“Kill Bill meets Buffy in this supernatural samurai tale.” If the publisher’s blurb grabs your attention like it did mine, then you’ll love “Katana,” by Cole Gibsen (Flux, 2012).
Rileigh Martin is a skater chick who just wants to go to her junior class’s end-of-the-school-year party, maybe hook up with this cute guy she’s had her eye on for the past year. But when Rileigh and her best friend Quentin witness a mugging in a shopping mall parking lot, something—someone—is awakened inside her. Rileigh foils the thief and defends herself against the thug and his two buddies with impressive martial arts skills she never knew she possessed.
Rileigh would like to believe that her fighting skills were powered by pure adrenaline, but that doesn’t explain her the voice inside her head giving her battle tips and warning her of danger, or her incredible fighting skills. And if definitely doesn’t explain her strange, vivid dreams of fifteenth-century Japan. She thinks she might be going crazy—not the way she was planning on spending her summer.
As it turns out, she’s not crazy—just the reincarnation of a female samurai warrior named Sensi who died 500 years ago. Or at least that’s what a handsome martial arts instructor named Kim tells her. And now that others know of her powers (her fight was caught on a security camera), she is very much in danger. An enemy from her past would like to see her dead.
Rileigh wants none of this. She simply wants to be a normal teenage girl who—finally!—seems to have caught the eye of the guy she has a crush on. And, truth be told, it takes her longer than I’d like to embrace her samurai self. But when she finally does, Rileigh becomes the great, kick butt-character you want her to be.
Rileigh learns to master the katana, a deadly Japanese sword that’s also the key to her past. As the spirit of Sensi grows stronger, she also finds herself falling for Kim.
“Katana” isn’t perfect. Although Quentin is a terrific character, the stereotype of the gay best friend is getting kind of old. The dialogue is sometimes kind of awkward. Even so, “Katana” is a lot of fun. It’s jam-packed with action, and the fight scenes are incredibly well written. Romance? Check. We’re talking soul-mate love. Add to that a good dash of humor, and you’ve got a great summer read.
Gibsen is a talented young author from southern Illinois. A second book in the series, “Senshi,” is due out in 2013.
This review was originally published in the News-Gazette on July 8, 2012. To learn more about Cole Gibsen, check her out: http://www.colegibsen.com/
I'm shocked, shocked to see that it's been so long since I've posted something on this blog. Blame it on the book on Invasive Species I just turned in for Capstone (Burmese pythons! Asian carp! Killer kudzu!) and the biography of Percy Spencer, the inventer of the microwave oven, I'm working on for Enslow. (Did you know that 90% of American households have microwave ovens?).
I'm behind on posting book reviews. Coming in the next couple of posts.
Three Bradbury posts in a row. I know, I know! But I'm not obsessed, I promise. Well, maybe just a little. But I just had to share this. I'm preparing to lead a yoga for writers session at our upcoming writers retreat (Words in the Woods 2012: Moving Your Story Forward, with Author/Illustrator/Publisher Marissa Moss, Simon & Schuster Editor Alexandra Penfold, and Writer's House Literary Agent, Kristy "Ty" King. Sorry, registrations are closed! But I'll post something about it, promise.). I was looking for inspirational words to begin our practice, and came across this passage from Ray Bradbury's Zen in the Art of Writing:
What do you think of the world? You, the prism, measure the light of the world; it burns through your mind to throw a different spectroscopic reading onto white paper than anyone else anywhere can throw. Let the world burn through you. Throw the prism light, white hot, on paper. Make you own individual spectroscopic reading.
Throw your prism light onto paper!
The following review appeared in the Sunday, June 17 edition of the News-Gazette.
The whole world, it seems, is mourning the loss of Ray Bradbury, who died on June 5 at the age of 91. One of the greatest American science fiction and fantasy writers of the past century, Bradbury has inspired countless readers and writers. Count me among them. For many people, the initial encounter with Bradbury’s genius is Fahrenheit 451 or perhaps The Martian Chronicles, both of which are staples in the high school classroom.
I don’t want to diminish the impact of those two books—both are wonderfully accessible and thought-provoking—but the one that has stuck with me throughout the years is Something Wicked This Way Comes (Simon & Schuster, 1962). This may be due to the fact that it was the first book of Bradbury’s that I read. It may have been because, at 13, I was the same age as the book’s two protagonists, Will Holloway and Jim Nightshade. All I know is that I found it both beautiful and terrifying.
Will and Jim are best friends, born just two minutes apart: Will, at 11:59 p.m., All Saint’s Day, and Jim, at 12:01 a.m. on Halloween. Light and dark personified. A carnival rolls into Green Town (based on Bradbury’s home town, Waukegan, Illinois) in the middle of the night, on the heels of a storm predicted by a strange lightning rod salesman named Mr. Fury.
Will and Jim are eager to experience the thrills of the carnival—until they discover its sinister secrets. Cooger and Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show is not just any carnival, although it contains the usual collection of sideshows, rides, and freaks. Mr. Dark, the mysterious ringmaster, lures unsuspecting townspeople with the promise of granting their heart’s desire. Is it, like Will’s father, to become young again? Ride the carousel in reverse, and the years melt away. Ride it forward, and Jim can be a grown man. But there is a price, of course—your soul. Can the boys resist joining Mr. Dark’s haunted band of freaks?
Bradbury’s lyrical writing style owes much to Shakespeare, and indeed, the title of the book comes from Macbeth: “By the pricking of my thumbs/Something wicked this way comes.” This atmospheric book will have you turning the pages far too long into the night.
Near the end of the book, Will’s father muses, “Is Death important? No. Everything that happens before Death is what counts.”
You made it count, Ray.
Like many writers, I discovered Ray Bradbury when I was young--perhaps 12 or 13. His extraordinary imagination and use of language carried me off the farm as surely as any rocket ship carried people to Mars. I think this video of him reading a poem at a 1971 Caltech symposium captures his charm and talent. RIP, Ray.
I just received my author's copies of my latest books from Enslow! Check them out!
All three are available in both library binding AND as very affordable paperbacks! More about them later...
I'm working on integrating my website (http://www.saralatta.com) into the blog, so things are a little messy and incomplete here right now.
I know that I promised in last month’s column that I’d write about the Edgar Award Winner in the YA category, but once I read it, I wasn’t all that crazy about the book. Since this is a recommendation column, I’ll tell you instead about a book that I am crazy in love with.
“I am a coward. I wanted to be heroic and I pretended I was. I have always been good at pretending.” These are the opening words of “Code Name Verity” (Hyperion, 2012) a stunning new novel by
Elizabeth Wein. Verity, a.k.a. Queenie (and a number of other names, it turns out), is a Scottish spy who was captured by the Gestapo after a crash landing in occupied France during World War II.
She is imprisoned in a once-elegant hotel that now serves as the Gestapo headquarters in a small town in central France. After being tortured by her captor, SS-Hauptsturmführer von Loewe, she agrees to write down everything she knows about the British war effort. Like Scheherazade, the storyteller in “One Thousand and One Nights,” Queenie will live only as long as it takes to write her confession.
And so she tells the story of how she came to her predicament. “The story of how I came to be here starts with Maddie,” she writes—Maddie Brodatt, the pilot who flew her into France.
Through Queenie’s report, written on creamy hotel stationary, on prescription forms, in between the lines of flute music that once belonged to a Jewish flutist, and on recipe cards, we learn the story of the unlikely friendship between the two young women. Maddie Brodatt is English, a secular Jew and a commoner; a natural pilot and airplane mechanic, she is one of the few women to become an Air Transport Auxiliary pilot for the British (in an author’s note, Wein writes that there were in fact female ATA pilots during WWII). Queenie is of Scottish nobility; her German is flawless, thanks to an education at a Swiss boarding school. She’s gorgeous and cool as a cucumber under pressure: ideal qualifications for a spy.
And now for the hard part of the review: I can’t really tell you much more about “Code Name Verity.” This book is so intricately plotted, with so many twists and turns, that a plot summary would ruin the surprises that await the reader. I can tell you that this book is chock-full of vivid historical details about WWII pilots, spies, the Gestapo, the French resistance, and more. I can tell you that it made me cry. Most importantly, I can tell you that this is a book about the friendship between two smart, strong and courageous women (yes, Queenie was lying about being a coward). “It’s like being in love, discovering your best friend,” Queenie writes. “We’re still alive and make a sensational team.” So they do.
This review originally appeared in the Sunday, M
If the TV show “Veronica Mars” and some 1940s-era Nancy Drew books got together and had a love child, it might be “The Girl is Murder” (Roaring Brook Press, 2011), by Kathryn Miller Haines.
It’s the fall of 1942, and fifteen year-old Iris Anderson’s world has turned upside down. Her father (“Pop”), a private detective, lost his leg at Pearl Harbor. Her mother, a German Jew, killed herself a short time later. Her mother’s inheritance has run dry, forcing father and daughter to move from their comfortable Upper East Side apartment to a house shared with their Polish landlady in the Lower East Side. Pop’s disability makes it difficult for him to carry out the physically challenging side of his detective work, and they are perpetually behind on the rent. No more posh private all-girls school for Iris; she’s attending a public school for the first time.
Iris longs to help her Pop, especially when she learns that he is investigating the disappearance of Tom, one of the few people at her new school to show her some kindness. Pop steadfastly refuses her help (“This isn’t a business for little girls.”), but Iris is determined. Soon, good-girl Iris is sneaking out behind her father’s back and cozying up to the tough crowd at school. Lies pile upon lies as Iris, determined to crack the case, double-crosses even her friends.
“The Girl is Murder” crackles with 1940s-era slang (“Our Benny thinks you’re murder. . . . “You know—marvelous.”), the tough boys wear oversized Zoot Suits, and they all do the jitterbug at the Savoy Ballroom in Harlem. I did have some problems with the plot, particularly with an improbable coincidence that I hoped would be somehow explained in the end (it’s not). Nevertheless, Haines successfully captures the race, religion, and class issues of wartime New York City while delivering a fast-paced page-turner. Recommended for readers 12 and up—there is drinking, some drugs, and an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. If you like this book, you might want to check out the sequel, “The Girl is Trouble,” coming in July 2012.
“The Girl is Murder” was a nominee in the YA category for the prestigious Edgar Award, presented by the Mystery Writers of America. I’ll review the YA winner of the Edgar Award, “The Silence of Murder,” in my next column, but for now, you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got to take a powder.
This review originally appeared in the Sunday, May 6 print edition of
The News-Gazette.
You may have noticed that I've fallen behind in updating my blog. I just posted three back reviews! Things have calmed down a bit, and should get better once I'm finished teaching mid-May. I'm still here, still reviewing. If you'd like me to review your book, either for the News-Gazette or on my blog (I do cross-post to GoodReads and LibraryThing), please shoot me an email. I can't promise a review, but if I like it, I'll do my best!
Let me make one thing perfectly clear: "Rotters," by Daniel Kraus (Delacorte Press, 2011) is not for every YA reader. Well, what book is? But this novel is filled with enough bloated corpses, squirming maggots, predatory rats, severed appendages, and noxious odors to choke even the most jaded fan of the horror genre. You get my drift.
Okay, are you still with me? Good, because you're in for quite a ride.
Sixteen year-old Joey Crouch is a straight-A student living with his single mother in Chicago. He plays the trumpet, has one good friend, and pretty well succeeds at staying under the radar of high school bullies looking for a soft target. That all changes when his mother dies in a tragic accident--a death chillingly foretold in the book's prologue.
He is sent to a small town in Iowa to live with Ken Harnett, the father he never met. Harnett is a surly brute of a man with a rancid stench so bad that the locals have dubbed him The Garbage Man. He is also rumored to be a thief.
The new kid at school soon finds himself burdened not only with his father's noxious odor but his reputation as well. Mercilessly bullied by students and one sadistic teacher in particular, Joey has no choice but to embrace his father--and his father's grisly trade. Harnett is no garbage man, but he is a thief. A grave robber, to be exact.
With that, Joey enters a brotherhood of loosely organized, solitary men who view their calling as noble, in the tradition of the resurrection men--19th century grave robbers hired to steal bodies for use in medical school dissections. It's a shocking premise, but in its heart this book is about the bond between a father and his son, taboos, and most of all, mortality. Perhaps no one but Kraus could bring such lyrical beauty to descriptions of death and decay.
I'd been wanting to read and review this book for a while; I've long been a fan of the macabre, from Edgar Allen Poe to Stephen King. Kraus is a Chicago author, and "Rotters" had generated a good amount of buzz. When I read that the Audio Publishing Association had awarded "Rotters" (Listening Library and Random House Audio) the 2012 Odyssey Award for the producer of the best audiobook for children and YA, I knew I had to give it a listen. I listen to a lot of audio books, and in my experience the reader can make or break a book. This book's reader, Kirby Heyborne, really delivers, giving each character an individual voice and real emotional depth.
If you have a strong stomach and have a taste for books that are dark, creepy, and shocking, you should give a "Rotters" a read--or a listen.
This review was originally published in the April 15, 2012 edition of
The News-Gazette.
I've been obsessed with the Great Blue Heron nest cam:
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Are you in the grips of March Madness? Can’t get enough of basketball? Let me suggest some great books to read in between games. “Pick-up Game: A Full Day of Full Court” (Candlewick Press, 2011) is a collection of interlinked short stories and poems written by an all-star team of nine YA authors, including Walter Dean Meyers, Adam Rapp, Robert Lipsyte, and Rita Williams-Garcia. Together, they tell the story of what happens single steamy July day at the The Cage, New York City’s premier amateur basketball court. (Although the stories are fictional, The Cage is a real court, a place legendary for its fast action and tough, physical play; it has been the proving ground of a fair number of players who would go on to become pros.)
Novels written by a collection of authors are often a mess, but this one really works. Each story picks up where the last one left off, with sifting perspectives and characters that weave in and out of the narratives. Walter Dean Meyers opens the book with Boo, who struggles to guard a weird new guy with dead eyes and freakishly pale skin. Cochise is a Mohawk Indian whose father helped build the World Trade Center; his lungs are shot because the toxic air he breathed while cleaning up in the days following 9/11. Other especially memorable characters include an Iraq War vet who finds peace on the court, a hotshot hoping to attract the attention of the scouts, and a scrappy girl named Dominique who refuses to let the big boys get the best of her. Combining gritty street ball action with terrific characters, this book is a slam-dunk.
Basketball fans might also like “Boy21,” (Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, 2012), by Matthew Quick, a story of basketball, friendship, and redemption. Paul Volponi, the author of “Hurricane Song: A Novel of New Orleans,” is back on the court with “The Final Four” (Viking Juvenile, 2012), a book built around a semifinal game in the NCAA tournament.
If you’d like to learn more about The Cage, check out “Inside the Cage: A Season at West 4th Street’s Legendary Tournament,” (Simon Spotlight Entertainment, 2005), by Wight Martindale Jr. You may also want to check some classic nonfiction titles about the game of street ball, including “The Last Shot: City Streets, Basketball Dreams (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2004), by Darcy Frey; and “Heaven is a Playground,” (Bison Books, 2004), by Rick Telander.
This review was originally published in the Sunday, March 25 edition of The News-Gazette.
“Chopsticks” (Penguin/Razorbill, 2012), a multi-media collaboration between author Jessica Anthony and book designer Rodrigo Corral, is a haunting story of love, mystery, and madness. Told almost entirely through images and links to YouTube videos and online music, the book opens with a breaking news story: world famous piano prodigy Glory Fleming has gone missing from the Golden Hands Rest facility, an institution for musical geniuses. The rest of the book is a flashback that tells the story of the events leading up to her disappearance.
After Glory’s mother died, she and her father have buried their grief into developing her career as a world-class pianist. Through photographs of playbills and newspaper clippings, we learn that Glory is famous for virtuosic performances of classical music peppered with references to contemporary rock bands. She falls in love with Frank Mendoza, the boy who moves in next door. Photos, instant messages, postcards, letters, mix CDs, and YouTube videos (the reader is provided with links to online media) tell the story of their growing love.
When Glory’s father books her for an extended European tour—partly to further her career, but mostly to separate her from Frank—she really begins to fall apart. She begins to lapse into the Chopsticks Waltz at her concerts; soon, that is all she can play. As she descends into further into madness, the line between reality and imagination becomes blurred.
It is possible to read “Chopsticks” very quickly. There are, after all, very few words. To truly understand the story, however, the reader should take the time to linger over the carefully crafted images, listen to the music and watch the videos. All of these elements carry considerable narrative weight.
“Chopsticks” is also available as an iPad or iPhone app. If they are available, I definitely recommend the digital version of “Chopsticks.” The images are gorgeous and sharp, and the reader can access the app’s interactive components by clicking on subtle animated musical notes. The interactive features add little additional content, although clicking on the image of a tape recorder opens an audio file of Glory’s mother singing to her as a baby—a poignant touch. The most important feature of the app is that the reader can simply click on a link to access the online media; there’s no need to laboriously type in the URL. And readers can choose to shuffle the pages—something that can open up new interpretations of the mystery of Glory’s disappearance.
This review was originally published in the Sunday, March 4, 2012 edition of the
0 Comments on Chopsticks: a story of love, mystery, and madness as of 4/28/2012 3:13:00 PM
"We are returning your manuscript because it is not suited to our present needs." Like all other writers, I'm well acquainted with that careful, bloodless sentence. You get used to it, you move on. There will be other publishers.
"Due to declining sales, we have made the difficult decision to take your book out of print." Ah, that's the one that gets to you. You've nurtured that baby to birth, loved it, shared it with friends, family and strangers. You had hoped that it would live a good, long life.
Well, in the publishing business, six years isn't bad.
Stella Brite and the Dark Matter Mystery has gone out of print. I'm proud of that book, quite possibly the first picture book about dark matter.
Charlesbridge gave me the option of buying back some of the remaining books at a steep discount, so now I have a box each of hard copy and paperback versions of Stella Brite. They take up a lot of room. I'd rather they were in the hands of some curious kid (or adult) who wants to know more about this mysterious stuff called dark matter.
So if you'd like an autographed copy of Stella Brite, let me know. I'm selling the paperbacks for $5, and the hard copies for $10, plus shipping charges.
In “Putting Makeup on the Fat Boy” (Simon & Schuster, 2011), author Bil Wright has conjured, in Carlos Duarte, one of the most authentic teen narrators since Holden Caulfield. Sixteen year-old Carlos has a fabulous sense of style, loves makeup, and dreams of becoming “Carrlos, Duarte, makeup artist to the stars!” He imagines “doing Mary J. Blige’s makeup before a concert, or maybe Rihanna’s, or taking a month off from school to go on tour with Janet Jackson because she insisted if she didn’t have me she couldn’t do the tour.”
When he lands a job as a salesman and makeup artist at the FeatureFace counter in Macy’s he’s sure that he’s on his way to achieving his dream. But Carlos’s life is far from perfect. His sister is dating an abusive loser, his single mother struggles to make ends meet, and his boss feels threatened by his up-and-coming employee’s talent and charm. But he’s determined to do right by his mother and sister, even as he struggles to overcome the hurdles his boss places in his path.
Carlos is flamboyantly and unabashedly gay. He turns heads. “All right, I’m not stupid,” Carlos says. “It was raining hard and I had on my black vinyl slicker and the hat that goes with it. And my mascara may even have been smudged a little from so much rain. So, I didn’t look like any of the yuppies in the stupid place. Or those boys in their dirty uniforms. But I never look like anyone else, and that’s the point. I don’t want to look like anyone else.”
Authors and publishers of LGBT literature have worked hard—and with good reason—to overturn the pervasive stereotypes of queer teens. Not every gay teen loves fashion, makeup, and calls his platonic girl friends “darling.” But some do, and the thing I like about this book is that Carlos’s in-your-face style is just one aspect of his complex and layered character. Despite the fact that Carlos is harassed and attacked by his sister’s homophobic boyfriend and his buddies, this is not a Gay Problem Novel. While “Fat Boy” does address some serious issues, it is mostly an entertaining read about a teen—who just happens to be gay—with a burning desire to be a famous makeup artist.
“Putting Makeup on the Fat Boy” won the 2012 Stonewall Book Award, which is given annually to works of exceptional merit for children or teens relating to the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender experience.
This review originally appeared in The News-Gazette, Sunday, February 12, 2012.
“Stories are wild creatures,” themonster said. “When you let them loose, who knows what havoc they might wreak?” Indeed. “A Monster Calls” (CandlewickPress, 2011), by Patrick Ness, wrought all sorts of havoc with this reader’semotions.
Atseven minutes after midnight, Conor O’Malley awakes from his nightmare—the nightmare, the one that beganhaunting him after his mother began cancer treatments—to find a monster at hisbedroom window. The monster—part giant, part yew tree, ancient and wild—appearsevery night at 12:07. It tells Conor three stories, parables really, thatoverturn expectations. The good prince does a terrible thing. Innocent girlsdie. Stories don’t always have happyendings. And after the third tale is told, the monster demands the mostdifficult thing from Conor: the truth.
“AMonster Calls” is an extraordinary book about coming to terms with the impendingdeath of a loved one. Conor knows, deepdown, that his mother is dying, but he is in denial, believing each newtreatment to be the one that will save her. The monster guides Conor as the boydeals with a father who lives far away with his new family, his increasingisolation at school, his terrible anger, and a difficult grandmother who lovesher daughter with the same kind of ferocity that Conor feels for his mother.Each character, even the bully who makes Conor’s life even more hellish, is drawnwith care and compassion. The monster may be the best character of them all.
“AMonster Calls” is also a beautiful book to look at, with illustrations by JimKay. Kay’s interpretation of the monster is both haunting and menacing, and theimages work perfectly with the text.
Ness, author ofthe terrific Chaos Walking trilogy, based “A Monster Calls” on the final storyof idea of Siobhan Dowd, whose premature death from cancer prevented her fromwriting it herself. (I reviewed two of Dowd’s books, “Bog Child” and “Solace ofthe Road.” If you have not yet read anything by this amazing author, I highlyrecommend them.) In an author’s note, Ness writes that he felt as if Dowd hadhanded him a baton. “And now it’s time to hand the baton on to you,” Nesswrites. “Stories don’t end with the writers, however many started the race.Here’s what Siobhan and I came up with. So go. Run with it. Make trouble.”
Read this bookwith a box of tissues.
This review originally appeared in the Sunday, January 22, 2012 edition of
The News-Gazette.
High-flying adventures in Africa
In 1936, aviatrix Beryl Markhamflew solo across the Atlantic—from England to North America, a much moredifficult feat than Amelia Earhart’s west-to-east 1928 trek—and became one ofthe most celebrated women in the world.
“Promisethe Night,” (Chronicle Books, 2011) Michaela MacColl’s latest historical novel,weaves newspaper and journal accounts from Beryl’s transatlantic flight intothe story of her remarkable childhood.
BerylClutterbuck was born in 1902 in England, but she moved to British East Africa(now known as Kenya) with her parents and brother when she was two years old.Living conditions there were difficult and primitive by British standards, andBeryl’s mother soon abandoned her husband and daughter to return to Englandwith a British officer she met in Nairobi.
If life in Africawas too demanding for Clara Clutterbuck, it was heaven for the adventuresome Beryl.She explores the forests, adopts the local Nandi tribe as her substitutefamily, and learns to speak Swahili. She fervently wishes to join her Nandifriend, a boy named Kibii, in becoming a Nandi warrior. Taught by Kibii’sfather, Arap Maina, Beryl learns to jump “higher than her head” and even takespart in a hunt for the leopard. On her father’s ranch, she and Kibii learned tobreak horses. (Before becoming a pilot, Beryl was the first licensed femalehorse trainer in British East Africa.)
Beryl rebels atevery attempt to turn her into a proper young lady, even as she comes tounderstand the daughter of a British colonialist can never really becomeAfrican.
I received anadvance review copy of “Promise the Night” believing it to be a young adultnovel, but it is ideal for younger readers—say, ages 9 to 12. Younger teenswould like it as well.
Older teens andadults interested in learning more about Beryl Markham should check out her remarkablememoir, “West With the Night.” I recently listened to the unabridged audio version(Blackstone Audio, 2005), read by actress Julie Harris. It is little wonderthat Ernest Hemingway, who was not often in the habit of praising otherwriters, wrote, “[she] can write rings around all of us who consider ourselveswriters.” Her fine prose is especially remarkable given her early dislike ofreading and writing, although some have suggested that “West With the Night”was ghostwritten by her husband, a Hollywood screen writer.
No matter. Both“Promise the Night” and “West with the Night” are high-flying adventures.
This review originally appeared in the Sunday, January 1 edition of
The News-Gazette.
In a year that brought about anumber of stellar books for readers of young adult fantasy fiction, includingLauren Oliver’s “Delirium,” (reviewed here January 30, 2011), Laini Taylor’s“Daughter of Smoke and Bone” (Little, Brown, and Taylor, 2011) is a realstandout. The New York Times selected it as one of the five notable young adultbooks of 2011, and with good reason—it’s a paranormal romantic fantasy withreal emotional and mythic depth.
Karouis a seventeen year –old art student in the Czech Republic city of Prague. Likemany arty-types, she’s got her own quirky style—bright ultramarine hair, forstarters. In Karou’s case, her hair really isblue, although she’s happy to let her fellow students believe she dyes it. Andthen there’s the matter of her family—or the closest she has to family. Karouwas raised by chimeras: Brimstone, a horned monster with horns and the goldeneyes of a crocodile; Issa, a serpent from the waist down, with the hood andfangs of a cobra; giraffe-necked Twiga; and Yasri, a woman with a parrot’sbeak.
WhenKarou isn’t attending art school, she is running errands for Brimstone,traveling through magic portals to Paris, Marrakesh, and some place in Idaho.She collects teeth for Brimstone—human, crocodile, bear, even elephanttusks—and lots of them. She’s not crazy about the work, but Brimstone pays herin scuppies, which can be used to grant minor wishes, like making herex-boyfriend itch in unmentionable places, or causing a mean girl to grow apermanent unibrow. Why Brimstone needs them is one the great mysteries ofKarou’s life. So are the indigo eyes inked into the palm of her hands, and thefeeling that she was meant to be living another life.
Soon,beautiful winged things begin burning black handprints into the doors ofBrimstone’s portals around the world. One of those angelic beings is Akiva, aseraph. Although it is clear that the two are in opposing sides of a war thatKarou does not quite understand, they are immediately drawn to each other. And,as with other star-crossed lovers, they soon find that the stakes are highindeed.
Taylor’sworld-building—whether describing the city of Prague, where “Gothic steeplesstood ready to impale fallen angels,” or Elsewhere, with its two moons—is firstrate, as is her character development. Even secondary characters, like Karou’sfunny and smart friend Zuzana, are well drawn.
Thebook ends on a real cliffhanger—or, more precisely, with Karou in the skysomewhere above the Atlas Mountains—that sets the stage for the second book ofthe trilogy.
This review originally appeared in the Sunday, December 11. 2011 edition of
The News-Gazette.
&nbs
The Blood Lie
It’s September 22, 1928, andsixteen-year-old Jack Pool is itching to leave his small town in upstate NewYork. A talented cellist, he has an audition at the Bentley School of Music inthree days. Acceptance to the elite boarding school will be his ticket out ofMassena. It will also mean leaving behind the girl that he knows he can neverhave: Jack is Jewish, and Emaline Durham is Christian.
Inthe opening pages of “The Blood Lie: A Novel,” by Shirley Reva Vernick (CincoPuntos Press, 2011), we learn the connection between the two: their mothers hadbecome friends as newlywed brides recently moved to Massena. The mothers’unlikely friendship—and a such a close relationship between Jewish andChristian women was unlikely in asmall town at that time—spawned a friendship between their children as well. Butwhen Emaline’s four-year-old sister Daisy goes missing after playing withJack’s little sister, Jack finds himself the prime suspect in herdisappearance.
It is two daysbefore Yom Kippur, the holiest and most solemn day of the year for the Jews,and someone in town with a definite interest in the case has revived thecenturies-old lie that Jews sacrifice Christian children for their rituals—theblood libel.
“The Blood Lie” isbased on a true story, which is described in an author’s note at the end. As asophomore in college, Vernick was given the assignment of identifying a localcontroversy—past or present—in her hometown, and writing a paper about theoutcome. This is her interpretation of the story that she uncovered.
Vernick’safterward also makes the point that the blood libel has not died. Stories ofthe Jewish sacrifice of Christian children persist, with a 2008 campaign in aRussian city claiming that Jews were “stealing small children and drainingtheir blood to make their sacred bread.”
The book is notwithout its flaws. I found the ending a bit too abrupt. What’s more, afterDaisy was found—safe, if a little unsound—there was speculation that the littlegirl had been molested, prompting some of the townsmen to vow that they wouldtake their revenge on the Jews. I fully expected a dramatic confrontation, butoddly enough, there was none.
Still,“The Blood Lie” is an engrossing story of forbidden love, terrifying bigotry,and, eventually, forgiveness. The rabbi in particular has some graphicremembrances that would be disturbing to younger readers, but this book isappropriate to middle grade and young adult readers. And honestly? Adults,too.
This review originally appeared in the Sunday, November 20 edition of
The News-Gazette. The review copy was supplied by the publisher.
I’ve never really thought that Bigfoot, or Sasquatch as it’ssometimes called, is anything more than a myth fueled by a series of clever (ornot-so-clever) hoaxes. And so I was more than a little skeptical when I beganreading Kelly Milner Halls’ latest book, InSearch of Sasquatch (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2011). I knew Halls to be a terrifically talented and prolific writer ofnonfiction books for young people (Savingthe Baghdad Zoo, Mysteries of the Mummy Kids, and Tales of the Cryptids are some of her better-known books)—butSasquatch? Really?
Leave it to Halls to make you think just a littledifferently about your worldview. After reading In Search of Sasquatch, I can’t say that I’m packing to go on aSasquatch search expedition, but I’m willing to entertain the notion that itmay very well exist.
The many people Halls has interviewed for the book includean anthropologist, a linguistic expert, a biologist, and several people whoclaim to have sighted Sasquatch. While acknowledging that Sasquatch hoaxesabound, she bolsters her argument for the possible existence the mysteriouscreature by example: for centuries, paleontologists believed that the coelacanthwas a long-extinct prehistoric fish—until a living coelacanth was discovered in1938. Similarly, the giant squid was a thing of Greek legend—until it wasdiscovered in 2004.
Her text is accompanied by gorgeous illustrations,additional resources, a glossary, and an extensive bibliography and sourcenotes. Kids who are drawn to the weird and wonderful will love this book. Sowill adults.
When the National Book Foundation called Lauren Myracle to tell herthat her book "Shine" (Amulet Books, 2011) was a finalist for theNational Book Award in the Young People's Literature category, she wassurprised--and thrilled. A short time later, in an unprecedented move, theFoundation added a sixth finalist, Franny Billingsley's "Chime" (DialBooks, 2011). Two days later, Myracle got another call from the Foundation. Itseems there had a been a mix-up: the judges had read their list of finalistsover the phone, and apparently the Foundation heard "Shine" insteadof "Chime." Myracle was asked to remove her book from the list"to preserve the integrity of the award and the judge's work," theauthor told the New York Times. Myracle was crushed, but agreed to do so. Soon,there was an outpouring of support for Myracle, and Amazon sales of"Shine" skyrocketed.
So is"Shine" worthy of being a National Book Award finalist? I haven't readthe books on the list yet, so I couldn’t really say. But if they are betterthan this dark and beautiful novel, then it is a strong field indeed.
Seventeen year-oldPatrick is found near death, strung to the pump of the local gas station wherehe worked with the nozzle of a gas pump in his mouth and an anti-gay slurscrawled across his chest. The sheriff of his local small North Carolina townis quick to pin the blame on out-of-town gay bashers. But Cat, his childhoodfriend, suspects that perpetrator is home-grown. Driven by love for her friend andguilt over a past betrayal, she is determined to find Patrick’swould-be-killer, despite the urging of her friends and family to stay out ofit. As Cat uncovers the ugly truth about the crime, she confronts her owndemons—the demons that caused a rift in her friendship with Patrick and others.Filled with memorable characters, richly atmospheric, "Shine" throwsan important light upon anti-gay bigotry and the meth epidemic in rural areasof this country.
Some good has come of the"Shine" debacle. Rather than giving Myracle the $1,000 she would havereceived as finalist, the National Book Foundation has agreed to donate $5,000to the Matthew Shepard Foundation, an organization that promotes tolerance ofgay teens. The foundation is named for a student killed in a notorious anti-gayhate crime in 1998.
This review originally appeared in the Sunday, October 30 edition of
The News-Gazette.
Do hackers have it in for Sony, or have they just found an easy--and very large--target? Back in April, hackers broke into Sony's PlayStation Network and walked away with personal, and possibly credit card, information of 100 million customers. The company had to shut down several online services and rework its security system.
Intruders once again hacked into Sony's network this month, stealing tens of thousands of IDs and passwords. Sony quickly locked the accounts emails users on how they could reset their passwords; the company said that credit card numbers were not at risk.
Still it's a reminder of just how important it is to protect yourself online. One quick tip: don't use the same password for online gaming that you use for your bank account, for example.
Visit www.staysafeonline.org for the latest cybersecurity tips. Or you can check out my book Cybercrime: Data Trails DO Tell Tales, especially Chapter 3, "Viruses, Bots, and Zombies--Oh My!" and Chapter 4, "You've Got Spam!"
I came on board pretty early with Apple. It must have been 1984 or 1985 when my research advisor at the University of Chicago bought a few computers for the lab. I hadn't had a lot of experience with computers at the time--well, who had?--but this one seemed different from the other clumsy personal computers that were available at the time. I loved it. I wrote much of my thesis on it. When it came time to buy a computer of my own, I didn't think about anything other than a Mac.
Fast forward. I'm writing this on my new 27-inch (the better to accomodate my aging eyes) iMac. I've worked, reluctantly, on PCs at other jobs, but at home I've always had Macs, iPhones, and now an iPad. I'm not an acolyte, exactly, but I know what works for me, and Apple has always worked for me.
So Steve Jobs, the co-founder of Apple and the genius behind the modern brand, has always been a special figure in my life. Something you might not know is that Jobs and Steve Wozniak, co-creators of the original Apple computer, had been inspired by a 1971 article in
Esquire magazine (reprinted
here) about "phone phreaks," a group of people who realized that they could manipulate the computerized phone network to place free calls anywhere in the world.
You can learn more about Jobs' involvement with phone phreaks* and the history of computer hacking in my book,
Cybercrime: Data Trails DO Tell Tales (Enslow Publishers, 2011).
Jobs, like the other early computer hackers, weren't interested in stealing data--they simply wanted to understand the ways in which computers and computer networks worked.
*"Phreaking" is a portmanteau word made by combining "freak" an "phone" (and, in some definitions, "free"). Lewis Carroll, the author of
Through the Looking Glass, adopted the word "portmanteau"--the French word fo suitcase--to describe combining the sound and meaning of two words to create a new one. (
Cybercrime: Data Trails DO Tell Tales, Enslow Publishers, 2011, p. 26)
“A hundred and two days.” So beginsPaul Griffin’s young adult novel, “Stay With Me” (Dial Books, 2011). That’sprobably about the length of the average teenage romance, Griffin writes, butthe relationship between Mack Morse and Céce Vaccuccia is anything but average.
Mackis a shy fifteen year-old high school dropout with a learning disability and acriminal record. His mother has been AWOL since he was eight, driven away byhis brutal, alcoholic father. But he has gift: he has a way with dogs. Herescues, rehabilitates, and trains abused and abandoned fighting dogs.
Fifteenyear-old Céce is no child of privilege, either; she lives with her loopy motherand brother, just barely making ends meet. But their goodbyes always end with,“Love you like a crazy person,” and Céce is a straight-A student hoping to beable to transfer to a school for the gifted and talented.
Writtenin chapters that alternate between Mack’s and Céce’s points of view, “Stay WithMe” is the story of the star-crossed teens’ 102-day romance. Mack isstrong-armed into looking out for Céce by her brother (who also happens to beMack’s friend) when he enlists in the Army. Despite a rocky start, the two aresoon a couple, and they begin to dream of a future together. Mack is training arescued pit bull that he calls Boo. He hopes to gives it to Céce, who has grownto love the dog. And then Mack makes a terrible mistake, and suddenly theirfuture together is impossible.
Griffinhas such a way with characters. Mack is deeply conflicted and struggles withhis anger, yet he has a huge heart. His tenderness and love for Céce and hisdogs is touching. Céce is funny, insecure about her weight (one of the things Ilove about Mack is that he doesn’t seem to notice that she’s a littleoverweight), and cares deeply about her family.
Even thesupporting characters are complex and memorable. Anthony, Céce’s older brother,and Vic, the kind-hearted owner of the café where they work, are steady moralcompasses throughout the story. Céce’s mother dyes her hair crazy colors,drinks too much, and bakes inedible holiday-themed cornbread to cope with theanxiety of her son’s impending deployment.
“Stay With Me” contains sexual themesand some violent scenes that make it appropriate for older teens. The book doesnot have a “happily-ever-after” ending, but it is full of heart, redemption,and hope for a better future. It may just make you want to take in a rescuedog.
Advance review copy provided by the publisher. This review originally published in
The News-Gazette, Sunday, October 9, 2011.
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