By Elizabeth Wroten
On 25, Feb 2013 | In Review | By Elizabeth Wroten
Greg Gaines is the last master of high school espionage, able to disappear at will into any social environment. He has only one friend, Earl, and together they spend their time making movies, their own incomprehensible versions of Coppola and Herzog cult classics.
Until Greg’s mother forces him to rekindle his childhood friendship with Rachel.
Rachel has been diagnosed with leukemia—-cue extreme adolescent awkwardness—-but a parental mandate has been issued and must be obeyed. When Rachel stops treatment, Greg and Earl decide the thing to do is to make a film for her, which turns into the Worst Film Ever Made and becomes a turning point in each of their lives.
And all at once Greg must abandon invisibility and stand in the spotlight.
Okay, this one won an award or at least an honorable mention? Really?…Really? I got that Greg was an antihero. And I heard him when he said he learned nothing from the death of his “friend” Rachel. I even see the appeal of those angles for some readers. But really it just made the book feel like a huge waste of my time. I mean maybe I missed the point or I’m not hipster enough to understand that by not learning anything he learned something or how that’s just a realistic portrayal of someone’s life. There are no BIG LESSONS learned all the time. Sometimes it just sucks when your kinda friend dies. But I could have been reading The Diviners which I am already obsessed with and I am on page 22. And I am not a Libba Bray swimfan or anything.
In all honesty Me, Earl, and the Dying Girl would have, after page 50, been one of those ones I abandon to recommending to people I know who like movies and books about not much. Kids who don’t want to think too deeply, but want a book that makes them feel like they are learning a lesson. But thanks to the YALSA Hub challenge I read it cover to cover. God, I want my day back. I can’t even give it a whole-hearted real review. And the cover is awesome and I really wanted to read it.
By Elizabeth Wroten
On 22, Feb 2013 | In Review | By Elizabeth Wroten
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, step inside Mosco’s Traveling Wonder Show, a menagerie of human curiosities and misfits guaranteed to astound and amaze! But perhaps the strangest act of Mosco’s display is Portia Remini, a normal among the freaks, on the run from McGreavy’s Home for Wayward Girls, where Mister watches and waits. He said he would always find Portia, that she could never leave. Free at last, Portia begins a new life on the bally, seeking answers about her father’s disappearance. Will she find him before Mister finds her? It’s a story for the ages, and like everyone who enters the Wonder Show, Portia will never be the same.
Despite the cover, this is not the book for the kid who wants to run away and join the circus. Too bad because we’ve all been there, right? I mean, there is some running away and there is a circus, but really it’s a book about finding. Finding yourself, finding your family, finding a family, finding a future, finding where you belong and who you belong to.
In actuality, this a a book for kids who like their fiction a bit dark and even a bit sad and melancholy. It is absoultely beautifully written. Even though most children have not been sent off to a home for wayward girls for being too imaginative and unmanageable, Portia is so familiar a character. She’s headstrong, angst-y, and ready to grow up, but she also longs for the more magical and comforting time of her childhood. In the end her story isn’t about being sent away or looking for her father, but about finding a place in the wider, lonely world and making a family for herself from the hodge-podge of people she finds herself amongst.
Wonder Show really reminded me of Carnivale, a television show from a few years back. It was dark, conflicted, and…adult. This book tried to be and there were hints of cruelty, sexuality, and abuse, but in the end it was a middle-grade novel. I think if nothing else, this Yalsa Hub reading challenge is teaching me a lot about what I like to read and what I can see value in for other readers. The thing is, I will read just about anything and, if not love it, at least lose myself in the story. And I guess what I’m finding is I like the more adult books and, really, as a kid I think I would have too. Leaving out the complexities of the world, especially a world as dark as a traveling freak show, always feels like pandering to me. Yet, I still connected with the book and with Portia.
By Elizabeth Wroten
On 20, Feb 2013 | In Review | By Elizabeth Wroten
The day Louisiana teenager Rory Deveaux arrives in London marks a memorable occasion. For Rory, it’s the start of a new life at a London boarding school. But for many, this will be remembered as the day a series of brutal murders broke out across the city, gruesome crimes mimicking the horrific Jack the Ripper events of more than a century ago.
Soon “Rippermania” takes hold of modern-day London, and the police are left with few leads and no witnesses. Except one. Rory spotted the man police believe to be the prime suspect. But she is the only one who saw him. Even her roommate, who was walking with her at the time, didn’t notice the mysterious man. So why can only Rory see him? And more urgently, why has Rory become his next target? In this edge-of-your-seat thriller, full of suspense, humor, and romance, Rory will learn the truth about the secret ghost police of London and discover her own shocking abilities.
So, this book thoroughly creeped me out, but I am not above scaring the pants off myself then regretting it for several nights afterward. But hindsight is always 20/20.
The Name of the Star isn’t the most well-crafted of books, but it sure did keep me turning the pages well past midnight so obviously literary merit didn’t really matter. The first 100-150 pages did take a leisurely pace developing the story, setting the scene and introducing the characters, which could have been irritating, but I think it actually served to make the plot twists and turns creepier. From that point on some of the strange goings-on and mysterious pieces began to come together and fall into place and it got really spooky really fast.
I have to say it irked me that Rory is from New Orleans. I know this is one of my own personal quirks, but I always feel like authors choose to set creepy stories there or have characters with special “talents” from NOLA because it’s a place associated with voodoo, cemeteries and general creepiness. I can’t say that that is truly the motivation here or elsewhere, but it always feels that way to me. Especially since there really was no reason Rory couldn’t have been from Atlanta or Sacramento or anywhere else.
Besides that minor irritation, I stayed up late reading it and got up early to finish it.
By Elizabeth Wroten
On 18, Feb 2013 | In Review | By Elizabeth Wroten
When Cameron Post’s parents die suddenly in a car crash, her shocking first thought is relief. Relief they’ll never know that, hours earlier, she had been kissing a girl.
But that relief doesn’t last, and Cam is soon forced to move in with her conservative aunt Ruth and her well-intentioned but hopelessly old-fashioned grandmother. She knows that from this point on, her life will forever be different. Survival in Miles City, Montana, means blending in and leaving well enough alone (as her grandmother might say), and Cam becomes an expert at both.
Then Coley Taylor moves to town. Beautiful, pickup-driving Coley is a perfect cowgirl with the perfect boyfriend to match. She and Cam forge an unexpected and intense friendship–one that seems to leave room for something more to emerge. But just as that starts to seem like a real possibility, ultrareligious Aunt Ruth takes drastic action to “fix” her niece, bringing Cam face-to-face with the cost of denying her true self–even if she’s not exactly sure who that is.
In a recent interview I read on NPR with John Irving he made a comment that kept coming back to me as I read The Miseducation of Cameron Post. He noted, “…how thoroughly intimidating and confusing and conflicted the world of adult sexuality seemed when you were on the doorstep of it but still standing outside.” I suppose this is a place we’ve all found ourselves, but it was especially true of Cameron who finds herself there on the eve of her parents death. Add to that the confusion of the realization that she prefers girls, something that has never been explicitly condemned in her world, but she is sure would be.
While I wasn’t sure I loved the book, despite it’s buzz, I did find it incredibly compelling and relatable. The story is all about figuring out sexuality, love and relationships and the confusion that comes with the inexperience of the teenage years. Cameron may have the added confusion of being a lesbian in a place where homosexuality is discouraged, but I think ultimately her struggles aren’t really unique to lesbians. Like any teenager she’s trying to figure out that “world of adult sexuality”.
Despite Cam’s relative inexperience, this book isn’t for the prudish. Kissing and sex abound, as does pot smoking and language. But the struggles are so relatable and so universal that none of it seems to be gratuitous or there just for the sake of scandal. The book also seemed to move lazily through the years considering how predictably the plot unfolded. But I think that was kind of the point, or at least the explanation I was going with, because it certainly reinforced Cam’s naiveté. The rest of the characters in the book always felt authentic and never came across as two dimensional. Even though this really isn’t a book for the religious set, I thought it was very fair-handed in how it dealt with evangelicals and their teachings. I also think the well-rounded characters helped keep the plot feeling less like a vehicle for a Message than a real story.
While Cam’s situation, as an orphan and lesbian in a small conservative town, may be familiar to some, it isn’t these particulars that give the story its power. Nor was it the sex scenes that will titillate some. Had I read this book as a teenager I know I would have found it incredibly provocative. Not because I was struggling with my sexuality, but becuase, like most teens, I found sexualtiy and relationships, as John Irving said, incredibly confusing and even a bit frightening. And at heart, Miseducation is all about figuring those things out for yourself and overcoming the fear.
By Elizabeth Wroten
On 15, Feb 2013 | In Review | By Elizabeth Wroten
Just making a point of telling everyone that I am going to try and complete the YALSA Hub reading challenge. You can read more about it here, but what it boils down to is I have to read 25 books by June 22nd. That’s totally do-able, so long as I don’t get too distracted. Like all librarians, there are so many books I want to read, but I have a house to keep in order and baby to look after (although she frequently gets read aloud to from my books while she plays) and myriad other obligations and hobbies (we should have new bees in a month or so!!). Since I haven’t done much reviewing on this blog (mostly because the books I have been reading so far don’t relate so much to my library career as they do to my child-rearing career) I thought I would review the books that I read for the challenge here. Hopefully I’ll keep up a good, steady stream.
By Elizabeth Wroten
On 06, Dec 2012 | In Review | By Elizabeth Wroten
Update 11/14/2016: This book is a whole lot of no. I did enjoy it, but now I see it’s problems. If you want to know more, and you should, please read Debbie Reese’s comments on it here. It is problematic for the way it portrays natives. I’m embarrassed that I liked this so much and now looking back on it it isn’t at all enjoyable. Please don’t recommend this one.
Fifteen-year-old Tiger Lily doesn’t believe in love stories or happy endings. Then she meets the alluring teenage Peter Pan in the forbidden woods of Neverland and immediately falls under his spell.
Peter is unlike anyone she’s ever known. Impetuous and brave, he both scares and enthralls her. As the leader of the Lost Boys, the most fearsome of Neverland’s inhabitants, Peter is an unthinkable match for Tiger Lily. Soon, she is risking everything—her family, her future—to be with him. When she is faced with marriage to a terrible man in her own tribe, she must choose between the life she’s always known and running away to an uncertain future with Peter.
With enemies threatening to tear them apart, the lovers seem doomed. But it’s the arrival of Wendy Darling, an English girl who’s everything Tiger Lily is not, that leads Tiger Lily to discover that the most dangerous enemies can live inside even the most loyal and loving heart.
Normally I read quite a bit of fiction to keep up on current publications and I enjoy the large majority of what I read. It isn’t what I would choose to curl up with on vacation, but I still find things to like in most of the books. I can also see how they would appeal to certain kids. However, every once in awhile I come across a book that really resonates with me. Sometimes I can just feel my high school (or middle school) self connecting with the book. Those books are like a little shot of sweet nostalgia. Sarah Dessen does that for me, as do the Kane Chronicles by Rick Riordan. Sometimes I just really enjoy the story. Ship Breaker was that way. And then, occasionally, there is a book I just fall in love with. It’s frequently for a reason I can’t predict and they tend to be a disparate set of books. I always feel a little funny saying that about a novel intended for someone a good 10-15 years younger than I am, but it’s the truth.
Tiger Lily was one of these books. I am already predisposed to like new takes on familiar stories, although Tiger Lily was really more the story behind and before the tale we know of Peter Pan. But it took a story that I have always found a little ridiculous and made it so real, so realistic, and so relatable.
I think at heart Tiger Lily is someone every girl imagines herself as at some point. Awkward, not beautiful, different, independent and unhappy about that. I think every girl finds herself falling in love with someone they know they shouldn’t and yet decides to take the risk.
There are a few aspects that make it more of a fantasy or magical realism, but don’t dismiss it out of hand for that. If you suspend a tiny bit of belief, it has the very real fear of being different; the intense flush of love; the terror and exhilaration of losing oneself in a relationship; the fear of growing up and the knowledge that comes with that; the pain of loss; the shame and anger of betrayal; the hopelessness of feeling trapped by a destiny. Even all the fantastic characters- fairies, mermaids, even the pirates and lost boys to some extent- are vehicles for these emotions and feelings. The adults as well as the younger characters show a range of age-appropriate emotions and I think this is why it was appealing even to me on a personal level.
Tiger Lily was one of those books that I emerged from and wondered how life continued on so calmly and methodically around me.
By Elizabeth Wroten
On 26, Nov 2012 | In Review | By Elizabeth Wroten
When it comes to finding out about new books and materials, I’m a pretty traditional girl. I subscribe to review journals; I follow blogs; I poke around online; I even occasionally hear about stuff by word of mouth. But the latest book I came across was not found through any of these channels. No joke, I found it at the grocery store. It was a nice grocery store, but a grocery store nonetheless. I think it was the illustrations that drew me to it on the book table by the cheeses. They resemble Maira Kalman’s artwork.
I really hate those ploys at the grocery store that try to snare you into buying something really expensive simply because it’s a non-food item that you are buying from the food store. I also hate the way they lay things out to entice you to buy more than you need, mostly because it’s so darn clever. But I am so glad I gave in this once.
The Perfect Thanksgiving is, at heart, a simple story that I think everyone can relate to. The narrator, a young girl, compares her family’s zany Thanksgiving feast and festivities with that of another young girl, Abigail Archer. Abigail’s family has the Martha Stewart equivalent of a Thanksgiving. The pies are perfect, there are chocolates on the pillows for all the guest, for whom there is ample room. The turkey is all white meat and is expertly carved.
The narrator, who’s name you never learn, has a family and Thanksgiving more like what ours looks like. Things are spilled, the pies come from the store, her mother dresses casually and makes Jell-o molds. There is too much family to fit in the house and the relatives create lots of havoc and noise. It is a boisterous holiday to say the least.
However, at the end, the little girl points out that her Thanksgiving and Abigail’s are the same in one very, and ultimately the only, important way. They both enjoy loving families. This message is a good one for all children, but I think it is even more resonant in this day and age where families look more like those on Modern Family than on Leave It To Beaver. No child should feel bad because their family doesn’t fit some “traditional” model and I think this book does a sweet job of presenting that message in a way that doesn’t feel forced or apologetic.