The Last Days, by Scott Westerfeld

Westerfeld_-_The_Last_Days_CoverartThis is the most disappointing Westerfeld I’ve ever read. Normally, I love his books.

Spoilers if you haven’t read PEEPS. If you have or don’t plan to, you should be fine to read on. *No* spoilers from The Last Days.

The Last Days is a sequel to PEEPS, but not in the traditional form of sequels. The world is the same, the spreading (vampire) parasite is the same, but the characters are all new. Cal and Lace come back for the last third, when the book gets a little more interesting, but even then they’re only side characters to help explain what’s been happening behind the scenes.

In this book, five characters come together to form a rock band. It’s these characters that made this book distasteful for me. (Well, they’re one thing. See below for the other.) Four of five of them were the sort of people I can’t stand. Zahler and Moz are mild Beavis and Butthead types. Pearl is a preppy musician from Julliard High School trying to become a famous rocker any way she can. Minerva is an infected girl who has been nursed back to semi-health by her Spanish witch-doctor woman (an “esoterist”). The last member of the band was the only character I liked – Alana Ray, a dreadlocked drummer who specializes in paint buckets for her sound and who grew up in a school for people with “disabilities.” She has an extreme form of synesthesia, it seems: she sees music. They call it hallucinations. She’s also pretty OCD and is heavily dependent on her medication. Despite her being the one with the mental illness, she’s the sanest and most logical person in the bunch. She’s also, unfortunately, the character we hear from the least.

So the five get together. They play music. They try to get signed. Meanwhile, in the background, signs of the whole crisis mentioned in PEEPS are getting stronger and more obvious. The book explodes with worminess, that same worminess that bothered me at the climax of PEEPS. Only this time, thanks to Cal and Lace, there’s an explanation. Woo-hoo! The thing that was missing from PEEPS! While I still don’t like the whole B-grade sci-fi movie thing, I was at least satisfied this time. At least there was some scientific-ish explanation behind the worm thing. The last third of the book was better because of that explanation. The first two-thirds not only had people I couldn’t stand but worminess that was still as ungrounded as when it was in PEEPS.

So that’s the good news – I got the explanation I very much wanted, and nothing newly weird happened. The bad news is that there were lots of big white worms, and I don’t like big white worms. They’re just a little…cheesy. I had to deduct at least a star in my rating for the worms alone.

I do admit, though, the writing was clever, as it always is. For example:

Immune systems are dangerous things: lupus, arthritis, and even asthma are all caused by our own defenses. Fevers have to be controlled.

That’s where the Watch came in, to organize the peeps and keep them from doing too much damage. Like your mom bringing you aspirin and cold compresses and chicken soup–but with ninja uniforms.

I like the humor. I always like Westerfeld’s humor. Unfortunately, it couldn’t make up for the plotline. Half of it was whiny, petty band stuff, the other half was something that ought to have a place on Mystery Science Theatre. (Okay I just reread my PEEPS review and realized I described the worms the exact same way back in April. Nice to be consistent.)

This is actually the last YA Westerfeld book I had left to read. Too bad it was a disappointment. His next book, Leviathan, comes out in October, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it!

Posted in 2009, Prose, Young Adult | Tagged | Leave a comment

Embroideries, by Marjane Satrapi

EmbroideriesSo what happens when a group of close women get together for an afternoon of tea and talk? Embroideries takes us through an afternoon of frank talk by women in their own little circle.

The more I read of Satrapi’s work, the more I enjoy it. I enjoyed this more than either of the Persepolis books. I loved the simplicity of the artwork and style, and the simplicity of the story itself, which was nothing more than conversation. In my own life, I love getting together with a group of friends and just hashing over stories from our lives, and that’s all this was. It reminded me of get-togethers with my cousins.

The conversation itself was alternately light and heavy, funny and sad. It was charming and realistic. The women covered a broad range of topics, from cultural traditions to sex to menopause to keeping a husband to the value in being a mistress to the powerlessness of women to the ridiculous price put on virginity. And more. It flowed naturally, as if Satrapi just transcribed an actual afternoon’s conversation (and I’m not convinced she didn’t).

There isn’t really much to say about the book beyond that.

Posted in 2009, Adult, Visual | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

So Yesterday, by Scott Westerfeld

159514000X_so_yesterdayThis book is commercialism on steroids! The characters are almost like superhero sales-people! What a weird concept. Hunter Braque is a Trendsetter or “cool hunter.” He goes out looking for the people who come up with new ideas on their own (known as Innovators). Then, he takes their ideas and brings them to a client (currently, he’s consulting for a 4-letter swooshy shoe brand which is only referred to by asides like this), who then market the new cool trend. When he meets Jen, a natural Innovator, the two end up sucked into a weird underground web of kidnapping, paka-paka seizure lighting, anarchist roller skaters, and purple dye shampoo. Sound weird? Oh yeah. But really, really good.

I have no idea where Scott Westerfeld gets his ideas, but his books are so unique. In So Yesterday, he turns the boring world of marketing and sales into an action-adventure plot, drawing on history, epidemiology, and pyramid strategy. Not every author could pull that off. I loved it. I wasn’t sure, going into it, how I would react – I don’t really like marketing and sales; I don’t really like action/adventure – but once again, Westerfeld proves he’s a master.

When I was reading this, Jason mentioned something about Westerfeld seeming very political in his books (none of which Jase has read, he’s just heard about them). In Uglies–Pretties–Specials, Westerfeld tackles beauty and plastic surgery and environmentalism. In Extras, it’s fame and media. In PEEPS, casual sex and STDs (Jason’s interpretation, not mine). In this, commercialism. To me, though, I don’t get the feeling that these are pushy political statements. I mean, the bad guys, from page 1, are the anti-consumerists! And while they may not end up being 100% bad, they certainly don’t end up 100% good, either. One of the things I really like about Westerfeld is that he seems to say there is no 100% right answer. There are always two sides to every story. As in: Yeah, plastic surgery and mind control is definitely not a good thing, but when you don’t control people, they do bad things like destroy the environment. There is never a perfect solution. To me, that feels very un-political. I like that. It gives us the chance to make up our own mind. No thought-system is rammed down our throats.

In the Westerfeld canon, I don’t think this book gets as much attention as it deserves. It isn’t part of a series, and it’s one of his earliest YA books. I wasn’t sure what I’d find when I opened it, but it was really good, and I highly recommend it. Not just because I love Westerfeld’s writing, either. The book itself was excellent.

Posted in 2009, Prose, Young Adult | Tagged | 1 Comment

Nothing But Ghosts, by Beth Kephart

nothing but ghostsThis is a hard book to describe in a synopsis. The main character is Katie. It’s the summer before her senior year, and she’s struggling with grief after the loss of her mother. She works as a gardening assistant for a reclusive woman who hasn’t been seen in 50 years. In unravelling the mystery of the recluse’s life, Katie tries to come to terms with her mother’s death.

I don’t know that I’ve ever read a book like this before. It was a bit of a mystery, but a slow, quiet mystery. The book has an extremely slow and passive plot, which I appreciated because if it had been rushed, it would have felt very juvenile. As it was, it came off much like the pacing in Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, except without the ominous undertone. A lot of the book is thinking and remembering stories, the way Never Let Me Go is. That’s what I mean by quiet. If you’re looking for a plot-based book, this isn’t it.

I’m finding it very difficult to put my feelings about the book into words. I’m a little conflicted about it. I liked the way it was set up, but for some reason didn’t feel the characters as strongly as I would have liked (though I fully admit that could be because I was a little sleep-deprived when I read it). There were some technical issues with verb tenses which I’m sure is just my editorial personality coming through, but mostly, it was very well written. I liked it, but I’m not sure how long it’ll stick with me. Maybe it’ll grow and magnify in my mind the way Never Let Me Go has, but maybe it’ll fade like The Cellist of Sarajevo (another quiet book). I won’t know for quite awhile. At the same time, I think my main issue with the book was I didn’t feel it was unique enough to capture my undivided attention. This is, of course, in complete contrast to the statement above that says I’ve never read a book like it. Maybe what I mean is there wasn’t any spark moment for me to catch onto. It was almost too stripped of life, almost too passive. But I don’t know. It’s one of those books that might possibly have rooted itself very deep in my brain in order to bloom fully as time passes. I won’t know for awhile.

I’m sorry. This is a really awful review. Sometimes I just come across books that are difficult for me to really sort through. This is one of them. I can see some people loving this book, and others getting bored. I think I’ll just have to let time determine how this will affect me longterm.

Posted in 2009, Prose, Young Adult | Leave a comment

Aya, by Marguerite Abouet

abouet_thumbThis graphic novel takes place in the late 70s in the Ivory Coast. Aya is a teenage girl with academic ambition, while her two best friends, Adjoua and Bintou, are far more concerned with partying. This, of course, eventually leads to trouble.

I believe this is the first book I’ve ever read about the Ivory Coast. It was an interesting experience. Stylistically, the artwork in this graphic novel didn’t appeal to me as much as some others I’ve read, but at the same time, I liked the detail of background scenes. I was much more interested in gleaning cultural references and the experience of living than I was in the main story. My favorite parts of the graphic novel were the pages in the back, which had vocabulary, clothing information, dance tips, and recipes. I’m especially fond of the peanut sauce (stew) recipe, which is almost like the mafé recipe from Senegal that Jason and I have been making for years. I can’t wait to try this version!

I did like Aya (the character), though. I liked how smart and cynical she was. I can’t say the same for her friends or pretty much anyone else in the book. I didn’t really like any of the other characters, which probably explains why I didn’t really care much about the main story. Aya’s not in the story as much more than an observer.

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East of Eden, by John Steinbeck

4406East of Eden is too gigantic and un-plot-based to really have a synopsis. I suppose I can say it follows the sometimes-intertwined lives of the Trask family and the Hamilton family for many years, mostly in the Salinas Valley in California. Part of it is a fictionalization of Steinbeck’s family history (he even makes an appearance a few times, both in first and third person), and part of it is allegorical. The Hamilton side was based on Steinbeck’s family; the Trask side retold the stories of Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel. Supposedly, Steinbeck considered this his masterpiece.

There is too much in this book to even begin to talk about everything, so instead of trying to, I’m just going to jot down some brief thoughts and feelings that came to me over the two months that I’ve been reading this. First, Steinbeck is a master of characterization. I feel like I know every single one of these characters as if I’d met them in real life. When they were sick, dying, happy, sad, excited – I felt it all with them. I came to care about all of them, even Cathy, which leads me to:

Second, Cathy Ames is probably the best written villain I’ve ever read, right up there with Humbert Humbert from Lolita. At her finest, she made me squirm. Her crimes were uncomfortably visceral – knitting needles and crochet hooks and ammonia (shudder) – and it doesn’t surprise me that critics rebelled against her when this was published in the early 50s. I’m actually a bit surprised Steinbeck got away with writing/publishing some of the things she did.

Third, I love what Steinbeck did with Lee’s character. Lee’s a Chinese-American who is the butt of severe discrimination. No one will listen to him or trust him if he speaks English, so he has to speak that awful pidgin stuff, and they call him awful stereotypical names like “Ching Chong.” Laugh at me if you want, but I was reminded of Amos Diggery in the fourth Harry Potter book, when he refuses to call Winky the house-elf by her name, and instead addresses her as “Elf” every time. That sort of discrimination, the refusal to see someone as a real person because they’re different from you, really upsets me. I’m happy Steinbeck did Lee’s character justice. He proves himself invaluable and probably the smartest person in the book by the end.

Fourth, the allegorical stuff, particularly surrounding Cal and Aron (Cain and Abel), was a little overdone. When Adam asked Cal where Aron was, and Cal said, “How do I know? Am I supposed to look after him?” I groaned just a little bit. I felt like there was a big neon sign pointing to the line and saying, “Hey! Look! Did you see it? Biblical reference here!!” I think the allegory would have been much more effective had it not been so blatant at times. It was this heavyhandedness and some longwindedness in places that made this book fall below The Grapes of Wrath for me. I think Grapes was a better book.

That’s not to say East of Eden is bad. It’s excellent, it’s beautifully written, and it was well worth the time I spent. I won’t forget it easily. I want to end with my favorite quote, something Lee says about American culture which I think is so relevant today it’s haunting:

We all have our heritage, no matter what old land our fathers left. All colors and blends of Americans have somewhat the same tendencies. It’s a breed–selected out by accident. And so we’re overbrave and overfearful–we’re kind and cruel as children. We’re overfriendly and at the same time frightened of strangers. We boast and are impressed. We’re oversentimental and realistic. We are mundane and materialistic–and do you know of any other nation that acts for ideals? We eat too much. We have no taste, no sense of proportion. We throw our energy about like waste.

Has anyone ever read a better description of American culture? I was completely blown away by that passage.

Posted in 2009, Adult, Prose | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

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Pedro and Me, by Judd Winick

coverThis graphic novel is about Pedro Zamora, a gay Cuban immigrant who contracted HIV at age 17, became an public speaker about AIDS, and died at age 22. He and the author, Judd Winick, were roommates on The Real World on MTV. They also became good friends. This book was Winick’s way of saying thank you, of honoring Pedro and getting his story out.

I never watched The Real World, or really MTV much at all. I didn’t know Pedro, though I think I vaguely remember people talking about him. However, his story was really touching. I teared up several times reading this graphic novel. For someone I didn’t know, it’s amazing how sad I felt as he struggled, as everyone around him struggled.

Pedro was an amazing person. He did so much to educate people about AIDS. He taught facts and dispelled myths. More than that, he stood up and showed everyone that being a gay man or being a person with AIDS was not a stereotype. He was human. He was real. People saw him instead of a fear, and they came to understand. He reached millions of lives, and has probably saved quite a few, too, by spreading knowledge and education. He is an inspiration. I’m so glad to have read about him.

Posted in 2009, Visual, Young Adult | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Crossed Wires, by Rosy Thornton

crossed-wiresMina is a 27-yr-old single mom caring for her 10-yr-old bookworm daughter and her (Mina’s) 17-yr-old juvenile delinquent sister. She works at an auto insurance call center, and hasn’t thought about romance in a long time. Peter is also a single parent, taking care of 9-yr-old twins with the on-and-off help of some neighbors and his broke research student. When Peter gets into a couple car accidents late in the summer, he calls up Mina’s insurance agency for help. Neither of them expect that in the next year, their conversations will blossom into a long distance, over-the-phone friendship that slowly moves towards love.

I first saw this book on The Book Bundle, where my friend Emily was offering a copy in a giveaway. I didn’t win the giveaway, but not long after, Ms. Thornton contacted me and asked if she could send me a copy to read and review, and I accepted. I’m so glad she contacted me, because I ended up enjoying this far more than I expected. In general, I’m a bit leery of romance, because it has a tendency to end up unbelievable and/or trashy. Thankfully, Crossed Wires was neither of those things. Its characters were so real and so easy to relate to. The romance was very Austenesque – not in writing style, but in the timing. It was slow, careful, and deliberate. No trashiness at all. I loved that.

Perhaps I’m a bit biased. I just love the idea of two people falling in love through a series of phone calls without ever having met. My husband and I met through phone calls and email and didn’t meet in person for two months. Neither of us knew what the other looked like: he pictured me as a redheaded Molly Ringwald type, and I thought he was blond. It didn’t matter what we looked like, though; we fell in love through words, and it’s really special to me that we did. That’s why I wanted to read the book in the first place, and Thornton didn’t disappoint me at all. Her characters went through the same sort of thing, imagining each other wrongly, trying to figure out the other’s circumstances through offhand comments and such. It was wonderful.

I want to tell you the book is not as frilly as the cover might indicate. I think the cover is a little frivolous for the story, actually, but maybe marketing-wise that’ll help it sell better. I don’t know. It’s certainly not something I would have picked up on the cover alone, and the story was not at all what I expected from it. It wasn’t dark and depressing, but it wasn’t a bubbling happy either. It had its slow romance, and it had real world issues, too: the trials of being a single parent, death and grieving, dysfunctional families, prejudice against Irish travelers, poverty, social customs, and mundane every-day life. It was realism in the best way, not gritty, not boring, but not shying away from the world either. So don’t judge on the cover, because the cover’s not really representative of how deep this is.

My only quibble with the book itself is that some of the transitions seemed really abrupt to me. A couple of times I was jarred because it felt like a paragraph or two were missing. Part of that, I admit, may just be my ignorance of British writing/speaking style. There were a lot of British stylistic things I had to get used to. I’ve read a lot of British literature, but 95% of it is old classics, and the other 5% probably mainly consists of Harry Potter, which has been Americanized on the way over. Brand names, phrasing, vocabulary, etc – much of it was new. Despite the transition issues, I loved most of the British-isms. It really transported me to a different world. I know the UK is not extremely different from the US but it was different enough for me to feel like I was vacationing a bit.

Originally, I was going to give this book away after I read it. I felt like I needed to help it get out into the world and get more face- and blog-time. It deserves to be read. However, I loved it too much. I can’t give it away. I’m sorry. I want to keep it.

Note: This book was reread and re-reviewed in 2010.

Posted in 2009, Adult, Prose | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

And Tango Makes Three, by Justin Richardson

And Tango Makes ThreeRoy and Silo are two male penguins at the Central Park Zoo who became a couple. They bonded the same way a male and female penguin normally do. They made their own nesting area, and they tried to hatch egg-sized rocks the way other penguin couples around them were hatching eggs. When one couple couldn’t take care of its second fertilized egg, it was given to Roy and Silo. They took turns sitting on the egg and caring for it until a baby penguin, Tango, hatched. The two have continued to raise Tango, and the three live as a family in the zoo just like all the other penguin families.

And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell is a children’s picture book about this penguin family. Normally, I wouldn’t review a picture book, but this one is special, and I felt like I should review it despite that not being the norm for me. This is one of the most widely challenged books in libraries and has been for several years. Why? Because it talks about a well-adjusted homosexual animal family. It’s nonfiction, which makes it even worse in the eyes of some people. People don’t want to face the fact that homosexuality does indeed occur in animals (this isn’t the only documented instance). Because it’s a children’s book, they’re afraid their children might see it and get the idea that homosexuality is okay.

The book is adorable. This penguin couple is so cute, and their “sexuality” doesn’t really matter at all. They’re just two parents who adopt a baby penguin that another couple can’t take care of. There’s a lot of love, it celebrates family, and for goodness sake it’s nonfiction! It’s not like somebody wrote a fictional penguin story to advocate homosexuality or something! I’m sorry, but I can’t see a factual children’s book as being “morally wrong.” Are the penguins in the Central Park Zoo morally wrong? Should we just hush them up, separate them, and pretend they never bonded? Come on!

I plan to let all three of my kids read this. Already I had a great experience with my oldest (age 8). He asked what was so special about this book. It’s not often they see Mom reading picture books. I said many people wanted it to be taken out of libraries, and he asked why. I told him because it had two boy penguins raising their baby, and he said, “Gay penguins? What’s wrong with that?” I am so, so proud. I can’t say how proud I am of him.

Maybe it’s this reaction from kids that people worry about. That the kids will look at these gay penguins and think, “What’s wrong with that?” But this book is fact! It’s not fiction! If a kid sees it and his parents don’t like that, they can just say it’s wrong for two boy penguins to be together, the same way they tell the kid it’s wrong for two boy people to be together. Then the kid will know that the penguins are sinful or unnatural and that’ll be that. Do I sound a bit sarcastic here? I’m sure I do. I can see why people don’t want to deal with this book. Their arguments just sound silly in the face of nature.

Anyway, it was a wonderful book, such a cute story, and it takes a much shorter time to read than this review. I encourage everyone to support it, and your local library. 🙂

Posted in 2009, Children's, Visual | Tagged , | Leave a comment