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Thursday, January 20, 2011
Vesper: Just Your Average, Ordinary, Everyday Paranormal
7:29 PM
(Image from Amazon)Sixteen-year-old Emily Webb is not the kind of girl that sneaks out of the house, talks
her way into night clubs, steals other girls' boyfriends, or flirts shamelessly with older men. At least she wasn't. But lately, every night actually, the little homebody who geeks out over cheesy horror flicks is turning into something ... else. It's like she's possessed by some bad girl supervillain. And it's freaking her out. Big time.
her way into night clubs, steals other girls' boyfriends, or flirts shamelessly with older men. At least she wasn't. But lately, every night actually, the little homebody who geeks out over cheesy horror flicks is turning into something ... else. It's like she's possessed by some bad girl supervillain. And it's freaking her out. Big time. Emily can't explain what's happening - not to her dad, not to her best friend, not even to herself. All she knows is that Nighttime Emily is ruining Daytime Emily's life. Thanks to her wild, nocturnal adventures, she's even more of an outcast than she used to be. It doesn't help that she's got the sudden urge to smell every guy she sees. Something is seriously wrong with her, but what?
The more Emily learns about her "condition," the more unbelievable the situation becomes. Is she being controlled by a classmate who was recently killed? Or is something even weirder going on? Who are the shadowy men following her? And, most importantly, who - or what - is Emily Webb?
Vesper, the first YA novel from middle grade fantasy writer Jeff Sampson, hits bookshelves in four days. I've seen some buzz and, frankly, am wondering what's the big deal. While the book is better written than some of the paranormals I've read lately, it brings absolutely nothing new to the genre. Basically, it's a mash-up of Twilight and the t.v. show Heroes (you know how Jessica has an evil twin? It's kind of like that), with a heavy dose of Shiver. Like I said, it's not bad, just not different enough to stand out. Plus, it suffers from character undevelopment (although I like Spencer anyway), melodrama (high school - 'nuf said), and some not-so-realistic plot curves (Emily sneaks out, steals a car, is out all night, etc. and her loving parents don't notice or care?). I have to admit, though, that I liked the ending. It made me want to read the sequel (Havoc, coming in 2012) despite not loving the first book. Funny how that happens sometimes. All in all, this one was pretty meh for me. I'm getting burned out on this genre and keep waiting for something new to pop up. Guess I'll just have to keep waiting ...
(Readalikes: It's like every other YA paranormal out there. Just take your pick.)
Grade: C
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), violence, and depictions of underrage drinking/partying
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Vesper from the generous folks at HarperCollins/Balzar+Bray. Thank you!
Lush, Pitch-Perfect Yarn the Kind Zora Herself Would Appreciate
8:04 AM
(Image from Indiebound)
" ... Zora had eyes to see the world and the wits to express what she saw" (87).
No one can spin a yarn quite like young Zora Neale Hurston. Her imagination gives life to everything around her - flowers become royal guards, lightning bugs turn into fairie
s, and ordinary swamp gators become shape-shifting monsters. She sees little Eatonville, Florida, in ways no one else does. Ten-year-old Carrie Jones, Zora's best friend, doesn't always believe her friend's tales, but she knows one thing: life's a whole lot more interesting with Zora around. When a drifter is found murdered by the railroad tracks, everybody's got a theory about the crime. Zora's may seem far-fetched, but she's dead serious - the vicious killing co
uld only be the work of the gator man/monster. No one else in the small town could be capable of such cruelty. While the idea seems solid to Zora and more or less so to Carrie, they can't convince the adults in town to take them seriously. Everyone in Eatonville knows Zora's a teller of tales. Carrie's not sure about the whole thing, but when she sees the monster for herself, she realizes that this isn't just another one of Zora's stories. Since no one else believes in the ferocious gator man, it's up to the girls and their friend Teddy to trap the villainous animal. In their attempt to catch the mysterious beast, the kids stumble onto secrets Eatonville's been hiding for years, secrets that will make things just about as clear as swamp water ...Zora and Me, a fictionalized account of Hurston's childhood based on her stories and recollections, is a lush, magical story that celebrates the wonders - and dangers - of a child's imagination. The authors, Victoria Bond and T.R. Simon, do an admirable job of bringing the colorful writer to life while not romanticizing or glossing over some of the less pleasant facts of her girlhood (her father's explosive temper, for one). Zora is presented as a willful child, feisty and independent, who fearlessly insists on doing her own thing. Nevertheless, she's loved by the people of Eatonville, who enjoy her bright, curious nature. Tentative Carrie is the perfect counterpoint to Zora - she appreciates her friend's creativity while at the same time recognizing the dark side of Zora's constant flights of fancy. With a unique setting (Eatonville was the first incorporated black town in the U.S.), a compelling adventure, pitch-perfect prose, and a cast of warm, colorful characters, Zora and Me gets everything right. It's a tribute, a mystery, but, most of all, the kind of yarn that would thrill Zora Neale Hurston herself.
*To learn more about the book, the authors and about Zora Neale Hurston, visit the book's excellent website here.
(Readalikes: I can't think of anything off the top of my head. You?)
Grade: B+
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for mild language (including several uses of the N-word), some mature subject matter, and some violence (not graphic)
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Zora and Me from the generous folks at Candlewick Press. Thank you!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Watery Dystopian World Makes For Wide-Eyed, Gnawed-Fingernail Adventure
5:29 AM
(Image from Indiebound)
Ever since massive flooding drowned the old world in mucky water, killing off most of
Earth's population, chaos reigns in what were once civilized countries. Gentle England of yore no longer exists, replaced by a hardscrabble land where food, clean water, and safety are luxuries few can afford. Life on the mainland is so bleak that its residents will offer anything, even their children, to escape. Young boys are taken to The Island, a place rumored to have adequate shelter, plenty of food, and guaranteed protection for kids willing to work for it. When Baz wins a coveted spot on the transport ship, he's elated. He'll miss his father, but life can only be better on The Island. How could it possibly be worse?
Earth's population, chaos reigns in what were once civilized countries. Gentle England of yore no longer exists, replaced by a hardscrabble land where food, clean water, and safety are luxuries few can afford. Life on the mainland is so bleak that its residents will offer anything, even their children, to escape. Young boys are taken to The Island, a place rumored to have adequate shelter, plenty of food, and guaranteed protection for kids willing to work for it. When Baz wins a coveted spot on the transport ship, he's elated. He'll miss his father, but life can only be better on The Island. How could it possibly be worse?
It doesn't take long for Baz and the other newbie, 13-year-old Ray, to figure out that X-Isle ain't exactly Eden. Once a posh girl's school, the island's crumbling buildings now house a trio of sadistic brothers; Preacher John, their father and self-appointed prophet; the ragtag group of boys who do the family's bidding; the diving equipment necessary to the Ecks' salvage business; and rooms full of canned food, water bottles, pots, pans and other relics from the world Baz once knew. The treasure's locked up, of course, away from the greedy stomachs of starving boys, who work from dawn to dusk sorting the bounty for the Eck brothers to sell on the mainland. Bullied by the older "capos," the boys get one tin of food a day, sleep on soiled pallets, and are forced to slave away at whatever tasks the Ecks assign them.
Maybe his stomach's fuller on X-Isle than it was on the mainland, but Baz is getting tired of his island prison. It's becoming clear that, despite what the Ecks tell their families, boys never leave the island. When Preacher John's fanaticism reaches terrifying new heights, Baz and his friends know they have to escape. But nothing in this new world is easy. Overthrowing the bizarre little island kingdom is tantamount to suicide. And for what? The nightmare that passes for freedom on the mainland? It's up to the boys to decide, up to the boys to survive.
X-Isle, Steve Augarde's gritty YA dystopian novel, introduces a harsh new world where the battle for survival has become as desperate and bloody as any war. Young Baz represents innocence lost and found as he struggles to preserve his humanity in the face of grim reality. He - along with the rest of the island's lost boys - is instantly empathetic, his story constantly compelling. Not all of the tale's surprises are that surprising, but that hardly matters. X-Isle is a tense, action-packed adventure that will appeal to even the most reluctant readers (though they may be put off by the book's bulk). Dystopian fans know the genre's never light and fluffy, and this book's no exception. Still, it's one of those stories that had me racing through the pages with wide eyes and gnawed fingernails, knowing I wouldn't - couldn't - stop until I read every last word.
(Readalikes: Reminded me a little of Ship Breaker by Paolo Bacigalupi)
Grade: B
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 (possibly R) for language (no F-bombs, although Augarde is British so I'm not familiar with all the expressions he uses), violence, and some sexual content
To the FTC, with love: Another library
finefind
Monday, January 17, 2011
Tiger Mother Infuriates This Rabbit Mommy
1:00 AM
(Image from Indiebound)
What do you call a mother who forces her 10-year-old to practice playing the violin seve
n hours a day, then screams at her, says she's "trash," and accuses her of shaming the family if she dares to complain? I'll tell you who I'd be calling - Child Protective Services. But, according to Amy Chua, author of the new memoir Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, the scenario I described is just another day in the trenches for a Chinese mother (which she defines as someone who parents in a Chinese manner, regardless of ethnicity or nationality). What we Westerners would label abuse, they identify as "parenting." Lest you think Chua is exaggerating or making assumptions based on cultural stereotypes, let me tell you straight up: the mother I'm talking about is her. And, although her parents immigrated from China (via The Philippines) in 1960, she's American. Having been reared in a strict Chinese household herself, she chose to bring her daughters up in the same unyielding manner, a process which included bullying them both into becoming musicians. Honest and unapologetic, her book chronicles the years she spent trying and - in the case of her youngest - failing to make her girls into exactly what she wanted them to be.
n hours a day, then screams at her, says she's "trash," and accuses her of shaming the family if she dares to complain? I'll tell you who I'd be calling - Child Protective Services. But, according to Amy Chua, author of the new memoir Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, the scenario I described is just another day in the trenches for a Chinese mother (which she defines as someone who parents in a Chinese manner, regardless of ethnicity or nationality). What we Westerners would label abuse, they identify as "parenting." Lest you think Chua is exaggerating or making assumptions based on cultural stereotypes, let me tell you straight up: the mother I'm talking about is her. And, although her parents immigrated from China (via The Philippines) in 1960, she's American. Having been reared in a strict Chinese household herself, she chose to bring her daughters up in the same unyielding manner, a process which included bullying them both into becoming musicians. Honest and unapologetic, her book chronicles the years she spent trying and - in the case of her youngest - failing to make her girls into exactly what she wanted them to be.
Chua, a Yale law professor and author of two previous books, is married to Jed Rubenfeld, also a law professor and writer. Although Rubenfeld had the gall to believe kids should enjoy childhood, he allowed Chua to rear their young daughters in a traditional Chinese way (whether or not he is in real life, Chua portrays him as a spineless doormat). This, according to Amy, involved pushing their girls into not only getting perfect grades but also playing the piano and violin. A weekly lesson or two was not enough for Chua, who aimed to get her daughters into Julliard and beyond. While Sophia, the eldest of the girls, practiced more or less willingly, the youngest wanted nothing to do with music. Stunned by the child's rebellion, Chua yelled, screamed, threatened, mocked, shamed, bribed and otherwise coerced young Lulu into playing the violin. And not just at home, but on vacation, in intense lessons with world-class musicians, in auditions before stern judges, during "wasted" school periods - for hours and hours and hours every day.
As a result of Chua's constant pushing, the girls did become accomplished musicians, collecting awards, honors and accolades that bought their mother's affection. Chua remembers Saturdays, which the girls spent taking lessons at the Neighborhood Music School, as "the highlight of my week" (45, emphasis added by me) and the Spring her daughters performed to great admiration as "some of the best days of my life" (49, emphasis added by me). When Lulu finally breaks down, an event which causes Chua to (very reluctantly) let her quit violin, Chua recalls how she, not Lulu, "wandered around the house like a person who'd lost their ... reason for living" (213). As much as the author insists that "everything I do is unequivocally 100% for my daughters" (148), it's pretty obvious from the descriptions of her obsessive, controlling, self-serving behavior that the only person she does anything for is herself.
Considering the subtitle of the book ("This is a story about a mother, two daughters, and two dogs. This was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising kids than Western ones. But instead, it's about a bitter clash of cultures, a fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen-year-old."), I expected Chua to experience the kind of epiphany that makes her realize she's ruining her life with her own ridiculousness. And it is. Kinda. Because her daughter's unhappiness does eventually wake Chua up, but not enough to make her admit that by stubbornly insisting on perfection, she might have destroyed her child's life. There's no self-deprecating humor here, no humble admittance of mistakes, just a half-hearted acknowledgment that Chua's dictatorial parenting style might not work for every child.
Since I can't stop ranting about this book, you might think I detested it. Not so. I found it fascinating. Fascinating in the same way I think TLC's My Strange Addiction is fascinating, but still ... It's always interesting to get a glimpse into someone else's psyche. Plus, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is inarguably compelling, well-written and provocative. So, no, I didn't hate it. I just have issues with the behavior and conclusions Chua discusses in the book. While I do agree with Chua that American parents are often alarmingly overindulgent, I also don't think saying, "All decent parents want to do what's best for their children. The Chinese just have a totally different idea of how to do that" (63) is enough to excuse Chua's monstrous behavior. She may be Chinese (-American), but she is also (presumably) human (not that you'll see much evidence of that in her book). This, in the end, was what I found most disturbing about the book - not the writing, the editing, the construction, the content, or even the cover art, it was the author herself. I couldn't stand her. What I really wanted to do was rip the "It's All About Me" sticker off her forehead, crush her rose-colored glasses under my heel and force her to face reality. Call me a consummate Westerner, but I can't stand people who willingly shred a child's self-esteem in order to bolster their own. I guess I'm just American like that.
(Incidentally, I was born in the Year of the Rabbit which, according to the ultimate authority [i.e. Wikipedia] means I am sensitive, flexible, and amiable, pretty much the exact opposite of a Tiger. Might that have something to do with my strong reaction to this book?)
(Readalikes: Although I've only ever read her fiction, Amy Tan's books come to mind.)
Grade: B
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for one use of strong language (no F-bombs) and the verbal/emotional abuse of children
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother from the owners of TLC Book Tours, for whom this review was written. Thank you!
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