"Bootleg: Murder, Moonshine, and the Lawless Years of Prohibition" by Karen Blumenthal

This book is one of the few nonfiction titles included in this year's "Books for the Beast" reading list.  A notable book on the recent award lists, I had wondered about its appeal.  Arranged in nine short chapters with a preface, epilogue, glossary and list of sources, this is a high-information book that spans the  far-ranging history of alcohol in America.  Much more so than the title would indicate.  Ms. Blumenthal clearly went above and beyond in her research, using many print resources and archival documents -- and not a single website.  She wrote to famous people alive in the 1920s to get their reflections (most notably, Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens) and collaborated with other experts on the topic, such as writer Catherine Gilbert Murdock.  The result is a fact-filled read that is clear and to-the-point, but not particularly engaging.  Blumenthal avoids the current trend of trying to appeal to teen readers by using contemporary phrasing and emotional overtones.  The writing is very clean -- but boring.  It's almost like a really detailed encyclopedia entry.  She opens with a few pages on the St. Valentine's Day massacre, and one might assume that the colorful aspects of that event might be a hint of things to come -- but no.  Chapter One is a mini-biography of Morris Sheppard, a politician who became the "Father of National Prohibition" in the 1910s.  In Chapter Two, we careen back to the 1700s and get an overview of the history of alcohol in the U.S. (George Washington won his first election by buying drinks for those who showed up to the polls) and move forward as women begin temperance movements in the 1800s.  The information is interesting -- some of the heaviest drinking in this country was in the early 1800s, not during prohibition, as many assume; and public water fountains are a gift to us from one of the early temperance movements -- but the arrangement is haphazard.  The chapter on Morris Sheppard?  Why is it first?  Since most of the book is chronological, it should have been placed in the middle.  Random pieces of information are included, such as the recollections of a boy named Leroy Ostransky.  I thought that maybe this was a lead-up to Leroy becoming a gangster or something, but no, he was just a kid who helped his parents run a bar.  I guess part of this was expectations -- with the title and an opening section on gangland violence, I expected, well, a book that focused on the 1920s.  Only three of the nine chapters actually detail the period of Prohibition, and only one of those -- a section on Al Capone -- details some of the horrific violence that took place at this time.  I learned a lot ... for instance, NASCAR has roots in the illegal transport of liquor during Prohibition ... but it wasn't really to the point.  So, who is the book for?  Certainly, not students studying this topic (unless they have a true interest and want to wind their way through a lot of narrative).  The vocabulary is also a bit high for the average 7th grader who does reports on Prohibition (in my district).  It's a book that is far heavier on the politics than the sensationalism.  Older readers interested in the subject or who enjoy the little nuggets along the way might like it.  And it did make me think.  Although not mentioned, the current debate over legalizing marijuana is taking an extraordinarily similar path through legislatures.  Arguments for legalization -- putting violent drug traffickers out of business, lowering the prison population and allowing the government to moderate the use -- are almost identical to the arguments made for the repeal of the 18th Amendment.  Arguments against legalization of marijuana are also very similar -- endangerment to the young, health concerns and inability to control abuse once it is accepted by the population at large.  The epilogue notes that Prohibition worked, to a great degree, and cites the acceptance of alcohol use to be a social problem in the country today ... with high levels of alcoholism and our government overwhelmed by the associated crime and deaths connected to chemical abuse.  In any case, the book has sat on my shelves for a year now with only one check-out.  We'll see if continued assignments on the topic will result in more use.  Well-indexed, it could be used for research by a patient student -- dry though the material may be (pun intended).

"Orchards" by Holly Thompson

This isn't so much an old story re-told as a contemporary story re-envisioned.  Cyber-bullying resulting in suicide has been all over the media of late.  What is different here is that this tale is told from the point of view of one of the perpetrators, and it is told in verse.  This has several advantages.  First, we see the many complexities of this current trend -- noting that perhaps the biggest problem is our inability to see the point of view of others.  Second, the choice to make this a verse novel fits well with the emotional tone of the book -- with the lead character struggling, often, to form sentences as she works through the events that took place at the end of her 8th grade year.  Kana Goldberg is an Asian/Jewish girl sent off to relatives in Japan for the summer to escape the swirling allegations in her suburban town of "who did what to who."  While the book is called "Orchards", it could easily have been called "Because of You" -- the title of the first chapter.  As Kana makes her internal and external journey forward, she is perpetually haunted by the ghost of "Ruth" -- the victim.  Much of the story is told in second person, with Kana framing her comments directly towards Ruth.  Every action, every thought -- anger, empathy, sadness, is grounded in her constant sense of loss surrounding Ruth's death.  Arranged in short chapters, the book is beautifully illustrated and very "Japanese" in its simplicity.  In many ways, Kana's journey is a spiritual one as she works to make sense of it all.  Like most verse novels, it could be a fast read, but the weight of what you are reading requires you to pause and reflect.  Lovely and to-the-point without hitting you over the head, it is a worthwhile selection.

“Jasper Jones” by Craig Silvey

Joining fellow Aussies Markus Zusak, Margo Lanagan and Melina Marchetta, Craig Silvey delivers this highly literary, rich, disturbing tale. Charlie Bucktin is a 13 year-old boy living in a mining town far south of Perth. The year is 1965 and tensions are high during a hot summer in a place where drinking and corporal punishment are frequent in families. Despite all of this, Charlie’s existence is fairly average – hanging out with his friend Jeffrey, making gross jokes, using foul language and cheering Jeffrey on as he tries to make the cut on the local Cricket team. Charlie’s innocence is shattered by a knock at his bedroom window one night. The local bad boy, Jasper Jones, has a horrific secret and needs Charlie’s help. Charlie, being a generally kind and well-meaning kid, travels into the bush with Jasper, only to have his understanding of the world shattered. Unlike most novels, this one opens with the critical event and much of the rest of the book is falling action. The focus of the tale is not really on what happens that one night, but Charlie’s attempt to make sense of the world around him when the veil of propriety falls away. Charlie is a reader and a writer and a lover of words. Much of the book is his internal monologue, seeking to put meaning to meaningless violence, hoping that there is a reason for events rather than accept that there is evil in the world. If this had been an American tale, I would say that Charlie is too mature for his years – he reflects on joy as a palpable yet indefinable element of life, and waxes on for over a page as to what kind of person says the word “sorry” and the weight that the word contains. But this isn’t an American novel. It is quintessentially Australian. While events of the time (the Vietnam War, the rise of Muhammad Ali, the talk of communists and space flights) were achingly familiar to me, much of the book describes a world so alien it feels like a different planet. Charlie drinks coffee throughout the day – flavored with sweetened condensed milk, courtesy of his parents. He hates the heat of summer but enjoys being out of school. Of course, summer includes Christmas and New Years! His relationship with Jeffrey is filled with enough colloquialisms and slang to make your head spin. I was able to parse out most of it based on context but the Cricket matches, described in detail, are still a huge mystery to me. The landscape includes native trees and kangaroo and Charlie’s growing friendship with Jasper may seem a little “bromance-like” to U.S. readers but I suspect it is more reflective of the difference in cultures. The concepts in the book are ones you can reflect on a good deal while reading. The dense nature of the writing explains my slow pacing in getting through it, although I was driven to turn the page and see if Charlie would find any resolution. I was only able to complete one or two of the nine chapters a day as I needed time to digest and review each before moving on. Powerful, real and deeply poignant, this one, like “Code Name Verity” will haunt me a while. It is creepy, but on a far deeper level than you might expect. Enjoy a layered story that goes so many places you don’t expect.

“How They Croaked: The Awful Ends of the Awfully Famous” by Georgia Bragg, illustrated by Kevin O'Malley

Laugh-out-loud funny, the “voice” of this book is edgy, snarky, and perfectly “teen.” With warnings aplenty about the grossness yet-to-come, the focus on genitalia, bodily fluids and poop is sure to excite almost any YA reader, particularly those of the male persuasion. Arranged in the order of expiration, each famous person is treated to a four-page (give or take) synopsis of their life, death, and things we've learned since they “croaked.” After this, you get a two-page addendum of sorts which might explain more about leeching or tuberculosis, for example. Throughout, there are great illustrations which highlight various parts of the tale, such as the dog that Marie Antoinette had to give up at the border when traveling to Paris. At the back, you actually get two bibliographies – a list of the academic sources used to write the book, and a second listing of “lighter” sources for students to learn more – including white-washed children's biographies, sketchy websites and Wikipedia. I think you have to take into account what this book is designed for, and what it isn't. This isn't a research item, it's a coffee-table book for teens that is best used to peak interest. Although you could blast through the 161 pages in a day, I found it more enjoyable to read a couple of entries, then come back to it now and then. That's all on the plus side. On the negative, there are serious concerns about facts with books like this. Trying to streamline history in a way to make it “cool” often results in a kind of dumbing-down that is somewhat cringe-worthy. Take, for instance, the comment that none of Henry VIII's wives stayed around very long – contradicted by the fact that he was married to his first wife for more than 20 years, something noted in the addendum to that section. The Henry entry also neglects to mention that the king “leaked” out of his coffin in the end – odd for a book that delights in anything nasty. In the section on Elizabeth I, the addendum states that only nine Shakespeare plays were written during her lifetime (um, no, the bulk of the canon was written and performed during her reign, including “The Merry Wives of Windsor” – written specifically for the Queen, who wanted Falstaff resurrected after she saw “Henry V”). In the James Garfield section, Lee Harvey Oswald is listed as a Presidential Assassin, but with a question-mark. It goes on and on. The love letters between Napoleon and Josephine? Ignored. The would-be emperor is made out to be a jerk, and in the black-and-white world of teen books, a bad guy can't also be someone who had a hot, steamy love-affair. What is inferred or left off is a general issue throughout. For example, Beethoven is virtually the only major composer to see significant recognition in his lifetime – and surely this was the reason that he had the financial means to address ongoing health issues – but it is never mentioned. It is also hinted at that he was gay – maybe, maybe not (what I've read leads me to lean on the side of not) but it's more for the smart-a** factor that this part of his personal life is mentioned, rather than anything relevant to the story. The author also waxes on about how lives were cut short by bad diagnoses, poor treatment and horrific diseases, but many in this book lived far beyond what they should have, given the life-expectancy of their times and the health issues they faced. One inexplicable omission in the book is coverage of Catherine the Great, whose death (in rumor, if not fact) was certainly as notorious as her life. Guess they wanted to keep the whole thing PG. In the end, it's an enjoyable book that will attract and engage teen readers. If they are serious about learning more, the academic resources listed in the back will be great places to start. I just have to work on not taking it too seriously.

“The Disenchantments” by Nina LaCour

Another slice-of-life/more memoir-than-fiction book, this one holds together better than others I have read of late. The week-long tale covers a post-high school road trip by artist guy Colby and three girls who make up the neo-Riot Grrl band, “The Disenchantments.” The title of the band, and book, is extremely apropos, given that this is a week where the young people must let go of their made-up dreams and embrace the uncertainty of the real world. This isn’t so much a romance book as an anti-romance book – Colby’s plans with his best friend, Bev, are shattered quickly, leaving all four occupants of a tripped-out, ancient VW bus to contemplate their fates as they travel to low-rent bars in small towns during a farewell tour. The charm of the book is the road trip. Quintessential in our collective dreaming about life, road trips are the ultimate “go-do” for almost everyone I have ever met. Real charm is found in the quirky and delightful people they meet, the conversations and reflections they have along the way, and their efforts to make an impact on the places they visit even as the trip changes them on a visceral level. The experiences here struck me as universal, and they are a huge part of why the book left me with such a strong impression. I didn’t love it – more happens internally with Colby than externally with the story, but the characters are strong and their “longing” drew me in. Thinking about my own personal need to just get out of Dodge and have some adventures made this a perfect pick for this moment in my life. While well-written, and with tremendous detail chronicling, well, everything, there were a couple of things that nagged. First – the book is a little exhausting to read. With no chapter breaks (the only breaks you get are between days, but even that pretense is dropped mid-week) this felt like stream of consciousness. There were no natural stopping points to step away and consider what you have taken in so far. The result was a pressing need to read straight through – and it is not a short book. I have the luxury right now of doing that, so I was able to finish it in a couple of days, but my “normal” life involves very short spurts to read. I would have liked the opportunity to tuck in the bookmark and not feel like I was leaving in the middle of things. Since the entire book is essentially about one question, I knew I wouldn’t get the answers I wanted until the end, so eventually I just crashed and did a marathon read. There were also two, somewhat glaring, inconsistencies (in a book that cataloged every minute of every day). One is a forgotten amp, which leads our intrepid protagonist to make a major alteration to his plan. The amp is retrieved, but then he careens off in another direction and it is never quite clear how the thing ends up at the next location. Did they haul it across a horse farm? Leave it on the bus for someone else to retrieve in Portland? We never find out.  Also, less glaring, but curious, an important tattoo image appears several times but is treated differently in each instance. The first time, a cell-phone picture is taken and sent to Colby’s dad. The second time, the tattoo is more important, as it has a huge influence on Colby, but he doesn’t record the image. More odd, than anything. In any case, this is a book of dreams. If you dream about shaking your life up, taking some risks, and maybe discovering a new road to travel, it’s the perfect pick. As the writer herself says, “There is something about distance, being removed from what’s familiar, that lets things happen.”

“Everybody Sees the Ants” by A.S. King

Lucky Linderman is having a rough go of it. Suffering tremendous violence at the hands of the local bully while his disaffected parents seem to tune him out entirely, he struggles with issues of his role, his manhood and his purpose. School officials also turn a blind eye and put the emPHAsis on the wrong sylLAble with their efforts. Extraordinarily vivid dreams connect him with a grandfather lost decades ago in the Vietnam War and mysterious ants surround his imagination like his own personal pep squad. When things get really bad, his mother yanks him out of town to stay with relatives who definitely don’t put the “fun” in dysfunctional. All of this seems like it would make for a pretty bleak, dark tale. While there are bleak and dark aspects to it, Lucky’s 15 year-old snark and his grandfather’s wisdom takes this from being a depressing story to a hopeful – and occasionally funny – one. I’ve recently written a number of reviews of books where I felt too much “randomness” kept the tales from pulling together. In the case of this book, the randomness, and serious weirdness, dominates … but all of these disparate elements have a purpose, and the way the whole thing comes together is fairly brilliant … enough to have me staying up late at night to finish the book. Much like Libba Bray’s “Going Bovine” this is a story that keeps you guessing as to where it is going. Is it realistic fiction? Maybe. Is Lucky mentally unbalanced? Possibly. Is there a fantastical element or two that don’t really seem clear at first? Yes, definitely. It wasn’t the easiest book to get into – the timeline swings wildly from Lucky’s previous year as a high school Freshman to his present – a miserable summer – to his long-ago past, when a dying grandmother charged him to find and bring home his POW/MIA grandfather from a foreign jungle. Interspersed with this are a series of lucid dreams chronicling Lucky’s growth into maturity as he works to save his grandfather, who is an ever-changing decrepit corpse-like figure with significant insight into life. The dreams are symbolism, metaphor, whatever you want to believe they are, but, like the ants, they are also a survival mechanism Lucky needs to move himself forward. You can’t help but like this young man, whose honesty, observations and forthright comments make you want to reach out and pat him on the back. He desperately wants to do the right thing but has been so deeply abused that it nearly paralyzes him. All the other characters in the book are written in complex ways as well. The adult figures, in particular, are deeply flawed, but very human. The novel includes lengthy appendices – an interview with the author conducted by fellow Printz winner Paolo Bacigalupi; an excerpt of her next book, “Ask the Passengers”; and a discussion guide. The discussion questions are clearly geared towards classroom activities, but the strong (realistic) language of the protagonist and the subjects touched on, including rape, drug abuse, suicide and “The Vagina Monologues” makes it doubtful that most teachers would select it as a class novel. This is unfortunate, as the story is layered, more so than most YA selections, and has not a single theme but a series of them – all intertwined and impacting on each other. Perhaps the discussion guide could be used with a bookclub? In any case, I not only really liked this book, but I learned a lot more about the military draft and the ground war in Vietnam – and I was alive back then. I can only imagine how our students, who only read about the war in history books, would appreciate Lucky’s insight on an event he is both separated from yet inexorably tied to. It is a rich book, with lots of “nuggets” to take away. Lucky’s face is damaged in an attack and he notes that the scab goes from looking like Ohio, to West Virginia, to Pennsylvania, etc. This reinforces the reviewers comments that Lucky is in some ways an “Everyman” that exists in all the high schools in America. In one of the most poignant and prophetic statements in the book, Lucky’s grandfather notes that the soldiers in his war are so young that they learn to hate before they learn to love. It is a powerful thought in a story replete with reflections that are likely to touch you in some way. Brava, Ms. King. A job very well done.

“WinterTown” story and art by Stephen Emond

Ehh. Following up on the well-reviewed “Happyface” (which I have not read) comes Stephen Emond’s semi-romance between Evan and Lucy, a couple that may or may not be working against fates to come together. Their childhood friendship has devolved into a two-week winter-break get-together ever since Lucy’s dysfunctional family split apart, sending her to live in the south with a mother more concerned about her next boyfriend than the welfare of her child. Evan looks forward to their limited time together – relaxing into an old, comfy relationship in a sea of New England snow – but recognizes that this visit, during his pressure-filled Senior year of High School, has the two of them at very different places in life. With a strong desire to be an artist (drawings and comics fill the book), he struggles with his father’s demands that he apply to the most demanding colleges so that he can become a chip off the old block. Lucy, living nearly on her own, has fallen into some scary behavior and is too sad and angry to find comfort in a world that now seems alien to her. The book takes place (mostly) over this one two-week period and has a fair amount of angst as the two would-be lovers struggle to connect. On the plus side, the characters are strong and it is refreshing to see a romantic story with a male lead. Supplemental characters, such as the gay friends, the parents and grandparents, are well-filled out and the tendency to stereotype them is mostly avoided. It makes the novel feel real, which might explain the kind of messy, non-linear feel to the book. The drawings enrich the story by underpinning the tone and the title “WinterTown” becomes obvious as a theme when you compare the fake holiday town Evan’s dad puts up each year with the kind of distant view of the city which Lucy sees outside of her plane window. It is a “tonal” novel overall. Events don’t run smoothly and there are a lot of random bits that just don’t seem to fit – it’s not clear, for instance, as to how/where Lucy gets her plane ticket to come up for the visit as her mother is not currently in the picture. Another disconnect is the comic excerpt at the end of each chapter. The two young people have created a world in their joint comic “Aelysthia,” but the storyline in the comic doesn’t further the narrative, rather it seems to be an esoteric comment on the latest fight between the two leads. Aelysthia is supposed to be “instantly recognizable” by a sun that vomits, but that image is never included in any of the strips until the lengthy addendum at the end of the book. The result is a choppy story that doesn’t so much draw you in as it challenges you to figure out what is happening. I didn’t feel like I was entering Evan’s world, I felt like I was spying on a slice of his life. It didn’t engender me to the story and I didn’t feel overly compelled to push through it as it was coming off as yet another one of those semi-autobiographical fiction-but-not-fiction novels I dislike … there are just too many “inside references” that I can’t understand as reader. That being said, Lucy’s take on “the perfect night” is terrific and Evan’s grandmother is the kind of person we should all aspire to be. Worth it, I guess, if you are a guy who appreciates a certain amount of randomness, longs for a girl you don’t think you can have, and wonders whether the path your family has set for you is the right one.

“Anna and the French Kiss” by Stephanie Perkins

After a number of dark and dense books, I needed a little break. “Anna and the French Kiss” provided the perfect respite. Frothy and light, this romance novel includes every cliché available, but somehow manages to side-step predictable plot development with fresh characters that are both real and interesting. Anna has been “dumped” by her nuevo-riche father into the American School of Paris for her Senior year of high school. Resentful at leaving her friends, family and a possible beau behind in her hometown of Atlanta, she encounters a very different world where she understands neither the language nor the culture. Despite this, Anna is taken into a social group quite quickly, and develops a monster crush on a guy who is American, French and British. With wavy brown locks of hair and that delicious accent, Anna is head-over-heels in no time. There are complications, of course, and more than one occasion where she waxes on about “the hair” and the guy’s “perfect beauty” a bit much for my taste. There are also the inevitable “longing/aching” passages on what she “can’t have.” It’s this kind of thing that is usually such a turn-off for me in these kinds of books. Ms. Perkins seems to be aware of this tendency, however, and has made Anna and her friends diverse and layered. Anna, herself, is aware of her over-the-top responses, and works to mitigate them, or at least laugh at herself now and then. When given a chance to make a wish near Notre Dame, she considers “the boy” but settles for “I wish for the thing that is best for me.” I had to admire the young woman for such a grounded sense of self-awareness. Romance stories will always be romance stories … there is a couple you *know* should be together, but in the meantime, they make a lot of mistakes (Anna makes enough that I occasionally wanted to reach through the pages and throttle her a tad) but there is also a kind of promise in this genre that it all works out in the end. Stephanie Perkins manages to avoid sappy whiny-ness (well, there is a little, but not a lot) by making this a tale of Anna’s growth as a person. She arrives in Paris as an immature 17 year-old, and finishes the year as a much wiser, more circumspect and secure 18 year-old. Cue “La Vie en Rose” and you have a book that every Romance fan (or a non-fan, such as myself) and every Francophile will adore. Ooo-la-la!  Jouir de.