"Purple-haired Goth Madison is adjusting to life at her new high school—and to the fact that she is recently dead. She is the newest dark timekeeper put in charge of reapers of death. Her ideals clash with tradition—she believes in choice over fate: people with the potential to do evil might still be able to change in time to save their souls. Madison and her two reapers, (mostly) light Barnabas and dark Nakita..."
This School Library Journal excerpt I lifted directly off of the Amazon site pretty much clues you in to the fact that this is pure pulp. This is one of those silly supernatural teen books I indulge in on occasion--lacking the weight and depth of the many better teen books out there, yet good for a quick and fun read nonetheless. Harrison's books would never be at the top of my recommendation list, but I have to admit that when I was getting my cover shot for this post and came across the fact that there is a third book in the Madison Avery series coming out at the end of May, I saved it to my Amazon shopping cart. I'm a sucker for reapers and angels and flying and saving souls and teens deceiving their parents. Besides, I need to find out if Madison manages to find her body--hidden by the light timekeeper--so that she can stop using the replica she created until she can find her own.
The Hunger Games books are easily my favorite in recent years. So, when my friend Tracy told me she'd heard Collins had an earlier series, I jumped on the computer to check it out. I found out on Amazon that Collins's Underland series predates The Hunger Games--and that it is intended for a pre-teen audience (approximately 9-12 year olds). The books sounded pretty interesting--an urban Alice in Wonderland theme, where a young boy and his sister fall down a hole into a world involving giant insects, talking animals, and amazing cities--but I'm not as much a fan of pre-teen books as I am of the teen genre. I guess that's a a sign that I've matured somewhat...
I passed on buying the first in the series on Amazon, but when Eddie, Diqui, Peter, and I strolled into our local Northtown Books after brunch one Sunday, I made my way to the Young Adult and kids section. When it comes to encountering books in person, the Borg mantra of "Resistance is futile" pretty much rules my life. I walked out with Gregor--and started reading it almost immediately. After all, I knew Tracy would want to check it out soon too.
The book ended up being quite charming. The action is pretty fast paced, as is Collins's fashion: human Underlanders join Gregor on a quest to rescue his disappeared father (who, Gregor learns upon his descent to the Underland, also fell through the laundry room vent two years ago). Big beetles are heroic, gigantic rats are tyrannical and dangerous, and spiders can go either way. I sped through the book and was entertained, if not compelled. It's the pre-teen thing, really, as the books are very much G-rated and--as expected/appropriate--only scratch the surface of complex issues delved deeply into in Collins's other work. There are four more books in the series--the last of which was published in the same year The Hunger Games was released--and I imagine I'll eventually get around to reading them. Especially if Tracy gets them and loans them to me.
Currently reading (Just got a bit side tracked by a few others. I'll get back to this soon.)
This book came out a few years back, but it recently made the news because high schools are banning it. In a nutshell: these book-burning, oppressive zealots are fucking idiots.
I read a lot of TeenLit, but this is something special: a compelling, realistic story of adolescence told by a Native American male dealing with the challenges of living in two cultures--the Spokane Indian Reservation and a white high school in a neighboring farm town. For the young narrator, both places are fraught with danger and filled with joy. The book is honest, funny, and heartbreaking. And it has the real possibility of opening teens to new cultures and ideas because they will be able to relate to a character outside themselves.
If they are allowed to read it.
Bones is one of my favorite television shows, so I've been both resistant to and curious about reading the books upon which the series is based: resistant because it's always a challenge to see the show/movie of a book you like (or vise versa in this case) and curious because I'm a fan of the science and characters in the show.
Let me introduce you to a character in the books:
- A woman in her 40s
- Divorced, with a college-aged daughter
- Recovered alcoholic who has been dry for 10 years
- Teaches at a college in North Carolina, US
- Works part-time at a small, crowded morgue in Montreal, Canada
- Likes cats, take-out food, and news shows
If you're a fan of the show, you're likely thinking that this is a character that just didn't make it from the books to the TV show. And you're right, of course. Oddly enough, though, her name is Temperance Brennan. She's a forensic anthropologist specializing in bones. Bones.
The first two books in the series and the crime cases they unravel are interesting, although they lack many of the characteristics and characters of the show. There is no science institute. Or Booth. Or Cam. Or Hodgins and Angela. Or Sweets. Or high-tech equipment. Or Washington DC. And there's a lot less science.
Some of these features and people may be coming in later shows, of course, but I sort of doubt it and the books are actually fine without them. They're nothing like the show, and in some ways this is a good thing; there is so little similarity that by the end of the second book I stopped thinking of them as the same. It even became surprising when someone would refer to the lead character as Temperance Brennan. Ultimately, it means I don't have to be disappointed by either the TV show or the books.
What I find really interesting is the fact that Reichs has been involved in the development of the TV series. It makes me wonder. Is this how she sees herself? What she wishes her life to be? (The books, and thus the series, are billed as being based on her actual life/career.) Or, is she simply meeting societal expectations? A younger, more attractive, highly intelligent, sexually open, emotionally disconnected woman somehow fits the bill--where an otherwise average woman of high intelligence doesn't. Which is interesting in itself.
A few years back I heard Seattle Public Library's rock-star librarian Nancy Pearl give a formula for book reading that has stuck with me ever since. When asked how much of a book to read before setting it aside, she suggested that readers take the number 100, subtract their age from it, and use the remaining number to determine the number of pages to read before making a decision to continue or trip. The idea is that the older we get, the more we have read and the better we have become at gauging whether or not a book is to our liking. And, the older we get, the fewer books we have left in our reading lives, so the less time we should spend reading things we don't like and focus on those we do.
For me, 100 - 43 = 57 pages.
I've always thought Pearl's suggestion was sensible, and I like the idea of having "permission" to quit a book I don't enjoy--from a leading librarian, no less. After reading Incarceron, my faith in the formula is stronger than ever.
The premise of the book seemed interesting to me: a prison filled with society's weak and unfortunate and then sealed forever, leaving them in a paradise. Or, that's the party line. In reality, the prison broke down years ago and is overseen by a warden with immense political power--and a young and inquisitive daughter. The world they live in is technologically highly advanced, but to maintain control the ruling powers force people to live in an anachronistic society, loosely resembling the 19th century or so.
Despite the promising description, the first 40 or so pages of the book were dull and unappealing. It was all I could do to force myself to continue, and the only thing that was keeping me going was the promise of page 57. Amazingly, round about page 50 or so, my impression began to change. The characters started to become complex, the technology and political intrigue captured my attention, and the plot became more compelling. With a sense of almost giddy relief, I sped through the rest of the book and look forward to volume two, entitled Sapphique.
Thanks, Nancy.
The continuing saga of the son of a children's author whom the public believes to be the basis for his father's main character. In this trade, Tom (Tommy) Taylor is taken to France and imprisoned for the deaths of a house full of authors--a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When an effort is made to assassinate him in jail, he escapes and enters a world where fact and fiction overlap. Having previously forsaken his legacy, Tom must come to terms with his ability to straddle worlds in order to survive.
