One Teen Story

If you're not familiar with One Teen Story, its website describes it as "a literary magazine for teens and adults who read young adult fiction. Each issue features one amazing YA short story."

And that's it: one story per issue. Each issue comes mailed as a little chapbook with a charmingly simple yet story-appropriate cover. I love this concept. I originally got a trial subscription of three issues for $5.00, but I've just now subscribed for a full year, because I was impressed with the solid quality of the trial issues I received.

The first story I read was "America, Etc." by Michael Kardos, which was the December 2014 issue. This story is narrated by a teenage boy whose father works as a military drone pilot. Unlike his friend's father, who is "boots on the ground" in Afghanistan, Jeremy's dad gets to come home to have dinner with the family every day and even coach Jeremy's basketball team -- but he still technically spend his days bombing places, and possibly people, for a living. Jeremy is a thoughtful protagonist, comparing the vintage videos games he and his dad play (such as Missile Command, depicted on the story's cover) to real life. The story is well-written, and is mainly about the ways in which family members fail to communicate with each other, something that's particularly difficult for teens who are trying to figure out the world around them.

The second story I read was Jonathan Penner's "Amplexus", which comprised the February 2015 issue. In this story, Christopher thinks back on his first love and his first sexual encounter with a girl called Pure, so nicknamed because of the "purity" medallion her parents make her wear everywhere, even to bed. What I liked best about this story were all the small details, such as Jonathan playing ping-pong with Pure's mother, practicing Spanish verb conjugation with Pure, and verbally sparring with his sex-obsessed older brother. It all felt genuine.

The third story, Michael Landau's "Night of the Living Poet" in the January 2015 issue, wasn't quite as successful for me because a lot of the details felt more like stream-of-consciousness than vivid memories, as was the case in "Amplexus". In this story, a high school senior named Andy goes on an after-school field trip to a poetry reading, along with a girl named Crystal, for whom Andy has conflicted feelings. It was difficult to like Andy, who in my mind had a sarcastic, negative outlook similar to that of Holden Caulfield. (For many people, that would be a complimment, but I can't stand Catcher in the Rye.) Crystal is perhaps the most likeable character in the story, but everyone else seems to hang out with people and then call them names behind their backs. The writing itself wasn't bad, but I didn't find as much to relate to in this story as I did in the others.

In any case, I'm excited to see what this magazine has in store in the future. Even though I mainly read science fiction and fantasy, I do like mainstream fiction as well, especially young adult fiction. And there's one other neat thing about this publication. Until recently, One Teen Story published eleven stories by adult authors, and one by the winner of a teen writer contest that they run. Recently, though, they've announced that the teen-authored stories have been so well received that they're going to publish four of those a year instead of only one. I think that's a terrific idea.

Finally, I should also note that this is a sister publication of One Story, which is also a story-an-issue publication but geared towards adults. I'll have to check that out one of these days too.
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"The Girls at the Kingfisher Club" by Genevieve Valentine

There's nothing quite as wonderful as coming across a book you weren't aware of and having it turn into an unexpected delight. That's what happened when I picked up The Girls at the Kingfisher Club at the bookstore the other day, drawn by the cover and then the jacket description. Seriously, the twelve dancing princesses set in the speakeasies of Prohibition New York? How could I pass that up?

As a writer, it seems to me that the biggest challenge in turning a short fairy tale about twelve sisters into a full-length novel is making the characters distinct enough to satisfy the reader, and author Genevieve Valentine does a wonderful job. I was a thrown once or twice early on by the author's tendency to use parenthetical asides to show what some of the girls were thinking, in order to give them motivation, but I got used to it and soon forgot that it seemed odd.

The main character is Jo, the eldest daughter. Ever since their mother died, essentially from being used as a brood mare by a husband who wanted a son, Jo has been the go-between for her father and her younger sisters. He sees his daughters as a detriment to his social and financial ambitions, and therefore keeps them shuttered away in attic rooms -- they don't go to school or walking in the park or even to church. Instead they look out the windows, read books from their home library or glance through clothing catalogs, do some mending, and occasionally hear snatches of the infectious jazz music that has come to New York.

All of this changes one night when Lou, the second eldest, threatens to run away out of frustration and desperation. Jo quickly realizes she must divert that restless energy or risk losing her sister, so she takes Lou and the next two sisters out dancing at one of the speakeasies. The freedom is intoxicating, and a new sisterly tradition is born, with the younger sisters (there are two sets of twins, by the way) gradually added to the outings. The sisters become experts at sneaking down the back stairs at midnight, shoes in hand, to catch taxis in the back alley, and Jo trains them never to give out their names or encourage their partners to pursue them off the dance floor.

And so it continues until the father announces that it's time to start marrying off the girls -- and it seems he's willing to take almost any applicant as long as the price is right. Lest this premise sound too fluffy or too "romance novel," keep in mind that (minor spoiler ahead) this was a time period in which a father could easily have his unmarried daughters committed to an asylum for "insanity," so the stakes for Jo and her sisters are very real indeed. Jo is consumed with worry over her sisters' fates and determined not to show it; as a result, they call her "General," half affectionately and half resentfully. Lou, in particular, suspects that Jo might be out to save herself, but Jo proves her wrong in a very moving way.

Technically, I suppose this might be called a young adult historical fiction, but as is the case with so many YA titles, nobody is too old to enjoy this sophisticated, atmospheric novel. Highly recommended.

* * *
[This is silly of me, but I feel a little self-conscious that it may seem all I do is gush over the books and stories I read, or the movies and live performances I see. So it may seem as though my taste is not terribly discriminating. That's not actually the case, but I just don't like reviewing things I haven't enjoyed, unless I feel I have something important to say about it. But for the record, against the fifteen books I've read so far in 2015, I've also stopped reading six others. And just last night I watched a movie, certain I was going to love it and looking forward to reviewing it, and .... no. So I guess what I mean is that when I say I love something, it means I've really enjoyed it.
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Let It Snow: Three Holiday Romances

I’ve had this book since 2010 and have been meaning to read it since then, but somehow every time I came across it again in my messy piles of books, it was never the right season.

Well, now it is the right season, and this book perfectly suited my holiday mood. Titled Let It Snow, this book contains three short novels, or three quite long stories, billed as “holiday romances,” respectively written by Maureen Johnson, John Green, and Lauren Myracle, all accomplished young adult authors. What I didn’t realize, and what really made this fun, is that the three romances are linked, all taking place from December 24 to 26 in the same small town during the same big blizzard. (Some spoilers ahead.)

The first story is Maureen Johnson’s “The Jubilee Express.” Jubilee, who goes by Julie, cannot believe it when her parents get arrested during the annual Christmas Eve line-up for the coveted Flobie Christmas Village limited edition building. Their neighbor and lawyer bundles an unwilling Jubilee onto a train to go to her grandparents, which means that Jubilee will miss her boyfriend’s family’s Christmas Eve smorgasbord. Matters get worse when Jubilee’s train not only gets stuck in a blizzard near Gracetown, it’s inhabited by a team of perky cheerleaders who seem to tumble everywhere like a bunch of good-natured puppies. Jubilee makes a break for the Waffle House across the railroad tracks only to be followed by said cheerleaders; her boyfriend will barely give her a minute on the phone; and she finally accepts an offer from a local boy, Stuart, to spend the night with his family.

This was by far my favorite of the three stories. The Flobie Christmas Village stuff is just funny, and Jubilee’s romance story was, to me, the most moving of the three. I liked Jubilee’s voice, I liked Stuart’s slightly wacky mother, and I felt that this story also embraced the Christmas spirit the most. In addition, I felt like this story had the greatest consequences, if that makes sense -- what happened really matter, and not just in the characters’ imaginations.

I’ll have to admit that I didn’t much care for John Green’s story, “A Cheertastic Christmas Miracle,” which surprised the heck out of me. I actually bought this book on the strength of John Green’s name, having absolutely loved his Looking for Alaska (and much later, his The Fault in Our Stars), and I was tempted to read his story first, but thankfully I didn't, because the way the links between the stories are constructed, you really do want to read them in the order presented.

In this story, a boy named Tobin is spending Christmas Eve watching James Bond movies with his two best friends, JP and the Duke, the latter of whom is actually a girl named Angie. Tobin’s parents are conveniently stuck in Boston due to the same storm that landed Jubilee’s train in Gracetown, where Tobin lives. While Tobin’s parents’ absence is actually less contrived than Jubilee’s, the fact that JP and the Duke’s parents don’t seem to care that their teenagers aren’t spending Christmas Eve at home strikes me as a little odd and a little too convenient. In any case, the threesome get a phone call from another friend who is working at the Waffle House and wants to share his good fortune: the place has been invaded by a group of stranded cheerleaders and so they should get down there right away! The Duke has little interest in cheerleaders, but knowing Tobin and JP think of her as one of the guys (you know where this is going, right?), she tags along.

Unfortunately, here’s where the story gets silly. While yes, I absolutely believe that a trio of teenagers would risk driving in a blizzard for an adventure, they almost crash the car -- and then they try it again anyway. The author tries to give the story false urgency by making us believe that the Waffle House friend said they will only be allowed in the restaurant if they get there more quickly than his co-workers’ friends, as though the cheerleaders are the prize in a macho death match competition.

To be fair, various characters point out that the myths surrounding cheerleaders are silly, not to mention offensive to the cheerleaders themselves. But seriously, I really don’t think that their friend would lock them out of the Waffle House (aren’t those places open 24 hours, anyway?) during a possibly life-threatening blizzard just to make sure the cheerleader-to-guy ratio remains more in his favor. Even worse, when Tobin’s car ends up in a ditch and they start walking to the restaurant, they've gone quite a ways when their friend calls to say he won’t let them in because they accidentally left their Twister game in the car. So they go back for it, even though Tobin’s feet are so cold that he actually starts having difficulty walking. Sure, risk having your toes cut off for frostbite damage so you can get a Twister game so you can see the cheerleaders!

It gets even sillier than that (no, really) but I won’t burden you with any more details. Suffice it to say that yes, I know that to young people, things that really aren’t life and death sometimes seem that they are. And so I believed that Jubilee’s Christmas was absolutely ruined (or so she thought) by missing her boyfriend’s family gathering. I believed that Stuart had been devastated when his girlfriend publicly humiliated him. But I did not believe that Tobin and his two friends had to get to that Waffle House no matter what the consequences might be, and I was annoyed that ultimately there were no consequences. No bad ones, anyway.

The third story, “The Patron Saint of Pigs” by Lauren Myracle, is narrated by Addie, a girl consumed with guilt and sorrow after fighting with her boyfriend, getting drunk, and kissing someone else. She made a plea for her boyfriend to meet her at Starbucks, but any hopes raised by his noncommittal “We’ll see” were dashed when he didn't show without explanation. The reader knows who this boy is -- remember that train that got stuck? -- and at first it’s a little hard to care too much when Addie is so self-absorbed, but actually, that’s the point of the story. Addie vows to turn over a new leaf, and starts by volunteering to pick up her friend Tegan’s teacup pig at the pet store. A series of comedic mishaps result in a wild goose (pig) chase, but hey, it’s Christmas, so the reader can't be blamed for expecting a happy ending at this point, both pig- and boyfriend-wise.

This story was also a bit contrived in the way the pig “emergency” was set up, and it is difficult to like Addie for a fair bit of the story, but in the end I enjoyed it, in part because it tied in so well to the other two pieces. Those stories didn’t have loose ends, per se, but it was nice to see the aftermath of their respective plots. Also, Addie’s transformation was a little abrupt, but still pleasant to witness. She really is a good egg who cares about her friends; she just needed to get past the drama of having drama all the time.

Overall, this was a nice, feel-good little book that’s a quick read. I'm glad I finally read it, and I’m sure I’ll be picking it back up in future years when I want to get into the Christmas spirit. I note it's also been re-issued a couple of times with new covers -- and I just noticed that the latest cover says "New York Times bestseller" on it, so people must like it. If you can get past the silliness of the middle part, it's pretty good stuff. Read more!

Easing back in with "Recently Read".....

It's been a while since I've posted, although I'm still reading pretty steadily. So instead of one long review, I'm going to ease back in with short notes on some recent reads.

First up, I read the first two delightful books in the series The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place. In the first book, The Mysterious Howling, 15-year-old Penelope Lumley takes her first governess position upon leaving the Swanburne Academy for Poor Bright Females. In the second book, Penelope and the children visit London for the first time. (The cover of the second book is to die for!) I love Penelope's poetic-yet-no-nonsense soul, and the charm of these children who end words in tapered-off howls, such as when they call Ms. Lumley "Lumawoo-oo." These books aren't the slightest bit realistic, and they don't have the amount of closure that I normally want in books, but they're so wonderful that I just don't care.

Another recent read was Thicker than Water, the fourth book in Mike Carey's Felix Castor series about a hard-boiled exorcist trying to keep it together while both his personal life and London-in-general continue to detereorate in terms of undead activity. This isn't your standard approach to zombies and werewolves, however; some of them are practically upright citizens, or at least don't particularly want to cause madness and mayhem. In any case, this fourth book bogged down a bit in the middle, and I'd almost made up my mind not to seek out the fifth book, but then this ended on a big reveal and a big bad development, so now I'm going to have to keep on with it. I hope the fifth book has the closure I'm looking for since there is no sign of a sixth book.

Around Christmas, I like to read a few Christmas-related books. This year I tried I Am Half Sick of Shadows by Alan Bradley, a Flavia de Luce cozy mystery. I was intrigued by the Tennyson-inspired title, and I thought the feisty 11-year-old heroine might be spunky like Theodosia Throckmorton or Kat Stephenson. And Flavia was spunky, but she was also riddled with contradictions: she's an 11-year-old who plays with explosive chemicals and Bunsen burners, but she still believes in Santa Claus, and her attempts to chemically catch Santa in the act are silly and serve little other purpose than to put Flavia on the roof at a key point in the plot. A big mystery in Flavia's past in hinted at; considering that this is the fourth book in the series, the author is being pretty stingy with information (although to be fair, I haven't read the first three books). My guess (possible spoiler if I'm correct) is simply that Flavia's mother died giving birth to her, or gave up her life in some other way to protect her baby, and this is what causes the sibling tension in the house. It's definitely not enough to keep me interested, I'm afraid.

I can't go into much detail on this next book since I was contracted to write a lengthy essay on it, but I do highly recommend 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami if you're in the mood for something different. At almost 1,000 pages, this is no quick read, but rather a slow yet fascinating examination of an alternate 1984 in Tokyo and how it affects the two main characters.

Finally, a nod to an absolutely adorable picture book that I've already bought for one nephew and plan to buy for another in the future: Shark vs. Train, written by Chris Barton and illustrated by Tom Lichtenheld. This book is about two little boys who go to the toybox and pull out a shark and a train, which they then pit against each other in a series of escalating silly contests, like which would be better at jumping off a high dive, which would be better at basketball, and so on. The shark and the train smack talk each other throughout, making this a witty book that parents won't mind reading more than once. Read more!

Totally Joe

Recently I received James Howe's Addie on the Inside to review for VOYA. I had been aware of Howe's Bunnicula series but had never read anything by him. In any case, the front cover of Addie calls the book a "companion" to The Misfits, and then I found out that another book called Totally Joe fit in there somewhere.

Let's just say I like to be thorough! Which naturally means that I felt compelled to start at the beginning with The Misfits. Narrated by Bobby Goodspeed, a thoughtful 12-year-old who is part of the four-member "Gang of Five", The Misfits is a quiet little story about how Bobby learns to speak up, not only for himself but for others. Bobby had been bumbling along with his fellow misfit friends, but finds within himself unexpected strength and leadership qualities. Overall, I quite enjoyed this book, in spite of a few parts that I found a little tedious (such as the word-for-word transcripts that Addie insists on keeping each time the Gang of Five gets together). The ending was unexpectedly moving, however, and pretty much won me over to the series, so I was happy enough to proceed to Totally Joe.

And wow! Just wow. This novel is narrated by Joe Bunch, another of the group's misfits who just happens to be a 12-year-old gay boy (technically, at 12 he's not a teen yet). Joe is working on an English assignment, which is to write, over several months, an "alphabiography" of his life from A to Z. I was initially worried that this book would simply recap the events of The Misfits, but was pleased to find that the plot does actually advance chronologically -- not too far but just enough to satisfy -- from the prior book.

This was an incredibly touching book, and I was very impressed by Howe's ability to significantly change up both the format and voice from The Misfits, yet undeniably retain the spirit of that book. I was particularly moved by trying to imagine what it must be like to be a boy young enough that you still think kissing is gross, yet old and self-aware enough to know that you like boys, not girls. If you don't feel something while reading this book, then in my opinion you just don't feel much at all.

When I finally got to Addie on the Inside, I was surprised to find that it is told entirely in verse, yet another complete change in format and voice. I was skeptical, but now I'm just really impressed with Howe's scope and talent. I won't say more about Addie here since I just submitted my review to VOYA, but suffice it to say that I highly recommend this entire series.

And I can't wait to see what format and previously unexplored depths Howe comes up with for the fourth member of the Gang of Five, Skeezie. Read more!

Ice

A slightly different version of the following review was first posted in a "Writing Children's Literature" online course I recently took from Western New Mexico University.

Ice by Sarah Beth Durst is a young adult fantasy novel consisting of a modern-day retelling of the fairy tale “East of the Sun, West of the Moon.” There is also a fair amount of “Beauty and the Beast” mixed into the story. Cassie loves her life as the daughter of an Arctic researcher and has no desire to experience everyday “civilization.” Her only complaint is that she misses the mother she believes to be dead. On her fateful 18th birthday, Cassie learns that she has a magical birthright, and that the Polar Bear King has come for her hand in marriage.

Major spoilers follow.

Cassie quickly decides to marry Bear in exchange for his arranging to free her mother from the trolls. Cassie soon comes to love Bear, and learns that he is a munaqsri, or magical creature that shepherds souls during birth and death. Shortly after learning she is pregnant, she unwittingly breaks Bear’s bargain with the trolls by looking upon his human face, and he must leave her to marry the troll princess. Cassie swears that she will rescue Bear and bring him home.

I absolutely loved the first part of this book, when Cassie explores the Arctic, goes to live with Bear, and falls in love with him. I did not enjoy the middle of the book as much, when Cassie treks alone across all sorts of terrains and meets several munaqsri in her quest to find Bear. To me, this part of the book felt a bit like a D&D quest: go here, see this creature, set a new goal and go there, see that creature, and so on. It felt a little bit as though pages needed to be filled up the first section and the conclusion, and also because the pregnancy needed to be at a certain point at a certain time in the plot. To be fair, though, I don’t know how I would have done this differently if I’d written it.

Regardless, I’m happy to say that I found the ending quite satisfying, and I loved that Cassie took action in such a determined way. I felt that this story truly achieved a modern update to a fairy tale (or two). It was somewhat unconventional; in most fairy tales, the “happily ever after” comes before the relationship is consummated, but in this case Cassie marries Bear and becomes pregnant in the first half of the book. It is important to note that there is no hint of rape -- Bear makes perfectly clear that sexual relations are not a condition of the marriage. I found the progression of Cassie and Bear’s relationship refreshing in comparison to the usual wispy, dreamy “happily ever after” trope.

I chose to read this book because I love stories about Arctic environments, polar bears, and survival. (I also admit that I just love that cover!) I’m glad I read it, because the writing is good; I enjoyed the insertion of Cassie’s modern-day sensibilities into the unusual settings; and I especially loved the way Cassie decided to mix human scientific research with munaqsri magic.


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Pretty Dead

A slightly different version of the following review was first posted in a "Writing Children's Literature" online course I recently took from Western New Mexico University. There are no major spoilers in this review.

Pretty Dead is a short young adult novel by Francesca Lia Block, the popular (and, to some, controversial) writer of the “Weetzie Bat” books. Pretty Dead is narrated by Charlotte, a vampire who regrets her decision to become one because she feels so alone, having elected to leave William, the male vampire who created her. Out of boredom, Charlotte has returned to high school as a teenage girl, and has befriended a young couple named Emily and Jared. Charlotte is devastated when Emily apparently commits suicide, and is so distracted by Emily’s death that she barely notices when she herself begins to exhibit symptoms of becoming a mortal human once again.

I read this book because I have enjoyed much of Block’s writing in the past, and I was curious to see her take on the vampire fad. I usually find her writing to be sensual, free-spirited, and compelling. I was curious as to whether Block had anything new to say about vampires, but I’m afraid I found this story to be very clichéd. I couldn’t help but think of Pretty Dead as a cross between one of Christopher Pike’s less successful books and you-know-who’s angst-ridden Twilight series. In particular, I was annoyed that Charlotte and William had experienced so many historical events first hand. I felt it was wildly unrealistic, for instance, that they were present at the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima in 1945. Block later offers a weak explanation as to why William seemed drawn to troubled spots, but I really don’t think two European/Caucasians could have passed as tourists in Japan at the height of World War II, no matter how attractive they were.

I also didn’t buy that even though Charlotte’s narration reveals her age, her outlook remains primarily that of a teenage girl, with the same sort of “end of the world” intensity that we often see portrayed in teenage love stories. Overall, this book felt to me like a cursory treatment of the vampire trend by an author who doesn’t really care.


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Theodore Boone, Kid Lawyer

A slightly different version of the following review was first posted in a "Writing Children's Literature" online course I recently took from Western New Mexico University.

As far as I know, “Theodore Boone, Kid Lawyer” is John Grisham’s first attempt at a book for younger readers. Obviously, he is well known for his mainstream legal thrillers, several of which have been made into movies. This book follows eighth grader Theodore Boone, an only child parented by attorneys, who is already handing out legal advice to his classmates and even to adults. (As almost all of Theo's advice consists of telling his "clients" to go talk to real lawyers, I presume this is not illegal but I did wonder.)

In some ways, I worry that I am not capable of being entirely fair to this book, because so much of it rubbed me the wrong way that I am probably overlooking some good qualities that would actually appeal to kids. My biggest issue was with Theo's inconsistent voice. He's an eighth-grader who hacks into his parents' legal databases, who follows trials the way other kids follow baseball, and who explains legal terms such as "double jeopardy" and "mistrial" to his classmates. However, he also tells the reader that "the smart people in charge of educating all the children in the town" decided to gender-segregate their classes, and he blurts out that he doesn't understand what the judge means when he says that he could hold Theo in contempt for not revealing information important to an ongoing trial. Hmmm. First, I would have thought that Theo would know the term "school board". Second, Theo knows every legal term out there except contempt of court?

(And hey! Assuming my memory is correct -- I've already gotten rid of the book so I can't easily check -- and Theo goes to a public school, wouldn't his lawyer parents have screamed bloody murder about gender segregation? I sure would, especially considering that Theo gets permission for his class to go watch the opening day of a trial, which means all boys and no girls get to go on this little field trip. That really ticked me off. And is it realistic that most of Theo's eighth-grade classmates are not allowed to have cell phones at all?)

[Some spoilers below.]

In any case, the book opens with Theo attending the first day of what passes for a high-profile murder trial in his small-ish town. The defendant has been accused of murdering his wife, and everyone believes he is guilty but the prosecution has a weak case. In the meantime, Theo becomes involved when a boy from the local shelter where Theo volunteers tells him that his cousin, an illegal immigrant, witnessed something that would prove the defendant’s guilt. Theo wrestles with the problem, and ultimately all that happens is that he talks to his uncle (a former lawyer), and then his parents, and then a judge. Unlike in The Firm or even The Client, Theo doesn't use his ingenuity to think up a solution to the problem. That may be realistic considering his age, but it's just boring. At the very least, I would have expected a Grisham-like scene in which a bad guy chases Theo to tell him to stop snooping, but the most we get is a scary-looking guy who glares at Theo from across the courtroom once or twice. A mistrial is declared and that’s the end of the book. It’s very anticlimactic. If any of the characters were particularly interesting it would mitigate this somewhat, but the whole book feels antiseptic.

I have to admit, I tend to think this is yet another case of an author, agent, and/or publisher thinking it would be a good idea to dip into the lucrative YA market without actually considering whether the material would hold any particular appeal. I also think that better editing would have resulted in a better book, at least in terms of keeping Theo’s voice on track. Read more!

Venomous

[Due to a slight mix-up, this review did not appear in VOYA as it was supposed to, and therefore the editor has given me the go-ahead to post it here. We're limited to 250 words for VOYA reviews, and our reviews are written for the audience of librarians who work with young adults, so this will sound quite different than the reviews I usually post here. However, I wanted to go ahead because this book deserves all the positive attention it can get.]

In Venomous, Christopher Krovatin’s second novel, Locke Vinetti’s temper is so volatile that he calls it “the venom.” His mother, younger brother, and friend Randall are the only stabilizing influences in his life until Randall introduces Locke to the troubled but emotionally mature Renée. Equally important, Locke meets Casey, a gay teen whose own explosive anger allows him to truly understand Locke’s constant struggle.

Simply put, this book is a winner. Krovatin has infused a traditional full-length novel with graphic novel sensibilities, both in Locke’s tendency to identify with comic book heroes (and villains) and in the presentation itself, with occasional comic-style illustrations by Kelly Yates. As such, this book will appeal to both genders, and is a particularly good choice for reluctant male readers. Best of all, Venomous teases the reader into questioning, almost until the end, whether “the venom” is an actual supernatural phenomenon or a highly developed coping mechanism.

It should be noted that although Krovatin’s treatment of alcohol and drug use is somewhat casual, his exploration of sex and violence is anything but, tackling the associated emotions with honesty and depth. In addition, while Locke’s estranged father feels generic, Locke’s relationships with his mother and brother are beautifully drawn. The climax is slightly overdramatic, and forgiveness occurs more quickly than seems realistic, but these are minor quibbles. Librarians should be aware of the book’s graphic language and violence, but by all means should get this book into young adult hands.

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Larry and the Meaning of Life

Janet Tashjian's Larry and the Meaning of Life (2008) is her third book about Josh Swenson, a.k.a. "Larry". In the first book, The Gospel According to Larry (2001), super-bright teen Josh is startled when his vehement anti-consumerism blog gains a large cult following and more momentum than he ever could have imagined. In Vote for Larry (2004), Josh realizes that he can perhaps channel his followers' energy and enthusiasm into turning out young voters for the 2004 presidential election. Naturally, the original plan gets away from him, and before he knows it, he's a serious contender for the office of President of the United States, running as an independent against the unnamed Democratic and Republican candidates. (The author deals with the minimum age requirement in a way that isn't really believable, but I can't quibble because I certainly can't think of a better way to handle it.)

Both of these books were refreshing in their message and in Josh's unique voice, and Vote for Larry was particularly gorgeous in its timeliness and in Larry's (and presumably Tashjian's) sharp criticism of both political parties' inertia and shenanigans. I mean, I wanted this eighteen-year-old kid to be President! I was therefore very much looking forward to this new book, simply to see what new antics our friend may have gotten up to. Before I go on, though, let me note this: because there is simply no way to discuss Larry and the Meaning of Life in any significant way without revealing important elements, please be aware that the rest of this post (behind the cut) contains major spoilers.

First of all, and perhaps not surprisingly, there's an inherent problem which I should have anticipated: how do you top your teenage narrator actually running for President and making a huge impact doing so? In my mind, the author got it right in one sense: you don't try to top it. You don't try to have the kid take over the U.N. or lead a utopian colony to the moon, you simply go in a different direction. Unfortunately, the direction Tashjian chose simply didn't work for me.

The book starts off as Josh concludes a fruitless eight-month search for Janine, the girlfriend who left him when he wrongly accused her of sabotaging his political campaign. Janine is not to be found, however, so Josh returns to mope around his stepfather Peter's house, waiting until it's time to leave for Princeton University in January.

During one of his usual forays seeking the solitude of Walden Pond, Josh encounters a mysterious self-proclaimed guru who offers to let Josh join, for a hefty fee, his self-enlightenment group, which, by the way, happens to include Janine. Josh is suspicious but desperate, both to win Janine back and to find some new direction in his life.

And then things just get weird. Is Gus a scam artist or isn't he? Is he just looking to make money from naive hippie wannabees, or is there a more sinister purpose afoot? Betagold, Josh's arch nemesis from the first two books, shows up looking for a kidney donation, and Josh gives her a kidney in order to protect Janine because Gus has been putting some slimy moves on her (as though that makes sense). A horrific string of events leads to Janine's beloved dog being euthanized by an overzealous park ranger after he arrests Josh, whose Princeton scholarship is then rescinded. But that's nothing: Josh uncovers a possible terrorist/landmine plot, but the FBI thinks he's crying wolf, and Peter has decided he's had enough and wants Josh out of his life.

Enough, already! I could not for the life of me figure out what was going on in this book. That can sometimes be OK, but it turned out that everything, including the dead dog and the kidney donation, was part of a big hoax perpetrated by Beth (love interest from book one), Peter, and Janine, all to snap Josh out of his funk. To make the plan work, they use a cast of a few dozen, including several drama students from Beth's nearby Brown University. They give Josh Valium (um, highly unethical and illegal!) to make him think he's donated a kidney. And even though that might work, I don't believe they could fake his arrest and a night in jail!

In any case, whether or not they could pull it off: it's not OK. It's the Michael Douglas/Sean Penn movie The Game, and I felt unfairly manipulated and let down. In my mind, no amount of "Josh funk" (which consisted primarily of aimlessly watching TV) could possibly justify the hell that Josh's closest friends and family put him through (not to mention the actual crime of giving Josh a controlled drug, Valium, in order to make him think he'd donated a kidney). An attempt at justification is made in the form of a letter from Josh's mother to Peter shortly before her death; the letter states that Josh is extra bright and easily bored, will struggle after her death, and they'll need to (in so many words) snap him out of it. The story ends with Josh bowled over but not mad because, wow, he's been mentally stimulated and now has new and interesting things to think about. (Actually, I suppose that the fact that Josh faked his own death at the end of the first book, because he was completely overwhelmed by his own notoriety, means that Beth and Peter do actually have the right to some payback, but jeez!)

To make matters worse, Josh still does not know if he has a future with either Beth or Janine, which is just fine at his age, except that I no longer care about this outcome nearly as much as I did at the end of the second book. I was also troubled because almost no attention was given to the fact that Josh would still be a global household name less than a year after he almost became the President of the United States. He would not be able to go anywhere without being constantly recognized, and it seems likely journalists would still be keeping tabs on him, but it's as though the election never happened.

All of this said, within the context of my disappointment, I did continue to enjoy Tashjian's writing style, and as always I agree with much of what Josh has to say. I also note that authors of successful books are under tremendous pressure to make sequels different but not too different, and it can be a real catch-22. For myself, I really would have preferred if Josh had joined the Peace Corps or something, or had gone back to his anti-consumerism message in some slightly new way.

Ah well, you can't win 'em all. And lest I sound more harsh than I want to, I would definitely read another book in this series. Especially considering our current economy, our fictional Josh would certainly have something meaningful to say about the roller coaster that the next few years are sure to bring.



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Recently Read...

I've been doing a lot of reviewing in other venues lately; between that and the stress of good old Hurricane Ike (yes, we were in a mandatory evacuation zone), most of my leisure reading has been comfort re-reading of childhood favorites. I did manage to sneak in a few new books here and there, though.

Hell Week by Rosemary Clement-Moore. I really enjoyed this fun, well-written book, especially because it helped pull me out of my post-hurricane funk. In this second volume of Maggie Quinn: Girl Vs. Evil, Maggie goes through sorority rush, but only because she intends to write an anonymous exposé column for the college newspaper. Naturally, she finds much more than she bargains for. One of this series' strongest features is Maggie's voice, and if you've met the author, you just can't help but picture her as Maggie because they have the same spunk and humor. I also particularly enjoyed this story because I was once in a sorority myself, although it was a local instead of a national. Being in the sorority was good and perhaps even necessary during the rather anti-social period that comprised my first two years of college life, but I ultimately "deactivated" from the sorority at the beginning of my senior year, in part because I just couldn't face the ridiculousness of Rush, which if I recall correctly was dragged out over several weeks. I felt I had outgrown the rituals and structure of sorority life, although certainly not the friendships, by that point. But I digress. In any case, Hell Week also treats Maggie's relationships in a touching but not overly sentimental way. And I adore the cover -- Stepford Sorority Girls! I'm looking forward to next year's Highway to Hell, when we'll see what Maggie gets up to on her Spring Break.

Once Upon a Time in the North by Philip Pullman. This is another little companion to Pullman's His Dark Materials, much like Lyra's Oxford. It's essentially a single but significant episode in the life of Lee Scoresby and his daemon Hester. For its length, I thought the politics were a little dense, but Lee and Hester are such fun characters, and I enjoyed "hearing" Kathy Bates' voice as Hester as I read. This book is also a lovely little object to hold, with its quality cloth cover, pull-out board game tucked in a pocket inside the back cover, and fun little facsimile snippets sprinkled throughout the text.

A few months ago, in preparation for an encyclopedia article I was writing on author S.E. Hinton, I read Hawkes Harbor, her 2004 adult vampire novel. In addition to re-reading all of her YA novels that I remembered from my younger days, I also read for the first time her picture book (Big David, Little David), her children's chapter book (The Puppy Sister), and the one YA title I didn't happen to read back when it was published (Taming the Star Runner).

I hate to say it, but I'm afraid Hinton just does not seem comfortable writing in genres other than YA, at least not so far. Both of the children's books were slightly odd and creepy, in a way that felt unintentional. Hawkes Harbor, while populated with interesting and nuanced characters, was ultimately a bit of an unfocused mess, with an ending that to me felt cheap. Still, I would read anything new she puts out, regardless of the genre. Writers worth their salt are constantly evolving and rediscovering themselves.

As for those books I reviewed elsewhere? They included Venomous by Christopher Krovatin (reviewed for VOYA) and Vicious Circle by Mike Carey (second in his Felix Castor series; reviewed for Magill Book Reviews), both of which I recommend highly. Also for Magill, I reviewed The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff and Reconstruction by Mick Herron. Read more!