Friday Twofer

Two stories. Two girls. Different continents. Different lives. Great reads.

WORDS IN THE DUST
by Trent Reedy
Aurthur A. Levine Books (January 2011)
Ages 10 and up

Inspired by an encounter with an Afghani girl during his military tour of duty, author Trent Reedy offers a remarkable debut novel that's rich, satisfying and (from this outsider's viewpoint) so authentic it's hard to believe it was written by an American soldier, let alone a man. Words in the Dust is narrated with such confidence and intuitive understanding of what it means to be a girl living in an oppressive society, I was totally immersed in a world that should feel light years away in terms of geography and culture, but which Reedy crafts with such intimacy, I can practically taste the dust and disappointment as though I'm living it.

The story revolves around thirteen year-old Zulaikha who was born with a cleft palate, further isolating her from a society that already devalues her because of gender. Her mother having been killed years earlier at the hands of the Taliban, she lives in servitude to a stepmother who can't bear the sight of her. However, when American soldiers offer to correct her cleft palate, Zulaikha's hopes for a better life, free of abuse and ridicule. The question remains, however: Even with the surgery, what will life hold for a girl in a culture that denies the value of women?

Reedy handles these (and other) painfully complex issues with careful respect, not once stooping to sentimentality or simplification of unresolvable issues. Despite the inability to provide a tidy ending, he manages to produce a satisfying and realistic conclusion.

THE MAP OF ME
by Tami Lewis Brown
Farrar Straus Giroux (August, 2011)
Ages 8-12

The Map of Me, by Tami Lewis Brown, was such a treat to read, I was sorry to see it end so soon. At 150 pages long, it's short, but complete (not one bit unfinished feeling). I simply wanted to spend more time in this topsy turvy world of twelve-year old Margie Tempset and her annoyingly brilliant little sister, Peep.

Margie's first person narration is refreshingly different and, at times, laugh out loud funny, despite the fact that the story revolves around a deeply dysfunctional family and Margie's frantic search for their mother whom she believes has taken off in search of a Henny Penny Coin Canister. This is unreliable narration at its best—driven by a denial to face the truth rather than a narrator's intentional deception.

Margie is so sweetly, fabulously flawed in her thinking, Brown has the reader pulling for her in spite of the fact that she lies fairly easily, steals her father's car and takes her little sister on a road trip that's not nearly as easy as she anticipates. The characters are so fully drawn, they walk right off the page. Brown depicts the parents with small strokes of brilliance—light touches that tell the reader these two kids are pretty much on their own even when both parents are around.

As unbelievable as the story line might seem (two kids on a wild ride through the back roads of Kentucky), it's probably one of the most emotionally honest stories I've read this year.

Source: I borrowed both copies from the library. The real library, not that hideous Amazon Kindle crap.

Uninvited...

I never thought I'd be too busy to blog, but there you go. It happened. There are those who say if you can't blog every day, don't do it at all. Clearly, I'm not of that mind set.

I'll be back to posting more reviews in a few days. In the meantime, the November issue of Black Lantern Publishing is now available for sale (pdf right now and full color print in two weeks). It's a gorgeous edition of macabre literature. My flash fiction, Uninvited, But Not Unwelcomed, makes its debut in there. Imagine that!

Friday Review: The Great Wall of Lucy Wu

THE GREAT WALL OF LUCY WU
by Wendy Shang
Scholastic Press (January 2011)
Ages 9-12

I can't think of anything better than a good book, except maybe a book that gives no indication of the surprise inside, the kind of surprise that starts off good and keeps getting better and better. Wendy Shang's The Great Wall of Lucy Wu is just that kind of book and that kind of surprise.

It opens with a traditional Chinese story about finding the fortune in misfortune, creating a certain anticipation in the reader that this will be a thoughtful journey of self-discovery, a culturally rich experience. The beauty of this book is that, in a sense, it is very much a thoughtful journey of self-discovery wrapped inside a culturally rich experience; however, it's delivered with such wonderful wit, the fact that it has meaning is almost beside the point.

Lucy Wu, who narrates the story, is a self-proclaimed banana—a derogatory term that refers someone who is yellow on the outside and white on the inside. (In other words, she's more hamburgers and fries than Chinese dumplings.) With her culturally correct sister going away to college, Lucy is primed to have the perfect year. She'll have her own room, and she's set to take sixth grade basketball by storm along with her best friend, Madison. That is, until her grandmother's long lost sister, Yi Po, settles in for a long visit from China and her parents force her to attend Chinese school during basketball practice. Lucy copes by doing what she does best—erecting barriers of all kinds to keep from being too Chinese.

The Great Wall of Lucy Wu is a refreshingly light and surprisingly deep (in a sneak-up-on-you kind of way). No dull, stereotypical dialog and tired pre-teen tropes here. Lucy's wit and originality make this one enjoyable (and memorable) read.

Source: I borrowed this book from the library.

Hey! Hey! It's a Dead End in Norvelt Audio Book Giveaway

I've got one free copy of the audiobook version of Jack Gantos' brilliant novel, Dead End in Norvelt, to give away. (Narrated by Gantos himself!)

To enter, just leave a comment on this blog, with your name and email addy—you know the drill to avoid spammers: soandso(at)suchandsuch(dot)something—by midnight (PST) next Tuesday, October 18th. Or, send an email to grierjewell(at)comcast(dot)net. No need to compose anything artistic, just say Cheezus crust, sign me up for an audio book of Dead End in Norvelt! or something Jack Gantos-y like that. The winner will be chosen at random.

Friday Review: Dead End in Norvelt

DEAD END IN NORVELT
by Jack Gantos
Farrar Straus Giroux (September 2011)
Ages 10 and up

I have only one thing to say about Dead End in Norvelt—Jack Gantos' "entirely true and wildly fictional" anti-memoir of young Jack Gantos—and that's this: Cheezus crust. This book is fabulous. Okay, that's two things, and one of them is a regular utterance of the story's anti-hero, so if it offends anyone to read it, don't read on.

Set in the dying town of Norvelt sometime during the 1960's, young Jack Gantos is having to spend the summer digging a faux bomb shelter as punishment for firing his father's "Jap" rifle and mowing down his mother's corn crop. If he hadn't fired that rifle, he wouldn't have had to mow down the corn to keep on his father's good side. And if the shock of the shot hadn't caused Miss Volker to drop her hearing aid into the toilet, he might not have been sent to help her write up the obituaries of notable dead Norvelters. And if he hadn't been sent to help her out, he wouldn't have gotten on the wrong side of the town's tricycle-riding geriatric vigilante who carries a torch for Miss Norvelt, even though she's a commie lovin' liberal. His love is fierce, and so is his vengeance.

While it may sound like a lot to digest, Gantos (both the current and former) delivers the narrative in laugh out loud, easy going fashion, all the while leaping effortlessly from life on a macro to micro level as he and those around him grapple with the fact that the town is evaporating before their eyes—being moved away to another state, house by house, by an unknown real estate investor—and with it, the values upon which the town was founded (thanks to the efforts of Eleanor Roosevelt who felt all people should live in dignity).

Everywhere he goes (which isn't far, since he's grounded for the summer), Jack is caught in the crossfire of warring ideologies, the greatest of which is right under his own roof.

"That night my birthday celebration continued. Mom, Dad and I had cake and ice cream and played Monopoly, which Dad declared was the greatest game ever invented. 'It is the American dream in a box,' he said, pleased with his tidy summation.

Mom disagreed. 'It teaches you how to ruin other people's lives without caring,' she countered."

The characters are so full of life and individuality they practically walk right off the page and breathe down your neck. In addition to Jack and his parents, there's the aging medical examiner, Miss Volker, who is determined to fulfill her duty to Eleanor Roosevelt by providing the final "health report" of original Norvelters (that is, she wants to make sure she outlives her eight competitors); Bunny, whose father owns the funeral parlor and who is unfazed by gore, which is a good thing because Jack has a torrential nose bleed every time he gets excited (read: often); and of course, Mr. Spizz, the giant tricycle-riding irritant who forces Jack into an agreement that has deadly consequences.

Gantos infuses so much life and laughter into this slice of small town America, I can't find a thing wrong with it. The pacing is smooth and quick, even when it takes screwy turns and plunges down the path of ancient history (Jack spends a lot of time in his room reading history books and Miss Volker ties in each death with a moment in history). The dialog is exquisite and the setting is so flawlessly crafted, it's like stepping into a 1960's television show. In fact, Dead End in Norvelt is a perfect fit for television or film. I wouldn't be surprised to see it play out that way.

With unabashed flourish, Gantos rings the warning bell of history—how we are doomed to repeat what we forget. The real controversy of the book is not the handling of death (which I think is just brilliant), it's the harkening back to the many histories of oppression by the rich through war and accumulation. Reading this, it's hard not to notice allusions to today's current affairs. Considering these polarizing times, I'm surprised this hasn't been an issue with the gatekeepers.

Would some people find the subject matter too much? Of course, there are always some people in every bunch. Thankfully, the world is a big place, with readers of every stripe. Dead End in Norvelt is listed for ages ten and up, which is just about right. There should be no upper limit to its readership.

Source: I bought my copy at Barnes & Noble.

Friday Review: Hound Dog True

HOUND DOG TRUE
by Linda Urban
Harcourt Children's Division (September 2011)
Ages 9-12


"Uncle Potluck said when he talked to the moon, the moon talked back."

—Hound Dog True

Some books are so darn delicious, there’s no joy in picking them apart to see what makes them tick. Hound Dog True, by Linda Urban, is one such gem. The voice, characterization, theme and gentle rhythm of words create a symphony of fine storytelling that elevate this simple story to another level. Yes. It’s that good. Hound Dog True had me at the first sentence and held me in its enchanting grip until the very last page. (As I read this, I kept thinking, did Barbara O'Connor change her name to Linda Urban?)

Told in close third person—so close it’s nearly first person—the story follows eleven-year old Mattie several days prior to starting a new school (fifth in as many years). Deeply hurt by the betrayal of a girl at her old school, shy Mattie is haunted by memories of past humiliations. There’s a poignantly funny flashback of one of her former first days when all she could think to tell the class was that she was not a Buddhist. Urban places this scene early in the book, which does a brilliant job of showing just how painfully tongue-tied Mattie can get. This and other flashbacks also serve to establish the interior world that Mattie inhabits, as well as reveal bits and pieces of her past troubles. Flashbacks usually drag down a narrative and slow the progress, but not in this book, where Urban skillfully uses them to bring us into the emotional life of Mattie.

The narration is beautifully composed and fully grounded in the perspective of this sensitive young girl who hopes to avoid the pain of all the treacherous times of day—those “lawless” periods of arrival, lunch and recess—by being her Uncle Potluck’s janitorial assistant. Of course, things do not go as planned and her hopes unravel with the unceremonious introduction of the neighbor's niece, Quincy, who appears to be prime betrayal material. Quincy lands in Mattie’s life with a deadpan delivery that goes plunk plunk plunk right on top of Mattie’s worst fears.

Mattie’s world is small, but it's peopled with memorable characters, such as Uncle Potluck who can spin a yarn like no one’s business (it’s his phrase, Hound Dog True, that gives the novel its title); the not-so-subtle neighbor who’s got designs on him; and, of course, Quincy, who is twelve years old and seemingly weary of life.

Even though Mattie could use a friend, she struggles with the hurt caused by her former classmate in the school she left behind. Quincy, with her teenagery long legs and do-not-care attitude, feeds right into to Mattie’s worries. Although the book focuses on her fear of betrayal and humiliation, the unspoken threat (which Quincy represents) is that of growing up and losing control. Like everything else about this book, Urban handles these themes with a gentle, but assuring touch. And, mostly importantly, with a great dose of humor throughout.

Hound Dog True is a short novel, told over a very short period of time, but boy oh boy, it makes a large and lasting impression. Other than that, I don't have much to say, except this: Read it!

Source: I bought my copy at Barnes & Noble.

Friday Review: Sidekicks

Sidekicks
Written and Illustrated by Dan Santat
Aurthur A. Levine Books
Ages 9-12

There must be something in the genetic code of writer/illustrators that gives their work the sizzle and pop of eternal childhood. Whatever it is they were born with, or drank from, they've got a special spark that leaps off the page.

Dan Santat's latest release, Sidekicks, is proof positive that some writers don't just write for small people experiencing childhood—they embody it. The illustrations are as smashtastic as any follower of Santat's work would expect, but to have them in a graphic novel length work is a real treat. He's got a gift for storytelling without overtelling, letting the artwork do its work to convey the energy and emotion of a superhero in peril. Well...maybe not so much peril as allergies and age.

Santat turns tired comic tropes into graphic novel gold as the hero, Captain Amazing, announces auditions for a sidekick to help him battle the baddies without running out of breath. His pet dog, hamster and lizard want the spot, but there's one problem that stands in their way: Fluffy, aka The Claw, Captain Amazing's former sidekick. Turns out things went south some years back and Fluffy is feeling a bit bitter. Santat's ability to weave flashbacks into the storyline without disrupting the plot's forward movement shows he's earned his chops as a high ranking writer slash illustrator slash big kid with loads of talent.

This will make a great Christmas present for those looking ahead...


Source: I bought my book from Mr. Santat when he offered autographed copies on his website. I'm not sure if that offer still holds, but he's kind enough to provide a link to Indiebound as a way to encourage the support of independent booksellers.