If you remember, some time ago we committed ourselves to listening and evaluating 2012 Audie nominees for the Mystery category. The official results will be announced next week, and we are finally ready to make our own predictions.

To summarize our experience with the nominees this year, let's say it was interesting in an educational way. Although the three of us are fans of mysteries, none of the nominees captured us completely. It must have been a rather slow year for mysteries. Luckily, Audies are awarded for "excellence in narration, direction, engineering, mix, and abridgment," which leaves out evaluating the plot itself. (None of the nominees this year were abridged.)

Here are our thoughts about the nominees:

The first three audio books, in my opinion, were nominated primarily for the narrators' ability (successful or not) to channel regional accents, because, frankly, I didn't find these stories truly engaging.

Rogue Island is set in Providence, Rhode Island, and is about an old school journalist who investigates a series of arsons. Not having lived in RI, I can't vouch for the propriety of delivery of the accents by Jeff Woodman, but overall I found his way of reading the novel pretty dull, I didn't think this particular accent came naturally to him.

Feast Day of Fools is a more ambitious work. This mystery's location is in a small town on a border between Mexico and Texas. The local sheriff is on a mission to investigate a torture in the desert witnessed by a local alcoholic. Will Patton is an engaging and affected reader who can perform very well, and I was impressed by his ability to give voices to Texan, Mexican and even Chinese characters.

One Dog Night is another arson related mystery and by far the poorest audio in this bunch of nominees. Just doing one accent (New Jersey) and reading every character in exactly the same way is not enough to be noted for this rather prestigious award.

Do full-cast audio productions become automatic winners, I wonder, because how do you resist the sounds of banjo, squeaking doors, banging glasses and departing barges in Return to Marshall's Bayou? But I did, however. As it often happens with full cast audios, the dialog felt disjointed, as if pieced together and not read by actors in a group, during an organic interaction.

And last, but not least, Naughty in Nice read by Katherine Kellgren. Oh, this narrator can do anything! French, Russian, British, American, German accent, male or female, a person of nobility or a scullery maid. You name it, Katherine Kellgren can do any voice. Even though Naughty in Nice is book 5 in the Royal Spyness series, I was well entertained by this Agatha Christie-like charming mystery.

My pick: Naughty in Nice by Rhys Bowen and narrated by Katherine Kellgren

Jeff Woodman, the narrator for Rogue Island did a good job with the large amount of dialogue in the book and I do like his overall voice performance. However, I lived in Providence and Boston for almost eight years and didn't really buy into some of the characters' accents. At points, the intonation sounded unnatural in its up and down cadence.  It is honestly the first instance in my audiobook-listening history where I actually thought about how a voice actor probably reads each section several times and an editing team pieces together the best bits of it. I would definitely listen to something by Jeff Woodman again (he's narrated over 300 books and been nominated for 7 Audies (1 win), but I don't think will be Rogue Island's year. (side note: this interview with the narrator (unrelated to this year's nomination) is so interesting)

Feast Day of Fools immediately drops you down into the atmosphere of the setting. I was reminded of  movies like Cormac McCarthy's No Country For Old Men and the scenes at the wedding chapel in Kill Bill. The narration actually sounded a lot like David Carradine, which can be a great thing if you are into his voice. Patton's narration is mostly consistent and I think this book will be a contender. (another side note: Patton narrates a 2007 audiobook version of On The Road that I have a feeling might be something amazing. Has anyone listened to it?)

One Dog Night was unintentionally funny to me from the beginning of the production because it starts with very 80s music. My co-bloggers both didn't enjoy Grover Gardner's voice narration but I really did. I suppose I've listened to many books with the same type of narration and I find his voice natural and conversational. He's been nominated several times for Audies in the Mystery category and won in 2010. 

Gosh, I am kind of a sucker for full cast audio narrations and the inclusion of music. I know it can be distracting for some listeners but generally, it helps me with the tone of the book and aids my imagination in regards to the setting. Return to Marshall's Bayou is more of a production overall than the other nominees and it feels more like listening to a movie without the visual element. Definitely a feat for the editing and production teams.

Naughty in Nice is narrated by this year's only female narrator, Katherine Kellgren. Honestly, in the first ONE minute of the book, she does several different accents and she captured me immediately. I really love her narration but the sound quality doesn't sound as clear as some of the other nominees. After listening to this one, I know I want to listen to more Katherine Kellgren narrations, but I'm not sure if this one will win the prize.

My Pick: Though I really like Kellgren's narration and skill and I thought all the nominees were worthy contenders, I think Return to Marshall's Bayou by S.H. Baker  is going to win. The work that went into the production--multiple narrators, music, sound effects, just the entirety of the audiobook is very well put together. I am so insanely curious who will come out on top this weekend. 

The narration for One Dog Night was probably my least favorite. The narrator just sounds completely robotic to me. Also, New Jersey accents? What New Jersey accents?

For the most part I really enjoyed Feast Day of Fools. The narrator has a very deep, raspy, movie theater announcer type voice. He does very well with Texas/Southwest accents but unfortunately, he really doesn’t do well with Spanish. And there are a few scenes actually in Spanish so that would seem to be a crucial skill. He also has a tendency to be really over-dramatic (also much like a movie theater announcer).

The narrator for Rogue Island has a very nice voice that I could easily listen to. Plus, he uses a Rhode Island accent (sounds sort of Boston-y if you’re more familiar with that) which I find endlessly interesting. Still, there was nothing truly special about his delivery or characterization. His characters all sound basically the same, with very slight differences in pitch.

Return to Marshall’s Bayou is a “bells and whistles” type audiobook: full cast, sound effects, music in the background. Some readers love that sort of thing and some find it distracting. For some reason, it’s always harder for me to focus when the dialogue is switching back and forth between narrators (and even more so with sound effects and music going on in the background), so this audiobook was definitely not for me. However, I have to give it credit for being very well-produced.

My favorite narration by far is Katherine Kellgren’s work in Naughty in Nice.  She’s already earned a place on my list of all-time favorite audiobook narrators (based on her work in the Jacky Faber series). Her delivery is just dramatic enough, her characters feel distinct, and her wide array of accents are always spot-on. I could listen to her forever.

My pick: Naughty in Nice by Rhys Bowen and narrated by Katherine Kellgren           _____________________________________________________________________________
So, looks like we are a little torn here. But, statistically, we, as a trio, are predicting a victory of Naughty in Nice. Only a week before we find out if our prediction is a correct one...


Be sure to visit The Literate Housewife for links to the other blogs participating in the 2012 Armchair Audies.

Let's Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir) is a collection of stories from the life of Jenny Lawson, who is also known as The Bloggess on her blog of the same name. I was somewhat familiar with Lawson from reading bits of her often irreverent blog posts and laughing my ass off. She talks about a whole range of topics from childbirth all the way to squirrel puppets. Anyone who knows me knows that I love a good story. I love telling them and I especially love hearing them. The more awkward or unbelievable the better. With the caveat that some of these stories are not about me, I tell random stories about puking on the Hoover Dam, making wax casts of vulvas, blacking out and waking up in the bed of a truck with no pants on, peeing in a sleeping bag, naming and caring for a bottle of mold, letting a homeless man sleep in the basement, and accosting people in a deviled egg costume. And you know what? People enjoy these stories. But you have to play to your audience, so a lot of the time I'm just sitting there, making small talk and shooting the breeze. This book is mostly a collection of the kinds of stories I love, but there are definitely moments, nay, entire chapters of more seriousness that reminded me that I was listening to a memoir and not an entirely humorous book.

Lawson's book was actually our book club pick of the month and it received varied reactions. One of the most interesting points that a friend of mine brought up was that the book rubbed her the wrong way because it perpetuated society's promotion of the "neurotic woman." She cited a lot of reality television participants and their over-the-top personalities and how our need for entertainment has created the idea that doing seemingly outrageous things is now commonplace and acceptable. I'm not sure I agree with her wholly, but I do know that it may not apply to Lawson, as she discusses in the book her multiple psychological and physical diagnoses and how they affect her everyday life. However, the book does definitely straddle the line of funny and... I'm having a hard time picking a word here. Listen, we all have our things. We all have our pain, our loves, our worries, dreams, hopes, past, nightmares, (insert whatever here). Everyone's life is their own and no one can actually experience someone else's every thought. But at the same time, we are all human and no one is totally unlike every other person alive. We have commonalities with other people, even in terms of thought processes, so it annoys me when people make it seem like they are so unlike everybody else. Unique snowflakes? No. But it must be hard to try to write stories in the funniest way possible without sounding like a try-hard. A few times Lawson fails at this but she overwhelmingly succeeded for this particular reader.

I am certain that many of Lawson's stories will stick with me for a long time and there are definitely some mental images that I wish I could erase from my mind. For example, she tells a story about turning around and walking straight inside a deer carcass by accident. Another about how her vagina felt after childbirth. And several dead animal stories. I'm not offended by most things, but I can see how this book would be too much for some people. However, Lawson addresses that in the very beginning of the book. You'll know after just a few pages whether or not you are on the same page as she is in terms of humor, and if you are, the book is consistently funny. You can check out her blog, her YouTube channel, or listen to a quick sound bite from NPR here to form your own opinion. (there is also an excerpt from the book on the NPR page)


As I listened to the audiobook, which Lawson narrates,  it was fun to hear her talk about the pictures in the book, but I did feel like I was missing out to an extent. Luckily for me (and you!), the official book trailer includes some of the pictures, including a raccoon in pajamas and an alligator on an airplane!

As a narrator, I thought she was engaging and she is a natural storyteller. The audiobook is absolutely conversational, in a way that I haven't experienced before but which I enjoyed. (Flash to Home Alone when Macauley Culkin talks about washing inside his belly button.) She occasionally diverged from the book for a moment or two, but I think it added to the experience because she was forced to describe the omitted pictures and elaborate on what we were missing in audiobook format. A huge bonus to listening to the book is the bonus story and bloopers which are included at the end. Lawson recounts her first job at a sno-cone shack during the sweltering Texas summer and that awkward moment when someone touches a body part to ice and it gets stuck. And no, it isn't something as funny as the tongue scene in A Christmas Story. I told a guy the punchline of that story and his eyebrows almost shot up off his forehead. Jenny Lawson jokes about how she saved tons of stories for book two and I have no idea if she was joking or not, but I really hope she wasn't. I'd read that. I'd read it in a second. (or listen to it, as it were.)

4/5 stars
  
I was lucky enough to win a copy of the audiobook from Lucy at The Reading Date, so I figure I should continue the good karma and pass it on to another person who can listen to and laugh. So if you live in the US and want to enter to win, just fill out this form. (CONTEST CLOSED, WINNER FORTHCOMING)

During the last week in April, I read a bunch of Beverly Cleary books with Wendy Darling from The Midnight Garden. Despite reading tons of Beverly Cleary books when I was a child, I remembered very little about all of them and in some cases (The Ralph S. Mouse books and the Ramona books), what I did remember was based mostly on the television series or movies that our teachers used to show us when they didn't have something planned. I loved the Mouse and the Motorcycle movie so much as a kid that I actually bought it on VHS with money I made from babysitting. So it was with great excitement that I set out to read lots of Beverly Cleary books in one week and after doing it, I can say that I definitely recommend the week-long challenge for this author in particular, and I look forward to trying it with a few other authors. The only other author I've devoted a week of reading to was Nora Roberts last year with another friend (Vinaya from Chasing The Unicorn) and we hope to do that again in the next few weeks. In the case of children's books, however, it is plausible that you could read the entire oeuvre of an author who writes for children in a week or two, even if you read a few other books simultaneously. I am already daydreaming about the other children's authors to whom I am going to dedicate weeks to in the upcoming months. (E.L. Konigsburg, Louis Sachar, and Lois Lowry, I've got my eyes on you!) And I will finish the rest of Cleary's books next year, when I try this challenge again.  I read nine of her books this time, and here's what I thought of them:

Dear Mr. Henshaw (1984): This book won the Newbery in 1984 and it was one of the biggest surprises of the week for me. I had no clue what the plot was about so I just dove into it. As it turns out, it is a juvenile epistolary story about a young boy who writes letters to an author he idolizes. Every once in a while, Mr. Henshaw (the author) writes back and it was delightful to hear how both Leigh (the boy) and Mr. Henshaw were realistic about their correspondence. What starts as a school exercise turns into a journaling exercise wherein Leigh discusses what is going on in his life. And life isn't perfect for Leigh--his trucker father left Leigh and his mother, his mom isn't making very much money so they live in a run-down house, and Leigh spends a good portion of his time alone. Plus, someone is stealing food from his lunchbox! (Woe is Leigh!) I was happily turning the pages in this super quick read because it dealt with issues I wasn't expecting and it didn't sugarcoat anything. 4/5 stars.

Fifteen (1958): Did you know that Beverly Cleary has been writing books since the 1950s? Did you know she wrote YA and not just juvenile fiction? If you answered yes to those questions, you are much more informed on Cleary's body of work than I was before my immersion week. That said, the first thing I will always think about when I think of Fifteen? Horse meat. Jane Purdy is just a regular girl, babysitting, chatting with her best friend, and hoping to get a beau like the cool cardigan-wearing, convertible-riding girls in her class. What follows is a story of first love between Jane and the new boy in town, Stan, who happens to have a job delivering horse meat for pet food all around town. It will make you wish people were more up front in relationships and at least in my case, wish you could live in the 1950s. So adorable. 4/5 stars.

Two Dog Biscuits (1986):  I really didn't like this picture book at all. Twins, a boy and a girl, are given two milkbone dog biscuits. They leave them in various places around the house until they decide to give them to dogs. They then go around town seeing all sorts of dogs with their biscuits in their pockets and VETO EACH ONE for reasons like the size of the dog or the fact that the dog barked. They go home and feed both bones to their cat. Their parents didn't think a cat would eat them, but it did. Lesson everyone is supposed to learn: Sometimes parents don't know everything. Lesson I learned: These twins are monsters. Who teases dogs like that? And what parent would let their kids tease dogs like that?  1/5 stars.

Muggie Maggie (1990): This is a very short juvenile fiction book--it probably took me about 20 minutes to read it, probably less than that. Maggie is an obstinate girl who refuses to learn cursive. Despite the efforts of her parents and teachers, Maggie doesn't see why she should learn it, even though she is very intelligent and things seem to come very easily to her. Maggie's teacher figures out a way to work with others in the school to trick Maggie into realizing she should learn. I thought Maggie was really frustrating, though I bet it has something to do with the bit  of smartass elementary-aged me that I saw in the character. I read recently that many schools are phasing out cursive in their curriculum and I couldn't/can't stop thinking about how odd it would be to have everything written in regular handwriting. What about signatures?! 3/5 stars.

Beezus and Ramona (1955): It was written in the fifties! Mind blown. Of course I remembered some of Ramona's antics before I started reading, but again, it was mostly because I watched the made-for-TV movies in elementary school. (and I'll admit that I've also seen the newish movie with Ginnifer Goodwin, John Corbett, and Selena Gomez...several times) Ramona is entertaining in the same was as Amelia Bedelia is--she does things and doesn't always realize the ramifications of her actions or that what she is doing is wrong. The sibling relationship is actually really believable because Cleary doesn't try to make it sound like siblings get along all the time. In fact, Beezus is often embarrassed of Ramona or just absolutely annoyed by Ramona's actions. I do really enjoy the series but it gets a bit repetitive. Ramona does something outrageous, her family finds a way to downplay it, or they don't, but then everyone comes to realize that Ramona's uniqueness is what makes her personality, and that everyone loves everyone, amen. I still totally liked it, but I can only handle one at a time. 4/5 stars.

Night Beach
Author: Kirsty Eagar
Publication Date: 4/26/12
Publisher: Penguin Books Australia

Blurb(GR): Imagine there is someone you like so much that just thinking about them leaves you desperate and reckless. You crave them in a way that's not rational, not right, and you're becoming somebody you don't recognise, and certainly don't respect, but you don't even care.
And this person you like is unattainable. Except for one thing...

He lives downstairs.

Abbie has three obsessions. Art. The ocean. And Kane.

But since Kane's been back, he's changed. There's a darkness shadowing him that only Abbie can see. And it wants her in its world.

A gothic story about the very dark things that feed the creative process.

Review:

Night Beach is not a neat story.  It’s tangled and confusing, maybe even heavy-handed.  Kirsty Eagar’s ideas for this book were clearly very ambitious, but I’m not sure that they ever completely crystallized into a distinct picture.  However, what really elevated this book for me was a sort of fearless display of emotion. That same emotional honesty that she showed me in Raw Blue was here and this time I felt like it was even more exposed, even more visceral.  In the end she left me wondering if the lack of cohesion even mattered. Maybe this book isn’t neat, but can anything this emotionally honest ever be neat? Kirsty Eagar had big ideas, and she went for them without holding anything back.  There’s a certain beauty in the disorganized but honest result.  I may not have understood everything about this book, but I feel like I got it.

The main character Abbie is absolutely nothing like me, but Kirsty Eagar’s talent for descriptive writing made me feel everything right along with her.  She’s an artist and a day-dreamer; she’s indecisive, unsure, and anxious; she’s ashamed of her imperfect family and she doesn’t know how to escape it.  She’s a very authentic teenage girl, filled with a desperate longing for something to happen, to sweep her up – even if it’s something scary or overwhelming.  Her feelings for her step-cousin Kane are exhilarating and frightening all at once.  She knows that they’re not smart or healthy, but that’s not the point.  Their sheer magnitude is enough.

When Kane returns from a mysterious surfing trip, he brings a dark shadowy presence with him. The shadow seems to exacerbate the posturing, misogynistic, sometimes violent behavior of the local surf culture in Kane.  He becomes cagey and quick to anger. He sleeps for days on end. Soon Abbie feels the shadow in herself too, and begins to experience nightmares that bleed into and out of her waking life.  

This landscape of this book is surreal and disturbing. A few of the scenes could actually qualify as horror film material (artsy horror film material, but still – this book scared me more than many actual horror books).  But how much of Abbie’s experience is real and how much is just a dream? In my opinion, Kirsty Eagar leaves it very open.  For Abbie, it’s very real. For Abbie, the experiences are an avenue that she uses to cope with the sometimes frightening culture she lives in, to work through the grief that she buried after her grandfather’s death.  They are a way for her to acknowledge and honor the childish hopes that will never come true, and then let them go. They are a lens through which she can see what is real and what is only mirage. But there’s a dark side to them as well – an empty, desolate place where she could easily become lost. This book is about the power of art and imagination, to lead us to our darkest places and back out again. 

In childhood, we are gifted with a near limitless supply of wonder and faith and creativity. We can see demons and know that they’re real. We can feel a hope and believe completely that it will lead us to better things. But then as we grow, wonder, faith, and imagination are tempered or lost. There’s a major tragedy in that, but also a triumph, because we gain so much in their passing: perspective, resilience, dimension, shadow. Everything has a shadow; every loss is also a gain. And maybe if we hold on tightly enough, we can keep a small amount of the wonder, faith, and imagination – enough to light a single candle, maybe.

I obviously loved this book, but it’s not for everyone.  If you enjoy wondering but not knowing, exploring highly visual and imaginative landscapes, and descriptive prose then I would give this one a try.

Perfect Musical Pairing
Sigur Rós - Ekki múkk (moving art)

Sometime I want to spend several hours wandering through a surrealist art exhibit while listening to Sigur Rós because it would be awesome.  I won’t lie – I have no idea what he’s saying in this song.  But his sort of comforting, ethereal, yet slightly creepy voice is just about perfect for this book.  

4/5 Stars

The big news this week in publishing was Houghton Mifflin Harcourt's filing for Bankruptcy protection. Could this be one of the many signs that there will soon be major changes in the ways that books are published?  We found this graph, comparing self-publishing/print on demand to traditional publishing, to be pretty convincing.

Eschewing traditional publishing routes, Jennifer Egan posted the first installment of her sci-fi book Black Box in a series of twitter posts.  Further installments will be released over a period of ten days.

Someone we don't really care to bring more attention to conducted a study of YA literature in a move to put a ratings system (like movies) in place for books.  Her focus, ridiculously enough, was on the use of curse words. Gayle Forman wrote a thoughtful and inspiring comeback - Who's Scared of the Big Bad F-Bomb?

Stacia Kane got nice and ranty again this week with a fabulously angry post titled "Customer Service" - a very nice defense of reviewers and our right to post our opinions without being hassled.

And a third thought-provoking opinion piece from an author: Lev Grossman writes about the differences between "genre fiction" and "literary fiction."  (What are they, anyway?)

Serial killers...scavenging...and Game of Thrones?  YALSA blog The Hub had a list of upcoming trends that they see in YA.

Kirkus also had an interesting article on the increasing presence of oral sex in young adult novels (although they failed to mention The Piper's Son which really is a travesty).

We all loved last month’s picks so there’s a lot to live up to with this round.  And now the tables have turned! The challengers become the…challengees! Throwing a monkey wrench into the whole affair is the fact that all three of us are currently in varying stages of the dreaded YA slump. Can anything possibly break us out of it?  Without further ado, here are this month’s selections:

The Verdict:  The End of the Affair and Five Flavors of Dumb have both been on my to-read list for a while, and are both very easy for me to get (The End of the Affair is sitting on my shelf about ten feet away from me right now) so those two are very convenient picks!  The End of the Affair sounds like something I'd love, but I think I would need to be in the mood for all of that intense heartbreak.  Five Flavors of Dumb sounds like a lot of fun and will probably appeal to my lighter side (LOVE the nerdy romance).  I'm not sure about the third pick, because I rarely read memoirs, BUT I know that Flannery has an amazing sense of humor and if she thinks it's funny, then it's probably worth checking out.  I do rely quite a bit on engaging audiobooks to make exercise more palatable.  Great picks Flannery!

The Verdict: This is going to be a hard choice for me.  I've been meaning to read The Bell Jar and The Handmaid's Tale for so long--probably since high school. They are favorites of many trusted reader friends and I always get a little nervous that I won't see what is so wonderful about books that people love so much. Tatiana is right that I really enjoy historical YA. I don't read a ton of it but it is a great get-out-of-jail genre for me to break through a book slump. I'm going to try all three to see if one sticks with my mood right now.

Okay For Now
Author: Gary D. Schmidt
Publication Date: 4/5/11
Publisher: Clarion Books
[Goodreads | Amazon]

Blurb (GR):  Midwesterner Gary D. Schmidt won Newbery Honor awards for Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boys and The Wednesday Wars, two coming-of-age novels about unlikely friends finding a bond. Okay For Now, his latest novel, explores another seemingly improbable alliance, this one between new outsider in town Doug Swieteck and Lil Spicer, the savvy spitfire daughter of his deli owner boss. With her challenging assistance, Doug discovers new sides of himself. Along the way, he also readjusts his relationship with his abusive father, his school peers, and his older brother, a newly returned war victim of Vietnam. 

Review:

Gary Schmidt’s earlier work, The Wednesday Wars, introduced readers to Doug Swieteck as a secondary character, but Doug takes front stage in Okay For Now, its 2011 companion novel. While they are both quirky, Okay For Now is riddled with darkness that its predecessor didn’t have, and that  kind of heaviness usually appeals to me, at least when it is well done. After reading both of these books, Gary Schmidt has shot himself in the foot going forward; From here on out, I’ll be expecting perfection.  I know he can do it, considering both The Wednesday Wars and Okay For Now are pretty darn close to achieving that feat. Before last week, I wouldn’t have thought it possible to like the second book more than the first but here I am, telling you that I liked it just as much, if not more.

Seventh-grade Doug moves with his family to the small town of Marysville after his father loses his job. While their family may not have fit in perfectly in their prior Long Island town, it is a rough transition considering all these new people don’t yet know about the Swieteck family’s notoriety—namely Doug’s bully brother and their father’s drinking problem and fast hands. That last topic was particularly well-done in Okay For Now, disregarding a section of the ending. I felt the tension hanging in the air and feared for the characters in certain scenes. It was absolutely a book I spoke to aloud, but that’s nothing new for me. The scenes that are always the worst for me are the ones when people are doing wonderful things, inspiring things, but I know a shadow is coming because of it.

Each chapter of the book is prefaced by the inclusion of a black and white copy of a print from John James Audubon’s Birds of America. Before I started reading, I stared at each bird, analyzing what was going on in the picture and what Doug would think of it. When Doug gets to Marysville, he ends up getting a job delivering groceries to all the townspeople from the local deli (run by the father of Doug’s new crush, Lil Spicer) and he finds a copy of Audubon’s Birds of America in the empty second floor of the local library, which is only open on Saturdays. (Check out that link to see the sheer size of the book.) Over time, Doug’s fascination with the prints is encouraged by one of the librarians and the two of them have weekly discussions about the intentions of the artist and how Doug can improve his own artwork. Because Okay For Now is written in first person narrative style, Doug’s voice comes through crystal clear and just looking at the pictures added to the expectations, good and bad, of what was to come.

Here are the thoughts Doug shares about the first picture he sees from the book, The Arctic Tern:

It’s been awhile since I’ve spent significant time with a seventh grader so I’m not sure how realistic his astute observations were, but I know how much we read our lives into everything we experience. I know that every time I hear Bach’s Suite No. 3, my entire body will relax. I know that Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber is almost unbearably sad.  If you read the Wikipedia article on it, I love the story about how the famous conductor Toscanini returned the music without any notes/comments  to the composer’s annoyance, but it turns out that Toscanini had memorized the entire thing.) Every time I see Kandinsky’s work, I think of college because I often used it as my desktop background. Even though Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks shows a couple late at night together as the central element of the painting, I always concentrate on the man who is alone at the counter. Anyway, while it might have been a bit overreaching to make Doug so contemplative of the artwork, I did not find his voice unbelievable. The backbone and temporal anchors that working through the prints in the Audobon book gave Okay For Now created a structure that was perfect and a steady pace.

As with a lot of middle grade books (and a lot of books in general), so much of the novel concentrated on what it means to be a good person. Some of the characters exist seemingly to provide consistent rays of hope to Doug (his mother, Mr. Ballard and Mr. Powell), while others are constant trials. Some reviewers have mentioned their problems with one character in particular, and that is Doug’s father. I want to comment on the ending of this book so just skip to the next paragraph if you don’t want to be spoiled. I didn’t have a problem with the ending of this book. Mr. Swieteck is a disgusting character and I certainly don’t believe that he would stop being so and then the entire family will forget his years of systematic abuse.  The ending presents Mr. Swieteck with the platter of problems he has created, all coming back to him. He’s stolen from one son, treated another like garbage, and yet another is facing a trail and potential jail time for his father’s actions. It is entirely realistic to me that someone in that position might have a moment of clarity—What have I done to myself and my family, who all hate me? I actually like where the book leaves off that part of the story because it is in a place of optimism. For a younger audience of readers, it might be a sign of hope that people can change. The reality of the situation actually made the ending sad for me. It is just a snapshot of a calm moment and the real change, if it ever comes, will be gradual.

There is so much more to this book—Doug and Lil’s relationship, the ups and downs of the townspeople’s treatment of Doug based on local hearsay, Doug’s reading adventures through Jane Eyre, Mrs. Windermere and a theatrical debut, Doug’s brother returning from the Vietnam war, the gym teacher harassing Doug to no end and several other plot points that would be absolute spoilers if I included them. But if I went on any longer, I’d probably go on forever. And that is the best indicator of things, isn’t it? I’d recommend this to basically anyone, but specifically to librarians who want a reminder of what they can do for even one person, to teachers for the same reason, to anyone who likes to think about what the artist or author was thinking about while creating their work, and to anyone who likes to put their heart through the wringer once in a while.

Catie challenged me to read this book for our She Made Me Do It feature and she unsurprisingly knew I would adore it. Thanks, Catie.

5/5 stars

The House of the Scorpion
Author: Nancy Farmer
Publication Date: 9/1/02
Publisher: Atheneum

Blurb: Matteo Alacrán was not born; he was harvested.
His DNA came from El Patrón, lord of a country called Opium--a strip of poppy fields lying between the United States and what was once called Mexico. Matt's first cell split and divided inside a petri dish. Then he was placed in the womb of a cow, where he continued the miraculous journey from embryo to fetus to baby. He is a boy now, but most consider him a monster--except for El Patrón. El Patrón loves Matt as he loves himself, because Matt is himself.

As Matt struggles to understand his existence, he is threatened by a sinister cast of characters, including El Patrón's power-hungry family, and he is surrounded by a dangerous army of bodyguards. Escape is the only chance Matt has to survive. But escape from the Alacrán Estate is no guarantee of freedom, because Matt is marked by his difference in ways he doesn't even suspect.

Review:

Flannery made me do it and I am pleased that she did. I have no idea why I've been avoiding The House of the Scorpion for so long. Just look at its accolades - National Book Award Winner, Printz Honoree, Newbery Honoree. It practically has my name written on it.

But, is The House of the Scorpion worth such an overwhelming acclaim though?

I'd say, its first 215 pages and the last 20 are (ebook edition).

The first two thirds of the book are riveting. This story is not just a clone story. (For some reason, the majority of stories about clones focus on exactly the same things.) Yes, it is horrifying in how it examines the (familiar) debate about a clone's humanity and soulless(ful)ness. Matt is a clone and is defined by people around him as livestock, a source of body parts, and not a human being. (How can he be human if he was grown in and harvested from a cow?) Nancy Farmer takes Matt's character on a journey of self-discovery and self-awareness that allows him to accept that he is not what he is told he is, that he is as much of a human being as any person around him. It is a compelling journey, even though its sentiment isn't particularly new to me - I've read Never Let Me Go and watched The Island.

But, thankfully, there is more to distinguish The House of the Scorpion from similar stories.

First, the novel is set in Mexico (well, a future version of it). This country's life is written richly and authentically and never feels like just an exotic backdrop. I am no expert on Mexican culture though, so I might have felt that in awe of it as portrayed in The House of the Scorpion because of the narrator of the audio, who infused Mexican flavor into the story most organically.

Second, this is a story of a drug lord and his enslaved family. El Patrón feels he is owed a few generations worth of life, and he will stop at nothing to get what he thinks he is entitled to. Cloning is a part of his plan for immortality. It's in Matt's relationship with his master and owner where the story shines the most. How would a clone feel about the person who is identical to him, the source of his life? Would he be able to hate him, essentially hating himself? If a clone's genetic make-up is similar to that of a ruthless criminal, does it mean that this clone is destined to follow the same path and become the same vicious person? Or is there a way to break away from the prototype? And how would a master feel about his own clone? Would it be possible for him to treat this younger version of himself as an organ bank, or there exists a connection that is closer than even that between a father and a child? These questions had my brain working, and this part of the book was 5-star material for me.

But then came the escape part, in the last third of the book, and I found myself struggling with it. I was bored, I didn't feel like those pages (3-months of Matt's life worth) connected well thematically with the overreaching story arc, I didn't think they were necessary, I didn't think that a whole set of new characters (including villains) needed to be introduced so late in the story, and I surely didn't think that anti-socialist rants needed to come into play. (How did they relate to Matt's journey?) I thought, those pages only occupied time with no real bearing on the rest of the novel. To me, those 80 pages could have been completely cut out.

Thankfully, the ending did save The House of the Scorpion. It happens so infrequently in books, but it did bring the story full circle to El Patrón, and it was satisfying. But that big chunk of the novel, unfortunately, made me much less willing to recommend it, even though during the first part of the book I kept thinking this novel would be a great fit for fans of Unwind. I might reread The House of the Scorpion in future, but I'll be sure to skip over a big part of it.

4/5 stars

Blackout (Newsflesh Trilogy, #3)
Author: Mira Grant
Publication Date: 5/22/12
Publisher: Orbit

Blurb: Rise up while you can. - Georgia Mason
The year was 2014. The year we cured cancer. The year we cured the common cold. And the year the dead started to walk. The year of the Rising.

The year was 2039. The world didn't end when the zombies came, it just got worse. Georgia and Shaun Mason set out on the biggest story of their generation. The uncovered the biggest conspiracy since the Rising and realized that to tell the truth, sacrifices have to be made.

Now, the year is 2041, and the investigation that began with the election of President Ryman is much bigger than anyone had assumed. With too much left to do and not much time left to do it in, the surviving staff of After the End Times must face mad scientists, zombie bears, rogue government agencies-and if there's one thing they know is true in post-zombie America, it's this:

Things can always get worse.

Blackout is the conclusion to the epic trilogy that began in the Hugo-nominated Feed and the sequel, Deadline.

Review:

I was over the top excited to read this final installment, but I admit that I was also nervous.  I loved Deadline, but I found myself balking a bit at what Alaric would call the “Mad Science.”  I have no flipping clue how to review this and remain spoiler free but I am going to try my hardest!

And I guess that means that I can’t even really summarize anything that’s happened in the previous two books.  Ummm… there were conspiracies and deaths (oh so many deaths!), high-stakes journalism and heroic bloggers, twists that we never saw coming, and a few zombies thrown in for good measure.  I laughed, I cried, I shook my fist in frustration. 

Here’s what I absolutely loved about this installment: I had so many doubts, but Mira Grant made me forget every single one.  I got so swept up in the first two thirds of this book.  For the first two thirds, I couldn’t care less just how out-there the science was, or how random the plot, or how convenient some of the scenarios.  Grant really knows how to keep the pace moving and her characters are each so unique and full of personality.  I loved the entire ensemble.

Still… something was missing in this book for me.  I just didn’t feel the emotional gut-wrench that I’d become accustomed to with the previous two books.  The first two books in this series made my cry real tears – not just a few little prickles but full on crying.  And, just to put things in perspective – this book has just as much death as the previous two.  But no tears.  Even in the climactic, endgame scene involving my favorite character – I just didn’t feel it. 

I think the forward momentum in this book really stalled out for the last third.  Things started to feel repetitive: run, fight, use witty banter as a coping mechanism, describe a posh hotel in intricate detail, run, fight, use witty banter as a coping mechanism, describe a posh hospital in intricate detail, run, fight, use witty banter as a coping mechanism, describe a posh laboratory in intricate detail... and so on.  And the reasoning behind all of this running felt shaky at best.  The witty banter, which I previously found funny, really started to wear on me by the end.  I just wanted someone to show an honest emotion!  Stop joking about it for like a second!  Then, feel free to resume.

However, all of these things were more like niggling doubts I had.  The major thing that prevented me from really loving this book was something very very spoilerific, so you’ll all have to excuse me if this gets really confusing.

Remember at the end of Feed?  When Mira Grant did one of the most courageous, bold things I’ve ever seen in fiction and just blew all of our hearts to smithereens?  I felt like I actually grieved.  But then, in this book… it really felt to me like all of that courage and bravery was just being undone.  It felt like a major cop-out on her part.  And I did love the scenes where she attempted to remind us all of that certain event, and that it had happened, and that it could never be changed.  BUT, for all of this verbal reminding, I never felt like she showed us that it hadn’t been magically undone.   If a hypothetical “development” walks, talks, and goes by the name of a duck, isn’t it essentially a duck?  And I really didn’t want it to be a duck, at least not all of the time.  I wanted it to have issues acting like a duck some of the time.  I wanted it to forget how to quack or waddle or swim.  I wanted its little duckie friends not to recognize it immediately.  Otherwise, it just feels so shallow.  It doesn’t feel real.  It feels like a magic fairy tale solution. 

Are you all confused yet? Time to wrap this up then.  In short, I still really liked this series. It’s fun; it’s fast-paced; it’s much better and more inventive than most. I had my issues with it but I think they’re more about personal preference. These books are well worth reading.


Perfect Musical Pairing
Temple of the Dog - Say Hello to Heaven

I have no idea why these books remind me of my favorite 90's grunge bands, but there it is. Of course, I used a Pearl Jam song for George and a Soundgarden song for Shaun so... the only natural thing to do for this book is Temple of the Dog.  *wink*

This song really isn't for either of them though.  This was written by the remaining members of Mother Love Bone, after their lead singer Andrew Wood died.  This is my song for the wall - for all the brilliant characters I mourned during the course of this series.  

3.5/5 Stars

Catie and Tatiana brought up the issue of YA cover whitewashing a couple of times in their recent reviews. Is it possible that whitewashing is actually a good thing, in terms of promoting diversity? Apparently it is, at least according to a recent Salon article 'Can you identify?' A study shows that white readers are more inclined to identify with minority (race, sexuality, ethnicity) characters if their "diversity" is concealed from the readers until later in a book. A disheartening, but interesting theory. However, Leila over at bookshelves of doom disagrees, using a racist Hunger Games tweets scandal as an example of how this theory doesn't work.

There were a couple of articles this week written by authors whose  novels are regularly mistaken for some other books due to title similarities.

In a very a funny post Ruta Sepetys, the author of a historical YA novel Between Shades of Gray, which is often mistaken for a famous title that doesn't require naming anymore, says that even the opening line of her book "They took me in my nightgown" to a wrong reader can have a completely different meaning, foreshadowing titillation instead of intended totalitarianism.

Over at Pub(lishing) Crawl Leigh Bardugo, whose debut Shadow And Bone is coming out this June, talks about how it feels to be the author of a book with a title that sounds almost exactly like a few other popular titles in the same genre.

If you are interested in the publishing process, the same Pub(lishing) Crawl had a great article this week about how projects are picked for publication (with gifs!). Apparently, it's a rather lengthy, time consuming and financially-motivated process.

At our alma mater Goodreads Patrick Rothfuss leaves a cute note to his overzealous fans who gave his yet unfinished novel 5 stars. We like that he chose not to fixate on his not-so-generous preemptive raters and start a petition to Goodreads to remove them, so unlike some other misguided writers who did this in the past.  Maybe Rothfuss read this article in Guardian about the importance of respect for one's fandom?

We wish Charlaine Harris had listened to her fandom though. This week she officially announced that the 13th book in her Sookie Stackhouse series titled Dead Ever After will be the last, and it will be "a total closure. I don’t go back to things once I’ve finished them. That’s kind of what I do. I don’t want to write Sookie after I get stale.” If you remember, we spoke about this series just the other week and we agreed that the series got stale years ago. So, too little too late?

And, to wrap things up, here is a post written by Anna at Literary Exploration on a topic near and dear to our hearts - Book Borrowing Etiquette. Don't we all just hate getting back our precious books in a battered and overall disrespected state? What can we do about it?

That's all for this week's Odds & Ends. Have a great weekend!