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Instead of writing booktalks, I'm blogging. Yay! While reading this review of Ink Exchange by Melissa Marr, I thought, "Yes, yes, okay, I agree..." and then it all came to a screeching halt. Let it be known that I did not like Ink Exchange by any stretch of the imagination. While the ideas might have been strong, a lot of things about that book annoyed me: poor writing, tattoos always make you cool and interesting, dialogue that was funny when it shouldn't have been, too many adjectives, etc. But I thought that the Smart Bitches had really good insight to the themes of the book until I read the final line: Henderson’s assertions that 12 year old girls ought not read this book because of her mistaken perception as to the sexuality within the story are infuriating in light of the manner in which this book explores profoundly important issues. I can think of few books that should be required reading for teenage girls, but this is certainly one of them. It’s painful, and it’s important. And then I almost took Smart Bitches off my RSS reader. (I didn't though, because I like what they say.) Why? No one book should be required reading for teenage girls, or anyone else, and people who say things like that in a review irk me. (Call me a prude, too, but 99 times out of 100 I would not recommend Ink Exchange to a twelve-year-old. Message is one thing, execution of it is quite another.) No one book can speak to all people. To think otherwise is ridiculous. I also think a lot of readers would get so bogged down in the poor mechanics of this particular book that they'd miss the message the reviewer thinks is so important. I was talking about this with lizzb over IM, and here are some other phrases we think all reviewers, whether they review for professional journals or blogs or whatever, should never never never never use: - "Well-written" (And that means what, exactly?)
- "Everyone must read this" (Everyone? Really?)
- "A must-have for all libraries" (Sorry, not unless it's guaranteed to circulate)
- "Has an important message" (Why is this always such an issue with children's books? We never require adult books to have a message!)
- "The next Harry Potter/Twilight/Percy Jackson/Elsewhere." (I should clarify this: I have absolutely no problem with reviewers who say something like "Harry Potter fans will like this" IF they can specify why. Most of the time, they don't/can't.)
- "For your sophisticated readers" (Who is "sophisticated?" And how insulting!)
- I gave this to my son/daughter/niece/nephew and he/she loved it! (No one cares.)
The thing that amazes me most? That reviewers for professional journals use these useless phrases at all. In a blog you can make your review as long or short as you like, but in a journal you're limited to 200 words, 250 if you're lucky. In 200 words I don't have the space to use "well-written," a phrase that means nothing and doesn't fulfill the purpose of a review. I have to tell the reader if the characterization is good, if the writing style works, if it'll circulate (which is not an easy answer to give), and say what generally makes it special or not, plus a quick plot summary. Writing this entry didn't make my booktalks go away. Back to work. Tags: books, reviewing 126: cranky 780: it's hard to leave when you can't find the door
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On a YA lit listserv I mostly lurk on, someone expressed great dismay and anger that One Whole and Perfect Day by Judith Clarke got a Printz honor this year while Mistik Lake by Martha Brooks did not. Now, I have not read One Whole and Perfect Day so I have no opinion on it whatsoever, but I'll tell you the reason why I think the Printz committee shut out Mistik Lake: It's because Mistik Lake is a seriously flawed book in many, many ways. First, the writing is very thin and overly ambitious. The author introduces a lot of characters but never fully develops any of them. The...I guess you'd call her the main character, Odella, has a lot of the markings of a Mary Sue: She has an unusual but never explained name, she is always heroic in the face of tragedy, everyone seems to love her. Brooks gets so busy explaining the effect of Odella's mother's life on everyone that no one character's reaction ever really comes to fruition. I have absolutely no problem with books where the life of a character who never appears on screen affects everyone who appears on-screen. In fact, I find those books fascinating if they're done well. Here, Sally's (the mother's) tragedy affects everyone in the book, but everyone around her is such a saint that she's always viewed as poor, poor Sally. Sally packs up when Odella is a teenager, moves to Iceland to be with her lover, later husband, and dies in a car accident a few years later. At the end of the book (SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS) the reader learns that Sally and her husband (whose name I can't remember because I borrowed the book and had to return it, sorry) had a baby. That almost made me throw the book across the room. Tinhattery to follow. First, Odella and her sisters Janelle and Sarah were supposed to love this little baby they'd never met, who was flown from Iceland to Canada not long after her mother's death. Because everyone knows that babies have the magic power to bring destroyed families together. Second, because Sally had a baby I really believe that the author wanted us to see her as a Truly Good Person, because you can't speak ill of a dead mother. Third, the introduction of the baby in the very final pages seemed to send a message to the reader that Sally must have found True Love, because having a baby with someone else must mean it's True Love and you have a Forever Bond. Because Sally found True Love, Odella has to forgive her for her abandonment. Not forgiving her for the abandonment might hurt the baby, because Baby can't think bad thoughts about her mother. I'm not saying that Sally didn't truly love her new husband. That's entirely possible, but you'll never know because the book doesn't cover it. I guess the reader is just supposed to understand all that because of the presence of the baby. But the message I really think Odella got in the end? Mommy loves the baby more than she loves you. The secondary plotline (and oh yes, there was a tertiary plotline, too) about Odella's great-aunt Gloria being a lesbian was nice, but the book could have survived just as well without it. I know there are supposed to be parallels between Odella's falling in love and Gloria's falling in love with a woman named Violet, but it's an apples-and-pineapples comparison. Gloria was a pretty cool person, probably the one person in the book with any idea of what it means to love, but she couldn't save the underdeveloped, melodramatic, whiny disasters that were all the other characters. In short, a book where the setting is the best character in the book does not deserve an award. It'll probably get a spot on BBYA for reasons I'll never understand, but it was rightfully shut out of the Printz. Another big complaint I've seen centers on Shaun Tan's The Arrival being shut out for the Printz. To that I reply, Well DUH. Maybe I'm a snob who doesn't understand the truly progressive nature of the graphic novel but The Arrival, as beautiful and moving as it is, is not literary because it's got no words in it. Graphic works that incorporate words can certainly be literary, because the words and pictures depend on each other to move the story along (see American Born Chinese). But because there are no words in The Arrival, it misses the chance to paint its picture for the reader in words. I'm sorry it wasn't eligible for the Caldecott because it certainly could have given ...Hugo Cabret a run for its money. It's a fascinating book I'd recommend to those who love graphic works, but again, it's not literary and didn't deserve to be honored at the Printz. I have a headache that makes me want to rip half my brain out, so the Happy Galley Post of Midwinter 2008 will have to wait. I will say, though, that I'm really looking forward to reading a lot of what I picked up. Tags: 2007, books, ya 126: discontent
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Oh, ALA, why do you insist on holding Midwinter a week earlier than usual this year? I am sprinting to read everything I need to read. But, on to my 2008 Printz predictions. Disclaimer: I do not serve on the 2008 Printz committee and although I know people on that committee, this post does not contain any of their opinions, only mine. Also, I have yet to predict a Printz winner. The closest I've ever come was 2007, when I picked two of the four honor books. That said, on to my picks for the 2008 Printz Award: The book most likely to win: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie. It's received more critical acclaim this year than any other YA book, and deservedly so. And how amazing would it be for a funny book to take The Big Award? The books I don't think will win, but that I think deserve honors: A Swift Pure Cry by Siobhan Dowd, Boy Toy by Barry Lyga, The Wednesday Wars by Gary Schmidt, Click by Linda Sue Park, et.al. If Part-Time Indian doesn't take it: The New Policeman by Kate Thompson. The books I still have to read: Before I Die by Jenny Downham and The White Darkness by Geraldine McCaughrean. Why this post is so short: Because I'm back at work after two weeks of vacation and I can't find my desk. Also it is really cold in my office and my fingers hurt. I did go to see Sweeney Todd and although the singing could have been better, I was extremely impressed by the acting. Tags: books, ya 126: cold 780: I'm not here for your entertainment
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I don't know why I bother reading anything Slate writes about YA literature. All it ever does is get my blood pressure up. Their latest offering is no different. Her Dark Materials: Should children read Philip Pullman's trilogy—or the incest classic Flowers in the Attic?Why does it not surprise me that this article is written by the same woman who completely missed the point of one of last year's Printz honorees and the National Book Award winner The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation? At least she had the smarts to not compare Pullman's writing style to Andrews's. To start on what bothers me about this article, here's a list of the books the author mentions: Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews the His Dark Materials trilogy by Phillip Pullman Forever by Judy Blume One of these things is not like the others. Can you guess which one? That's right, it's Flowers in the Attic, and that's what makes me the most angry about the article. Bazelon is comparing apples and pineapples. Flowers in the Attic, unlike HDM and Forever, was never intended to be sold or marketed as a young adult novel. I can't expect that much from Bazelon, who appears to have never read an actual YA novel in her life, or at least talked to a YA librarian (given that she mentions Sula, Black Boy, and Huck Finn as "classics of YA literature" rather than The Chocolate War, The Pigman, and The Outsiders). Every YA librarian...well, this YA librarian, anyway...will tell you that two of the most popular authors among middle school students are V.C. Andrews and Stephen King but I sure as hell wouldn't put them in the YA section of the library. If Bazelon is going to call FitA a "preteen classic" then it only seems fair to me that she give Stephen King's work the same label and compare HIS books to Pullman's. Fact is, though, FitA is not a preteen classic. It's a book written for adults that has been co-opted by the preteen audience. One cannot call it a preteen book just because it has a preteen main character. If that's the case, then we're going to have to call The Kite Runner, The Lovely Bones, Special Topics in Calamity Physics, etc. YA, and the authors wouldn't like that because, well, YA books don't normally get the big sales and publicity of adult titles. I get asked a lot what separates a YA novel from an adult novel with a YA main character, and this is the answer I give, one that I believe applies to the FitA/HDM comparison: In a YA novel, the main character is describing the events as they happen with only as much wisdom and insight as he or she has at the time. In an adult book with a teen main character, an adult is looking back on events of his or her adolescence and writing them with some degree of adult wisdom, however small. YA books concern "today" and "tomorrow" and adult books with teen main characters concern "yesterday." This is why I don't consider Curtis Sittenfeld's Prep a YA novel; it's told from the perspective of an adult who is describing her teenage years. FitA is not a YA novel because (and please correct me if I'm wrong; it's been a while since the reread) Cathy is telling the story at the time of the end of Seeds of Yesterday. The series is a retrospective, not a narration of the events as they occur. The second paragraph of the article reads: But the depth of my Pullman devotion doesn't make me want to give his books to my two boys, who are near his intended audience. Pullman's work is a hybrid: It's sold to adults as complex fantasy, and to the 12-year-old crowd as Harry Potter-plus. In some ways, the trilogy is part of the coming-of-age tradition of literature for young teens (and inevitably, somewhat younger kids, too). It tells the growing-up story of Lyra and Will, Pullman's wild and enterprising child characters. But it's a complicated and dark and unsettling coming-of-age.... Maybe this is an idea that's more horrifying to read about as a parent than as a child, but giving Pullman to my still-small sons, even a couple of years from now, is an experiment I'm not about to conduct.1. Harry-Potter-plus? It's all about comparing the apples and pineapples today, isn't it? Not all fantasy works for a YA audience are good next reads for Potter fans, and Rowling and Pullman set out to accomplish two entirely different things in their works. I'd be kicked off CHILD_LIT for saying this, I know, but I don't think the two should be compared. 2. A complicated and dark unsettling coming-of-age? Really? The YA world doesn't have any of those! Okay, that was mean, but I couldn't resist. 3. Part of this rant is tied into something that Bazelon is not responsible for, and that's what I like to call the My Child Is A Genius Because He Read Harry Potter Effect. In my personal and usually not humble opinion, Harry Potter was often marketed to too young an audience. It's a YA series if I ever did see one but parents for years have been pushing it on their second- and third-graders. After all, if their kids can get through that big book, they must be smart! But the thing is, Harry Potter was never intended for eight-year-olds any more than FitA was intended for twelve-year-olds. Consequently, two things happened. First, more fantasy series for the middle-grade crowd got published. YAY! There is no bad in that. Second, YA fantasy suddenly became the desired purchases/library checkouts by those parents with genius children who did not understand the idea that YA literature is about content AND vocabulary. I think that might be some of the reason behind my annoyance over the HDM media frenzy. Those books, despite the look of the movie, do not belong in the children's section of a bookstore or library. Your child is not a genius because he read HDM at eight. It just doesn't work that way. A book is more than the words on its pages. 4. The plural of anecdote is not evidence. And I'll leave that at that. And yes, I understand that the point of the article is about the secrecy and defiance of the preteen reading experience, but that doesn't change the fact that the basic comparison is flawed. I really don't see kids reading Pullman with the same "OMG I know I'm not supposed to be reading this" savor that they read Andrews and King. Chances are, most middle-school students will not try to shock or impress their classmates by reading HDM because, yeah, that's what Stephen King and V.C. Andrews are for. Tags: books, rants, ya 780: been caught stealing once when I was five
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