"David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits and the Art of Battling Giants" by Malcolm Gladwell

Funny thing.  This has been the fall of "not Tipping Point".  First, I read Contagious, which was a book that went to long lengths to describe how it *wasn't* Tipping Point (it so wasn't, but not in the way the author meant) and now I read another Gladwell, and can't help feel that it, too, is a pale comparison.  It's not that this book is bad -- Gladwell is a terrific writer, and even when you totally disagree with him, you feel "pulled" to his point of view.  His writing style is fun, accessible, smooth and convincing.  But, in this case, just not quite as compelling as -- well, Tipping Point. 

 

SPOILER ALERT

 

There are nine chapters arranged into three sections, each trying to tell the story of how a little guy beat a big guy, often by bucking conventional wisdom.  Like a true journalist, Malcolm Gladwell doesn't just tell each tale, he introduces you to a person for each non-traditional effort, and shows who they are in the midst of the choices and decision-making.  Interestingly enough, some of the people in these vignettes are not successful -- their failures set up the "point" of a given theme.  Therein lies the problem, however.  By discussing failure as often as success, Gladwell strangely seems to undermine the points he is trying to make.  In one chapter, he discusses how two young people failed because these straight-A kids couldn't hack competitive Universities where (gasp) they had hard classes that made them work for "Bs".  Okay, my heart wasn't exactly bleeding here, but then in the next chapter, Gladwell highlights how tough times (Dyslexia, the loss of a parent at a young age) can actually create people who are more resilient.  So -- what's the point?  That the two college kids should have stuck to easier schools to maintain the illusion that they are the smartest people in their sphere?  Or that we acheive greatness when we have to fight to get there?  Gladwell does the same thing when talking about the Civil Rights movement in Birmingham and the Mother's March in Belfast.  He highlights the power of a moment, or a significant image or action, but then undercuts them as manipulated.  While he used many scenarios of interest to me (and some not -- such as sports), he was so wishy-washy that in the end I had no idea what he wants the reader to take away here. 

 

I did giggle a bit at his stabbing of sacred cows -- namely, affirmative action and class-size arguments.  He even uses Brer Rabbit stories -- oh my ...  So, be prepared for a little "discomfort" when reading this.  Nonetheless, he is Gladwell, and David did slay Goliath, so maybe a careful reader can parse out some wisdom for the road.  Not one of his best, but still better than many who copy him.

"Prophecy" by Ellen Oh

Again, low expectations led to a nice surprise.  With echoes of Mulan, Cinder, Xena, and a host of other warrior women stories, this "newbie author" has jumped on the woman-power wagon, but with enough originality to make it a fresh tale.  Kira is a soldier in a mythical Korean time.  She fights demons (by hacking off their heads -- and then black ooze comes out) but struggles with her identity as a female in a society that has certain expectations as to her role.  There is, of course, a prophecy, which is typically ambiguous but is easy to guess from the title and cover art.  In general, this is not a book of subtleties.  Nonetheless, I learned a lot about Korean culture without the book being too didactic, and there is real authenticity in the tone, which is fairly formal throughout.  It is that tone which can make the narrative seem stiff from time to time.  I didn't take issue with it -- but the language of the book did not "flow" as much as it had hard stops and starts.  One device I wasn't fond of were the repeated efforts to jump into Kira's dreams and not have the reader realize they were reading a dream sequence.  It didn't work since the events were clearly part of a dream, and it made transitions clunky.  Other than that, it was enjoyable, and had a good bit of action -- enough to entertain your basic online gamer.  What with the decapitations, archery and occasional groin kick (yes, the "good guys" deal these out from time to time ... unusual) it is the kind of story that should grab and hold readers who like their fiction visceral.  We will see the author, a local, in December.  I look forward to meeting her.

"Before Wings" by Beth Goobie

I knew nothing about this book by Canadian Beth Goobie other than the fact that it has shown up on multiple recommended lists for teens.  This being said, it took me a long time, a really long time, to figure out what it was about.  In many ways, it is an "atmosphere" novel -- the images and prose are lyric and striking with the "action" of the story being somewhat less important.  There is Adrien, a snarky, surly teenage girl dealing with a big health issue, the ultimately stereotypical summer camp run by Adrien's stoic, distant aunt, the roomate who is a complete opposite to Adrien and a cute boy named Paul.  There is also a bully, a lot of mayflies, some ghosts and a little "magical realism."  So, it is a book that is many things.  Because it was well-written, I was able to keep moving through it even though Adrien's behavior made me want to smack her from time to time (maybe that is just a thing with 15 year-olds ... felt the same way when Harry Potter turned 15).  At one point, I did think that Adrien would have been more appealing as a protagonist if it were first-person narration instead of third-person -- at least then we could know the thought processes driving this (w)itchy young lady.  On a small note, I wasn't wild about the cursing/smoking aspects of the novel, which seemed to be inserted, rather than organic.  The big problem, for me, is that the different threads never really pulled together as much as they just sat there.  As a realistic novel, it's good.  The characters are "alive" and complex and seem to go through the kinds of journeys that teens face, particularly in making friends.  As a romance, I guess it's fine.  I don't like romance and found this element of the tale to be predictable and sappy.  As a mystery, it's not really a "big resolve" as a "okay, so what?" (this is, in large part, because of an ending that seemed rushed and a bad guy that was fairly one-dimensional).  As magical realism, however, I was intrigued.  Adrien's interactions with the spirits was powerful, and, although inconsistent at times, was the most engaging part of the tale to me.  Paul's experiences were less interesting, and I liked his family and bike-riding sides a good bit more than the "scary dreams" he obsessed over.  So, in the end, it's not bad, it's not good ... I think you get out of it what you bring to it. 

"The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate" by Jacqueline Kelly

Funny how things happen.  Just read the nonfiction title about the Darwin family, didn't like it, then picked up this one, a fictional take using similar themes, and really enjoyed it.  Must have Evolution on the brain.  Nonetheless, this was the book that "Charles and Emma" should have been.  For a fictional story, it was very real, very personal, and very engaging.  Calpurnia Tate (known as Callie Vee by most of her family) is a young girl on the brink.  She is on the brink of turning 12, the brink of living in a new century, and spends the first part of the book complaining of the Texas heat at her family's pecan orchid in 1899.  Slogging through the expectations of what it meant to be a "young lady" of the time, Calpurnia feels a pull towards the untraditional, but can't put a name to it until she crosses paths with her cantankerous, odd-ball grandfather, who opens up a larger world for her in the form of science, literature, and history.  The book is well-written and compelling -- interesting given the slow pacing and high-end vocabulary that includes more than a few references to the work and theories of "Mr. Darwin."  I think the draw is Calpurnia's voice, which speaks to us, in the modern age, in a way that is extremely relatable.  She is a fully-drawn, complex girl, who questions, yearns, and seeks to understand.  The family dynamics are not black and white and could be translated to any time period, with irritating brothers, a mom who struggles and a dad whose work makes him conspicously absent.  It is a rich tale, one that has few major actions, but lots of meaningful conversations and subtle allusions.  There is laughter, too, particularly the chapter about the turkeys, which made me guffaw, even with my vegetarian sensibilities.  My only worry with the book has to do with who will read it.  The 11 year-old protagonist is too young for most older students to pick it up, but this isn't a book for 11 year-olds (unless they are very good readers).  It is long, deep and uses a lot of those 50 cent words I had to slow down for.  Younger students would like Calpurnia and her crazy brothers, but I think more mature readers bring something to the novel that would help them appreciate it more.  In any case, the copy I borrowed had been checked out frequently, so I shouldn't fear.  A good book almost always finds its way into the right hands.  Forget the stuffy and erudite tone with some Newbery Honors, this one has real soul.

"Charles and Emma: The Darwin's Leap of Faith" by Deborah Heiligman

Once again, I was stymied by expectations.  I was prepared to like this book.  It won a ton of awards when it came out and anything about Charles Darwin has to be interesting, yes?  Well, maybe.  And maybe not.  The premise is good.  Charles Darwin's voyage revolutionized his entire belief system ... about nature, about God, about life.  But he waited 20 years to publish his theories.  In the meantime, he married a woman of deeply held Christian beliefs, had children, and wrestled with the discoveries he had made.  Because he wrote vociferously in his notebooks, and because it was a time of letters (oh, what will happen to the ephemeral records of the modern age?), the author is able to piece together a very complete picture of these 20 years -- of Darwin's fear of marriage and ultimate happiness with it, of the complexities that parenthood brought to Darwin's life in an age of high infant mortality.  The problem is -- it just doesn't go anywhere.  Each chapter, told in stiff prose mimicking the formality of the era, is simply a re-hash of journals and letters with supposition filling in any gaps.  It's not a story as much as a very detailed timeline.  There was absolutely no page-turning quotient for me and it dragged so much I had a difficult time finishing it.  The overly pedantic tone was also a turn-off in the initial chapters.  Yes, from a research perspective, it is strong -- hence the awards, I would guess.  But in the end, it wasn't engaging unless you are the kind of person fascinated by the kind of leather covering that was used on Darwin's journals (a bit of minutiae mentioned repeatedly).  And isn't that what we look for in a book, nonfiction or otherwise?  Something that moves us? For me, this just came off as a glorified set of encyclopedia entries. 

"Two Boys Kissing" by David Levithan

Magnificent.  David Levithan is an exceptionally good writer who comes up with unique stories told in interesting ways.  (I would say he's a god, but I've seen him ... he's a quiet, almost shy Jewish man from NYC who looks far younger than his age ... not exactly "god-like").  "Every Day," his tale of an entity called "A" who wakes up in a different 16 year-old body each day, was intriguing.  Conceptionally, the book had me thinking about identity and how we define who we are.  "Two Boys Kissing" is even better.  Some of the most lyric prose I have ever encountered, it literally grabbed me from the opening sentences and didn't let go.  Without chapters, it flowed on so smoothly and beautifully, I finished it in two sittings because I simply could not put it down.  The story is personal -- the tale of eight young gay men working to find their way in the world -- but it is also told with amazing gravitas.  The novel is narrated by a chorus of gay men who died of AIDS at the height of the epidemic.  The chorus speaks directly to the reader, making the novel incredibly powerful.  I can't even give it a hanky count, as I'm pretty sure I went through half a box.  Easily my #1 book this year.  Bravo, Mr. Levithan, you not only did it again, you did it even better.

"Between Shades of Gray" by Ruth Sepetys

A long time ago, I swore off Holocaust novels.  Much like Dystopia today, there was a time when tales of this kind dominated the YA market.  This story, however, is a little different.  It is about the fictional Lina, who is a Lithuanian caught up in the Russian annexation of Baltic Republics during World War II.  Russia invaded Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, killing some 20 million people, nearly a third of those country's populations.  Some were murdered outright, but many more were sent to prisons or labor camps where they perished of disease and starvation over the next few decades.  To this day, Russia denies this ever occurred.  The U.S., in their fight against Germany, was aligned with Russia and seemingly turned a blind eye.  Ms. Sepetys did her homework.  Although fictionalized, the story reads as truth.  It is horrific and brutal but not painful to read.  Each event is covered in a brief, almost analytical way, but not dwelled upon.  The characters are drawn in fairly flat stereotypes -- being described as "the bald man," "the grouchy lady," or "the girl with the dolly," for instance.  It helps the reader distance themselves from the action of the novel.  In most cases, we only learn in retrospect that the person had dimensions to them.  Much of that perspective comes from the narrative voice of Lina, who seems young for her 15 years, until you remember that this is 1941, an age long before Social Media helped sophisticate our children.  Interestingly enough, the book does have lyric flow to it ... in a series of flashbacks to "normal life" as Lina tries to piece together the clues of what was to come.  It creates a colorful, rich backdrop to the stark sameness of the gray that dominates her new world.  A fast read with a strong page-turning quotient, this one is not only a worthy read, but one that brings an atrocity to light in an accessible way.  Definitely a must read.

"Contagious: Why Things Catch On" by Jonah Berger

I was hesitant to read this book club title, given that "The Tipping Point" is one of my favorite books, and this sounded strikingly similar.  The author doesn't beat around the bush, letting us know in the introduction that "The Tipping Point" is a very good read, but alludes to it being both incomplete and unscientific.  In short, Berger thinks his theories are better, and restates that, in various ways, throughout the book.  The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks.  Nonetheless, his is an interesting set of ideas, which could be taken as a drill-down of "The Tipping Point."  Where Gladwell looked at trends, Mr. Berger looks at human behavior within those trends, particularly with an eye to marketing.  He creates a six-point plan which he calls "STEPPS."  While not a scientific formula, he believes these six elements are the major factors at play when we pass on information, essentially making something "popular."  They are:  Social Currency, Triggers, Emotion, Making Something Public, Practical Value and Stories.  Much like that oft-mentioned other book, he uses good examples which support his premise and keep the concepts very accessible.  It is a readable book, and one that most probably complements other similar titles on the market, such as "How We Decide" and Daniel Pink's "Drive."  The only quibbles I have with it are the epilogue, which, like any good college paper, simply restates the points made in the previous chapters, and a sense that Mr. Berger is, in true Animal Farm style, "more right" than others.  The bottom line is that if we truly understood human behavior, marketers would all be rich and our society would be very different.  People may be predictable en masse, but we are also messy and complex.  We don't always act the way sociologists think we will, which is what makes it all so exciting ... we can be unpredictable now and then.  Which is why my next pop-psych book will likely be Malcolm Gladwell's "Outliers."  I guess it is Berger's turn to determine whether Gladwell is predictable, or someone who helps shape public opinion.

"The Runaway King" by Jennifer Nielsen

With publisher pressure on YA authors these days, one wonders if it is really up to the writers as to how long their stories run.  In the case of this tale, a sequel proves unfortunate.  The first book in the series introduced us to Sage, a clever street urchin with surprising survival skills.  The book was well-written, fresh, and a solid fantasy which I very much liked.  As one of my students said, however, the sequel is derivative ... of the first book.  The young man said it perfectly, in that this book feels like the exact same story as the first in terms of plot.  It is also very slow.  After a big fight in chapter one, almost nothing happens for the next half of the novel.  Sage is moody, he pouts, he's not nice to others, and then he is finally pressed into action (which becomes quite violent at times).  The last third of the tale is fine, but by then it is hard to care.  With apologies to Ms. Nielsen, I'm probably skipping out on book number three.

“Cress” by Marissa Meyer

Yay!  So often, with series, the energy of the first book cannot be sustained.  Not so with Meyer’s “Lunar Chronicles” which has tripled its “cast” in this third book and is still a fun page-turner with a nicely original spin on some very old stories (Fairy Tales in a Science Fiction future).  Cress, the newest character in the series, is, in some ways, more intriguing to me than Scarlet, the lead in the second novel.  Trapped in isolation, she is child, savant, and hopeless dreamer.  It is easy to like her amidst Cinder’s hardness and Scarlet’s pathos.  Other characters join the fray and one gets a sense of “Beauty and the Beast” meets “Star Wars” in this latest installment.  Meyer does a terrific job of balancing the paths of each character but maintaining enough forward momentum that you can’t wait until there is resolution.  Sadly, resolution will not be found here, as a fourth, yet-to-be published, book is on the horizon.  Nonetheless, some of my frustrations with hanging plotlines from the first book are resolved a bit, and there is some loss as well.  I can only hope that when all is said and done, Marissa Meyer will fulfill my need to read “And they lived happily ever after” as she wraps things up.  At the moment, that doesn’t seem likely, but this is a series that has defied expectations, time and time again.  Given how satisfying this book was, I do believe it can happen …

“Divergent” by Veronica Roth

Here’s for low expectations.  I went in thinking this was yet another pale “Hunger Games” rip-off, only to be pleasantly surprised.  It is Dystopian, and it does have a plucky, if not sometimes whiny and nearly indestructible heroine (think Jack Bauer).  There is a cute guy with a dark side and a fair number of predictable plotlines, but all that being said, I really liked it.  The book is well-written, the actual plot somewhat unique – unique enough that it did not feel “derivative” (as one of my students said) and the characters are well-rounded, complex enough to hold my interest.  The book is, as a whole, quite a page-turner.  It is easy to see the teen appeal – good girl goes bad, complete with dangerous stunts, black clothes and tattoos, but I never felt like Ms. Roth talks down to her readers.  A fairly young author herself, the voices come across as authentic, even as these teens struggle to figure out their role in life.  I liked it enough that I now want to see the movie, with images in my head strongly in place.  A warning for readers … it is violent.  There are a number of brawls that result in significant injury, and a sharp item gouged into one young man’s face.  These incidences are described in very specific detail.  With all books, readers can, and do, choose to breeze through sections that might disturb them, but like other Dystopic tales, it might be best to give a head’s up to younger readers.

“Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore” by Robin Sloan

This adult novel won an Alex Award in 2014 (best adult titles for the YA market) and, like all good librarians, I have been intrigued with the title.  A popular pick this Spring with Juniors reading “Millennial Fiction” I decided to check it out over the long days of summer.  Quirky, fun and an excellent example of “modern” literature, this is one of those rare stories that celebrates both books and technology.  Meet Clay, an unemployed graphic designer looking for work after the dot.com meltdown in 2009.  Wandering the streets of San Francisco, he discovers the oddest of bookstores – and is able to get a graveyard shift there.  Mysteries combine with gentle adventure in a tale that takes more turns than you would ever expect.  Think “a less bloody Da Vinci code” for the nerdy, geeky set.  This is not to say that the book is without a creep factor – I almost jumped out of bed one night when I turned off the lights and discovered that the pale yellow bookstacks on the cover glow in the dark.  What makes it “modern”?  Clay personifies the Millennial generation – he loves his MacBook, falls for a girl who works at Google, has a roommate who designs for ILM and has the staccato, Starbucks-fueled energy typical of a generation more interested in solving puzzles and living in the moment than, you know, eating regular meals or settling down.  Every character in the book is fully filled out, with rich descriptions that don’t drag down the narrative.  Names are unique and clearly carefully selected (or created).  There is Ajax, Kat, Deckle, Igor, Lapin, Imbert, Grone, Neel, Federov and more.  Many of the names of the characters refer back to Claude Garamont and Jean Jannon, whose sixteenth century work brought us the Garamont typeface (fictionalized as “Gerritszoon” here).  The essential questions are eventually answered, but it is very much the journey that counts.  For all of you who read the ending first … don’t.  This is a story about discovery as a process, not an end-point.  There is also a hysterical epilogue.  It’s an engaging book that is not particularly literary, a complex plot that is not overly deep.  Bottom line is that it is hard to describe a story with a fairly fresh twist without giving anything away – but I say, take the plunge and give it a shot.  Chances are you will like it … geek or not.

“Darth Paper Strikes Back” by Tom Angleberger

Much like the films, the second book in the Origami Yoda series is almost better than the first.  It is darker and has more complicated themes.  Well, darker for an Origami Yoda story, anyway – which is to say, not that dark.  Once again, we have the strange kid named Dwight, and his Origami Yoda finger puppet dispensing amazingly sage advice.  The crew is about to enter 7^th grade, their hopes and dreams full of the promise of “middle middle school” – but disaster strikes in the form of the evil bully Harvey, who has fashioned his own finger puppet … of Darth Paper (you know the background music here, right?)  In any case, this sequel lives up to all the raves received by the first book, and will leave you wanting more.  Bravo, again, Mr. Angleberger, for showing that teen angst doesn’t have to be so angsty.

“Page by Paige” and “Will & Whit” by Laura Lee Gulledge

Read these two as the author is under consideration for a visit next year.

"Page by Paige” was not what I expected!  Given the cover, I thought “Middle School book” with girl drama.  It’s far more layered and complex than that, with artwork that is ***stunning*** and subtle.  Page is a 15 year-old whose family has just moved from rural Virginia to New York City.  An artist, like her Grandmother, she feels lost, overwhelmed and uninspired.  She finds some “words of wisdom” in her Grandmother’s journal and each piece of advice chronicles a step in her journey outward – a journey towards new goals, new friends, and creativity.  The panels are made up in standard blocks with your basic bubbles, but Gulledge goes further, creating full-page drawings that break out of frame, and clever “commentary” in square boxes or small print that hugely adds to the narrative.  The emotional tone of the artwork is immensely powerful and Grandmother’s advice is not only “right on” but can be applied to life as a whole.  This one was completely satisfying, a new "winner" in graphic novels IMHO, and one I plan on recommending to a great number of folks.

“Will & Whit” is the second effort by Laura Lee Gulledge and was “okay” but didn’t knock my socks off to the same degree.  It is similar in style – a seventeen year-old lives with her cool aunt in Charlottesville, VA, running an antiques shop and hanging out with her quirky friends the summer before Senior Year.  The girl, “Will,” previously lost her parents in a car accident, a subject that should underpin the tale but is only touched on briefly.  The drawings are both clear-cut and subtle, with the main character’s fears appearing as pointillist shadows around her.  Will feels a little un-moored, and the artwork still has layers beyond layers of meaning … but without the structure of Grandma’s notes, the story doesn’t move much.  There is a storm named “Whitney,” old friends, new friends, and a carnival of sorts, but not a lot really happens.  If the point of drama is for a character to face challenges, move forward and grow, then the crux of the story – Will dealing with the loss of her parents, should be predominant.  Instead, I left the book feeling like the entire message was “So you had some loss – time to move on.”  I just didn’t see Will’s struggle with this significant gap in her life being grounded and real.  Having just gone through the loss of a colleague, the emotions felt superficial and glossed over.  Can’t help but feel that the author has, perhaps, not lived through the sudden or unexpected death of a loved one???  I also had issues with two of the characters -- Noel, a friend, and Desmond, a possible love interest – looking so similar I didn’t know who was appearing in the frame until their name was stated by another character.

Maybe lightening only strikes once.  Clearly, “Page by Paige” was something Laura Lee Gulledge was driven to write.  She is also a deeply talented artist.  Whether or not she becomes a strong graphic novelist will depend on how she develops as a story-teller.

"So B. It" by Sarah Weeks

Recommended by students for over a year, I finally got around to reading this unusual and touching book.  Heidi is a girl surrounded by mystery.  Found in her mother's arms on the doorstep of a woman with Agoraphobia, she grows up surrounded by Bernadette, a caring eccentric, and her mom, whose limited vocabulary makes it clear that she is mentally challenged.  The problem is that Heidi has questions ... about who she is and where she came from.  The big question of the book is whether answering these questions will bring you happiness.  Told in short chapters, each headed by one of Heidi's mom's words (mom has only 23 words/phrases in her vocabulary), the prose is accessible yet highly lyrical.  Heidi's questions, and some of her answers, are life lessons -- nuggets that you collect along the way -- seeds that will stay with you long after putting the book down.  While this is a good middle school pick, there is a depth to it that transcends age.  I can imagine that anyone reading it would be both surprised and impressed by the tale.  One thing I liked it that it is not "clean."  Everything kind of happens as it should, I guess, and the ending does wrap stuff up, but the issues aren't black and white.  People and events are complex, and that complexity gives the novel shadings that left me wondering about the moral implications -- what is "right" and what is "good."  The book made me think and question.  It was also a joy to read.  You can't ask for better than that.

“The Forest of Hands and Teeth” by Carrie Ryan

Bad librarian.  Sick of Dystopia, I grabbed this one, thinking it was a fantasy.  Because I *judged the book by its cover*!  Yeah, it’s Dystopia.  Think “Handmaid’s Tale” meets “World War Z” and you have the gist.  Mary lives in a small, gated village where nuns and their strict adherence to religion determine nearly every aspect of life.  Betrothed to a young man she does not love (Mary longs for his brother), the girl yearns to know what is beyond the forest limiting her world.  Well, the answer, of course, is zombies.  You were going there … right?  Yeah.  Anyway, despite the weird melding of themes, Carrie Ryan’s writing is lyrical, strong, and deeply haunting.  The question is … who will read this book?  Those who like the aching/longing teen girl drama won’t like the zombie violence and bloodshed, and those who like zombies won’t like the slow pacing and meditative quality of the tale.  It is also bleak.  Bleak with a capital “B.”  There is no light here – the grays on the cover seem to imbue every aspect of the story.  It’s a zombie apocalypse and because of that it is easy to say, without spoilers, that many many people die in fairly unpleasant and graphic ways.  That’s a given.  Having never read a zombie book, I wasn’t sure what I would think, but as a topic it wasn’t onerous.  Where I struggled with the story was with Mary herself.  While curious and rebellious, she does not have the spirit of Katniss, and bows to convention more than you might think.  It is only at the end of the tale that we see the seeds of a warrior spirit.  Mary is also selfish – a point made by no less than three different characters in the book.  Given the limits of her life, she has a lot, but she continues pushing on towards a goal that is ephemeral, at best.  Her survival is so paramount that in the end, we don’t even know the fates of some of the characters.  They remain trapped as Mary moves on.  (There is also the strange question of how she fights zombies and climbs ropes wearing a skirt, but I’ll let that one go.)  She also has a fascination with the creatures … nearly obsessing over them.  I wasn’t sure what to make of this story element, understanding it and not understanding it all at the same time.  With a “Giver”-like ending I wasn’t sure where this was going, but yes, there are additional novels (although each seems to be about a different character and setting …).  So, if thoughtful introspection mixed with battling the undead is your thing, go for it!

"Racing in the Rain: My Life as a Dog" by Garth Stein

This one is confusing on a lot of levels.  First, it turns out there are two versions.  There is the book I read, called "Racing in the Rain:  My Life as a Dog" and there is the "adult" version "The Art of Racing in the Rain:  A Novel."  Keep in mind ... they are the ***exact same book*** but the titles and cover art have been altered to make it appear as if one is more mature. (The copy I read had an interview in the back, along with family photos.  This is not in the adult version but easily found online.)  I've recently decided, while pulling "adult" books for a teacher, that you make a book "adult" by putting the words "A Novel" after the title (just in case anyone is confused.)  Personally, I find this practice to be pretentious and unnecessary, as if doing it gives the work a level of literary quality it wouldn't have otherwise, but the bigger point is that this isn't particulalry a book for the young -- no matter how many adorable dog faces you put on the cover.  I picked it up because I wanted something light after all the dystopia.  It wasn't light.  The cover made me think there was something cute or funny about the book ... and it is in no way light or funny.  I'm not saying the book was bad.  Once I got into what it *was* I enjoyed it to a degree, but the expectation made the beginning parts difficult. 

This is a tale of Denny, a down-on-his-luck race-car driver, whose life falls apart with one challenge after another.  What makes the book intriquing, however, is that Denny's life is told through the eyes of his dog, Enzo.  Enzo has all the dry wit of a New Yorker columnist and his observations about life are nothing if not erudite.  With enough symbolism, metaphor and life lessons to thrill an English teacher to the bone (pun intended) this one makes for a high level read that takes a lot of time to absorb -- surprising, given the short chapters and succinct vocabulary.  The book spent time on the NY Times bestseller list, I think, because it is both literary and yet accessible.  Although it reads as a fictionalized autobiography, Garth Stein, the author, really "pieced" it together from a lot of different elements ... his own racing career and love of dogs, a poem he heard at a conference, the struggles of a colleague and a documentary from Mongolia that stated dogs are reborn as men.  The result is something that nonetheless feels very "real."  Those interested in car racing will also deeply enjoy the detail on that seemingly insane profession.

What I didn't care for as much was the structure of the book.  In theatre, they say that "reflection" is the worst kind of writing, because the drama is lost.  By looking back, you have a strong sense of how the story will play out, and that natural tension of "what is to come" never happens.  This is a book with few surprises, more driven by the nature of the storytelling than a sense of build and climax.  Again, it's not bad, it just had little "driving force" behind it.  There is also a theatre aphorism that you "find the humor" in everything (hence, Shakespeare's gravedigger scene in Hamlet).  There is little humor here, although there are rare moments of joy.

It is a rich novel but not, for me, a hugely engaging one given the predictability (yes, I had the kleenex ready exactly when I knew I had to have it handy).  Nonetheless, should it find the right audience (particularly if you are a pet owner), it will be greatly loved. 

"Steelheart" by Brandon Sanderson

On one hand, I am totally burned out on Dystopian fiction, on the other hand, this was really, really good.   Be forewarned ... this is dark.  Very dark.  In the first chapter we see a super-powered being blow people away, indiscriminately, with the author providing very "specific" detail.  That begins a tale of death, destruction and revenge and very, very big guns.  Teen readers will love the high action, smart deductions by our hero and unexpected twists.  This is superheroes gone bad, but told in a very engaging, clever and somewhat original way.  It's easy to see why the novel has been living on the New York Times bestseller list and is showing up on nearly every recommended list of books this year.  It is a tale that sticks with you, one that, at its core, strongly echoes the saying "power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely."  Deeply told, with an original voice and vision, there is a sequel on the way, so read it soon.

“Better Nate Than Ever” by Tim Federle

Ebullient.  It’s not a word I get to use much but it was very much in the forefront of my thoughts while reading this incredibly delightful book.  Nearly every page leaves you with laughs and an “aww.”  Nate is an 8^th grader who is constantly bullied by classmates and his older brother for being gay because he loves show-tunes and lives to be on Broadway in New York.  Unfortunately, he lives in nowheresville western PA and is decidedly undecided about his sexuality (which I really liked – the idea that this isn’t some YA “problem novel” about his sexual identity, it’s simply about his dreams).  He runs off to NYC to attend an audition for “E.T., the Broadway Musical” and hilarity and misadventures ensue.  Nate’s voice is smart, wry, and exuberant.  His reflections on New York are quintessential and on-target.  Federle manages to perfectly capture those first days people spend in the city – the wonder, shock, and awe; and through the voice of Nate also finds a liberating freedom in it all.  Nate soaks it in and learns quickly how to navigate the insane atmosphere that is central New York city.  He doesn’t seem like a risk-taker but there is something admirable about his “do or die”/“in for a penny, in for a pound” mentality.  Shy, small, a little scared, Nate nonetheless rises to the occasion no matter what the obstacles.  Told mostly in an interior monologue, his thoughts are a careening course of brilliance and touching innocence.  There are some darker parts of the tale, lightly touched on in a couple of later chapters, which ground the whole thing, but in general this was an utter joy to pick up after depressing dystopic story after depressing dystopic story.  Told in short chapters with very funny titles, this one is a page-turning “keeper” (and yes, there is a sequel out already …)

"Battling Boy" by Paul Pope

First Second Press enters the superhero market with this well-reviewed graphic novel.  It's clearly a set-up for a series (our hero, the "boy," goes through only one of his 12 magic t-shirts ... yes, t-shirts ... in this first installment.)  There isn't much meat here.  In 202 pages you basically get three battles and a little exposition in the area of family backgrounds.  To be honest, I'm not sure what this is.  At first it seemed derivative, then a parody, then an homage.  Maybe it's all three.  Battling Boy's father is extremely Thor-like and the realm he comes from looks suspiciously like Asgard.  The dead hero's daughter drives a car that looks a *lot* like a Batmobile and the retro setting seems to be a nod to Dick Tracy (not to mention the strong color palette that nearly jumps off the page at you).  There is a bar scene that George Lucas would appreciate (including a few patrons with, umm, "interesting" appendages ... think PG-13).  It is genuinely funny although I'm not sure if it was intended to be.   Battling Boy's father speaks a regular dialect when acting as a dad, but switches to an elevated tone when the stakes get higher.  I'm thinking it was meant to be so over-the-top to make fun ... at least that's the way I took it.  Names also seem tongue-in-cheek.  One bad guy is named "Sadisto," another "Humbaba."  I giggled myself silly when one police officer mentioned the defecations of the Humbaba, which only eats metal.  Pope gets a good number of thumbs-up here.  The characters are diverse in race and body type.  Women look like women, not Barbie dolls.  Pope almost overdraws faces, creating so many lines and wrinkles that it is clear plastic surgery has never come to this world.  There are some creative monsters, including the "ghouls," who are deeply creepy.  Dialog is painfully light unless you like "Fump," "Foom," "Bzzt," and "Hrngh," among others.  It's got a lot of action, a teen hero who can't figure out how to kill the creatures and at least one hot babe.  It will undoubtedly be a hit.

The "Legend" series by Marie Lu

 

I've been joking with my book club that every book I look at for purchase these days is compared to "Hunger Games."  There is the "Like Hunger Games in a hospital" or "Like Hunger Games for older readers" or "Hunger Games meets Harry Potter."  The comparisons to "Hunger Games" will be inevitable when reading this New York Times best-selling series (coming soon to a multiplex near you) as we live in an era where every Dystopic tale gets told.  The similarities are strong ... one of my students dismissed the series as "too derivative."  The tale centers on two young people in the semi-near future who live under the iron fist of a despotic leader.  There are rebellions, revolutions, loss of life and of loved ones.  There is a starving underclass and a media-saturated upper class that revels in excess.  Marie Lu, like Suzanne Collins, describes a cast of diverse characters who reflect modern society far more than the homogenous characters of YA Lit of the past and gets gold stars for making the female characters as dominant, and strong, as the male characters.  There are differences, however.  "The Republic" is not Panem and the militaristic structure is predominant.  Instead of an angry cat, there is a big, lovable dog.  In "Hunger Games," there is a love triangle that is somewhat secondary to the storyline, here, there are a number of "crushes" but the driving force of the story is a Romeo and Juliet style romance.  At the core of "Hunger Games" is a ripping criticism of modern media and a strong commentary on the value we place on the lives of the young.  The "Legend" series, on the other hand, is about governments and their imperfect nature in the hands of humans.  It is about the many grays in loyalties and relationships.  Characters switch roles throughout the saga and discover life isn't simple or predictable.  Lu takes the opportunity to draw on the many ills of our modern world, from commercialism to online gaming, as our lead characters discover the lands beyond their borders.  Like Asimov in his "Foundation" series, she intimates that truly good societies only come from an invested populace over a long stretch of time.  While both series are very good, I think "Hunger Games" is the better of the two.  It's kind of like the two "Star Wars" franchises.  The first (episodes IV through VI) are simple, clean, and have mass appeal ("Hunger Games").  The second series (episodes I though III) are complex and weighed down by politics ("Legend").  Katniss is a relatable figure -- June, one of the leads in the "Legend" series, is a soldier, and as such, can be distant.  Day, the other lead character whose POV is shared in alternating chapters, is more relatable but his voice weakens a tad as his world turns upside down.  I became somewhat irritated with June's constant calculations and extraordinary clothing descriptions ... eventually wondering if it was about a soldier's training or OCD (a joke).  When Day begins spouting the same level of description, and a character describes "a bad night" in the third book with a film-like vocabulary (you can hear the flashback music as he speaks), I couldn't help but feel the oppressive hand of the author.  The tale is interesting, but, for me, not driving.  I pushed through because I wanted to know how it all turned out.  As I was reading, I was confused as to why the series progressed to a third book when it seemed to come to a natural conclusion at the end of the second.  In retrospect, the third book brings together many threads and wraps up well, but you have to wonder if Lu was pressured by her publishers to expand the story ... it would explain some of the narrative that makes certain sections drag in any otherwise strong tale.  Is it worth it?  Yes.  If Dystopian Fiction is your thing, go for it.  And yes, it should satisfy the cravings of those looking for something "like" Hunger Games.

"Super Human" by Michael Carroll

With an off-putting cover, this one hasn't moved much.  A determined student, however, was persistent in his efforts to get me to read it.  I'm so glad he did.  This is the first of three books to focus on a new crop of super heroes.  Much like those in the DC and Marvel universes, the characters in this book read minds, fly, throw fire and do any number of very cool things.  The entire story takes place over a day and a half (with some Ancient World excerpts) -- switching back and forth between four main characters, all teens.  Hugely action-packed, there is a page-turning quotient, in that you hardly get a breath between one battle and the next.  If asked, I would say this isn't my kind of thing but Carroll manages to weave a real mystery around the events and describes each fight very specifically and somewhat uniquely.  He makes sure that each character fights (or doesn't) in ways that match that person's skills ~and~ personality.  There isn't a whole lot besides action but the characters come off as real and well-rounded, and Carroll does manage to insert some very accurate Science into the whole thing.  The author also gets two thumbs up for making half of his "cast" African American and for giving the female characters some major ***-kicking skills.  My favorite character is Lance, a bad-boy-in-training that you just have to like.  I'll admit -- it's not "literary" in any sense of the word but it is very well written for what it is -- both accessible and engaging.  There are also "quite a number" of hints dropped at the end which will likely pay off in the next installment.  The copy I had contained the first chapter of the next book, a trend publishers are engaging in which is meant to tease the readers.  It works.  Fans of The Tomorrow People, The Avengers, Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and even Star Trek will find this an entertaining romp. 

"Scarlet" by Marissa Meyer

Sadly, I kind of bashed the first book in this series since I didn't realize it *was* a series and I was surprised and felt unsatisfied by the ending.  Now that I do know it is a series (of four books) and have read the second, many of my fears have been  qualmed.  The writing really is excellent.  Meyer has that "page-turning" quotient I love and creates characters that are complex and amazingly real for a Sci Fi Fairytale set hundreds of years in the future.  Meyer's greatest skill, however, is in world-building.  Important for any book, but particularly in Sci Fi, Marissa Meyer's Earth-of-the-future is believable and palpable.  Having met her recently, I get it -- she paints scenes like a filmmaker and it helps the reader to "see" the tale unfolding in front of them. 

I stand by my review of "Cinder,"(Dec 4th, 2012) the first book in the series -- in the sense that Marissa Meyer is a tremendously strong writer who weaves fairytales into SciFi like a master.  It's just that I now appreciate these books as part of a much larger epic.

SPOILER ALERT

For those who read "Cinder" and felt, as I did, that it was a story unfinished -- well, it is.  But Cinder, a character I came to love, doesn't disappear in this second book and new characters weave into the tale so seamlessly that it all makes very deep sense (many, many teasers are in the first book ... a great many of them play out here).  Prince Kai isn't the complete ****-wad I imagined him to be when Cinder ended, and I now look forward to "Cress" and "Winter" -- although "Winter," the last book in the series, isn't due out until next year. 

Keep up the good work, Marissa ... but the publishers should make it clear when something is part of a series ... yes?

“Heaven is Paved With Oreos” by Catherine Gilbert Murdock

I wanted to like this book -- I did.  I had heard good things about Murdock’s writing and liked the premise … a girl is surprised by a summer trip to Rome with her wild and crazy Grandma.  Unfortunately, the book kept stumbling on me.  First and foremost, there is the main character, Sarah, who is supposed to be 14 but comes off as much, much younger.  The overwhelming innocence might play if this was 1970, and the girl was a very sheltered 12, but it just seems unrealistic that any 14 year-old (at least the ones I deal with on a day-to-day basis) would be this clueless.  Not to mention, she’s a fan of Oreos but has never heard of “Cookies and Cream” ice cream?  Maybe I’m just too much of a city girl.  So, that was issue #1.  The second tripping point for me was the Rome section.  It read like an encyclopedic travelogue.  I bought the part about pizza being “ucky” (cuz it has a fried egg in the middle) but the church descriptions sounded like they were lifted from “boring European History 101.”  Then, there is this “blank” that occurs near the end of the Rome trip.  It’s left oblique – Sarah is “too stressed” to even think about it, so we, as the readers, are left out of important knowledge.  When the big reveal happens at home afterwards it feels anticlimactic … not only was I not surprised, but the great mystery wasn’t really a big deal.  The ending … overly sweet and hugely predictable, held no “release” for me as a reader because it didn’t feel like something large had really happened in the book.  Told in diary form, the entire thing felt dated and had little page-turning appeal.  Murdock clearly wanted this to be a contemporary setting, but I can’t help feel that this is yet another semi-autobiographical tale dressed up as fiction.  Some, like Meg Medina, pulled that off well.  Others, like Jack Gantos and, apparently, Catherine Murdock, not so much.  While the characters had some potential the plot didn’t help them be that interesting.  This one is kind of a companion novel to the “Dairy Queen Trilogy” which includes some of the adjacent characters, but I can’t say, at this point, that I’m hot to read them.  Next, please.

“Eleanor & Park” by Rainbow Rowell

Park:  a run-of-the-mill kid.  Not popular, not a loser, just a guy trying to maintain a low profile amidst the vicious cliques in his Midwest high school.  Eleanor:  Eleanor’s got issues.  A messed-up home life and significant bullying at her new school are playing havoc with her sense of self.  The simple act of trying to find a seat on the school bus (which, most teens know, is a major thing) results in these two 16 year-olds being thrown together.  They don’t like each other, then they like each other, then they move beyond like.  It is a love story, but not a mushy, drippy “I luuuuvvv yoooou” story.  Told in alternating voices, Park tries to navigate girls (which is not easy for any 16 year-old boy) and Eleanor tries to move past the emotional damage her family has done to her.  She’s hard, she’s angry, she’s defensive and she doesn’t trust.  Breaking down the walls she has built to protect herself takes the length of the novel, plus some.  Ms. Rowell does some really neat things from a literary perspective to bring the two together.  At first, their voice are separated by chapter breaks, then pages, then paragraphs.  Eventually, their opening thoughts mirror each other.  It’s like watching a poem of people being built in front of your eyes.  Rowell also gets credit for making the adults fairly complex – the Guidance Director at school “gets it” within her limited capacity to make a difference, the parents aren’t universally absent or one-note.  They are all given pasts that color their present, so that the reader can see the elements in who they become.  Park’s parents, in particular, are so layered that when push comes to shove, their reactions are more human and less predictable than you might think.  I also like the setting (1986 to 1987) – maybe it’s cuz I’m old, but there is something endearing about a tale that takes place before cellphones, computers, and all the many ways we distract ourselves today.  Park and Eleanor connect over a Walkman – would they still connect today if it were an iPod?  Hard to know.  It’s not all fiction, however.  Rainbow Rowell (whose picture looks a whole lot like a grown-up version of Eleanor) makes it clear in the acknowledgements that this is her story.  Maybe it is the truth of it that spoke to me, but “endearing” is a word that is tremendously apropos here.  Yes, the very last sentence had me reaching for a tissue – but don’t think you know how it will end.  Mature, interesting, insightful – and deserving of the Printz Honor it received this year.

"Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass" by Meg Medina

This year's Pura Belpre winner is a strong but disturbing tale of school bullying.  Piedad Sanchez, aka "Piddy," has problems.  Her best friend has moved out to the suburbs and she finds herself in a brand new school in Brooklyn at the beginning of her tenth grade year.  Without warning, she is told that "Yaqui Delgado," another student she doesn't even know, is out to get her.  Things go from bad to worse as Piddy tries to navigate this violent, inner-city school and accept the changes happening in her life as she grows up.  It's a dark tale, but not a hopeless one.  Piddy has a good group of people around her, people who help her to find herself ... but not until she has sunk very low.  Ms. Medina gets a thumbs up here for making all of the characters rich and complex.  Piddy is a fifteen year-old who is very real ... moody, mercurial, longing and lost.  It was a book I plowed through, because I simply had to see if things turn out okay.  Not surprisingly, the author's end notes indicate that this is based on her own experiences with a high school bully.  A powerful story, well-told, which is infused with the Latin culture of NYC, it makes for a great book which will capture readers after they pick it up for the provocative title (yes, this book has been "picked up" more than any display book I've ever put out ...). Worthy without being preachy, it is definitely deserving of the Award.  Brava, Meg Medina.

“Sex & Violence: A Novel” by Carrie Mesrobian

WARNING – graphic content and spoilers …

An Honor book in this year's Morris Awards (first-time author of a YA novel), I knew this one was likely to garner some controversy, not only for title but for subject matter.  Always working to be ahead of the curve, I decided to read it so that I could answer any questions, should they arise. 

 

Evan Carter is a teen with both mommy and daddy issues who gets out his many frustrations by having a lot of casual sex with girls as he moves from one boarding school to another.  Real or not, Evan embodies the quintessential stereotype of a teenage boy by spending the better part of his waking hours considering how to “get the girl.”  By the end of the first chapter, however, Evan encounters something new – a massive beat-down for sleeping with the wrong girl.  Evan may have been raped – it's certainly intimated, heavily, throughout the rest of the book, but never acknowledged.  Evan's perpetually absent father takes him to their family home, sitting abandoned on a lakeside in Minnesota, so that the young man can heal.  He spends the summer trying to connect to local teens and smoking copious amounts of marijuana.  Try as I might, I didn't love the book.  There are commendable parts, but a lot to criticize.  Evan's use of the “f-word” (on almost every page) and the constant drug use seemed over-the-top.  While it may be realistic in the teen world, I didn't see it as a necessary element of the story.  A lot is left out, or is vague.  The girl Evan hooked up with is also attacked – the most said is that she “got it from two guys at the same time and may not be able to have kids.”  I'm pretty sure that's physiological impossible.  And the story feels unfinished.  If the point of the book is Evan's healing, then it is successful, but that isn't the whole story.  There is repeated mention of the upcoming trial for Evan's attackers but the tale ends before we get there.  One wonders at Evan's significant memory loss – if he is forced to relive the event at court, would he have to address issues which have been buried?  In a book with strong language and frequent sexual misadventures, it seems like being coy about the heart of Evan's assault is unnatural propriety.  On the other hand, this isn't an ABC Afterschool Special.  Mesrobian gets a thumbs-up for making these characters and their relationships complex.  Evan and his father try, and stumble, and try and stumble again as they work to build lines of communication.  And Evan's potty-mouth and constant toking may seem too much to me, but might be right on the nose for the average teen reader.  There is even a question as to whether Evan has learned his lesson.  Near the end of the book he finds himself back in a situation almost identical to where he was in the beginning.  The difference here is not so much Evan's mindset but the fact that he has learned how to make friends.      The best part of the book, IMHO, are Evan's letters to “Collette” – a therapist encouraged practice to examine his feelings and behaviors in a safe way.  They end each chapter and provide most of the insight on Evan's real internal journey.  Props, also, to Carolrhoda books, who created subtle imprints at the beginning and end of each chapter of splashing water and bathroom tile.  The tile, in particular, is very creepy as it evokes a sense of prison bars, making real the sense Evan has of being “trapped” by the demons created in this attack.  It's a book I think teenagers will like as the voices feel authentic … but I'm not sure it has the “merit” necessary to defend it should there be critics who feel it is “too much.”

 

“Flora & Ulysses: The Illuminating Adventures” by Kate DiCamillo, Illustrated by K.G. Campbell

Kate DiCamillo does it again with this year's Newbery Award Winner.  “Flora & Ulysses” is delightful, laugh-out-loud funny, smart, snarky and definitely different.  Flora Belle Buckman is a cynic.  She is also a fan of “Illustrated Adventures” (much to her mother's frustration) and one of those “too wise for her very young years” kids who uses over-the-top vocabulary and yet remains somewhat innocent about the world.  Like Shirley Temple's many roles, this little girl is seemingly wiser than many of the adults around her.  Flora is the child of divorce and discovers a very unusual friend in the opening pages of this adventure. With lots of details that enrich the personalities we encounter, the book is mostly prose but includes selected panel art at some of the more heightened moments. The thing about DiCamillo's work is that it has an edge.  Much like Roald Dahl, her writing can be enjoyed by the very young but has a darker tone that older readers will get.  It is this darker tone that can be disturbing but gives a certain weight to the characters, a weight not typical in a seemingly simple kid's book.  DiCamillo also gets snaps for making Flora a fairly complex character.  She's tomboyish in her looks and dress but doesn't fit into any particular box.  With threads of mystery and romance weaving throughout the tale, it should have broad appeal for many readers.  The story is successfully brought to a conclusion but not in a tight little bow.  Think “homemade sweater” to get a feel for how these plotlines come together.  It's an animal book that will please fans of all sorts of critters and it's a superhero book with a unique hero.  Brava, Ms. DiCamillo.