I've read everything David Sedaris has published, look forward to his pieces in The New Yorker, and go to see him every couple years when he performs on campus. So, I'm a fan. And, when his recent book came out, I didn't even read a review or glance at the book jacket; I bought it on first sight. I picked up the book a couple months ago on a rainy afternoon, anticipating settling in with a good friend, and was instead met by a stranger. Simply put, on first impression this book is nothing like any other Sedaris publication.
I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it that first time. Indeed, I read the first two anthropomorphic fables in the collection--"The Cat and the Baboon" and "The Migrating Warbler"--smiled a bit, scratched my head, and put the book aside. Another couple books got piled on top of it, giving me something to focus on while the puzzle of the new Sedaris book worked itself out in the back of my mind. Finally, unwilling to betray my fandom, I recently decided it was time to try it again, and this time I was ready. Instead of seeing these stories of animals as something foreign and different, on my second approach I recognized that the ironic magnifying glass which Sedaris trains on his family, friends, and himself, is still focused on the same subject manner in these fables. Indeed, the animal protagonists and antagonists share the same foibles and fears as characters do in the human world. I wouldn't exactly say that there is a self-evident moral to every story, a la Aesop, but underneath the fur and feathers you'll certainly recognize a few folks that you know.
Maybe it was because I was ready, but the third story of the collection--the "Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk" of the book's title--captured me immediately, providing a tale familiar to anyone who has been in or knows someone who's been in a mixed-species (or race, or religion, or...) relationship. The (expectedly) horrible behavior of the crow in "The Crow and the Lamb," the selfishness of the cow in "The Cow and the Turkey," and the foolishness of one of "The Parenting Storks" will surely remind readers of some members of the human species. Quite frankly, "Hello Kitty" offers the absolutely best cat-in-prison AA story that I've ever heard.
In the end, I was happy to discover that underneath a new genre--and handsomely illustrated by Ian Falconer, author/illustrator of the wonderful Olivia the Pig children's books--lurks the same Sedaris stories that fans enjoy. And, I can assure you that I will never look at an Irish Setter the same way again.
The first of Cassandra Clare's books I read were those in The Mortal Instruments series: City of Bones (2007), City of Ashes (2008), and City of Glass (2009). In this trilogy, Clare explores the world of Downlanders and Shadowhunters--the creatures of the dark world (vampires, faeries, werewolves, demons, etc.) and the warrior force that enforces a treaty protecting humans from these supernatural beings. In the Instruments series, the protagonist and heroine is a teenage girl who suddenly develops the ability to see these beings in the other realm, usually invisible to humans. Her quest to understand why she has this ability and how to find her mother--apparently kidnapped from someone within the shadow world--takes her from the streets of New York, to London, and eventually the Shadowhunter city of Idris.
Clockwork Angel is a Prequel to the Instruments books, the first of The Infernal Devices series. Like the Instruments series, the protagonist is an American teenager. Tessa's entry to the hidden world of Downlanders is less accidental, however. She is kidnapped upon disembarking the ship bringing her to England to see her brother and is held by warlocks in hope of developing her here-to-unknown powers of shapeshifting. Rescued from her captor, Tessa is taken in by Shadowhunters and is swept up in the battle of good versus evil raging outside the view of most humans.
Set in Victorian London, this book further develops the history hinted at in the earlier trilogy, while continuing similar themes of the supernatural, the use and abuse of power, and what it means to be human--all with the requisite teen love interest (the cute-boy rescuer, of course). It's a bit Twilight meets Harry Potter, without Meyer's bad writing and hapless heroine and more violence than Rowland allows. For folks enjoying fantasy writing that integrates the supernatural with the known world, it's a good read; both series have a strong female lead and enough fight scenes (including swords, knives, and magic) that it should appeal to teens of both genders as well. I'd recommend starting with The Mortal Instruments series before picking this thread up. However, Clockwork Angel stands on its own should you choose this as your entry to Clare's world.
I have to start this entry by confessing that I love Steve Martin. While he's not one of my three desert-island boys (as he is for my friend Lola), I am always amazed by the depth of Martin's talent. Most folks know that he's a great comedian and author. Fewer likely know that he's been touring with a bluegrass group for a couple of years, playing banjo and charming crowds--two of which I've been fortunate to be a part of. (My favorite song in his collection, "Atheists Don't Have No Songs" is hilarious.) And, considering the limited number of people who read these days, I'd guess that even fewer people know Martin as an author. Yet, in many ways I think he's an even better writer than he is a comedian, actor, or musician.
Both of his earlier novellas--Shopgirl (2000) and The Pleasure of My Company (2003)--were charming depictions of young, innocent protagonists making their way in the world. In An Object of Beauty, Martin's first full-length novel, the protagonists--the male art critic who serves as narrator and the female art curator/gallery owner whose life he narrates--are young but less innocent. From the very beginning of the book, in fact, readers are aware that the two have committed a crime of sorts, and their early indiscretion is slowly revealed over the course of a ten year tale following this secret act. In the process of revelation, the we are treated to an inside view of New York City's art world from the 1990s and early 2000s.
In addition to his many talents, Martin is an art collector and student of sorts. (His recent talk at the YMCA in NYC drew national attention when the Y refunded attendees' money because of complaints that Martin talked more about art than his acting; he made a funny appearance on The Colbert Report shortly after, critiquing a propaganda poster of Stephen.) Martin's knowledge of and appreciation for art of the Modern and Contemporary periods is clear in the beautiful descriptions throughout--supplemented by a couple dozen full-color pictures of art pieces sprinkled throughout the pages. Reading An Object of Beauty made me eager for my next big-city visit and the museums and galleries that await. And for Martin's next novel, of course.
When the series opens, Nick Hammond--aka Nick Mystery--is on a mission to rescue two girls with the ability to harness the power of the atom who have been held in stasis by the government in a secret, high-security facility. While waiting for him at home, Nick's wife, Anastasia Collins, receives an unexpected visitor--a ghoul named Samantha Brooks/Secret Skull. Next on the scene is a robot containing the brain of Jules Verne.
Put this unlikely cast of characters together, and you have the Mystery Society--a group of eccentric idealists bent on getting to the truth of the matter and solving odd crimes. In this first trade, the society--fueled by Nick and Anastasia's sudden, immense wealth--dodges corrupt government officials and solves a case involving the disappearance of Edgar Allen Poe's skull.
Nicely drawn and witty, this isn't among the best of comic series I've read, but it's entertaining and it gets off the ground nicely in this opening trade. I'll likely tune in for later segments to see how the plot, the stylish couple, and their band of misfits develops.
A lot of people I know have read Stockett's novel about race relations within a Mississippi community during the Civil Rights Movement, and everyone said good things about it. It also got quite a bit of attention in popular media, which is one of the reasons I drug my feet when it came to getting it myself (I'm always resistant to jumping on the latest literary bandwagon.)--and why it ended up on my Kindle when I finally did purchase it. Since I only use my Kindle when traveling, the books I load are usually pop-fiction books I don't feel strongly about owning physically. Having started it at the end of my trip to the Balkans last summer, I put the Kindle aside on my return and didn't get back to The Help until my trips to Orlando in November and the Pacific NW coast this month.
What I'm pointing out is that it took me a long time to gain interest in Stockett's novel, and even longer to finish it. That, however, is completely counter to my actual enjoyment of the book, which tells a remarkable story and is very well written. Indeed, Stockett provides an exceptional view into a time and a place, and she does so by depicting the world of women--a vantage point not often shared in historic texts.
The novel is set in Jackson, Mississippi, and it alternates between three narrators: Eugenia, a single, white woman of privilege who has returned to her family home after college; Aibileen, a widowed, complacent African-American maid whose only son died in an accident; and Minny, a willful African-American maid married to an abusive drunk, with whom she has several children. Aibileen and Minny work in the homes of two of Eugenia's best friends, and they tell their stories of servitude and second-class citizenry in matter-of-fact narratives. In an effort to pursue her aspirations as a writer, Eugenia decides to write a book about what it's like to be a black woman caring for the homes and the children of white women in the Jim Crow south. She convinces Aibileen to assist her in recruiting a dozen maids to tell their stories--both the good and the bad.
The trust and the stories don't come easily. The women face serious threats from all sides and must work in secrecy, and even then jobs and friends are lost--on both sides of the race line. The resulting narrative, however, is powerful, sad, and joyful. in these pages, Stockett explores the fears and misconceptions that drove segregation, as well as the hope and courage that brought about its end. I can see why so many people enjoyed the book, and I am happy that I finally read it. My only complaint is that I was a bit dissatisfied with the ending, but I can't really go into that without ruining it for those of you who haven't read it yet. Which I strongly encourage you to do.
In the graphic novel Fun Home (2006), Alison Bechdel told her story of growing up with a father who hid his secret life under a blanket of normalcy: his jobs as English teacher and funeral home director and hobby as a home conservationist covering his other life as a homosexual with a penchant for young boys. In this book, Sandell tells the opposite story--one in which a very average man covers his mediocrity by creating a fictitious persona who stars in intellectual and political power roles. As a child, Sandell reveled in her father's stories, ignoring the telltale signs of falsehoods and avoiding confrontations that would uncover the truth.
As she enters adulthood, Sandell begins to question her own flamboyant behavior--the effects of which lead to bad relationships, insomnia, and drug rehab--and recognizes that she has to come to terms with who her father really is in order to be at peace with herself. Ultimately, she uses her skills as a journalist to unravel her father's lies, which throws her family into disarray.
The novel is both written and illustrated by Sandell, and is told with a wry sense of humor and openness that engages the reader. Not a huge fan of other people's I-have-a-rotten-father stories, I nonetheless found the memoir engaging and insightful.
I guess it would have been clever of me to hold off on reading this for a week or two so I could post it as number 4 on my list. However, the cover and title had attracted me for some time—I picked it up and put it down in the TeenLit section of at least two bookstores before I finally purchased it—so it’s no surprise that I decided to jump in once I finally had it in my possession. What’s a bit more surprising is how compelling I found it; in fact, I read the majority in only two settings.
The premise of the book is that there are nine young aliens living on earth—each with his or her own guardian—hiding out from another race of aliens who destroyed their home planet, biding their time until they come into their Legacies (superpowers) and can return home to fight the bad guys and restore their planet to health. The Lorien aliens living among us humans mean no harm—in fact, they have been involved in advancing the human race throughout Earth’s history—and, if anything, we have a common enemy in the Mogadorians. After all, having depleted the natural resources on their own plant, the Mogodorians overran Lorien because it was the closest planet able to sustain life. The next closest? Earth.
The book begins with the murder of a young boy and his guardian in rural Kenya, whereafter the reader is introduced to the story’s narrator: a 15-year old Lorien boy. We soon learn that the Kenyan boy was Number 3, and the Lorien living in America is Number 4. The numbers represent the order in which the Lorien refugees must be killed—the result of a charm cast by an Elder as they left Lorien in an effort to increase their chance at survival. It’s been 10 years since the kids and their guardians arrived on Earth and scattered to the far corners, and the Mogodorians are beginning to panic; they want to ensure the total elimination of the Lorien race, and they also want to keep Earthlings ignorant of their plans for the planet. Add the fact that these Lorien kids are entering puberty—when their Legacies begin to manifest and they will be able to take the battle to the Mogodorians—and you have a game of cat and mouse being played on a large scale.
John Smith (the name the narrator has most recently taken) and guardian Henri move to Paradise, Ohio—one of dozens of moves made over time in an effort to elude the notice of their hunters. As the new kid in high school, he immediately catches the attention of the quarterback, the quarterback’s beautiful ex-girlfriend, and an alien-conspiracy nerd. While the teen storyline/romance is typical, the contrast of good and bad alien, an interesting planetary backstory, and some decent writing make this teen book a good read. It claims to be the first of three in the Lorian Legacies trilogy, and there is already a motion picture in plans for this first volume. I’ll likely be checking out the movie and the next two books as they are published. Stay tuned.
