In Otherworlds

                One character learns to navigate the afterworld with the help of a sexy Vedic death god. In a very different book, the character uses a pen and old fashioned journal to cross over into the alternate reality. One novel celebrates the diversity of current YA literature; the other focuses on the brief output of Sylvia Plath. Afterworlds by Scott Westerfeld is a huge and fast-paced double story. Belzhar by Meg Wolitzer is quietly and beautifully devastating. While they are very different books, both use the literal act of writing as a way to explore the very real power of stories.

                The first thing you notice about Afterworlds is that it is structured in alternating chapters, helpfully marked with black and white bands on the pages. The black pages tell the story of Lizzie, a girl who survives a terrorist attack and learns she has powers to enter the world of ghosts. She does this by repeating the words of the 911 call she made during the attack at the airport. Once she enters the flipside, her guide is Yamaraj, a Hindu death god. Combining ideas borrowing from the Vedas, traditional crime fiction and supernatural stories, these sections sample many of the themes that take YA fiction beyond the confines of real life. In contrast, the white pages are a realistic story of how Darcy Patel (herself only 18) wrote this book-within-a-book, and describes her life as the rising star in the YA world. For me these were the best sections, with lots of literary scenes: meeting fellow authors at book parties, touring with a John Green-like celebrity (“there were a dozen YouTube channels about his YouTube channel” p. 165), acting as “flap - monkey” at book signings, joking about YA heaven where the NYT bestsellers get to wear black robes with red trim while the Printz winners get the sparkly tiaras, and even the seemingly mundane task of choosing a pen for signing copies (“Take three of each, and a Sharpie for casts, show bags and body parts.” p. 567).

                The very names of Darcy and Lizzie are part of the fun, but alas, there were no further connections to Pride and Prejudice. There are also characters named Carla and Sagan (as they joke, the odd against them knowing why their names are funny together are “billions and billions to one” p. 206). And although it is a minor part of the plot, it is refreshing to see a mention of Aboriginal tales as part of the global range of literary influences.

                As you can tell from my previous run-on sentences, this novel crams in so many ideas. I haven’t touched on half of them – I should mention the lesbian love story, the quest for the best ramen in New York City and the scenes of simply sitting down to write. Afterworlds itself is as huge in size as it is in scope. It does bog down a bit under its own weight, but on the whole, provides a satisfying, entertaining read.

                Saying too much about Belzhar would do the book a disservice. From the beginning Wolitzer is in perfect control; readers are like a thread wrapped around her finger as she reels the story in with her subtle plot line. When the story starts, you think you know how it will go. By the end, you are devastated in ways you never expected.

                When Jamaica, called Jam, is utterly crushed because of a boy, her parents try everything they know, then finally send her to The Wooden Barn which is described as a boarding school for “emotionally fragile, highly intelligent” teenagers. The boy is Reeve Maxfield, an exchange student from England, smart, slouchy, pale and lean, with (of course) a killer accent. Jam falls in love, then he is gone and she can’t cope. At the Wooden Barn, she is put into a class called Special Topics in English, which focuses entirely on the works of Sylvia Plath.

                Jam and the 4 other students of the class are given journals and assigned to write in them twice a week. After writing nothing but a sentence, exactly 5 pages of the journal fill up automatically and the writer is taken to a place where his or her life is restored. Casey can walk again. Sierra has her brother. Marc and Griffin go back to a time before their lives changed and Jam can be with Reeve again, kissing on the grass behind the school. They call this state “Belzhar,” a form of the words "bell jar."

                Then one of the group counts the number of pages in the journal and works out that they will run out of pages right at the end of the semester. What will happen on the last visit? And how can they extend the visits to a place where they are finally happy?

                Writing is the link to the alternate reality. Stories have healing power. Great writing does make a difference. Words matter. With this short novel, Meg Wolitzer makes the most compelling case ever for a class such as Special Topics in English.

               

Messing about in Boats, by our guest blogger

Time and tide and the vagaries of my Seattle Public Library hold queue simultaneously washed up three books related to boats. And so I have spent the last few weeks at sea, drifting away on the sea of words. I have no special knowledge of boats, or of the sea, but as an armchair sailor, these three titles delivered hours of entertaining reading.                

For years, literally, friends have been recommending The Boys in the Boat, by Daniel James Brown, but I kept putting off reading it. Non-fiction books about sports and Nazis are, quite frankly, pretty much at the bottom of my interest list. The recommendations, however, kept coming and finally it was just easier to read the thing than listen to another word of praise. I can’t believe it took me so long. This book is remarkable! The story of the underdog University of Washington crew team and their bid for gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics is exciting by itself. Add to this the historical background of Seattle during the Depression and the rise of Hitler’s power in Germany and the book takes on a larger dimension. But what the author does best of all is get into the minds and aching muscles of the crew. The heart-breakingly difficult personal story of Joe Rantz gives a sharper focus to the historical background. Brown’s vivid writing elevates the book beyond the ordinary sports account and brings each oar stroke, each race, and each triumph dynamically alive for the reader.

The Plover, by Brian Doyle, is a very different sort of book, a kind of road trip by boat across the Pacific. It starts out with one man, Declan O Donnell, escaping his life in Oregon and ends up with nine passengers, not counting the resident herring gull, tiny warbler, snails and all the other creatures who attach themselves to the tiny Plover. All in need of healing. Some are literally burnt, all emotionally scarred. The most touching character is the little girl Pipa, damaged in a bus accident and silent for 4 years until  the herring gull magically, mystically, “opens” her and she is able to speak again. Literary in its roots (think Melville, Stevenson and Coleridge), and peppered with quotes from Declan’s favorite writer, Edmund Burke, The Plover could easily sink under the weight of its concept, but Doyle keeps it flowing smoothly with his lyrical writing style and humorous asides. The gull is especially useful for comic relief as when Declan address the gull at the beginning of the story: “You are most definitely not a metaphor, my friend.” Though not as rich and complex at Doyle’s earlier novel, Mink River, The Plover is a heart-felt celebration of life’s various journeys.

Before it became a cannibal-rat infested ghost ship (really, you can Google it!) I had the pleasure of taking a cruise on the Lyubov Orlova. Though the plight of this modern ship generated some media interest, it is a far cry from the sensation the derelict ship Mary Celeste caused in 1872. The ship was found unmanned and abandoned, but still in seaworthy condition with plenty of food onboard. Taking as her starting point what little is known about the historical ship, Valerie Martin mixes fact and imagination to explore ideas of loss, grief and the power of storytelling in her speculative novel, The Ghost of the Mary Celeste. In her book, as he did in real life, the writer Arthur Conan Doyle hears the mystery of the Mary Celeste while at sea and uses it as the basis for a fabricated story. That story is read by the American psychic Violet Petra, who later meets Doyle to tell him that his story is incorrect and that she knows the family involved. In her possession is the journal, written by Sarah, the wife of the missing captain. These various stories are woven together by Valerie Martin into a multi-layered and complex text, switching back and forth in time and from the various characters. It is complex and rewarding reading.

Now go look up cannibal-rat infested ghost ships. You know you want to.

Book Fair!

It's day two of The Bush School's semiannual book fair. Our amazing volunteer chairman, Julie P., works with the incomparable University Book Store to provide a huge selection of great books for all ages. I'm going up in a few minutes to do a little holiday shopping, but it has gotten me to thinking about buying books.

When my children were young, I bought books all the time. I always attended the public library sales, we scoured the second hand stores, and no gift-giving opportunity was complete without beautiful new books. I love books. I love the look, the feel, the smell. I want to own them. I've been known to buy copies out of recognition and pity. "Oh! I love this book! No one will find you here and appreciate you like I can!" (Said at Goodwill or some sketchier thrift store.)

Now, however, the kids are grown and have moved out (taking some of their books with them). It's just the husband, me, and many linear feet of books that seldom get opened. I have had to re-evaluate my book buying habits. Unless it's a book I know I'll read again, I seldom buy it. I figure that's what libraries are for.

So who am I shopping for? Luckily I have many young people in my life and I continue to believe that a child just can't have too many stories in their life. Actually none of us can, although adults have more mobility and can get out to bookstores, libraries, plays, movies. But kids -- they need choices close at hand.

Hmm, let's see. Maybe Boys in the Boat for the high-school boy, and one of the Bone books for the second grader. Now, what about those toddlers?

Lila, by Marilynne Robinson

Oh my goodness, I am reading and L-O-V-I-N-G Lila, by Marilynne Robinson. Every night, I think -- oh good, it's time to read some more Lila. It's dense though, and so far, I'm only reading it before sleep, so I am forced to take it slowly, which is unusual for me and in this case, good.

Why am I so entranced? Lila, herself, is such a compelling character. A young woman, maybe in her 20s, she's been homeless nearly her whole life. At 4, she was taken away from the people she lived with by the only person who ever showed her any tenderness, a disfigured woman called Doll, and they spent the next 10-15 years "running" from those folks. Eventually Lila walks into a church and feels an immediate and deep connection to the old man up front. Meanwhile preacher John Ames, a widower in his 60s, looks up and notices this woman. She's not pretty, but there is something about her that grabs him. Kismet?

The books starts with their connection and builds out -- Lila's life with Doll, her love for John Ames, Doll's death, how she survived on her own, their marriage, her confusion around faith and existence. It asks the big questions and the small ones. It's funny and heartbreaking and always surprising. Lila is continually distracted by wondering what happened -- to Doll, to her mother, to the folks they traveled with some, to the folks they ran from. Doll would never answer. "Never you mind," was her constant refrain. Her wondering helps her (and the reader) reconstruct or at least imagine the past she was first too young to remember and then was too much a child to question.

I both look forward to seeing Lila through her search for identity and dread coming to the end of the book. When was the last time that happened? I can't think of a time.

"I'll Take Australia YA Novels for 300, Please"

From our guest blogger, Yvette:

                Having read all of Melina Marchetta’s wonderfully engaging work, I went in search of more young adult novels set in Australia. As readers, we all have our quirks, and I am always on the lookout for books with a vivid setting. While not as important to my reading experience as good writing and believable characters, a setting which I can picture in my head as I read really does add to the interest of a novel. As it turns out, YA novels from Down Under feature the same themes of coming into your own, making friends, rebelling against parents, finding love and having fun, not necessarily in that order. But what sets the best ones apart are a strong sense of place and liberal application of Aussie slang.

Here are three recently published novels that fit this category:

Zac and Mia by A.J. Betts

                Two teenagers in the cancer ward of Perth hospital first communicate by knocking on the wall between them, then by Facebook messenger. But before you can say “The Fault in Our Southern Hemisphere Stars”, the scene shifts to an olive farm in rural Western Australia. Zac, leukemia patient from room 1, is back at home after a grueling bone marrow transplant, using golf clubs to smack away roo poo, clearing the paths before the arrival of paying weekend visitors. In addition to olive oil tastings and an alpaca petting zoo, the farm has sheep and emus. A fox hides in the woods, waiting. When Mia, leg tumor patient from room 2, arrives at the farm a few weeks later on crutches, she is a broken, angry, runaway. While the plot has some twists, the end is predictable. However, the characters are strong and well drawn and the author does not shy away from their pain and fear. Watching a sunset, Mia thinks, “I know these colors well. Puckered pinks and flaming reds, hot and soft to the touch. Scarlet smearing the horizon. A symphony of infection and pain” (p. 200). Hospitals are the same the world over, but the scenes on the farm help set this book apart from other cancer dramas.

               

Love and Other Perishable Items by Laura Buzo

                This is not one of those books where the teenagers overcome obstacles and find happiness together. This is a book in which the statistical probability of young love lasting is zero from the very beginning. It simply won’t work. We know it. The title has the word “perishable” in it. The characters themselves know their relationship won’t work. There, I gave away the ending. But don’t worry about spoilers. This book is as fresh and as funny as they come, and the many pleasures of reading it are in watching the very real characters struggle, learn, communicate, and grow.

                Chris is 21. He attends classes at uni, likes to party, is recovering from the departure of a serious girlfriend. He lives at home, and works at Coles, a grocery store. He calls it the “Land of Dreams”. His is warm and engaging and always seems to twinkle. He can get away with saying “whillikers!” Here is Amelia on Chris:

                Each conversation with Chris seemed to prompt an exhausted mix of excitement and forehead slapping embarrassment at my inability to keep up with the references and in-jokes…. I wasn’t used to talking to boys at all, let along grown-up ones with university essays to write and incredible charisma. So, so far out of my depth (p.11).

Amelia is 15. She is literate, passionate about feminism as she defines it and lives at home with her baby sister, overworked mother and often absent theater-director father. Here is Chris on Amelia:

                She demonstrates an advanced-level single-eyebrow raise. She’s amusing – all frizzy-haired and fiery. I suspect she can, like, construct sentences and read books. Here’s hoping she will go a little way toward Amelia-rating the vacuousness of her chain-smoking fifteen-year-old cohorts….She hasn’t developed the ability to see past her own nose yet – takes everything seriously. Oh, adolescence, how much I don’t miss you (p. 42).

 Oh, and she is madly in love with Chris.                

                Chris calls Amelia “The Youngster” and is her staff trainer at Coles. They engage in witty banter. He explains the end of “Great Expectations” and lets her know about the alternate ending, the one in which Pip and Estella don’t get together. They agree this is a much better ending. (Alert readers will highlight this one, and write foreshadowing in the margin.) They write long letters back and forth. They share a pizza. Things look promising. Then, at a party, he kisses her. She says “I love you”. He calls the next day to apologize for his rude drunken behavior. In the end, both characters learn that you don’t always get what you want. Sometimes you get something better.

Girl Defective by Simmone Howell

                This got me right from the cover, which you really have to see. The title is a word play on both the detective plot line and teen angst. Of the three books reviewed here, this was my favorite by far, with its great set of characters, vivid setting and incredible writing.  

                Skylark Martin is 15, curious, trying to figure out who she is. She lives with her brother Gully (short for Seagull; her mother liked birds) who has “social difficulties”; in this case meaning he constantly wears a pig snout mask. Their mother has run off to “find herself” and be a performance artist; their father is addicted to beer and records and runs the vinyl shop over which they live. Enter “tragi-hot” Luke and the story of “just-plain tragic” Mia (a very different Mia from the cancer patient character) who drowned before the story opens. There is Nancy the older, not-very-good-influence friend. As Sky notes, “Before Nancy, I never smoked or drank; what I knew about sex, you could ice on a cupcake” (p. 12).

                St. Kilda’s, where the book is set, features almost as another character. It is a real place, not far from the center of Melbourne, but with a very different in feel. St. Kilda’s is a seaside playground, with beaches, palm-lined boardwalk and Luna Park. Built in 1912, it still features the Laughing Face entrance (you walk through the open mouth) and classic wooden roller coasters. The heat from the beach and the crowds in the amusement park are described in this book in such a way that you really feel present. As an entertainment district St. Kilda’s has its seamier underbelly, but “the red light district was not the wilderness of discarded condoms and push-up bras I’d imagines. Instead it looked positively family. Old workers’ terraces nestled against modern townhouses. I saw prayer flags, droopy camellias, kids’ bikes” (p. 125). Sky and Gully are on their way to interview “prossies” as part of the investigation about the brick chucked through the window of the record shop. Aussie slang is all about diminutives, as the word Aussie itself suggest, featuring words like “sunnies” (sunglasses) and “toasties” (for breakfast). Although the story wraps up, if feels as if Simmone Howell is not done with these characters. But that could be wishful thinking on my part, because I would love to hear much more about this bunch.

                As Nancy would say, “Your turn”. What other YA books have you read, set in other countries? Did the setting help enhance the story, or was it a distraction from the plot. Let us know!

Other titles that fit this list which I have not yet read:

Does My Head Look Big in This by Randa Abdel-Fattah

The Sweet, Terrible, Glorious Year I Truly, Completely Lost It by Lisa Shanahan

A Little Wanting Song by Cath Crowley

Audio Books

How do you read? Do you prefer reading with your eyes or your ears?

I like print. I like going at my own pace, noise from the rest of the world doesn't affect me, and I can see how names are spelled (which helps me remember them). I do listen to books, but I've taken to noting in my reading log which books were listened to because I'm never sure how much of what I enjoyed (or didn't) was because of the format.

I have started using audio books strategically because apparently I'll listen to anything. (Yes, I am one of those people who listen to public radio pledge drives.) I find I can persevere with listening in a way that I can't with sight reading. For example, for years Middlemarch had been on my to-read list. I had read and loved George Eliot's Silas Marner as a teen so I knew I liked her writing. Her epic story of a small English community with an independent woman as its central character seems like it would be right up my alley, but I tried two or three times and never got past book one. "What? You immerse me in Dorothea's story and then Lydgate? Fred and Mary? Who are these people? Where's Dorothea?"

When The Toast suggested a Middlemarch book club last year, I was determined to participate, and the audio book on CD got me over my reluctance, all the way to the realization that the book is called Middlemarch, and not Dorothea, for a reason. At some point I became impatient, grabbed a print copy and just finished it, but truly, I wouldn't have gotten there without the engagement that first came by listening.

And so, audio books are my go-to for non-fiction that I want, or need, to read. It's how I read the fascinating story of Henrietta Lacks and Norman Maclean's analysis of the 1949 Mann Gulch Fire. The Worst Hard Time informed my understanding of my parents' Kansas childhoods and Hawaii's history gained new poignancy for me through Sarah Vowell's distinctive voice.

Sometimes I'll tire of the pledge drive, grab a novel on CD off the library shelf to get me through, and a brilliant narrator will bring a story to life in a way that can't compare to the voice in my head. Neil Gaiman reads his own Graveyard Book and Alan Bennett his Uncommon Reader. They are masterful! Stephen Briggs knocks Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett out of the park. Currently Lisa is listening to The Book Thief and reveling in the reader's rendition, to the point that, though she's engaged enough to want to switch to reading print (it's faster), she can't, because she'd miss out on his narration.

Isn't it great that we have all these options? CDs, books, digital. What and why do you choose what you do?

Book Club Suggestions

I was chatting with a parent volunteer today, helping her find some new books to read-aloud with her 3rd grader, and admitted that I love to tell people what to read, but totally dislike being told myself. It's why I can't be in a book club. 

Sure doesn't stop me from telling YOU what YOUR book club should read next, though!

Here are some books I've read that I would have loved discussing when I finished them:

Unless, by Carol Shields

Reta Winters -- contented mother, wife, writer, translator -- finds herself thrown for a loop when her daughter drops out of college to beg on a Toronto street corner with a sign reading "goodness." I think it's because Reta and I must be close to the same age and when I first read the book, my children were about the age as hers in the novel, but I cannot get enough of this book. I've purchased other Carol Shields books, but I haven't read them yet. I'm just not done with Unless. The structure, the mix of tragedy and comedy, the language -- there is so much in this slim volume.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot
An unusual selection from me as I don't read a lot of non-fiction, but I'm trying to be inclusive here. This was on all the best seller lists a couple years ago. Did you read it then? Do you know the story? Henrietta Lacks was a black woman in Baltimore who developed cervical cancer. A researcher trying to grow human cells for research took a sample of hers and they grew unlike any collected before. Okay, interesting questions of patient rights arise, but it doesn't stop there. Her story intersects with the polio vaccine and the Tuskegee Institute, among other mid-century focal points. Skloot did a great job of representing all the voices in this fascinating, and controversial, history.

Gemini, by Carol Cassella
Another medicine-based story, this is a well-written novel by a local doctor/writer. I loved all the main characters, even as they infuriated me. The writing and language are good. The plot twists are surprising, yet realistic. Two different stories unfold in alternating chapters -- a contemporary drama and a kids' friendship about 20 years earlier. It makes for a good structure for the story arc as a whole.

The Spare Room, by Helen Garner
This novel from Down Under gives you a medical drama without the financial concerns. I know, right? That's not something you get with American novels. Narrator Helen offers an old friend a place to stay while she is in treatment for stage 4 cancer. It turns out that Nicola is in total denial and her specialist is a quack. Fascinating, funny, horrifying, the reader reels from the disconnect of seeing Nicola in her self-absorbed dysfunctional state while hearing what a wonderful, generous, creative friend she was. We only get glimpses of the true Nicola -- she has been possessed by a desperation so fierce that she is lost to her friends and to herself.

An Untamed State, by Roxane Gay
"Once upon a time, in a far-off land, I was kidnapped by a gang of fearless yet terrified young men with so much impossible hope beating inside their bodies it burned their very skin and strengthened their will right through their bones." So begins Mireille's story of imprisonment, torture, surrender, betrayal, and the nearly impossible climb back to life. It's a hard read, but Gay is a generous author; she gives us hope and love and prose so beautiful you will weep. 

Middlemarch, by George Eliot
Is your group in the mood for a classic? This fits the bill, plus gives you passion, feminism, hypocrisy, greed, vanity, love, snark and glorious writing. It's oh so meaty and many, many writers owe Eliot their careers.

I'd love to hear what you think of this list! What's on yours?