I'm not a fan of short-story collections, preferring full-length novels because of their richer character and plot development. There are a few authors, however, for whom I make an exception and check out their shorter fiction, and King is among those. I know there are many people who might not accept King's work as serious "literature" because of his frequent forays into the supernatural, fantasy, and flat-out weird, but I strongly feel that's a narrow view--and one all too commonly held when it comes to authors of SciFi and fantasy. In truth, I feel there are few writers today who have the narrative skill and storytelling power King exhibits again and again, across genre and format.
The four stories in this collection (called "long stories" on the book jacket) aptly demonstrate King's remarkable ability to engage readers and draw them through to the plot's conclusion--despite the fact that the tales told are dark and distasteful. As soon as the premise of each story became clear (murder of a spouse, betrayal of a best friend, rape and revenge, discovery of a spouse's horrible secret), I paused to think about whether I really wanted to continue. However, as any fan of King knows, that opportunity to consider turning back came a little too far down the road: having started the trip under King's skillful direction, I felt compelled to see the journey though. Even knowing there were likely no "happy" endings, and further burdened by the fact that there were no supernatural elements (which would at least allow me the luxury to discount them as improbable), I continued to the destination King set. And, as disturbing as those conclusions were, amongst my feelings of relief upon completing the book, I also experienced a moment of joy: the joy of having a light shone into the darkness to reveal what resides there--without needing to investigate it alone.
I remember being fascinated by the Salem witch trials when I was a teen, but since then I haven't given them much thought. This novel does a nice job of establishing a believable context for a story about a young scholar who discovers a "lost" Salem witch, never recorded in history books. The witch also ends up being her great-great grandmother, and the story's protagonist follows the chain of succession to the modern day, only to find that she herself is a witch--with inherent witchy powers. (The author bio informs the reader that Howe herself is the descendant of two women involved in the Salem trials--one of whom was executed--although it doesn't, alas, state whether she has special powers.) In addition to a good tale, the novel explores the role of "wise" women in pre-American European settlements, provides background on the witch trials in the 1600s, and encourages the reader to consider the ways in which societies can make something "real" for periods of time.
The first book in one of Patterson's co-authored (one reason for his prolific production) TeenLit series, Witch & Wizard tells the story of a brother and sister dragged from their homes and imprisoned in the middle of the night by a newly "elected" totalitarian regime, which promptly charges and convicts them of witchcraft. While formerly unaware of their powers, the teens come into their own through a process of conflict and need for survival and join a group of runaway children set on (of course) saving the world. I wouldn't say it's the best of its type, and I prefer Patterson's Maximum Ride series (entries 87-89), but the straight-forward style and sense of humor will appeal to Tween and Teen boys and girls.
One of the things I most enjoy about national conferences is the authors and keynote speakers that populate them. During the National Council of Teachers of English Convention in Chicago this November, my colleague Marsha and I treated ourselves to two lunches--the first with the wonderful poet Billy Collins and the second a combined gig featuring James Patterson and Anthony Horowitz--two TeenLit authors. While I had read a couple of Patterson's adult thrillers in airports over the years, I hadn't checked out his teen offerings. Since Marsha started with the Maximum Ride series (he has many), I decided to start there.
The books require readers to accept the premise that there has been successful hybridization across species--genetic manipulation that has resulted in Max and her "flock." By initial appearances human, avian genes have been added that resulted in the kids--six of them ranging from 17-year-old max to 8-year-old Angel--growing winds, light bones, super strength, and any number of amazing abilities that unfurl daily (mind control, super speed, talking to fish, etc.).
The science may be iffy, but the mad scientists, who kept the children in cages for years to experiment on them and are, of course, planning to take over the world, add just the details needed to accept the idea. These three books follow Max and her flock as they learn to live on their own, look for their birth parents, and--yes--save the world.
All joking aside, the plots are fast-paced and adventurous and the kids are appealing, and Patterson's bare-bones writing style suits the teen genre well. The fact that he was a brilliant conversationalist at the conference adds to my review, no doubt, but these are worth checking out and sharing with young adult readers--both boys and girls.
I chose this book based on Amazon's recommendation and the fact that both Cory Doctorow and Stephen King provided blurbs for the jacket. King said, "Robert Charles Wilson is a hell of a storyteller," and since I think King is quite the storyteller himself, I thought this was pretty high praise. The book turned out compelling enough to keep me going through 400+ pages of small font (My perspective has been skewed by all the TeenLit I read these days.), but it's a hard book to describe in many ways.
Mainly the problem of describing the novel arises in assigning it a genre. Wilson is considered a SciFi author, and I suppose that loosely fits things--but very loosely. The story is set in a futuristic 22nd-Century America, but one that looks much more like things did in the 18th century. There are scattered pockets of technology, but on the whole it's much more of a feudal society, with landowners and serfs, a mixed civil and religious political structure with military leanings. There's a constant war that is being waged to maintain the American borders--and a corresponding flag of 13 stripes and 60 stars. It's low tech enough to keep it out of the Steampunk genre, yet there's a flavor of something futuristic at the same time--in a collapse type of way common to Post-Apocalyptic novels, but well after any horror has dissipated.
With all that aside, the novel is primarily a story of friendship--between a lower-born aspiring author (the book's narrator) and the aristocratic son of the slain US President. The two travel across country, engage in numerous battle scenes, make critiques of high society and religion, and comment on socialism and totalitarianism. All in all there is a bit of something in here for everyone, and while I think that it's a more male-oriented plot, there is enough drama and interest to pull most readers along.
Those who read Selznicks's The Invention of Hugo Cabret--an illustrated novel describing a young boy's secret life living in a train station--have been eagerly awaiting the release of Wonderstruck. After reading it, I can't see any of these folks being disappointed, and I suspect those who start with this book will go back and read the earlier release. Like tIoHC, Wonderstruck integrates full pages of text with full pages of drawing--hence the illustrated-novel versus graphic-novel designation. In this book, however, there is even more illustration, adding to the richness of the reading experience. Even more interestingly, though, the book starts by alternating text pages of one story with illustrated pages of another story. The two seem completely separate and unconnected at first, but over the course of the novel the two story lines merge interestingly.
The book is enchanting and unusual, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. However, after finishing, I began reflecting on the underlying premise of both books. In Hugo, a 12-year-old orphaned boy lives in a Paris train station after the death of his father (mother already deceased); in Wonderstruck, a similarly-aged boy runs aways from home after the death of his mother (father already absent/unknown), traveling from rural Minnesota to hide out in NYC's Museum of Natural History. Both successfully manage to feed themselves, remain safe, and meet other people. I can't help but wonder about this, as it's hard to imagine such success stories. I know this is fiction and allows room for fantasy--and many Tween/Teen books rely on a premise of absent parents and independence--but it's a bit scary too. Of course, I'm not in any way suggesting this book should be kept from young kids, and I don't believe it would cause them to run away, but I certainly think there are some conversations that could be held around the premise. After all, there's a difference between this type of "fantasy" world and one that you find through a secret door in the back of a wardrobe: it is accessible. And, there are no talking animals to offer guidance.
[Also visit my friend/colleague Stephanie Vanderslice's blog Wordamour for some more conversation on this concept of real world fantasy.]
This is the second Donnelly book I read, and it was as good or better than the first. A troubled American teenager travels to Paris with her father and discovers a journal that takes her back centuries in time--in both a figurative and, eventually, literal sense. It's a great coming-of-age story combining history and fantasy in an engaging manner. There's lots to be learned here, and teen girls will love the romance and angst as well.
