"Going Bovine" by Libba Bray

“A Wrinkle in Time” meets a marijuana-infused “Wizard of Oz” in this brilliant novel, the 2010 Printz winner by Libba Bray. Ms. Bray offers up a very different tale than her “Sweet Far Thing” series, this one focusing on a contemporary disaffected teen, 16 year-old Cameron Smith. Cameron is metaphorically dying in the conformity of his world, unaware that actual death is likely coming for him. When an unexpected diagnosis sends his brain into overdrive, we travel with Cameron on a life-changing journey. An early discussion of Schrodinger’s cat sets up the reader to understand that this journey may be real and/or may be metaphorical … but that doesn’t necessarily matter, does it? Cameron grows through his experiences, and many (many many many) fun allusions are made along the way (check out the names of the residents of the CESSNAB institute, or pages 216-217 regarding book banning …) Saying that this novel is both deep and clever is an understatement. If not for its significant length (nearly 500 pages) and a certain inevitable sadness, I could re-read it over and over and find something new each time. Ms. Bray’s relatable style continues with characters that are full-fledged and interesting. She somehow manages to put in surprises even when you know where things are going, and the story is a page-turner with a tremendously compelling storyline … I saw much of it playing out in my head like a film. This is definitely a worthy winner of the Printz Medal – and has the kind of mature content that leaves it utterly ignored by the Newbery folks. Their loss. I’ve already seen this book circulate a good bit and I’m not surprised. Once word gets out, I suspect it will not see the shelf much. The great irony is that, like the Newbery winner, this one deals with the “possibilities” of Physics. Which leaves me to wonder, are we a society in need of escape? Alternate realities and futures? The chance to change our fates? There certainly is a theme out there, and it does make you wonder. (PS, read the opening acknowledgements ... hysterical.)

"When You Reach Me" by Rebecca Stead

This year’s Newbery, like many of them, has a true sweetness to it. Easily a 6th grade book (the protagonists are sixth graders), it is a fast and fun read which I was able to get through in an afternoon. With similarities to Ellen Raskin’s “Westing Game”, it is, at its core, an homage to Madeleine L’Engle’s “A Wrinkle in Time”. If you were one of those people who read and adored the L’Engle book as a child, you will love Ms. Stead’s riff on the theme. If not, the book may come of as a “huh?”

Miranda is 12 year-old girl living in New York City in 1979. She goes to school near Times Square and has the typical ups and downs with friends, trying to navigate the changing landscape as boys discover that girls are actually a little different (!) I like the fact that unlike many of the books I have read recently, Miranda actually sounds like a 12 year-old. Her narrative voice speeds through thoughts and observes the world around her with a young girl’s confusion and sardonic humor (and much of my “laugh-out-loud” moments came from her takes on adult behavior). Miranda’s favorite book is “A Wrinkle in Time.” She reads it, and re-reads it, and re-re-reads it – carrying it around with her until the little paperback is near to shredded. While this book has a realistic premise, the denouement definitely harkens back to L’Engle and has a satisfying, if not surprising, twist. The writing is clean and straightforward and Miranda’s journey is engaging and delightfully “normal”. The home situation is not depressing (yay!) and much of it felt like the 70s I grew up in (unlike a previous Newbery winner, “Criss Cross”). Let’s hear it for a Newbery winner that should also have high appeal.

“Graceling” by Kristin Cashore

I am a bit perplexed by my reaction to this book. On one hand, I found it incredibly formulaic. A typical fantasy, there is a map of a mythical land in front and the tale of a “unique princess” who likes sword-fighting in the pages following. There are perilous journeys through forests and seas, the slightest hint of magic/mysticism and a good-looking prince who “irritates” the princess. All of which is pretty standard fare. Added to that a very convenient moment that occurs during one climax and the weighty 471 pages (there are lengthy, Dickensonian descriptions – no one “sits down”, they “sit in the chair next to her and lean sideways”) and you would think my reaction would be “eh”.

In fact, I loved it.

Yes, it is typical fantasy fare, but this is pretty much my favorite genre, so it wasn’t onerous. And no, I’m not a fan of romance, but they manage to keep things at a rough and tumble level (literally) for most of the book with very little “How can I ever be apart from you?” whining most of the time (yes, I did roll my eyes once or twice, but only once or twice). I think it is just fantasy done well. The language is formal enough to make you feel the different time/different place thing without being distanced by it (can I just say how much I hate fantasy books with contemporary language???) The adventure was compelling enough to make me want to turn the page – although the tramping about in the forest got a little old. But it got old for me in the Harry Potter books, too, so no big. The biggest draw was the richness of the characters. Yes, it is tremendously refreshing to return to a self-assured, kick-ass heroine like Katsa after struggling through the wimpy pity-party that is Bella, but she wasn’t the only character drawn in multi-dimensions. Every character, from love interest Po to random sailor, is given a physicality and style. It was easy to connect to people who felt real. The names are also cool – Princess Bitterblue being one of the more fun ones. And it is a deeper, darker book than you might expect for a fluffy fantasy. There is death here, and unnamed but easy-to-guess-at abuse. At least one injury took me by surprise. The sexual aspects of the story are covered with a bit more detail than I expected, although they seem to get fuzzy at exactly the right moments. Perhaps that is the great strength of the book – it has that perfect balance point. It’s not “too much” of anything but just the right amount of most things. In several ways, it echoed McCaffrey’s Pern books, and I kept remembering the thrill I had reading those – the rush as each new one came out. It is a sense of anticipation about a series I haven’t had in a long time. I read this book because the companion novel/prequel, “Fire” is showing up on most of the recommended lists coming out this time of year. I can’t wait to read it.

“Gacha Gacha” Vol. 1 by Hiroyuki Tamakoshi

First and foremost, I must say I am not a fan of Manga. For me, the characters all look alike, the pacing is slower than a bad daytime serial, and I find it really hard to follow the through-line with the backwards paneling. Not that the plots are overly deep – most remind me of skimming across the top of a pond on a still, hot day … no levels to be plumbed at all. Lastly, I’m not wild about the seemingly constant sexualization of women, most coming off barely better than your average Barbie. All that being said, take this review with a grain of salt.

So, why review something I don’t like? Because there was a complaint. Not from our community, mind you, but from someone outside the program, who chose to make their concerns known via a so-called “anonymous” word to TPTB. TPTB decided that, gee whiz, as the librarian, I would know what was best. Thank you.

So, I’ve spent several hours of my vacation time reading over this dreck. By dreck, I don’t mean that this is trash to be thrown out, rather, this is trash one reads when one wants to read trash. The first book of the series sets up the general tone – a teenage boy, Kouhei, is attracted to a girl he has grown up with (Kurara), finding it increasingly difficult to ignore her maturing body and his natural responses. So far, so good. The first chapter came off not unlike any one of the several “American Pie” movies. But then, Kouhei discovers Kurara has a secret! Her behavior has become more and more bizarre and increasingly sexual. She is finally forced to confess that she has developed multiple personalities. One of them, “Arisa” is a slut. How very convenient. Kouhei spends the rest of the book trying to protect his friend from herself and from his (almost impossible to control) urges. The thing plays out not unlike a combination of “The Stepford Wives” and teen boy’s wet dream. Any attempt to assign some greater psychological meaning to the story is a stretch – I mean, you could see this as metaphor for the difficult paths trod by boys and girls as they try to understand the nature of themselves and their sexual roles with one another in the teen years, but my sense is that this is really just all done in fun. By volume #2, we discover that Kurara’s personalities are a result of a video game that her mother developed which accidentally created several artificial intelligences in her daughter. So, you have a lusty teenage boy, a hot girl and a video game gone wrong … needless to say, this has been a popular series. Will I keep it? Yes. If I were to throw out every book that offended my feminist sensibilities (“Twilight”, Piers Anthony, Gossip Girls) then the fiction section wouldn’t have much. I guess the question is, does everything we own have to be an award-winning piece of brilliant literature? Nope. And this one definitely balances the scale in that department. If it offends – well, good. Books should offend, and challenge, and show the diversity of who we, as people, are. And yes, some of that humanity is horny little teens. What a shock. How dare we expose some element of the reality of their lives in the books they read. And for the record, I grew up reading anything (and everything) I wanted. And I became a librarian. There are worse things.

"Al Capone Does My Shirts" by Gennifer Choldenko

Here’s the big secret: Librarians don’t read every book in the collection. With 15,000+ tomes, it is simply not possible. For the most part, we buy (and recommend) based on awards, publishers, authors, reviews. In the case of this book, it had won the very prestigious Newbery Honor, and the author’s previous work was also lauded. Using reviews that extolled the humorous nature of the tale, I recommended it to many as a “funny” book. This is a case where I should have read the book! It is a great story, well-written and accessible. It is not a “downer” as so many teen books are, and it does have some serious laughs (for me, one at the very end). But it is not a “funny” book. It’s a very well-done historical fiction book that has characters which ring true and interesting information I didn’t know.

Moose Flanagan is a twelve year-old boy whose family has moved to Alcatraz in 1935. His father, an electrician, needed work and gets a job at the prison. Moose is not happy about leaving his friends and family and has typical struggles making new friends among the families living on the island. What makes Moose stand out (other than his appropriate name) is his sister Natalie, who has autism at a time before such a condition was able to be diagnosed. Virtually every character (minus a few prerequisite bad guys) is fully developed, and the historical information is woven in so seamlessly that it feels deeply contemporary. The shenanigans of the kids and Moose’s desire to just play baseball among his various responsibilities come off as real. The story was fun (if not “funny”) and enjoyable. I blasted through the book in two hours and would happily recommend it to most readers.

My one complaint, if there is one, is that the character of Moose seemed somewhat older than his years. This could be a function of having to grow up and be the “older sibling” before his time, but the dissonance between his 12 year-old behavior and the internal monologue which drives the book did bother me at times. I don’t see this being an issue for teen readers, but the given age of the lead character could turn off older readers who might otherwise like this book.

There is a succinct epilogue provided by the author to clarify the historical elements of the book and it did a nice job of wrapping up this snap-shot like moment in time.

TAB Reviews!

JR writes:

“The Possibilities of Sainthood” by Donna Freitas – I loved it because it is a real girl speaking to you (at least for me). But I could totally relate to her and what she did.

“What World is Left?” by Monique Polak
It’s very sad but very true. It makes you give thanks for what you have.

“Beware, Princess Elizabeth” by Carolyn Meyer
The best thing about this book was the “epic-ness” and suspense.

“Loving Will Shakespeare” by Carolyn Meyer
The best thing about this book was how it portrayed a simple English girl, also the romance that took place in the book.

“Ain’t Nothing But a Man: My Quest to Find the Real John Henry” by Scott Reynolds Nelson with Marc Aronson

This is a challenging book to review – on one hand, I learned a lot about a history that isn’t covered elsewhere; on the other hand, the writing style was hard to swallow. The book has a fascinating premise: How do you find out if a character (from literature, myth or song) actually existed as a person? How do you find the history of a person when they are a member of a group whose history is unwritten? Dr. Nelson set out to discover if the “John Henry” made popular in song was a real person. He chronicles his efforts to find evidence, showing the path to information (librarians love that) and ends up making a convincing case for the man he believes to be the “real” John Henry. The problem with the book is who it is directed to. Designed by National Geographic for schools, the “voice” of the book is fairly didactic … a learned college professor trying to speak plainly for a lower audience. IMHO, this does not work. The vocabulary is still high and the narration becomes rambling and convoluted, not to mention opinionated. Laden words flow through what should be informational text. Dr. Nelson interjects his frustration with the Library of Virginia several times (justifiable, but once was enough) and makes statements about the history of the phrase “Rock and Roll” without any outside documentation. The premise kept me turning the pages, the writing did not. So, is this a worthwhile book? I would say yes. It’s not going to be one of those nonfiction books which I recommend as a reading choice, but the information is none-the-less valuable. The images are well-done and reminded me of a museum exhibit. If the book is taken in that context, it works. So, take the time to “walk through” this unique view of a man who, I am now sure, was not only real, but more influential than he ever could have imagined.

“Christo and Jeanne-Claude: Through the Gates and Beyond” by Jan Greenberg and Sandra Jordan

Nonfiction expert Jan Greenberg does an excellent job covering “The Gates”, an art installation by Christo & Jeanne-Claude in Central Park during the fall of 2005. The images are almost as stunning as the gates themselves (I had the privilege of seeing them in person) and the text is engaging and highly readable. Without doing a full biography on the two artists, Ms. Greenberg covers their origins, motivations and previous works enough to put the massive Central Park project in context. One comes away not only with a deeper appreciation for what this couple has accomplished but with a real sense of excitement as to what may come next. Much of the artwork of Christo and Jeanne-Claude defies verbal explanation, so I will not continue to expound on it here – but do take the time to savor this book.

“A Book” by Mordicai Gerstein

This fun new picture book by Mr. Gerstein is very tongue-in-cheek. There is a family who … live inside a book! When the little girl asks her parents what their story is, each responds with amusing self-centeredness that the story is about their own interests and professions. The girl isn’t convinced, and goes on a journey exploring a variety of book genres to discover her own story. With a great ending and subtle elements that will make you smile (the artwork is created as if you are looking down … into a book!) this book can be appreciated by both adults and children. This one is charming, delightful and clever and should be a big hit in the holiday season.

“The Mysteries of Harris Burdick” by Chris Van Allsburg

Is Harris Burdick real? Or another fantastical creation from the fertile mind of Van Allsburg? We may never know. The author/illustrator who created “Jumanji” now brings us an intriguing collection of fourteen images, and a bit of a tall tale. Thirty years ago, a man named Harris Burdick supposedly walked into the office of a publisher friend of Van Allsburg. He left the fourteen sketches, along with their titles and opening lines. Saying he had the accompanying stories at home, he promised to return the next day. He never came back. The publisher tried in vain to find him, and Van Allsburg, upon seeing the pictures, felt inspired to recreate them and publish the lot. The images are nothing if not intriguing, and any writer worth their salt would want to have this book as a writing prompt. Fanciful story or reality, this book is a treasure.

“Not a Box” by Antoinette Portis

Winner of this year’s Seuss Geisel Honor, this plain looking picture book needs absolutely no frills to make its point. The sheer delight of watching a bunny (baby) explore a paper box with all the imagination of childhood makes it clear that you don’t need gadgets to have fun. Clever in lots of subtle ways (the cover looks like a paper box) the simple message will make you smile.

“Lump of Coal” by Lemony Snicket

This skinny little picture book is sheer delight, and very typical of the Lemony Snicket dark humor. “Lump of Coal” wants to be an artist, but he is shunned by the arts community. He would settle for cooking a meal (yes, that’s slightly perverse) but is equally rejected by the proprietor of a faux Korean barbeque. In the end, Santa helps him out and everything develops as you might expect. I’m hoping to add this one to my read-alouds in the future – both kids and adults will “get it”.

“Alabama Moon” by Watt Key

Simply one of the best books I have read this year. Fresh with surprising twists, it was a terrific read. Ten year-old Moon Blake has been raised in near total isolation by his survivalist father in rural Alabama. When the father breaks his leg and refuses to be treated, he dies; leaving Moon to try and follow the father’s last commandment – travel to Alaska, where Moon will find others who believe as they do. Needless to say, things don’t turn out as planned. Moon’s incredible ability to fend for himself is juxtapositioned with his complete lack of understanding about the outside world. The detailed prose creates an engaging story that had me staying up late at night to see what would happen next. Many of the adults are sympathetic but make poor choices about how to engage with this complex young man. The result is a tumultuous adventure as Moon learns to appreciate, and finally trust, some of those around him. Moon’s honest voice will draw in all readers, but it is delightful to have a book of strong literary merit which will definitely appeal to boys. Not for the squeamish (he kills and guts animals of the forest and the language of the book is a tad PG-13) it parallels the kinds of stories told by Gary Paulsen. As someone who has done my share of camping and hiking, I actually learned a lot about living in the wild. This is Mr. Key’s first novel, and it portends good things. Soon to be a film (coming to a theatre near you) I’m putting down a bet that this book picks up some awards in the coming months.

“Samurai Shortstop” by Alan Gratz

This first novel by Alan Gratz will appeal to some – I’ve already had one student who loved it – but I found it to be convoluted and forced. The book is about 16 year-old Toyo, a besu boro (baseball) loving student at the Ichiko school in Tokyo. Going in, I assumed some historical context (I read it for the Historical Fiction portion of an upcoming book conference). I was not prepared for the extremely graphic and detailed description of a seppuku (ritual suicide) in the opening pages. The book ranged widely from amusing to brutal in a tale that included the Meiji Restoration (revolution), samurai teaching, baseball and boys in an elite private school with undertones similar to “Lord of the Flies”. Throw in “Field of Dreams”, “The Bad News Bears”, “Shogun” and “The Karate Kid” and you have a sense of the themes. Mr. Gratz, in my humble opinion, made the classic error of a new author … he forced plot devices to tell the story he wanted to tell. Most mature authors tell you they create the elements of a story, but then the plot and characters tend to take on a life of their own. Mr. Gratz, on the other hand, compressed events ranging from 1877 to 1915 into one year (1891) so that he could juxtapose traditional Japan with modern Japan and have his lead character be the tipping point. The result was incongruity that I found extremely distracting. Despite the decently strong narrative voice of Toyo, I couldn’t picture much of the story. For instance, when Toyo and his friend take a day in the city, they flirt with girls. Girls of 1891 would have dressed and acted far differently than they would have in 1915, where the “psychological” setting seems to be. In the same chapter, the Ginza is seemingly mentioned for no other reason than to indicate that it was “all lit up with electric lights”. In 1891? Not. Toyo dutifully follows the bushido teachings of his father but thinks and acts in too contemporary a manner to have been a Japanese boy of this period. Gratz gets it right in some instances, wrong in others. The boys will not shake hands with the Americans, a custom that is alien to their culture (where bowing is a proper greeting), but they hug one another after a significant game win (their culture sees physical contact of any kind as highly inappropriate). The book has some surface enjoyment and may appeal more to male readers. The baseball games, dorm activities and sword-play could easily be of interest to those who play the sport, admire the Samurai tradition, etc. Readers more familiar with historical context will be frustrated by the jumbled nature of the setting, but if some people enjoy it, does it matter? Not my cup of tea, but maybe yours.

“Thoreau at Walden” by John Porcellino from the writings of Henry David Thoreau

I think I was supposed to be charmed by this graphic novel depicting the story of Thoreau’s two years at Walden Pond. I wasn’t. The book is drawn in a simplistic manner that was highly reminiscent of Charles Schultz. The color scheme is black and white with tan shading. I think the idea was to keep the drawings basic so that the reader could focus on the ideas of Thoreau (the majority of the words are direct quotes). Townspeople are sometimes drawn incompletely, sometimes just as bouncing heads, perhaps to visually enforce Thoreau’s isolation. I postulated that the brown shading was an homage to Thoreau’s connection to the earth (or an attempt at creating a historical feel with sepia-toned images?) and the clean line drawings a symbol of his commitment to living with less. But it didn’t work (IMHO). The first problem is that the cartoonish style will not draw in younger readers because the ideas are still Thoreau’s. Older readers won’t want to read this boiled down version of philosophy, either. I disagree with the premise that Thoreau’s ideas can be explained in a drawing of a tree or a leaf. His ideas appear straightforward, but are also layered and subtle, which is what makes his reflections so interesting. The bottom line is that the images in a graphic novel should add something to the words, in this case I think they take away from the concepts. They infer that all you have to do is sit by the water or write in a cabin by candlelight and you will get it. When Thoreau says “A lake is the landscape’s most beautiful feature … it is earth’s eye looking into which the beholder measures the depths of his own nature.” I wanted to see something besides a brown lake with odd little infinity signs floating across it. If my mind is filling in visual images that are not provided in the graphic novel, then something is clearly missing. I think that the author knew this on some level, as he provided a lengthy introduction (written by D.B. Johnson) and an equally lengthy “Panel Discussion” section at the end. If you have to put this many explanations into a graphic novel then you haven’t figured out the power that a good graphic novel can convey. Marjane Satrapi’s “Persepolis” for instance, only uses black ink drawings, but the images brilliantly create an emotional tone for the words – words and pictures work in a partnership. In this book the words and images seem to create a tension with each other. At times, they become almost comical, with Thoreau looking rotund and having a sagging bottom … further distracting from the text. So, I’m not a fan. Others are welcome to disagree!

“The Luxe” by Anna Godbersen

Gossip girls hit the 19th century in this frothy and fun book that is the first in a three set series. Newcomer Anna Godbersen manages to catch all the loves, lusts and manipulations of New York’s high society with on-the-spot language. As she states in the opening chapter, “They were a society whose chief vocations were to entertain and be entertained, punctuated occasionally by the reinvestment of their vast fortunes in new and ever more lucrative prospects.” The plot unfolds exactly as I expected, given that most of the characters have the depth of Tori Spelling, but the story is a page-turner and the historical “feel” makes it entertaining. At 433 pages it was a remarkably fast read (and includes a 15 page preview of the upcoming sequel, “Rumors”). The chapters are short and are each prefixed with gossipy news items or snippets of letters. This bodice-ripping lite fare celebrates a truly fascinating time in our past. The aptly named “gay nineties” wasn’t just a heyday, it was very much the end of a kind of history. Half a generation before the “modern” times, this would be the last moments for corsets and horse-drawn carriages and gentlemen who left calling cards. The Victorian Age was dying, the Industrial Age was charging ahead like an omnipotent mammoth, and the women in those stuffy receiving rooms were clearly sensing the new winds. They outwardly adhered to the sensibilities of the time but the mentality of 20th century freedoms was making its mark. Amidst the Astors and the Vanderbilts, there were young women who smoked, laughed loudly and did far more than hold hands with their beaus during chaperoned walks along the promenade. This book may heighten the realities of those behind-the-scene behaviors, but it is easy to see flappers emerging from a generation of women who would throw off conventions and live life to the fullest. Glitz may have come in with the 20s, but this was the era of true glamour, of elegance, in a way it would never be again. I liked this book and look forward to the next (although it feels more like a summer beach read…). My one complaint is the cover, which features a woman too old to represent the lead character, and dressed in a way that is belied by the descriptions inside. I realize it may be a subtle hint at the “inner life” of the character, but it’s distracting. This series should be a hit with our chick-lit crowd if they are willing to stretch themselves ~just a little~ to move beyond the prep schools of their current literature.

“Hattie Big Sky” by Kirby Larson

I’m not a fan of historical fiction set in America, but this one got to me. The first young adult novel by Ms. Larson, the idea for this story came from her own family. Surprised to hear that her great-grandmother had been a homesteader in Montana during World War I, she set out to discover how a young woman might have done this on her own. In the course of her research she discovered the struggles faced by many German immigrants during this period and that becomes one of the more compelling plotlines. It was in no way pedantic, but I felt I learned a lot. It is a novel of westward expansion, but the setting, with cars and motorcycles as well as carts and horses, makes for a very fresh take. Hattie Brooks is a delightful lead character and her historically appropriate musings make for an entertaining and satisfying tale. From time to time some of the events seem a tad staged – the evil neighbor is only a mustache away from caricature, and bad things can be anticipated because they happen right when they should. It is Hattie’s voice, however, and her heartfelt letters to a soldier at war and an uncle who took her in which make this story sing. Larson lets the stunning beauty of Montana add to the texture of the prose and woven phrases tend to stick, like “My bounce-around life had taught me that dreams were dangerous things – they look solid in your mind, but you just try to reach for them. It’s like gathering clouds.” The ending was real but was a little open. One could imagine a sequel, or perhaps just an epilogue. Definitely a worthwhile read. Take the journey.

“Elijah of Buxton” by Christopher Paul Curtis

“Watsons Go to Birmingham … 1963” remains one of my favorite books, and Mr. Curtis returns to familiar territory here. Again, he reveals a dark and horrific period in our history with gentleness. His protagonist is “nearly 12 year-old” Elijah Freeman, the first free-born child in the Canadian settlement of Buxton. The year is 1860. By making a young boy his narrator, the sadness of events is tinged with the hope and promise of the future. Elijah grows in this tale because of the realities of his mid-nineteenth century environment, but he also plays with his friends and loves his parents and struggles with his schoolwork. Elijah’s grounded and honest voice brings humor and humanity to this novel. Unfortunately, it is yet another book by Curtis that might be more appreciated by adults than kids, many of whom will have to be steered towards it. Elijah is young out of necessity. It is important that he still sees the magic possibilities of the world. However, his age and the picture of a young boy on the cover will keep many teens from picking it up. Younger readers will also not gravitate towards it, as the book is over 300 pages and not paced in such a way as to hold their attention. A pity, as this is an excellent tale. Written in authentic but understandable dialect, Mr. Curtis once again manages to convey a layered story through seemingly simple prose. Elijah’s journey, both external and internal, make a real impact, but it sneaks up on the reader. The story is mostly fictional, but the settlement is real. Historical notes provided by the author as an epilogue give an uplifting emotional sense despite a challenging ending. Credit is given to the author for not providing us so much with the ending we would wish, but an ending that feels real. For those who have enjoyed his previous books, dig in! For those who haven’t, I would say that it’s time to discover a great new talent.

“Skim” by Mariko & Jillian Tamaki

Kimberly is a 10th grade girl in a Catholic school in Canada. Overweight and slightly depressed, she is nick-named “Skim” by her classmates and seeks solace in the practice of Wicca. The setting is 1993, which allows the story to feel contemporary but be freed from constant interactions via computers and cellphones. The entries in this graphic novel are mostly diary-like, with Kim reflecting her frustration with the cliques and shallowness of those around her, while feeling a little lost by not fitting in. She experiences distance from her best friend and a kiss from someone unexpected, which leaves her even more confused and alone. The artwork is excellent, with black and white pen drawings that have great detail but also show whimsy and infer emotional tone. Fainter images of leaves, birds, footsteps in the snow, etc surround the comic-like strips and unite them, creating an overall tone for each of the three “chapters”. The book’s subject matter is mature. With 16 year-old characters, we see issues of sexuality intermingled with smoking, strong language and suicide. Like many teen novels, the majority of adults are dismissed as clearly not understanding where these young women are at. The dialog is light for the 143 page book, but it is a memorable story in terms of the “completeness” of the characters. I think this is a book high school girls would very much enjoy – if they were the kind to pick up graphic novels. Sadly, they are not, so to get this book read it will have to be marketed.

“The Secret Life of Bees” by Sue Monk Kidd

An adult book that appeared on the bestseller lists for many weeks, this one had been on my “to read” list for a long time. It did not disappoint. An absolutely lovely, if not magical tale, this tells the story of Lily Owens, an abused girl with a troubled past. Set in South Carolina during the summer of 1964, Lily escapes her father along with a domestic servant of the household and finds refuge in a unique environment. The house she lands in is governed by the life of bees, as is the structure of the book, each chapter detailing social aspects of a bee’s life which are paralleled by the characters. Touching and sad, but ultimately uplifting, this is clearly one of those new classics. The prose is simple but beautifully penned, lyrical in its descriptions. The “inner life” of Lily and the people around her feel startlingly real and immensely powerful. It is definitely a book I continued to think about after I’d finished it, and one that made me want to turn the page – not because of events but to see the development of the characters. In the end, the emotional power of this story really affected me. There is a religious theme but I cannot imagine it would be offensive to those of differing beliefs. The faith of the women in the book is that of survival – the strength that can be found when you find the power of your own heart. The book is fiction, but it reads so much like truth that the author felt compelled to include a detailed interview at the end to describe her source materials. Brava to Ms. Kidd. May her next endeavor be as gratifying.