Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater

 Shiver has me shaking for more” That is perhaps how I would have started my review of Maggie Stiefvater’s, New York Times bestselling novel, Shiver, had I enjoyed reading it. I don’t think I am suppose to like it, and that is ok; after all, I am not within its target audience.
Perhaps I should explain myself. For starters, while I was not particularly put-off by the premise of the book—the werewolf/human thing was fine—I thought that the book took forever to get going; nothing really happens until you are well beyond the books half way point. Sure characters are introduced and they go places, and things happen to them, but they are generally of no consequence—how many times can you go to school, go home, wander carelessly into the woods, and go to school again. And when you expect a big turn in the story you are rewarded with nothing; it gets pushed along, and you are forced to contemplate or forget what happened. While some may call that building suspense, I call it: you are lucky I managed to read through the whole book; I was tempted many times to set it down and walk away.
                My second major criticism of the book centers on my perception that the book has no purpose. Sure a story is told, but it doesn’t go anywhere, or do anything to provide an added value to the reader. Typically, (at least this has been my experience) most books contain prominent themes or an overarching lesson, or function to provide a critique or parody of society, or seek to challenge or promote a cause, but Shiver (at least I was unable to make any connections) seems not to make any statements of this sort. So what is the point? I guess one could find pleasure in simply reading; for me, however, that is not quite enough. I would rather watch TV in that case.
Other faults (I won’t draw these out): (1) the story is predictable; the potential cure, the episode which followed the keys being locked in the car, right up to the ending—really, was there any doubt. (2) Poor secondary character development, it was hard to care for anybody outside of Grace and Sam. Some of them seemed to be over exaggerated archetypes of typical stereotypes ie. Isabel (especially).   
—Giving credit where credit is Due—
                I must say that I did enjoy Stiefvater’s penchant for descriptive writing. It flows like poetry, rich in detail, but simplistic in its imagery. In many cases, so powerful, I would stop to read it several times over. My favourite: “...I saw storms destroying small villages in her eyes.” (p. 163) and “she was already asleep. Unlike me, who had to stalk sleep with poisoned arrows.” (p. 191) That is just good writing plain and simple.         
                 Also, the dual narrate was unique and I think it added a special touch to the story; it seems odd that this would be included; however, given the potential financial gains they could have secured by writing a parallel series using one of the other narratives. Perhaps they needed to separate themselves from others in the genre.                          
With all that said, YAs (mostly of the female variety) are likely to adore this book and others in the series. Why? It depicts teenage love, some ideas about friends and friendship, has vague references of high school life, and has a light commentary on parenting. That is the best I could come up with. Signing off. Goodnight and good luck!

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Review #2

World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2006. Paperback, 342 pages; $21.00.
Appropriate for grades 10 and up.
Rated: 3.5 / 4
 “We talk about it today as if it is some feat of magic, like holy water or a silver bullet, but why wouldn’t destruction of the brain be the only way to annihilate these creatures? Isn’t it the only way to annihilate us as well?”
The zombie apocalypse, the greatest and deadliest conflict in human history, is all but a distant reality. However, for the fortunate millions who have survived the wounds are still very real, likely never to truly heal. At a time when many are wishing to forget the terror and the devastation of the war, one determined individual has made it his goal and responsibility to record the experiences of these victims. The culmination of this effort is World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War.
Despite being the stuff of pure fiction, the personal testimonies evoke an unflinching sense of realism. Each character, from the first—a Chinese doctor who encounters the earliest plague-ridden causalities, to the last—a grizzled, combat-hardened veteran who participated in the ‘road to New York’ military offensive, provides insight that is unique and significant to the understanding of this cumulative narrative; although, in most instances each personal account is substantive and enjoyable to be read individually.
While this is unmistakably a zombie driven plot, at the heart of the book is the classic tale of human adaptability and survival; it is in this story which readers will gravitate towards and identify with most closely. However, as the novel is very much premised on the happenings of contemporary society, that which is related to current and historic geopolitical and economic structures and systems, it may prove to be out of the reach or interest of many. Similarly, as the content is graphic in nature, including coarse language, and mature themes related to violence and death (particularly on a mass scale), this book may be inappropriate for younger audiences. Outside of content, certain readers may also be unimpressed with the unconventional nature of the book’s narrative, judging its delivery to be clumsy and ultimately lazy.
Nevertheless, World War Z represents a valuable contribution to the ever expanding and popular zombie genre; this book is highly recommended, although its appeal may only be appreciated by those interested in horror or post-apocalyptic themed books. Max Brooks is also author of The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Something Interesting? Zombie Zeitgeist

Potentially, a nice primer for my upcoming review of World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War.

I thought this might be of interest to some of you—I found it while flicking through the four channels I am able get on my TV some time ago. It is a video discussion (talking head panel of scholars) of zombies in popular culture throughout modern history (mostly how it has been portrayed in movies). It explores the zombie ethos and mythology; it however does not specifically make this discussion in reference to YAs. So if you are interested in the subject take a look; if not I suggest don’t bother as it is 34 minutes long. 

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Thoughts On: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

“What is life if not a joke” (lyrics from Alabama Motel Room by Matthew Good Band)

I was never able to find much humour in the existence of abject poverty, or for that matter much comedic appeal  in open displays of senseless violence, bigotry, and racism; that was of course until I read Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian—misfortune and despair is always hilarious when it happens to other people. In all seriousness, Alexie writes a wonderful story about life growing up on an Indian reservation as experienced through the eyes of a 9th grader. Although, I must admit, I did find the humour to be initially off-putting; however, realizing that this was the narrator’s (Junior) attempt to deal with the harsh realities of his life, I was more accepting of it. In fact, it plays out to be a beneficial aspect of the story, serving much as comic relief (there are certain plot events which are unbearably difficult to read through). The illustrations are particularly useful to this end—some of the stuff you could not help but laugh at or actually laugh with the narrator.

Another strong part of the book is the character of Junior; you can’t but feel for his plight and be uplifted by his determination to want to do better for himself, despite the challenges he faces, i.e. he lives in crushing poverty, rarely haves enough food to eat, suffered from ‘water on the brain’ as a child, is the target of an endless barrage of jokes and assaults by reservation bullies; on top of that he (through his own volition) is forced to navigate the unfamiliar confines of a new school (of which he is a complete outsider being the only Indian among a sea of Whites), all at the same time of copping with the loss of multiple significant close friends and family members. The appeal of this book for YAs is right on the mark. While there are a few story lines that go nowhere, this book is nevertheless pure gold, at least for me it was. I compare this book to the movie Forest Gump as it will make you happy, mad, sad, and happy all over again, ultimately, in the end, somewhat happy.

On a side note. doesn't Sherman Alexie look like a young Ray Romano! Wow, the resemblance is spot-on.


Thursday, March 10, 2011

Thoughts On: Consumed by Conspicuous Consumption by Wendy Glenn

So I think I will keep my comments to a minimum this time around given that I found this article to be strangely peculiar.

For starters, I usually don’t like to call people names or make overt generalizations of them, but...I think Wendy Glenn is a ragging communist, and also she appears to be one of those old time academics who have a prejudiced view of what defines ‘real’ literature. I know this does not make her inherently a bad person, nor does it make her analysis invalid, but I feel that it has somewhat clouded her judgement or at the very least predetermined her analysis before her research was completed, instead of allowing her results to determine her conclusions. And yes I know everyone is in possession of certain biases; Glenn, however, seems to be writing with an overly strong agenda. I base this on several offsetting statements which she made:

1)       “The novels discussed in this article might not meet my definition of good literature, but I don't have the right to tell students not to read them.” –I think we all know what she thinks of these novels.

2)       “...cross-examination of the YA titles discussed here and John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men or The Grapes of Wrath, Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, or Charles Dickens's Great Expectations.”—it seems odd that she would only request comparing “conspicuous consumption” books with only notable classics. Why not compare them with suitable contemporary novels; are these not worthy examples as well?

3)      and, why does she use a Marxist principled approach in her analysis anyways; it seems over the top. I know that she is attempting to bring legitimacy to her claims, but this could have been established through other methods.

In any event, I do somewhat agree with some of her conclusions, especially that which highlights the importance of YAs reading critically. But I think Glenn is somewhat wrong to think and suggest that YAs do not already do this; it is a natural process of reading. Nobody simply accepts things as they are read to be absolute (at least I hope not); let’s give YAs a little credit, they are not children who have not yet been educated or raised to think this way and surely they have walked through a depressed neighbourhood (or possibly even live in one), or have seen posiitive ethnic and gender role models in their daily routines to know that the depiction of life within Gossip Girl is not representative of the whole of society.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Author Profile: Robert Cormier

“They murdered him.” These three words inaugurate the opening page of The Chocolate War, and to a greater extent the literary career of Robert Cormier, the author whose works are and have long been regarded to represent the best of young adult literature. In introducing the contributions which Robert Cormier has made to the genre of young adult literature, that which can be traced over a quarter of a century and includes thirteen novels and a collection of short stories, it is perhaps best first to briefly reflect on the individual, his influences, interests, his inspiration for writing (Reynolds).
Robert Cormier was born, January 17, 1925, into the ranks of the predominantly French-Canadian immigrant community of French Hill, a suburb of the larger town of Leominster in Massachusetts (Campbell, 2006). Along with his seven other siblings, he was raised Catholic receiving his earliest education through the instruction of nuns at the St. Cecilia Parochial Grammar School. Cormier often described his childhood as being comfortable, spent enjoyably with his family and the larger extension of his community. It is from this time and place that Cormier most frequently wrote about in his novels; for example, Fade and Frenchtown Summer reflect upon his experiences especially well as both novels are home to the fictional town of Monument, clear and unmistakeable portrayals of Cormier’s Leominster. Cormier himself has commented extensively on the autobiographical nature of his writings, claiming that—as most writers do—he writes about what he knows best (Cormier, 2001). By extension, many of the characters Cormier has developed are reflections of himself—his fears, feelings, and emotions—at a young age. Character development was particularly important in the type of books Cormier wrote. He was often fond of arguing that “characters are the most important part of a novel...if the reader doesn't believe in the characters, doesn't love them or hate them or doesn't identify with them, then the story won't work” (Teenreaders.com, 2000).
Advancing to junior high school, Cormier developed a keen appreciation for books and the written word; Mark Twain, Thomas Wolfe, and William Saroyan, were all particularly influential to his career. Ernest Hemingway also figured prominently in Cormier’s development as he was enthralled by the natural simplicity, but descriptive composition of his prose—a style of writing Cormier sought to bring to his own work (Drew, 1996). Along with other authors of the young adult genre, Cormier was influenced by J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, the book many identify with as establishing a new standard in the literature. The outsider, rebel, and loner, as well as the pessimistic world view which Salinger crafted is very much reflected in many of Cormier’s books (Campbell, 2006). Clear distinctions exist, however; the worlds in which Cormier wrote of were obstinately insidious and tragically dark, often offering no meaningful salvation or refuge for goodness to prevail (Drew 1996). Nowhere is this more evident in the novel I am the Cheese—Cormier’s first debut to follow The Chocolate War—which tells the story of Adam Farmer, a patient at a hospital, who is attempting to remember his past in order to survive against the institutions and authorities which (Adam assumes) are there to protect him and his family (Reynolds). What is revealed, however, is a scathing depiction of organizations and governments whose size and power have blinded their capacity to be benevolent societal actors (Drew, 1996).
After completing his education at Fitchburg State College, in 1948 he married Constance (Connie) Senay shortly after becoming employed as a newspaper writer for the Worchester Telegram. After several years he assumed a position with the Fitchburg Sentinel where he was eventually promoted to associate editor, a career which brought him numerous awards and accolades—the most prestigious being the K.R. Thomas Award for most outstanding human-interest column (under the pen name of John Fitch IV) in 1974 (Random House). Working as a journalist enabled Cormier the opportunity to develop his craft, the benefit of which made him realize the importance of economy writing—a practice that attempts to simplify words and their arrangement to maximize their affect in recognition of specific allowances of space (Janeczko, 1977). Employment as a journalist also afforded him the luxury of time to work on his many fiction projects which he actively maintained and experimented with since his earliest college days. The weekends were devoted especially for this task which began for Cormier usually on Thursday. It is from these endeavours, working during the day in his home, or at night so as not to disturb the family—he actually preferred the presence of his wife and children whom he would often seek out for input when writing—that Cormier was able to produce his first young adult novel: The Chocolate War (Janeczko, 1977). It was not until 1978 that Cormier left his position at the Fitchburg Sentinel and devoted all his time to writing fiction (Random House).
As stated earlier, The Chocolate War was Cormier’s first widely commercially and critically successful novel. Written in 1974, the premise was constructed from an actual event in Cormier’s life revolving around a fundraising campaign organized at his son’s school (Campbell, 2006). The book portrays a chilling world in which corruption, intimidation, and violence are the norm in the halls of a Catholic boy’s high school. The protagonist, Jerry Renault, inspired by a poster in his locker which reads: “Do I dare disturb the universe?” refuses participation in the school’s annual chocolate bar sale; the plot follows the consequences of this choice. In the end, readers are left to ponder a complex web of themes which produce no clear or definite answers: individualism, power, universality of evil, and religion, are but just a few examples (Reynolds). The hard-hitting nature of The Chocolate War, which at the time spoke a level of realism rarely before depicted of teenagers, caused quite a backlash of criticism. In fact, Cormier along with his agent had difficulty initially selling the book to publishers. Many identified its content to be incompatible for younger audiences, specifically, insisting that changes be made to address the book’s tragic ending (a hallmark of Cormier) which depicts the triumph of sinister interests; Jerry’s badly beaten and bloodied body is used to evidence this fact. The book was picked up on the eighth pitch (Campbell, 2006).
The criticism which The Chocolate War aroused upon its publication in 1974 was broad and varied. Librarians and teachers, as well as concerned parents, were often among the most adamant in its opposition citing the book’s dismal ending, its lack and poor treatment of positive-inspiring characters, and its careless representation of Christian and Catholic principles and values (Drew, 1977). In addition to this, detractors found offence in the language used by Cormier, claiming it to be obscene and pornographic in its nature (Campbell, 2006). The result of this campaigning, however, produced only limited censorship; in most cases, throughout North America the book was widely accepted. Although, according to a study produced by the American Library Association, for the decade of 2000 to 2009, The Chocolate War (even after nearly thirty years) ranks third among books most frequently challenged and banned in libraries and schools, up one position from the previous decade. This provides evidence not only of its continued controversy, but also of its literary prowess, especially in terms of its worth and currency to contemporary audiences (ALA Frequently challenged books).
Nevertheless, despite the criticism, The Chocolate War achieved remarkable success, capturing numerous awards and accolades. The first of such honours was in 1974, with The New York Times awarding Cormier’s young adult fiction debut the title of most outstanding book of the year—I Am the Cheese, and After the First Death would also receive this distinction in 1977 and 1979 respectfully (Drew, 1996). This trio of books collectively received the much coveted 1991 Margaret A. Edwards Award, presented by the ALA and YALSA, for most “outstanding contribution to literature for young adults” (YALSA). Earlier, in 1982, Cormier was similarly awarded by the Adolescent Literature Assembly (better known as ALAN), an independent association of the National Council of Teachers of English. Additionally, in 2000, Cormier’s Frenchtown Summer was winner of the Los Angeles Times Book Prize in the category for best young adult fiction. In the Middle of the Night, Tenderness and Heroes, all received high acclaim in consideration for the Carnegie Medal—the later novel, in fact was marked as highly commended; this honour is made all the more impressive as it is generally reserved for British authors and their books (Random House). However, this is not at all surprising given that all of Cormier’s young adult novels have received similar recognition and treatment by scholars and associations of the genre.
A complete list of his young adult works, beginning with the earliest, includes: The Chocolate War (1974), I am the Cheese (1977), After the First Death (1979), 8 Plus 1 (1980), The Bumblebee Flies Away (1983), Beyond the Chocolate War (1985), Fade (1988), Other Bells for Us to Ring (1990), We All Fall Down (1991), Tunes for Bears to Dance To (1992), In the Middle of the Night (1995), Tenderness (1997), Heroes (1998), Frenchtown Summer (1999), and The Rag and the Bone Shop (2001). Four of these novels have been adapted into films, the first being I Am the Cheese in 1983, followed by The Chocolate War in 1988, The Bumblebee Flies Away in 1999 and most recently Tenderness, directed by John Polson and starring Russell Crowe, in 2009 (Monseau, 2007). 
Tenderness represents a slight divergence in the writing subject of Cormier’s earlier work. Beginning perhaps with Fade, Cormier progressively attempted to explore the opposing topics of violence and love, good and evil, within teenagers; traditional representations of evil as institutions, governments, and organizations (or their representatives), were largely pushed away in favour of depicting teenagers as creators and agents of evil in their own right. In typical fashion, Cormier often incorporated these notions into a single character, blurring these traits making them often indistinguishable from each other. This is best exemplified in the character of Eric Poole, (featured in Tenderness) a psychopathic teenage who displays brief episodes of compassion despite his murderous ways (Reynolds). This topic specifically fascinated and intrigued Cormier. In speaking of the dichotomy of good and evil, he was convinced that all people possessed, in varying degrees, such faculties. He was particularly adamant in depicting the universality of this phenomenon in his books—not as the thing in the night, but persisting in common everyday people, especially teenagers (Myers, 2000).
As can be noted Robert Cormier’s appeal is extensive reaching far beyond the category of young adult literature; this only seems fitting considering that he never specifically wrote (at least initially) with a specific audience in mind. Similarly, as his goal was to work as a writer and “produce at least one book that would be read by all people” (Davis) it seems that Robert Cormier has achieved success beyond his greatest dreams and has instead produced a legacy which will forever remain in the annals of young adult literature and in the minds of its many readers never to fade.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Thoughts on Paper Towns

Paper Towns is the third novel written by critically acclaimed author John Green.
Quick Plot Summary...
 It tells the story of Quentin Jacobsen (Q), a mild-manner, play by the rules, call it like you see it, teenager living in the vast hinterlands of suburban Orlando, Florida. Of course, Q’s world is quickly challenged; this all begins following the spirited events of an adventurous night of revenge and mischief (shared between Q and Margo Spiegelman). Margo disappears the next morning leaving Q to wonder what might have been; however, concerned for her wellbeing, strung along by clues left by Margo herself, Q sets out in search for his one-time adolescent friend and long-time crush, prepared to find her dead or alive.
My Impressions...
                I have sort of mixed feelings of this book. While I would not say that I disliked it, I did not particularly find it to be spectacularly fantastic (my opinion appears to be in the minority—actually, I could not find any feedback in support of my views). Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it: it was exciting, interesting to read, it paced well, was thoughtful as well as thick with meaning and symbolism (the kind that I like, which makes you questions life, its purpose, and forces you to reconsider all that you thought was true), and it was also especially funny—I actually found myself bursting into fits of laughter every fifth chapter or so; there was even a Chuck Norris reference that I very much appreciated (it can be found on page 201, 8th line down from the top). I know what you are thinking: what more could you ask for in a book? Well I will tell you... see next paragraph
Potential Spoilers leaks for the next two paragraphs
This is perhaps my one knock of the book, it is kind of a big one in my view. I disliked the character of Margo. I disliked her so much so that it kind of ruined the story for me. I viewed her to be selfish, unrealistic in her expectations of others and the world around her, and above all, insensitive to the people in her life—even the ones she supposedly cared about. Ultimately, I found her to be difficult to relate and understand as she possessed few redeemable qualities worthy of respect. Throughout much of the novel, especially as more insights were revealed of her character, I became in different to the idea of her being found; (this is going to sound bad but) I almost wished she would be found dead as I perceived her return into Q’s life would ultimately be detrimental to him and his future.  I also sort of disliked her character because it lessened my appreciation of Q—how could he even like her; there must be something questionable about him and his character should that be his ideal of a suitable companion.
Also, through much of the book she is portrayed as a victim, someone you should feel sympathy for. That is all fine, except for the fact that she is not the victim. Nay, nay I say; she made a choice to leave—victims are not agents of power, they do not have the luxury of opportunity. If anything, Q is the victim, and in the final pages, should you have had a need to cry, I just hope those tears were for Q, because he is truly the one who has lost, suffered and sacrificed, and will likely continue to do so. In any event, I don’t know... maybe I am wrong; maybe I am missed something in reading the book which should make me see Margo in another light. If you found it please let me know because it kind of messes things up for me.
With that said, the book is a hit with YAs and those who have an appreciation for the genre and John Green’s style. As evidence of this, I found a YouTube clip; it is a compilation of about  of a thousand people saying how much they loved the book—they dance, caress the book passionately against their faces, and do other weird and slightly inappropriate things (makes you realize the power of a good book).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPgKyMrfyoM&feature=related