"Monsters of Men" by Patrick Ness

Summary: This third book in the Chaos Walking trilogy picks up directly where The Ask and the Answer ends.  Todd is forced to release Mayor Prentiss after discovering an army of Spackle marching on attack to the city.  Viola, meanwhile, attempts to stop the Answer from its simultaneous attack.  Soon all forces are at odds: Prentiss' army, the women-led Answer, the Spackle army, and the new settlers.  Some are calling for war, some for peace, and some for uneasy alliances.  Todd and Viola try to rely on their devotion to one another, but there is no clear right option, and thousands of lives are at stake.

Musings: Truthfully, I think I may be too emotionally fragile to speak articulately about the book right now, but I'll try.  Because if there's anything Ness can do, it's connect the reader so tightly to his characters' emotions that you're not just following a story, you're following individual characters' inner lives, which are so full of anger, sadness, and joy.  And so, like with the two earlier books in the trilogy, I finish Monsters of Men exhausted.  Even now I think my heart is still pounding and my eyes swollen.  I felt so deeply what Todd and Viola were feeling that their pain was my pain (perhaps echoing the Noise the men must live with?).  When the emotion got too unbearable, I would jump off the couch and beg my husband to read the last few pages and tell me it would all be okay (he refused).  But, as the mark of a good writer, Ness created a story and world in which no ending is assumed or inevitable.

Okay, deep breath, try again.

This emotional response is shaped by two factors: the breakneck speed of the story and the book's style.  Monsters of Men starts approximately half a second after The Ask and the Answer, immediately plunging the reader into full-scale war.  There's no opportunity to get casually reacquainted with the characters and the story--you must commit right away.  And Ness' use of alternatively short choppy sentences and long run-on sentences made the characters' feelings all the more urgent and pressing.

Like the first two books in the series, Monsters of Men also raises pertinent ethical questions without presenting a clear moral path.  Although I love the Hunger Games series, it is obvious that the Capitol is evil and the resistance is good.  There is no such clarity within this series.  Specifically, Monsters of Men addresses the relationship between Todd and Viola and the effect of their feelings for one another: if a person would do anything for another individual, is that good or dangerous?

The characters are truly multi-dimensional; no one is good or bad, or with simple motivations.  I especially loved the closer look at the Spackle and their lives.

I have no doubt that Monsters of Men is already a must-read for anyone who's read the first two books in the series.  Because of its unique style and ethical dilemmas, I would highly recommend it and the series to anyone who likes dystopian fiction.

- See my reviews of book one in the series, The Knife of Never Letting Go, and book two in the series, The Ask and the Answer. 

***This book qualifies for the TwentyTen Reading Challenge (Shiny & New Category)

"Will Grayson, Will Grayson" by John Green and David Levithan

Summary: Will Grayson has always lived in the shadow of his friend Tiny, "the world's largest person who is really, really gay, and also the world's gayest person who is really, really large" (3).  Although they've been best friends for years, Will is increasingly annoyed at being dragged along by Tiny, his plans for his musical called Tiny Dancer, and his plans to hook Will up with a girl named Jane.  Meanwhile, across town, will grayson hates his life.  His only solace is his online relationship with a boy named Issac, the only person who knows will is gay.  When Will and will unexpectedly meet, their relationships become tied up together, and both Wills begin to be forced to actually make decisions in their lives.

Musings: Will Grayson, Will Grayson was a fun book that combines humor and adolescent angst in a way that feels real and poignant.  Each Will is a distinct character.  Will has gotten through life by staying in the shadows, and although he doesn't regret writing a letter to the school paper in defense of Tiny, he's determined to avoid any other changes in life by never committing or offering opinions.  will is full of stereotypical "emo" angst, but I mostly found his cynicism funny because I totally know students like that.  Musing on his mom's attempt to engage in morning conversation, will thinks:

i feel bad for her -- i do. a damn shame, really, that i had to have a mother. it can't be easy having me for a son. nothing can prepare someone for that kind of disappointment. (23)

Tiny is the world around which each boy revolves, and the reader can't help but adore Tiny.  He's so full of life and love for everyone, and despite the growth of the Wills in the novel, it's Tiny who's the standout character.

The issues of first love, high school relationships, and coming out are done well.  I liked that we see a range of gay characters with different personalities.  The depths and importance of male friendships are acknowledged in a way that I imagine few teenagers would be willing to admit, but they are very sweet.

***This book qualities for the GLBT Reading Challenge 2010 and the TwentyTen Reading Challenge ("Win! Win!" category).

"The Freedom Writers Diary" by The Freedom Writers and Erin Gruwell

Summary: Erin Gruwell, a new teacher in a high school in dangerous Long Beach, California, is shocked when her students aren't familiar with the Holocaust.  In response, she begins an ambitious curriculum based around the theme of tolerance where students are encouraged to make connections between--and write about--history, literature, and the violence and injustice of their own lives.  Freedom Writers is a collection of the students' writings and details the students' realizations and transformations through their time with Gruwell.

Musings: I can't help but approach this book as an educator (and, sadly, a natural cynic), so I think I had some difficulty finding this book as inspirational as others have (I imagine vets would feel the same way about All Creatures Great and Small, which I quite enjoyed).  But, first, the good.  Students are rarely given voices, and clearly Gruwell was successful in helping "at-risk" kids, who have been failed by the school system, gain agency, self-confidence, and strength.  She also gave students a caring and supportive environment, something all teenagers desperately need.  Through her efforts, the students felt important, recognized, and empowered to make positive change in their own lives and their community.  The book also acknowledges the awareness young people in bad environments have of what's wrong in their world, and instead of condemning them for it, the book (and the Freedom Writers program) gives them a positive outlet.

Each "diary" entry is not attributed to a specific student.  Gruwell says early on this is to protect the students and acknowledge the role all the students played in editing, revising, and supporting.  Yet the style of the entries simply rang false to me.  I've read a lot of 9th grade writing--both in a wealthy suburb and in the inner city--and very few students write with such strong narrative style.  The entries were structured similarly and sounded similar, making them seem inauthentic.  While I don't doubt the truth of the students' stories, the book felt overly edited and standardized.

Nearly all the entries concern tragedy in a student's life: child abuse, domestic abuse, rape, beatings, drug and alcohol abuse, teenager pregnancy, illness, homelessness.  Most entries end with general statements about the student's new-found desire to overcome the challenges or prejudices and save the world.  It's great for the students to feel inspired to change, but it's much more difficult to actually make those changes, and that aspect of the students' lives was missing.  In the end, I felt like the book defined the students by tragedy.  That's the only lens the reader sees them through, rather than hearing about what they actually did to change.  In reducing the students to heart breaking stories, the students become more stories and less people.

Gruwell also discusses some of the problems she had with her department.  I can totally understand; I'm sure I'd hate her too.  She does amazing things for her students personally and gets computers donated, meets celebrities, and brings the students on various trips around the country.  I couldn't help but imagine the other high school students not in her class had to feel abandoned and left out, and other teachers--even excellent ones--had to feel inadequate.  That's not to say Gruwell shouldn't have done what she did, but rather it's sad that only one group got so much attention and support.

I was much more interested in how Gruwell achieved such community and involvement in her classroom, but the book does not address her teaching methods.  She has written other books about curriculum that probably would have been more appealing to me.

Freedom Writers illustrates the struggle of students in rough districts and is able to show the positive effects of creating a safe community for young people to share and move beyond tragedy.

***This book qualifies for the POC Reading Challenge and the TwentyTen Reading Challenge ("Win! Win!" category).

"The Last Town on Earth" by Thomas Mullen

Summary: Commonwealth is a lumber mill town built on principles of community and fair treatment.  When the Spanish influenza ravages through the U.S. during World War I, the already isolated town decides to quarantine itself in hopes of avoiding the flu.  No one is allowed to enter or leave, and guards are posted to ensure the town's safety.  But shortly into the quarantine, a lone soldier begs to be admitted.  Graham, a young husband and father, shoots and kills the soldier rather than let him enter.  Also standing guard is Philip, the teenage adopted son of the mill owner, and he can't seem to recover from the shooting.  Soon Commonwealth is in more danger than they had imagined, and everyone is left wondering what is "right" in a time of disaster.

Musings: I received this book free at the NCTE conference and was drawn to its post-apocalyptic sounding title.  Although I enjoyed the book, I think the title is misleading, as there's no indication or fear of Commonwealth's permanent isolation.

Last Town effectively weaves together various historical events: the 1918 flu pandemic, World War I, and labor strikes.  It was interesting to see how the politics of each intersected within the characters to create conflict.  And, of course, many of these same conflicts are still in play today, from the hysteria over H1N1 to the debates over the purpose and righteousness of the war in Iraq.

Philip is the protagonist of the novel, and he has a lot of backstory.  I felt, at times, that there were too many pieces of his character that needed weaving together.  Nonetheless, he's someone to cheer for as he grapples with everything from decisions of morality to decisions of romance.

Graham, Philip's foil, has a similarly weighty history, but he's also less likeable and relateable.  Because of this, although each man represents different sides of difficult issues--family versus community, morality versus practicality--it's significantly easier to empathize with Philip.

Things go from bad to worse quickly in the novel, and I found the pervasive sadness difficult.  Even small moments of joy are quickly destroyed.  I kept holding out for an ending that would restore hope, but Mullen seemed insistent on ensuring that would be impossible.

I read little historical fiction and probably wouldn't have tried this except for the misleading title, but I think the issues it raises are so contemporary and the characters so fully fleshed that it's worth the read.

***This book qualifies for the TwentyTen Reading Challenge (T.B.R. category).

"The Book of Lost Things" by John Connolly

Summary: David has always been closest to his books and his mother.  When his mother dies after a long fight with illness, David's father remarries, and David resents his new stepmother and stepbrother.  He again seeks solace in the stories he grew up with, but now he can also hear the books whispering to him.  Strange dreams begin to follow him, and one night, drawn by his mother's voice, he enters a hole in the garden outside his home and reemerges in another world.  This world is full of danger and also helpers, and David learns his only chance to return home is to journey to the King and his mysterious Book of Lost Things.  But with a pack of man-wolves and a trickster named the Crooked Man after him, finding home again will not be easy.

Musings: Strangely, March seems to be a "books about books" month for me, with The Book of Lost Things following my reading of Fforde's The Well of Lost Plots and North's Libyrinth.  Because reading is so important in my life, it's been interesting to read how various authors have imagined other-worldly relationships between books and readers.

Of the three, The Book of Lost Things is my favorite, perhaps because it is able to succeed in combining different aspects of literature together.  It incorporates the retelling of fairy tales within a classic fairy tale structure while also seeming contemporary, and it features a young protagonist coming of age within an adult categorization instead of YA.

There is something comforting and reassuring in David's journey, which never feels foreign.  Some stories referenced and transformed within The Book of Lost Things are directly from childhood classics (Little Red Riding Hood, Rumpelstiltskin), but even when Connolly is not directly relying on individual stories, the feel of David's journey remains within the fairy tale genre.  However, this impression did not make the story seem tired to me, but rather enhanced the book's atmosphere and tone.

Like the original fairy tales, Connolly's book acknowledges that real stories have no "happily ever after."  However, the lack of assured happiness does not mean that the relationships forged through selflessness and compassion are worthless.  David's relationships with the brave Woodsman and the knight Roland help David overcome fear of real threats and imagined. There is a lesson within the book, but it's more realistic than cautionary.

***This book qualifies for the TwentyTen Reading Challenge ("Who Are You?" category).

"Monique and the Mango Rains" by Kris Holloway

Summary: A memoir of a woman's experience working with a midwife named Monique as a Peace Corps volunteer in Mali from 1989-1991.

Musings: Monique and the Mango Rains, a straightforward and informative nonfiction read, provided a interesting glimpse into the lives of Peace Corps volunteers and the lives of the people of Mali.  For both topics Holloway is an even-handed narrator who describes her time with Monique without pity or condescension.

The book celebrates the skills and triumphs within the village while also acknowledging the people's lack of accessibility to medical care and nutrition.  Monique, a bright and energetic young midwife, is the star of the story.  Her optimism and tireless energy match well with Holloway, who shares her passion.  Their close friendship shows how universal relationships can be.  Holloway also has an interesting perspective as a Peace Corp volunteer.  Unlike other Westerners (doctors, for example) who might come to African countries to help, Holloway has no real expertise to offer--just a willing body and mind.  Because of this, she is able to learn and assist while not imposing her beliefs of how things should be done.

One of the issues Holloway especially focuses on is the sexism in the village and the way in which it limits women's options. She works with Monique in these areas, providing regional information on the dangers of female genital mutilation and assisting the village in gaining access to birth control, but in all these instances changes come from Monique's work.  The one area Holloway does directly intervene in is ensuring that Monique, not her father-in-law, receives her salary, but clearly Monique benefits from an intervention that, according to social custom, she could not easily do herself.

Holloway writes simply and directly, so I found the book engrossing and quick.  I'll admit to knowing very little about many African nations, and although Monique and the Mango Rains provides just one viewpoint of one specific place, I enjoyed its fair depiction of the author's time there.

***This book qualifies for the TwentyTen Reading Challenge (completing the "Up to You!" category) and the POC Reading Challenge.

"The Northern Lights" by Lucy Jago

Summary: A biography of Kristian Birkeland, a Norwegian scientist in the early 20th century who discovered the cause of the aurora borealis.

Musings: Here are some reasons why it makes no sense that I picked up this book:

1. I know pretty much nothing about the aurora borealis.  Pretty lights in the sky, right?  And I've never really wondered.
2. I hate physics.  I took astronomy in college (lab science requirement), which was a gigantic mistake.  I couldn't even find the frickin' moon in my telescope.
3. I know nothing about Norway.  It's cold, right?  And, uh, they ski?  Uh...

So considering my total lack of initial interest in the subject matter, I was surprised that I found the book compelling enough to finish it.  Personally, I was not especially interested by the science, although I imagine the book certainly would be of interest to physicists.  What did keep me reading, though, was the in-depth look at one man's single-minded pursuit of science and the relationship of that pursuit to Norway's politics.  Birkeland was a man of considerable intellect with an enormous amount of ideas, but like many genuises, his work was also a plague to him, and he rarely seemed happy.  The Northern Lights also gives the reader a unique view of Norwegian history, particularly as the country sought independence.  As I mentioned above, I know virtually nothing about Norway, and it was interesting to see how Birkeland's scientific endeavors were supported, in part, by a desire to bring prestige to the country.

Like many authors of popular nonfiction pieces today, Jago delivers The Northern Lights in a narrative style which kept a relatively brisk pace but, for me, lacked intimate details and connections to the people.  Jago uses very few direct quotes from primary sources, and because of this, it's difficult to know what in the book is "fact" and what is artistic hypothesis.  Obviously she did extensive research, and there's a bibliography at the end, but her general omission of Birkeland's and others' direct voices created some distrust and alienation in me.  For this reason, I found her book much less compelling than the last biography I read, David Grann's The Lost City of Z, which succeeded in weaving primary sources and a narrative structure together.

Because I was completely unfamiliar with all of the content of The Northern Lights, I learned quite a bit by reading the book, even though it was not an "enjoyable" read.  Considering Birkeland's greatest scientific contributions were on the aurora borealis, it would have been helpful for Jago to include some color photos of the spectacular phenomenon. Nonetheless, I would certainly recommend the book to people interested in science and the scientists who pursue research at all costs.

***This book qualifies for the TwentyTen Reading Challenge ("Up to You!" category).

"Marcelo in the Real World" by Francisco X. Stork

Summary: Since he was young, Marcelo has attended Paterson, a school for children with learning and physical needs.  Marcelo's condition is similar in some ways to Asperger's; he has difficulty with social interactions and has consuming "special interests" that appear odd to others.  However, Marcelo's father Arturo has always believed that Marcelo could operate in the "real world" if he only he tried, so he makes a deal with Marcelo.  Marcelo may remain at Paterson if he takes a summer job at Arturo's law firm; otherwise, Arturo will force Marcelo to attend public school in the fall.  At the law firm, Marcelo befriends Jasmine, the director of the mail room, and learns more about the "real world" than he ever imagined.

Musings: After a glowing review from Reading in Color and favorable comparisons to The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, I was eager to pick up Stork's work.  What I found was a sweet and touching book that had me totally engrossed.

Stork does an excellent job putting the reader in the mind of Marcelo.  Marcelo has been taught how to operate properly within the "real world," but he does not do so naturally.  To appear "normal" takes concentration and effort.  This is one of the reasons Arturo wants Marcelo to work at the law firm. Paterson has created a safe atmosphere that adapts to fit Marcelo's needs, but the school has not forced Marcelo to adapt to a world that will expect him to fit in.  Without being forced outside his comfort zone, Marcelo may have a hard time finding success in "normal" environments.  This is Arturo's primary argument; it's a difficult and heartbreaking one, but it's also realistic.  At the same time, Arturo is a jerk, and he makes this argument in the form of an order rather than a discussion.  Nevertheless, one of the joys of the novel is seeing how Marcelo develops as he works at the firm and must adapt in order to navigate the complex social relationships of the work place. As he works longer, Marcelo becomes more adept at interpreting emotion, understanding casual language, and reacting to others' ulterior motives.

However, progress always means giving something up.  In becoming a member of the "real world," Marcelo loses some innocence and comfort of his disorder.  Marcelo also must come to terms with the hurt and failures of the world.  Fortunately, Marcelo has Jasmine to help him in this territory.  Their relationship is touching and gentle, and I loved the way Jasmine and Marcelo were able to understand one another.

Marcelo in the Real World touches on important issues like the treatment of those with disabilities, the objectification of women, the impacts of race and nationality, and the meaning of suffering through the eyes of Marcelo, which helps the reader understand those issues in new ways too.  It's optimistic without being cheesy or false.

***This book qualifies for the POC Reading Challenge and the TwentyTen Reading Challenge (completing the "Bad Bloggers" category).

"Incarceron" by Catherine Fisher

Summary: Incarceron is a prison; years ago, inmates were sealed inside in an experiment to create a paradise.  Since then, no one has entered and no one has escaped.

Finn is a young boy inside Incarceron.  Born of the prison and a member of a group of thieves, he knows nothing of his identity and little of the fits that sometimes come on, leaving him with visions.  But when a mysterious key appears that matches a mark on his arm, Finn believes he may have a clue to his identity.

Claudia lives on the Outside, the daughter of the Warden of Incarceron.  The Outside is trapped in a mandated Protocol that forces everyone to live as if it were the 17th century, despite the significant scientific advancements, in an attempt to avert progress and danger.  Since she was young, Claudia has been engaged to the Queen's son, but when she finds a link to Finn and Incaceron, Claudia knows she must do everything she can to save him and avert the wedding.

Musings: Incarceron is a unique dystopian book with interesting world-building and engaging characters.  In the novel, Fisher has created two worlds--the prison Incarceron and the falsely antiquated Outside, each of which come fully to life.  Although some mysteries, such as Finn's identity, are revealed very early, others are spaced out and enough it revealed and withheld by the end to leave the reader anticipating a sequel.

Some of the intricacies of the worlds are interesting but not fully explored.  Incarceron is a sentient being of its own kind, and some intriguing details of its motivation are mentioned, but the prison doesn't really emerge as a full character.  The presence of the prison itself raises questions of the nature of evil.  Wonders one of the first prisoners of Incarceron:

...or is it that man contained within himself the seeds of evil?  That even if he is placed in a paradise perfectly formed for him he will poison it, slowly, with his own jealousies and desires? (312)

This and other philosophical themes, as well as the forced 17th century lifestyle, could have been more fully addressed, but there's plenty of excitement within the book to look beyond that.

Incarceron is a nice blend of science-fiction and fantasy with a full and complex story line.  Despite some omissions, it's a book that would be great to chat over with others.

***This book completes the "New in 2010" category of the TwentyTen Reading Challenge.

"Peter & Max" by Bill Willingham

This is the 100th book I've reviewed since I began my blog.  Woo-hoo!

Summary:  In this re-imagining of classic fairy tales, Max and Peter Piper are brothers in a family of traveling musicians.  When their father decides to give the family's treasured and magical pipe to the younger brother Peter, instead of Max, something terrible is unloosed in the elder brother.  Max spends his life spreading evil as Peter tries to survive, and later defeat, Max.  The story is told in the present, as the grown Peter attempts to stop Max one last time, and the past, which recounts the boys' younger days.

Musings: A big thanks to Cecelia at Adventures of Cecelia Bedelia for this book, which I won in one of her contests. I know reinvented fairy tales are popular right now, but I haven't read many books in the genre myself.  However, I really enjoyed Willingham's use of the classic stories.  The book integrates many stories (notably the Pied Piper and Little Bo Peep), but doesn't feel constrained by them, and it also doesn't shy away from the darker aspect of the stories found in the originals (but less so in the more modern "cleaned-up" versions).  Willingham is also able to make good use of the fact that so many fairy tales use the name Peter (a rather strange coincidence... or is there something else to the name Peter?).

Peter & Max is a fun story with a brisk pace and a good amount of action.  Although the book is based off Willingham's Fables comic series (which follows fairy tale characters living in the United States), I didn't feel like I was missing anything because I haven't read the comics.  And although Peter & Max is a novel, I especially enjoyed the occasional illustrations.  In fact, I might even be willing to give his comic series a try, even though I didn't like my first attempt at graphic novels.

This book would be perfect for people who like a slightly more adult retelling of fairy tales (although this book certainly wouldn't be inappropriate for a high school audience). 

***This book qualifies for the TwentyTen Reading Challenge ("Shiny & New" category).

"The Lost Books of the Odyssey" by Zachary Mason

Summary: A fractured retelling/reinvention of stories related to the Greek epic hero Odysseus.

Musings: I spend nearly a semester every year teaching the entire Odyssey to my freshmen students.  Although I resisted the long text at first, it's been growing on me, and I find more in it every year.  My students are also wary at first (our Fagles' translation is 483 pages in poem form), but I'm thrilled with their ability to find new things in the text.  When I heard about Mason's book, The Lost Books of the Odyssey, I was excited to see what he could offer on the canonical poem.

First of all, the book is called "a novel," which is rather misleading.  Instead, it's more of a collection of short stories; each "chapter" is completely unrelated to the others, and a number of events (Achilles' death, Odysseus' return to Ithaca) are covered multiple times.  Furthermore, the title, The Lost Books of the Odyssey, is also deceptive, since a majority of the chapters concern events that are not a part of the Odyssey (primarily the Trojan War and its heroes).

After reading it, I find it nearly impossible to describe what the stories are like.  The best analogy I can think of comes courtesy of my husband, who upon hearing my exasperated attempted description of the book, explained the book thus (I've embellished only slightly): It's like going to a contemporary art museum on the Muppets, but when you get there, all the exhibits are of Muppets having orgies. And you just don't see how any of this can have meaning, but all the other snooty and pretentious art patrons sneer at you for being so pedestrian and unable to "get it."

So, yes.  Many of the stories are completely random and circuitous.  Other events are repeated ad nauseam.  The stories seem to be "deep" without having any real meaning.  For example, Mason seems to have a bizarre fixation on Agamemnon, who is portrayed as a singularly imbecilic leader.  Agamemnon's mostly a whiny and bitter bore in the Odyssey with nothing to do but spew hatred over his wife's betrayal, but in Lost Books he seems to represent the very worst of ineptitude in leadership.  But for no apparent reason.  Mason also dwells on Odysseus' return to Ithaca and his life as an old man after the war.  I think there are some interesting issues to be raised around what happens to a great hero once all the journeying is done, but no new light was shed for me.

The Odyssey really is a perfect text for revision; so much occurs in the poem, but so much is left unexplored: missing days and years, strange people and islands, side characters with no insight into their motivation. However, Mason does not break new ground in this regards.  Odysseus is still the focus to the story, and overlooked characters are still overlooked.  This is particularly true for the women characters, who in Mason's book are mostly vapid or conniving; in pretty much all of the stories in which she appears, Athena is madly in love with Odysseus.  In a New York Times article ("A Calculus of Writing, Applied to a Classic" by Larry Rohter, 2/9/10) on him, Mason describes the book as "a very rational and masculine book," which pretty much makes me want to vomit.

I did find a few stories interesting.  In one chapter, Odysseus goes to recruit Achilles for the Trojan War only to find that Achilles is dead; he then builds a golem (a "an artificial human being in Hebrew folklore endowed with life" according to Merriam-Webster) which fights in the war instead.  For some reason, that stuck around with me.  A super short chapter on Hermes' exasperation at Odysseus' despair on Calypso's island was great.  Otherwise I find the "novel" mostly unintelligible and exceedingly self-important.

If you think obliqueness and repetitiveness inherently equal genius prose, then The Lost Books of the Odyssey is for you.  As for me, my students' creative revisions to the Odyssey are far more interesting and enlightening.

***This book qualifies for the TwentyTen Reading Challenge ("Who Are You Again?" category).

"Kindred" by Octavia Butler

Summary: Dana, a black woman living in 1976, suddenly vanishes from her home and reappears by a lake where she rescues a drowning white boy, Rufus.  Threatened by the boy's father, Dana reappears at her home, only to be drawn back to save the boy's life over and over again.  Dana comes to learn that she is being taken back in time to the antebellum South, and the boy she is saving is a white slave owner--and her ancestor.  As Dana remains stuck in the past as a slave for longer period of time, she must struggle in an era that sees her as nothing but property while also ensuring Rufus', and thus her own, survival.

Musings: In general, I'm most strongly drawn to the science-fiction and dystopian genres, but I've found it difficult to find science-fiction beyond the white heterosexual normative.  I started looking and was excited when one of the first posts I came upon was at The Angry Black Woman entitled "Mindblowing Science Fiction by POC."  One author whose name came up again and again was Octavia Butler, so I was excited to pick up Kindred at the library.  (I'm still looking for more LGBT science fiction!)

Kindred only loosely fits the science-fiction genre, as its time traveling is more a mechanism for the story to take place rather than a part of the story itself.  Nonetheless, I was completely taken in by the novel. Kindred is perhaps one of the most terrifying books that I've ever read, and it does so with real characters facing agonizing decisions.

Living in 1976, Dana experiences prejudice and racism (just take the reaction to her marriage to a white man).  However, being thrown back to the early 1800s is another thing all together.  In those times, she has absolutely no rights--any white coming upon her can do as he wills.  Kindred clearly relates the ways in which the institution of slavery is designed to suppress slaves and make resistance difficult.  The reader is forced to share Dana's agonizing frustration as she finds herself unable to retaliate against mounting injustices and abuse.  However, Dana also experiences moments of success, and her very existence is evidence her ancestors' ability to carry on.

Dana's relationships with two white men--Rufus and her husband Kevin--further complicate the story.  Dana and Kevin have a strong relationship, but when Kevin is also brought back in time with Dana, he must assume the role of a slave owner.  He does it to protect Dana, but it's also clear that regardless of Kevin's sympathies, he cannot experience and understand life the way Dana does.

Rufus is a pathetically needy man whose society gives him the right to demand, and take, the "love" he desires but is not given freely.  Dana struggles with her own ambivalent feelings towards him.  In a critical essay on the novel, Robert Crossley notes that Butler's works explore "the webs of power and affection in human relationships... the ethical imperative and the emotional price of empathy" (268).  In many ways Kindred is a psychological look at the way relationships guide and shape our behaviors across lines of race and gender.

Butler has created complex and interesting characters and a fast-paced, if not emotionally draining, story.  True to history, the novel does not end with complete hope or despair, and the white slave owners are not redeemed nor solely vilified.

Crossley mentions that Butler was one of the first recognized African American science fiction writers, and Kindred is an excellent and different approach to the genre.  I know many of Butler's other works are more traditionally science-fiction, and I'm eager to read more by her.

***This book qualifies for the POC Reading Challenge and the TwentyTen Reading Challenge (completing the "Older Than You" category).

"The Girl Who Fell From the Sky" by Heidi W. Durrow

Summary: Rachel, the daughter of a Danish woman and African American G.I., grew up in Germany.  With her light brown skin and blue eyes, Rachel did not see herself as anything but her parents' child; she was unaware that, to Americans, she was black.  When tragedy strikes her mother and siblings shortly after moving to America, Rachel moves in with her paternal grandmother.  In Portland, Rachel feels alienated from her family and schoolmates, unable to fit into categories of white or black, and she struggles with memories of her mother.  Although told mostly from Rachel's point of view, the novel also follows Rachel's father, her mother's boss, and a young boy who witnessed the family tragedy as Rachel attempts to discover who she is beyond others' labels.

Musings: Durrow has created a unique story that combines a young woman's search for identity with a family's history of shame and secrets.  The novel begins with Rachel narrating her move to Portland and is told in stark, simple prose, much like Annie John (a novel the book is compared to in the cover flap).  The book does not fall into magical realism like Kincaid's work, but it does follow Rachel's thinking as she, unable to reconcile the "new girl" (her new self) with her previous self, dissociates and thinks of herself in third person.  In Portland, Rachel becomes acutely aware of her lack of belonging.  She is "light-skinned-ed;" she "talk[s]" white" and can't help but judge her grandmother for her lack of formal English.  She fails to fall into pre-established categories: "I learn that black people don't have blue eyes.  I learn that I am black.  I have blue eyes.  I put all these new facts into the new girl" (10).

Meanwhile, pieces of Rachel's parents' history are filled in.  Both parents are filled with shame for their inability to protect their children, although their shame comes from different sources.  Rachel's mother exemplifies a woman unable to to accept or actively reject that many Americans do not see her children as her own and see them only as a skin color.

The detachment of the first part of the novel distanced me as a reader, but as Rachel grew, I grew closer to her and her story.  The tragedy piles on thick at times, but the second half of the novel touchingly covers the nuances of Rachel's development: her feelings for her aunt's fiance Drew, her conflicts with her judgmental but well-meaning grandmother, and her relationship with a liberal white college boy.

Durrow's own background closely mirrors Rachel's although this is clearly a work of fiction.  The novel skillfully explores the complexities of racial identity and relationships today.  Despite the slow beginning and excess of tragedy, I'd highly recommend the book.

***This book qualifies for the POC Reading Challenge and the TwentyTen Reading Challenge ("New in 2010" category).

"Fire" by Kristin Cashore

Summary: In this companion to Graceling, the world of the Dells is explored, where animals and people--called monsters--with extraordinary beauty and the ability to control people's minds exist.  Fire is one such monster, and she lives in a secluded area with her childhood friend and lover, Archer.  However, Fire is soon drawn into the oncoming war between the King and rival lords and must decide how she will use her powers.  She must also confront her ambivalence toward her monster father and her feelings for Prince Brigan.

Musings: I really enjoyed Graceling, despite finding the ending unsatisfactorily structured, and had been waiting to read this sort-of prequel for awhile.  Much of what I loved about Fire was also found in Graceling: a strong heroine, a romance filled with pining (and mutual respect), and an interesting fantasy world.  Fire is much like Graceling's Katsa in her independence, her unwillingness to be controlled, and her uncertainty over her power.  Her relationship with Brigan is also much like Katsa's relationship with Po, although the very private development of Katsa and Po's relationship contrasts with the slower and more public relationship of Fire and Brigan.

Fire leans even more toward the "traditional" fantasy side, with emphasis on politics, kingdoms, and large-scale wars, rather than just the magic of the world and characters.  I was a little concerned I wouldn't be interested, but as the novel progressed, I found myself being drawn more toward the characters, even though I cared less about the wars.

Cashore is great at creating a feminist fantasy world, and she does the same in Fire.  There was perhaps more focus on menstruation than another other fantasy book I've read (and I've never seen such debilitating PMS before!), but I like that Cashore focuses on real issues facing women, men, and relationships.

The ending to this novel also felt a little off to me, as did the ending to Graceling, and I didn't quite comprehend the emotion Fire displays through the end.  However, it was a fun read in a world I would love to revisit.

***This book qualifies for the TwentyTen Reading Challenge, completing the "young adult" category.

"The Good Earth" by Pearl S. Buck

Summary: Set in pre-revolutionary China, The Good Earth follows the poor farmer Wang Lung and his dutiful slave wife O-Lan.  From humble beginnings and the brink of starvation and death, Wang Lung brings himself and his family into prosperity and riches.  Wang Lung remains committed to his land and his family above all else, but as he ages, he finds the wealth does not bring him as much satisfaction as he had hoped.

Musings:  The Good Earth is my first book for the Books of the Century Challenge.  The novel was the number one fiction bestseller in 1931, the year of its publication, and it also appears under the "critically acclaimed and historically significant" category for that year.  Although my husband read the novel in high school, I was never exposed to it and picked it up because the title sounded familiar, even though I had no idea what the book was about.  I think I had some vague notion of it being along the lines of a Barbara Kingsolver novel (oops), so I was surprised when it was instead about the rise and fall of a Chinese farmer.

The novel has an interesting place in history.  Buck, a white woman born in West Virginia, spent the majority of her life, including her childhood, in China.  That she wrote a novel from the point of view of a Chinese man caused some controversy at the time, and I tried to keep its authorial origin in mind as I read.  In the '30s this novel was most Americans' only glimpse into life in China, and undoubtedly Buck has only portrayed one view of Chinese life at the time.  Nonetheless, I did not find the characters to be caricatures, although I wonder what effect some of the practices (polygamy, feet binding, the favoring of male children) would have had on the American audience.  In any case, the novel must be more evenhanded than the movie version, made in 1937, which has a white cast playing the Chinese characters.

Wang Lung, the protagonist, is a serious and committed man, and he is largely successful in life through his diligence and luck.  He is to be admired for his dedication and achievements where others have failed, but his greatness weakness is his pride.  Shame over his low-bred country origins cause him to lose sight of what he truly loves, which is his land.  In turn, the pride, but not the love of the soil, is passed on to his sons.  He leaves a legacy behind, but not one that he most wants.

O-Lan is a significantly less-explored character than Wang Lung, primarily because the story is told from Wang-Lung's point of view.  Despite economically managing the household, bearing him three sons, and famously returning to work in the fields hours after giving birth, O-Lan is given little thought by Wang Lung.  Her diligence and thriftiness when they are starving and her quick stealing are largely the reasons for Wang Lung's future success, but he is blinded by social expectations of women at that time and fails to see his wife.  He praises himself for not beating or berating her as others do, but she is never granted a place as a person.  The reader, for the most part, fails to see her as more than an extraordinarily capable, but overlooked, wife.

The deeply rooted and pervasive sexism evidenced by the characters is present throughout the novel, and very little is done by the characters to challenge it, although Buck clearly is sympathetic to the women.  Another teacher I know has a great term for judging texts of a certain era by modern standards--retrojecting--and, truthfully, I had a difficult time balancing recognizing the realities of the time with my personal sense of injustice for the ways in which many women suffered.

The novel is written surprisingly simply.  The book is clearly famous for the story it tells, rather than any particular strength of writing style or depth of meaning.  Although set in China, its themes are largely universal: sexism, inter-generational conflict, class conflict, the effects of pride and shame.  Although I felt little connection to any of the characters, the narrative swept me quickly along.

I know this was a high school classic for many years, but I don't know how regularly it is taught today.  I would imagine there are stronger options now, but it would be interesting to compare the novel to one written by a Chinese author set in the same time period. The Good Earth might also be an interesting way to explore Americans' views of China during the early part of the 20th century.

***This book qualifies for the Books of the Century Challenge, the POC Reading Challenge, and the TwentyTen Reading Challenge ("Older Than You" category).

"Ash" by Malinda Lo

Summary: In this retelling of "Cinderella," Ash grew up hearing stories of fairies from her mother.  When her mother dies and her father then dies shortly after remarrying, Ash is forced to move in with her mean stepmother and stepsisters back in the city.  Nevertheless, Ash still finds herself drawn to the Woods and the fairy Sidhean while also feeling connection to the King's Huntress, Kaisa.

Musings: I picked this book up on recommendation from Angela at Bookish Blather, and it was also a good book with which to begin the GLBT Challenge 2010 that I signed up for yesterday.

This Cinderella story is not just a feminist retelling, for it seeks to subvert the traditional role of romance in fairy tales.  In fact, the Prince plays little role in the story, and the relationships are instead centered between Sidhean and Kaisa.  When it comes time for Ash to make her choice, the choice is obvious.  Although there is attraction to Sidhean because of his power and and allure as a fairy, there is not love--just a feeling of being consumed.  With Kaisa there is respect and mutual acknowledgment, and it's great to see Ash take agency for whom she will love at the end of the novel.

I enjoyed the set-up of this story.  It borrowed from Cinderella without feeling weighed down by sticking too closely to the well-known story.  By taking the focus away from the Prince, Lo is able to give attention to the fairy world and the Huntress' world.

Nevertheless, I just couldn't get into the book.  It felt far too short to cover all that happens and to fully go into the world Lo has created.  The novel begins when Ash is twelve, and a hundred pages later, she is already eighteen.  It felt as though I was reading a summary of all that happened rather than an actual book. I wanted more of what Ash was thinking or how she was feeling.  The twelve-year-old Ash didn't seem much different than the eighteen-year-old.

Ash's relationship with Sidhean seemed to come suddenly, and I didn't fully understand the fairy world.  The descriptions of Sidhean also sounded so similar to the current typical descriptions of vampires that I found it hard to think of him otherwise.

The most compelling part of the novel is Ash's relationship with Kaisa, and I wish there had been more time spent on them.  (And by the way, what's with all these similar sounding names?  Hunger Games' Katniss, Graceling's Katsa, Ash's Kaisa)  Ash's ending with Sidhean didn't quite fit together with me, but I loved the way she came to Kaisa.

*** Whew!  This book qualifies for the TwentyTen Reading Challenge (Bad Bloggers category), the GLBT Reading Challenge 2010, and the POC Reading Challenge.

"The God of Small Things" by Arundhati Roy

Summary: Twins Rahel and Estha have been separated for over twenty years, ever since the tragedy involving their cousin Sophie Mol's death (and the Terror) that occurred when they were young.  Covering various points in time, the novel focuses on the relationships between and histories of a family: the twins Rahel and Estha, their divorced mother Ammu, their uncle Chacko, their grandmother Mamachi, and their greataunt Baby Kochamma.  The relationships are pulled and challenged by personal desires and social customs.  Taking place in a small town in India, the novel focuses on the events leading up to and the aftermath of the tragedy which consumed all their lives.

Musings:  Sometimes I feel a bit intimidated when reading "Good Books" (those books esteemed by major award lists and literary critics).  I feel the need to think about the book differently, or focus on the writing in a way I normally might not, instead of just focusing on the book itself.  Although The God of Small Things doesn't have the literary weight of, say, Shakespeare or Faulkner or something, I felt somewhat overburdened with the need to recognize the "lush, lyrical" (according to back cover) nature of the book.  This was completely my own fault and kept me from enjoying Roy's novel as much as I think I could have.

Nonetheless, when I did let myself get into the book, I was taken away by the rich world and characters Roy has created.  The characters, even the children, have complex emotions and feelings, and the way in which the children connect with the world felt authentic.  The novel is full of sensual description which affects both the characters and the reader.

A significant amount of time is spent building up to and revealing the tragedy that has destroyed the characters' lives.  I thought I would become increasingly annoyed with the repeated portents of doom (much as I did in The Book Thief), but as the novel went on, the references to future and past became more natural.  The tragedy, when it unfolds, is more poignant and less sensational than I had first imagined, which made it all the more potent.

The ending of the novel focuses on two personal relationships, and I found those scenes the most touching and moving of the book.  At its core, the The God of Small Things focuses on the struggles between personal desires and convention and the small choices that forever change lives.

**This book fulfills the first part of the "T.B.R." category of the TwentyTen Reading Challenge.  I picked it up at the NCTE convention in November, and it's been sitting on my shelf ever since.

"The Ask and the Answer" by Patrick Ness

Summary: The Ask and the Answer picks up right where The Knife of Never Letting Go ends.  Todd and Viola have finally made it to the town of Haven, only to discover that Mayor Prentiss and his army have already taken over the town and renamed it New Prentisstown.  Once in New Prentisstown, Todd and Viola are separated.  As Mayor Prentiss garners more control of the town, Todd finds himself drawn into the Mayor's activities--whether he wants to or not.  Meanwhile, Viola begins her involvement with The Answer, a women's counter-resistance organization bent on bringing down Prentiss.  Along the way both Todd and Viola must face difficult decisions about what is right.

Musings: The Knife of Never Letting Go, the first book in the trilogy,  is a non-stop engrossing action book, and The Ask and the Answer is no different.  I had planned to read for an hour or two, but instead I read the entire novel straight through and let out a bit of a shriek when the book ended with a great cliffhanger.

The first novel follows Todd's thoughts, but The Ask and the Answer alternates between Todd and Viola, which gives the reader a good view of what is happening on both sides. This book also goes even darker than the first novel.  Its use of violence and torture was disturbing, but fortunately was used to make a point rather than just be explicit.  Nevertheless, it probably is the most violent YA book I've read.

When I teach Lord of the Flies to my 9th graders, we discuss the Stanford prison experiment and Milgram's obedience experiment as a way of considering why "good" people do bad things and why "good" people obey terrible orders.  The Ask and the Answer address both of these issues head on.  I was impressed with the way Ness was able to blur the lines between the hero and the enemy, the right actions and the wrong.  He also skillfully addresses issues like slavery, pointing out that feeling bad about being a slave-owner doesn't make one any less of a slave-owner.

The complexities of the characters' choices alone make this a worthwhile read, but the novel also has interesting characters and a quickly moving plot.  I may have even enjoyed this more than the first novel, which gives me great hopes for the last book in the series, Monsters of Men, due out later this year.

**This book fulfills the first part of the "young adult" category of the TwentyTen Reading Challenge.

TwentyTen Reading Challenge

My first ever challenge was the YA Dystopian Challenge hosted by Bart's Bookshelf.  I've been way behind on considering challenges for this year, but I thought I'd make my second challenge another one by Bart.  Although I'd probably meet a lot of the requirements for this challenge on my own, I still thought it was a fun challenge with some categories I might not otherwise actively consider.

Here are the requirements:

TwentyTen Reading Challenge
The aim is to read a total 20 books, over ten categories, in 2010. Full details on categories and rules available at the challenge site.

The categories and my participation:

1. Young Adult

- The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness

- Fire by Kristin Cashore

2. T.B.R. (I altered this requirement a bit since I don't own that many books: books must be already residents of your bookshelves as of 1/1/10)

- The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

- The Last Town on Earth by Thomas Mullen

  3. Shiny & New (bought new or purchased for you new)

- Peter & Max by Bill Willingham (won new in a giveaway)

- Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness (purchased new)

4. Bad Bloggers (books picked up purely on the recommendation of another blogger)

- Ash by Malinda Lo (recommended by Angela at Bookish Blather)

- Marcelo in the Real World by Francisco X. Stork (recommended by Reading in Color)

5. Charity (bought or purchased for you from charity shops)

6. New in 2010 (books published in 2010)

- The Girl Who Fell from the Sky by Heidi W. Durrow (published Jan. 2010)

- Incarceron by Catherine Fisher (published in the U.S. in Jan. 2010)

7. Older Than You (books published before you were born)

- The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck (published 1931)

- Kindred by Octavia Butler (published in 1979)

8. Win! Win! (books needing to be read for other challenges)

- The Freedom Writers Diary by the Freedom Writers and Erin Gruwell (completes the POC Reading Challenge)

- Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan (completes the GLBT Reading Challenge 2010)

9. Who Are You Again? (books by authors you've never heard of)

- The Lost Books of the Odyssey by Zachary Mason

- The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly

10. Up to You! - (I'm making this category for biographies/autobiographies/memoirs)

- The Northern Lights by Lucy Jago (biography of Kristian Birkeland)

- Monique and the Mango Rains by Kris Holloway (memoir of a Peace Corp volunteer in Mali)