one. But I will say that the woman we get to know in this book is not at all likely to put off readers. She comes across as passionate, determinate, and extremely respectful of the animals she is studying. She puts their safety and well-being ahead of her own quest for knowledge, and becomes frustrated when other researchers don’t do the same. She puts conservation ahead of science, and as much as I love science, how can I blame her for that? We can’t study gorillas if all the gorillas are gone.

One more quote:
There is a failure to realize that the immediate needs of some 200 remaining mountain gorillas, and also of other Virunga wildlife now struggling for survival on a day-to-day basis, are not met by the long-term goals of theoretical conservation. Gorillas and the other park animals do not have time to wait. It takes only one trap, one bullet to kill a gorilla. For this reason it is mandatory that conservation efforts be actively concentrated on the immediate perils existing within the park. Next to these efforts, all others become theoretical.
It’s such a tricky situation. As she also says, these countries have so many other problems to deal with. Rwanda is still far from stable, and park guards and anti-poaching rangers are often killed on the job—more than a hundred since 1994. Last year I read the amazing Last Chance to See, where Douglas Adams talks about how tourism is currently seen as a possible solution. If the mountain gorillas begin to bring people and money into the country, then they will become more valuable alive than dead, giving poachers a reason to think twice before they kill one.

Dian Fossey, however, was against this, and it’s easy to see why. First because gorillas are sensitive animals, and being hounded by tourists is extremely distressing for them (in the book, she describes how a female miscarries after being followed by a group of humans for a whole day). Secondly because they can be decimated by diseases they catch from humans, including something as simple as a cold. And finally, because with poachers around, it’s not a good idea to get gorillas too used to being near humans.

There are really no easy solutions. Reading Gorillas in the Mist filled me with awe and respect for these amazing animals. Can you imagine a world without gorillas? I’ve never seen an actual gorilla, but I love knowing they exist somewhere. And the thought of them no longer existing makes me tremendously sad.


Dian Fossey's grave, next to Digit's and other poaching victims'.

Read an article Dian Fossey wrote for National Geographic back in 1970.

A picture of Dian Fossey with Coco and Pucker, two orphans she rescued. They later died at the Frankfurt zoo within one month of each other because they couldn’t adjust to captivity.

Donate to the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund.

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Mar 22, 2009

The Sunday Salon - The Arthurian Post

The Sunday Salon.comOver the past few weeks I've been reading quite a few Arthurian books. I finished The Dark is Rising Sequence, I read The Lost Years of Merlin by T.A. Barron, and I'm about to start A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain. Part of the reason is that I'm trying to finished the list I had lined up for the Arthurian Challenge before the end of the month. The Lost Years of Merlin also counts for the Dewey's Books Challenge, since it was her review, particularly her comments about the beautiful language and the author's love of nature, that made me pick it up.


Lancelot and Dragon and Merlin and Nimue by Arthur Rackman

This month, Jill at Fizzy Thoughts is asking us to come up with a list that is somehow related to a book or author we're reading for the challenge. Thus I bring you: Six Reasons Why I Like Arthurian Retellings:
  1. I like the fact that even though they are often associated with a traditionalist sort of nostalgia (and fair enough, some of them are in that vein), Arthurian retellings can be used as points of departure for addressing all sorts of topics: the role of women, power, war and violence, religion, etc. So you get retellings that turn everything we think we know about these myths upside down, and they're often the most interesting ones.

  2. I like the fact that they feel old, and that this oldness leaves me a little bit in awe. This sense of time is mostly artificial, I know, but that doesn't make it any less powerful. As Tolkien says in his fabulous essay "On Fairy Stories",
    ...antiquity has an appeal in itself. The beauty and horror of The Juniper Tree (Von dem Machandelboom), with its exquisite and tragic beginning, the abominable cannibal stew, the gruesome bones, the gay and vengeful bird-spirit coming out of a mist that rose from the tree, has remained with me since childhood; and yet always the chief flavour of that tale lingering in the memory was not beauty or horror, but distance and a great abyss of time, not measurable even by twe tusend Johr. Without the stew and the bones - which children are now too often spared in mollified versions of Grimm - that vision would largely have been lost. I do not think I was harmed by the horror in the fairytale setting, out of whatever dark beliefs and practices of the past it may have come. Such stories have now a mythical or total (unanalysable) effect, an effect quite independent of the findings of Comparative Folklore, and one which it cannot spoil or explain; they open a door on Other Time, and if we pass through, though only for a moment, we stand outside our own time, outside Time itself, maybe.
    This sense of standing outside time has quite a hold on me.

  3. As with fairy tale retellings, and myth retellings in general, I like how they feel both familiar and new. The bits that are new surprise you; the ones that are familiar are comforting, and allow the story to resonate in a deeper way. When I start reading a new retelling, I think I know how it will go. Sometimes I'm right, sometimes I'm wrong, and both experiences are rewarding in different ways.

  4. I like the fact that they often fill the gaps in the old stories. We can't possibly know everything about every character, and that leaves rooms for completely new stories to be told.

  5. I like seeing new takes on familiar characters. When I think "Morgan le Fay" or "Merlin", I think of the characters from the myths, but also of all the versions I have encountered in different retellings. (I also think of Rhinoa's cats.) My inner Morgaine, my inner Merlin, are a combination of all of these, and every new take I read reformulates them.

  6. In a similar vein, I like the fact that newer retellings often take older ones into account, and so each new take on these stories feels like part of a conversation.
What about you? Do you like Arthurian retellings? Why or why not? Any favourites? And since lists are fun, here's another one: Six Arthurian Retellings I Want to Read:
  1. I Am Mordred by Nancy Springer - because Mordred's perspective is not one that is used very often, and because I loved I Am Morgan le Fay

  2. The Queen of the Western Isle by Rosalind Miles - first book in a trilogy about the tale of Tristan and Isolde, which is perhaps the Arthurian story I know the least about.

  3. Guenevere, Queen of the Summer Country by Rosalind Miles - also the first in a trilogy. This series interests me because I've heard it doesn't villanize Guenevere.

  4. The Dragon and the Unicorn by A. A. Attanasio - this has been on my wishlist for so long I have forgotten why it's there. But look, doesn't it sound good? From PW: Known for science fiction (Radix) as well as for the Arthurian (Kingdom of the Grail), he combines the Round Table and black holes, gods and alternate time lines, to produce a world full of both mythology and history, reworking familiar elements in new ways. Rich thematically as well, the story presents inevitable cycles of pain, death, learning and redemption as Ygrane, Uther, Morgeu the Fey and Merlinus, joined by various pagans and Christians, fight for the soul of their land.

  5. Knight Life by Peter David - a story about a modern day Arthur who becomes Mayor of New York City. According to PW, this hilarious romp in today's New York features a cast of zany characters, zippy dialogue and enough action and plot twists to satisfy most satirical fantasy fans. If it's half as good as Tigerheart, I'll be very happy.

  6. Here Lies Arthur by Philip Reeve - I'm very curious about this recent YA retelling, which won the 2008 Carnegie Medal.
Have you read any of these? What did you think?

One last thing - I thought this was fun: A Wordle of my most tweeted words:

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Mar 21, 2009

Try Something New Mini-Challenge - Part II

As some participants have already completed the Try Something New Mini-Challenge, I thought it was time to put up a Mr. Linky for the wrap-up posts. Jackie and Rebecca, I took the liberty of adding your two posts, because it's not your fault that it wasn't up yet when you came looking for it.

In case anyone missed it, Chris announced the winners of the first giveaway here. I'll use this Mr. Linky to draw the winners of the final prizes, so make sure you add your posts once you're done!

Deadline extension: By popular demand (no, really, someone asked!) I decided to extent the mini-challenge's deadline by one week. You now have until the 7th of April to complete it. Happy reading!

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Mar 20, 2009

Once Upon a Time III (and Classics)


It's here! The beginning of Spring marks the beginning of one of my favourite events in the book blogging world: The Once Upon a Time Challenge. This challenge is very special for me, not only because it celebrates my favourite kinds of books (fantasy, fairy tales, folklore and mythology), but also because it was the reason why I first started blogging.

I'm doing Quest the First, which involves committing to reading 5 books that fit into any of these categories. But I'm hoping to be able to read more, and I also hope to do at least a one Short Stories Weekend. I'm not going to decide just what to read now, but because lists are fun, here are some possibilities. Let's start with books from my TBR pile:
  • We Never Talk About my Brother by Peter S. Beagle - really looking forward to reading this one.
  • Ratha and Thistle-Chaser, Ratha's Challenge and Ratha's Courage by Clare Bell - the remaining books in the Named series.
  • Yggenie by C.J. Cherryh - final book in this intense Russian-folklore inspired trilogy.
  • Robin Hood by Antonia Fraser - I bought this book on my second day in Nottingham, the idea being to read it while I lived there. Almost two years later, hear I am, and the book is still unread. Insert disapproving headshake here.
  • The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunsany - I can't believe I haven't read this yet.
  • A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray - Okay, enough with the blabbing, I promise.
  • The Wooden Sea by Jonathan Carroll
  • The Tygrine Cat by Inbali Iserles
  • Hexwood by Diana Wynne Jones
  • Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay
  • The Little Country by Charles de Lint
  • The Forgotten Beasts of Eld by Patricia A. McKillip
  • Water: Tales of Elemental Spirits by Robin McKinley and Peter Dickinson
  • Un Lun Dun by China Miéville
  • Here, There be Dragons by James A. Owen
  • Stockings of Buttermilk: American Folktales by Neil Philip
  • Count Karlstein by Philip Pullman
  • Gilgamesh the King by Robert Silverberg
  • Girl Meets Boy by Ali Smith
  • The Complete Bone by Jeff Smith
  • Firebirds Soaring edited by Sharyn November
  • The Children of Hurin and Tales from the Perilous Realm by J.R.R. Tolkien
There are more, but I'll spare you. And now, because I can't help the fact that a list of books is always more appealing if it includes books I don't have yet (I don't know why, but it's true. I am powerless before the lure of shiny new books), here are a few I don't have, but would love to buy and read for the challenge:
  • The Fox Woman by Kij Johnson
  • Palimpsest by Catherynne Valente
  • The Perilous Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope
  • Flora Segunda by Ysabeau S. Wilce
  • Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner
  • Son of a Witch by Gregory Maguire
And let's not forget e-books. I have the following on my computer:
  • Magic for Beginners by Kelly Link
  • Blood Engines by T.A. Pratt
  • His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik
  • Spiritwalk by Charles de Lint
  • The Raven by John Lawson
Of course, in the end I might read entirely different books. But let's hope I at least get the TBR pile down some.

Another reason why I love the Once Upon a Time challenge is because it has an atmosphere of its own, which sets it apart from most reading challenge. First of all, it's very relaxed. There are so many different options, or quests, that you basically make your own rules. Secondly, it's basically a three-months long fantasy lovefest, and I'm all for that. And finally, it's very community-oriented. It's all about reading books you love together with other readers and discussing them and exchanging ideas. I was a brand new blogger when I first joined the first Once Upon a Time two years ago, and never for a moment did I feel I was doing it on my own. So if you're wondering if you should join, the answer is yes. Yes you should!




This reminds me: I still haven't posted my choices for my dear Trish's Classics Challenge. I picked them in my head and somehow thought I was all done. Sorry Trish! Between April 1st and October 31st, I shall read the following five classics:
  • Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
  • Howards End by E. M. Forster
  • Emma by Jane Austen
  • The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
  • The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins
There. Should be fun.

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Mar 19, 2009

The Grey King by Susan Cooper - A Discussion with Kerry and Susan

When Susan, Kerry and I realized were all in the middle of reading Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising Sequence, we decided to read the last two books together, discuss them, and post the results.

In The Grey King, the penultimate book, we follow Will as he goes to Wales on a quest. His mission is to awake the sleepers, and gather aide that will be fundamental for the final battle between the forces of Darkness and Light. When the book opens, however, Will doesn't know that he has a mission. He has been ill for a very long time, and the illness took away his knowledge of the fact that he's more than an ordinary young boy. He is sent to a farm in Wales that belongs to friends of his mother to recover. There he meets Bran, a lonely boy who, like Will himself, has a secret or two.

Here's our (spoilers-free) discussion of the book:

What did you think of the book's sense of place?

Kerry: I am not a visual reader. I don't get an image in my head when I read (or in this case, listen), rather I get I kind of emotional connection to what I'm reading. I found myself feeling very grounded while reading "The Grey King". I've never been to Wales and have no real idea what that is like, but I had a real sense of the farm and the sheep and the mountains. I could almost picture woolly mountain sheep and sharp crags and the grazing pasture. My sense of the mountain and lake at the end wasn't quite as sharp, but it was certainly there. So despite the lack of pictures, I felt well-immersed in the book.

Me: It was one of my favourite things about it. Last year I spent a week in Wales, in the same area where the book is set, and reading The Grey King brought back so many memories. Susan Cooper’s descriptions are very beautiful and vivid, and I think that in addition to that she really captured what North Wales feels like. A feeling of ancientness and also of…confinement, perhaps. I don’t mean this negatively; the place really is stunningly beautiful. But the valleys and the mountains can feel haunting and a little entrapping. As that feeling is a big part of what’s at the heart of this story, the setting couldn’t have been more perfect. You can see some very nice pictures of Gwynedd here and here.

Susan: I agree with both Ana and Kerry - the sense of place was very strong in the book. I like how Kerry put that it made her feel grounded in Wales. I could see the hillside, and the lake, and the sheep. I haven't been to Wales, and yet like you Ana, I felt the sense of isolation that the mountains ringing the valleys gave, the remoteness from the rest of the world, that mountains give. I have lived in a mountain range, in the BC interior, and also on Vancouver Island, and I can say that mountains do give a very definite sense of space. Cooper really makes the scenery, the mountains, the landscape, part of the story. All of the important events take place outside, so it seems the battle of Light and Dark is for the earth itself. I really liked the sense of place in this book.

Share a favourite moment/scene from the book.

Kerry: Gosh, this turned into a surprisingly hard question. I'm not sure why, but it did. When looking back at the book, I keep finding myself thinking of the lake at the end - the lake in the pleasant place. For all the action and danger that happened there, I find myself with an image in my head of a beautiful, and indeed peacful place and so I'll choose Will's time by the lake as favourite moments, even though I know this is a vague and very indefinite answer.

Me: I loved the scene where Bran tries to teach Will to pronounce Welsh sounds, particularly the “ll” sound. It made me smile, and it brought back memories of my lovely hostess in Wales explaining some of the very same things to me. Especially the morning my boyfriend and I went to Llangollen. We had to find a bus that would take us there, and that involved asking bus drivers and attempting to pronounce the dreaded “ll” twice in a single world. I can’t say we did too well, but everyone was extremely helpful regardless.

Susan: "The bracken-brown slope lay still beneath the sunshine, with outcrops of white rock glimmering here and there. A car hummed past on the road below, invisible through trees; he was high above the farm now, looking out over the silver thread of the river to the mountains rising green and grey and brown behind, and at last fading blue into the distance. Further up the valley the mountainside on which he stood was clothed dark green with plantations of spruce trees, and beyond those he could see a great grey-black crag rising, a lone peak, lower than the mountains around it yet dominating all the surrounding land."

Cooper fills the books with a lot of description. What effect did this have on your reading, did it enhance it or make it falter? There are also a lot of Welsh words; did they cause you any trouble?

Kerry: As I said earlier, I'm not a visual reader, so Cooper's descriptions didn't draw pictures in my head. Instead, it was the power of the words in her descriptions that caught me. She uses metaphor and simile beautifully and they add greatly to the power of the book. I marked a few that particularly struck me as I was reading (and I also noted she used the sky and birds as part of her scene setting a lot).

"Birds whirred away from him; somewhere high above, a skylark was pouring out its rippling, throbbing song."

"The voice crawled like a slug over Will's skin."

"Will could sense the man's anger and malice whirling round his mind like a maddened bird caught in a room without exit."

As for the Welsh, here I think I had a huge advantage listening to the audio rather than reading the print book. All the Welsh words were pronounced correctly (or so I assume) for me and I didn't have to stumble over all those consonants on the page. The Welsh characters were also given Welsh accents which added to the sense of place I had for the book. It was an excellent recording and I really enjoyed listening to it. (And as an interesting aside, it was the only book of the five in the series that had a different narrator from all the others. I find myself wondering if the original narrator couldn't handle the Welsh and this book was given over to someone else. I shall be interested to continue listening to "Silver on the Tree" with the other narrator as, so far as I recall, parts of that take place in Wales too.)

Me: I loved her descriptions. I wonder if having been to Wales helped me visualize the landscapes more easily. It’s possible that I wouldn’t have imagined it all quite as vividly if I hadn’t been there, but then again, I haven’t been to Cornwall and she really brought it to life in Over Sea, Under Stone and Greenwitch.

I also loved her inclusion of Welsh. It wouldn’t have felt quite as authentic without it, and plus I just love how the language sounds. It could be my imagination, of course, but I actually think that Welsh sounds old. On a side note, the number of Welsh speakers has increased in recent years, which makes me happy and relieved. Anyway, Kerry, I imagine that the audiobook really was an advantage for you. For me, as I’ve had some exposure to the language before, I could mostly hear the words in my mind. I probably didn’t always imagine the sounds correctly, but Bran’s explanations really helped.

Susan:The description brought Wales to life before my eyes. While I can't speak Welsh, I want to learn it, and I enjoyed seeing it used in the speech and names and places of Wales. It adds to the exotic feel of the setting, and enhances the myth being told. I really enjoyed learning a bit about speaking Welsh, although I think it will be long and a trifle difficult!

John Rowlands speaks of a coldness at the heart of the Light. What do you think about this?

Kerry: This particularly struck me (which is why I asked the question). We like to think of the good guys as being, well, the good guys. They do the right things for the right reasons and don't hurt anyone or anything. But doing the right thing can be hard and it can be painful - and sometimes the decision has to be made that it will be hard and painful for others, which seems far more arrogant that deciding such a result for one's self. Will is there to fight for humanity's future, but that doesn't mean it's going to be easy or kind or merciful. He's there to do what has to be done and there's a possibility he might need to sacrifice some of his own humanity to do it, which doesn't feel like it's the right answer. It's what an Old One is called to do and perhaps not something we mortals could manage. It leaves me feeling uncomfortable, just as John Rowlands words left Will feeling uncomfortable.

Me: I’m so glad you asked this question, Kerry. It touches on one of my favourite things about this series, and I probably wouldn’t have remembered to bring it up otherwise. The Dark is Rising Sequence tells the story of an epic battle between the forces of Darkness and the forces of Light. If I were told this and only this about the series, my reaction would probably be “meh”. See, I’m not much of a fan of moral absolutes, and taken out of context, that seems to be what this is about.

But the brilliant thing is that Susan Cooper uses this premise to tell a story about shades of grey and complex choices and humankind’s potential for cruelty, kindness, and everything in-between. For me, the coldness at the heart of the Light John Rowlands brings up is self-righteousness, judgement and mercilessness; the demand for perfection without taking into account that humans make mistakes, and that to make a mistake doesn’t automatically makes you a horrible person. That is indeed a dangerous thing.

And that’s part of what makes Will such an interesting character. He’s an Old One, yes, but he’s also a young boy. And that makes him humble and kind, which is why he plays such a crucial role.

Susan: I think it is appropriate - how many times have we read where wizards, or magic users, or others who have access to memory or knowledge beyond their time, who act in ways the characters think is cold, only to find it had the best result? However, I've never thought of it as cold, because there is a difference between the heart of the Light and the Dark, and what happens to the characters shows that difference. I'd probably turn to John Rowlands and ask him how he thought warmth at the heart of the Light would be like!

Do you think The Grey King deserves the Newbery Medal? Why?

Kerry: Here I admit to my ignorance of things American. I knew the Newberry Medal went to children's books, but that was about all, so I had to go and look the details up on Wikipedia. It tells me the award goes to the most distinguished contribution to American literature for children. Being neither American nor aware of what other books were published for children in the USA back in 1976 when it won, makes it rather hard for me to answer this question. However, I think it is an excellent book that not only tells a good story, but introduces its reader to beautiful and haunting writing, difficult moral dilemmas, pain and heartbreak and success. It brings old legends to new life and encourages the reader to find out more about them and draws us in to the age old struggle between the Light and the Dark. For those reasons I think it is a book that deserves to be well known and well read, but I still find it interesting that such a very British book should win a US award (I see - from Wikipedia again - that Cooper married an American, which I guess is what made her eligible). Sorry, I haven't really answered the question, have I?

Me: I, too, have to admit my ignorance when it comes to book awards in general. It’s hard for me to come up with an answer that is more elaborate than “yes, because it’s a great book”. Awards like the Newbery are great because they bring books to people’s attention, and that’s always a good thing. But I’m someone who believes that ultimately, they don’t mean much more than that the people responsible for choosing the winner liked the book. I don’t mean this dismissively – the Newbery winners are chosen by librarians, and librarians are generally sensible and well-read and awesome in all sorts of ways. So I care about their opinion, and I want to know what their favourite book of the year is. But still, I don’t think any award should be looked at as the ultimate definition of what quality is, even one as cool as the Newbery. So I’m not sure about deserving, but it’s an intelligent, beautifully written and complex book, and I’m happy it won.

Susan: Yes is the quick answer. Yes, The Grey King deserves the Newbery Award. Why? Because it takes myth and legend, and shows that they are rooted in real things, and that above all, faith, and love, show the way. There is such a strong sense of place here, that children can really picture it - the mountains, the lakes, the farms. There are places in this story where the characters could choose to go to the Dark, and by showing this, Cooper makes the characters fallible and real. Children reading this book can see that being good or bad is a choice, a state of mind. But it's not dull or a treatise, it's an adventure story, and it's well-done.

Did the riddles Bran and Will have to answer make you want to go find Welsh myths and folktales? What did you think of the answers?

Kerry: This is a reread for me. Although I suspect that on my first reading it did send me out to find out more about the myths and tales. I don't remember. I've certainly been through my Celtic and Arthurian mythology phase before now and accumulated a good collection of books and information on the subject. I'll always be a bit of a sucker for a good incorporation of Arthurian legend in the modern day (which I think Cooper does brilliantly in this series) and I'm sure that remains part of why I still love it to this day. On this read, I could see the parallels building and enjoyed recognising at least some of the things Cooper was using in the story, but I didn't feel the need to go researching. Been there, done that, loved it.

Me: Yes! Yes they did. I think 2009 will be the year when I finally read The Mabinogion. It’s really about time. I felt that there was a lot I missed about the riddles. I mean, I trusted Will and Bran to be doing things right, and my ignorance never actually pulled me out of the story. But I’m sure I’ll appreciate the inner logic of the whole thing a lot more on a second read. Kerry mentioned the incorporation of Arthurian myth, and I have to agree. We can’t say much about this without giving too much away, but it’s done brilliantly.

Susan: One of my favorite scenes is the riddle scene. I love how Cafall helps Bran, and I really love the answers. I also like this fantasy tradition, where the hero has to answer a riddle. This is part of Welsh bardic training, where knowledge is passed through riddles. The whole setting of the riddles is fantastic, and the answers made me want to run and read all the myths and legends, and Evangeline Walton's series, and the Mabiniogon, The White Goddess which I have started twice now, everything I can find so I can find those answers to the riddles. Part of my heritage is Welsh, and I feel like I've been given a key to it with these riddles.

Thank you so much, Susan and Kerry. I had a lot of fun doing this.

Favourite passages:
Will felt that he was in a part of Britain like none he had ever known before: a secret, enclosed place, with powers hidden in shrouded centuries at which he could not begin to guess.

'But when the battles between you and your adversaries are done, Will Stanton, in the end the fate of all the world will depend on just those people, and how many of them are good or bad, stupid or wise. And indeed it is all so complicated that I would not dare foretell what they will do with their world. Our world.'
Other Opinions:
..epiphany..
Working Title
dreaming out loud

(Let me know if I missed yours.)

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Mar 18, 2009

Tom's Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce (and an announcement)

There is a time, between night and day, when landscapes sleep. Only the earliest riser sees that hour; or the all-night traveller, letting up the blind of his railway-carriage window, will look out on a rushing landscape of stillness, in which trees and bushes and plants stand immobile and breathless in sleep—wrapped in sleep, as the traveller himself wrapped his body in his great-coat or his rug the night before.
Because his brother Peter has measles, Tom Long is sent to spend part of his summer holidays with his Aunt Gwen and Uncle Alan. They live in a flat with no garden and a strict old lady for a landlady and neighbour, so Tom expects to be bored out of his mind. His aunt and uncle’s place is an old Victorian house that was divided into flats, and there’s a strange and imposing grandfather clock in the entrance hall—a clock that always strikes the wrong time.

When Tom’s in bed one night, he hears the clock strike thirteen. He gets up to investigate, and when he opens a door that is not supposed to lead anywhere (other than a small courtyard where the trash is put), he discovers a beautiful garden. Tom begins to visit the garden every night, and there he befriends a girl named Hatty. Only every time he visits, Hatty is a different age, and the two quickly realize that something odd is going on. Something that has to do with time.

Just in case the bit about visiting a girl in the past who is a different age every time has you wondering, Tom’s Midnight Garden was first published in 1958. It won the Carnegie Medal back then, and more recently it was second on the list of the Carnegie of Carnegies. And I can see why.

This is a story about time and magic and friendship; about the wonderful freedom of being a child and having free access to a garden in the summertime. But it’s also about loneliness and imagination, loss and helplessness, connections, regrets, and lost time. As Tom gets to know Hatty better, he begins to see her as more than the exasperating little girl be first assumes her to be. At first, he sees her as a desperately lonely child constantly running after her older cousins, who pay her little attention. There is a reason, it turns out, why Hatty is also staying with her uncle and aunt, and why Tom’s friendship is something she so greatly needs. Just like Tom needs hers.

Tom’s Midnight Garden is subtle, sophisticated, and very emotionally satisfying. The garden itself, and the question of just who Hatty is, remain mysterious until about halfway through the book. Then the answer becomes clear, if not the specific details. This, however, is not at all a problem. Because you still need the final scene, the bittersweet and very touching final scene, to fully feel the book’s emotional impact; to understand all it has to say about the passing of time.

A lovely, beautifully written and memorable book.

Other Opinions:
Stuck in a Book
Tip of the Iceberg

(If I missed yours, let me know.)


Over the past few months, I've seen several people ask if the Read-a-thon was going to continue, and if so, when we could expect the next one. The answer is yes, and the next one will be on the 18th/19th of April, starting at 12pm GMT. Like Weekly Geeks, the Read-a-thon now has its own site, and was renamed Dewey's Read-a-thon to honour its much-missed founder. For more details, please visit the Read-a-thon site.

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Mar 17, 2009

Sweethearts by Sara Zarr

Jennifer Harris and Cameron Quick were best friends until fifth grade. They were, in fact, each other’s only friend. And they were both victims of merciless bullying at school. Then one day, Cameron disappears, and Jennifer is led to believe that he is dead. Fast forward a few years: now a senior in highschool, Jennifer has reinvented herself as Jenna Vaughn. Her mother married Alan, who is a wonderful stepfather. Jenna goes to a small school for kids who are too smart to fit in elsewhere. She has good friends and a boyfriend, and she’s all-around popular. Until one day, the day of her seventeenth birthday, Cameron returns. And Jenna can no longer keep who she is and who she used to be apart.

Sweethearts turned out to be quite different than I was expecting. I don’t mean this negatively, and if you asked me what I was expecting I’m not sure if I’d be able to tell you. I needed some time to figure out just how I felt about it. It’s a love story, but not in a conventional sense. It’s about identity and growing up, but the way it approaches these topics is also different from what I’m used to seeing. And it has a bittersweet ending—I’m a big, big fan of bittersweet.

The identity thing: at the beginning of the book, Jenna/Jennifer is clearly not very happy. She has everything she wanted back when she was Jennifer, but the effort of constantly acting out the role of Jenna is bringing her down. She smiles through her days, but she’s lonely and miserable, and convinced that neither her boyfriend nor her friends actually know her. Worst of all, she believes that they would no longer love her if they saw who she really is.

What I found most interesting about Sweethearts was how it doesn’t go for an either/or dichotomy when it comes to Jenna's identity. Perhaps the most obvious solution would be for Jenna to return to being Jennifer, her "true self", stick to the friends who loved her for that, and learn not to care about what everyone else says. But as time passes, people, especially teenagers, do change. And Jenna isn’t really Jennifer anymore. So what happens is that she realizes that her life isn’t completely artificial after all; that people have a better idea of who she really is than she realizes. It turns out she wasn’t acting all the time.

Cameron’s return is what propels this realization, but Jenna works things out on her own. At first I wasn’t sure how I felt about their relationship. They obviously care a lot about each other, but they have trouble communicating openly. There were moments when I wanted to shake them both so they would just talk. But you know, I remember living through things like that: being 16 or even 20 and wanting to talk so badly, but being frozen by fear or self-consciousness or both, and swallowing my words. I remember moments when I felt that I was watching a wild creature from up close, and any sound, any clumsy movement, would frighten it away from good.

So Jenna and Cameron don’t always talk, but they share a lot of meaningful silences. There’s something else about the plot I haven’t mentioned yet: Jenna and Cameron share a secret. Something happened to them when they were children, something they have never told anyone else about. This is revealed slowly, in short scenes that are alternated with longer chapters about what’s happening in the present day. Most of the time this is a suspense technique that drives me crazy (for many reasons, but I’ll leave those for another time), but in Sweethearts it works. It works because more than what happened, what is important is how the event impacted Jenna’s life.

One complaint: I was disappointed that Sweethearts brings up the topic of eating disorders and then fails to deal with it effectively. Jenna’s eating pattern has “disorder” written all over it. She starves herself sometimes, and at other times, especially times of distress, she turns to binge eating for comfort. This seems to be a reoccurring pattern for her, because she even mentions stealing food from other kids when she was younger. So the problem is there, but by the end of the book it still hasn’t been addressed or even acknowledged. Neither by Jenna herself nor by the other characters.

I realize that Sara Zarr might have felt that exploring this issue more thoroughly would have turned Sweethearts into a story about eating disorders. And that’s really not the focus of the book. Nevertheless, the issue is there, so I’d have loved to see it be handled in more detail.

Sweethearts reminded me of my life in some ways. YA does that a lot, actually, which makes me wonder if perhaps I’m not quite over my teens yet. But anyway, I guess a lot of us have a Cameron in our lives. Someone we’re not really very close to anymore, but who will always mean the world to us. Someone that despite all the silence we’ll always feel connected to.

Reviewed at:
Words by Annie
Mari Reads
Worducopia
It’s All About Books
Maw Books
Becky’s Book Reviews
Jenny’s Books
Em’s Bookshelf
The Well-Read Child
Superfast Reader
Presenting Lenore
Melody's Reading Corner
Bart's Bookshelf

(If I missed yours, let me know.)

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