Nick Dybek’s debut is about fathers and sons, villains and heroes.
The Granta New Voices program highlights six debut authors each year. Dybek became a Granta New Voice in December, and there is an excellent, extensive interview on their site about his novel. He shares this, “In children’s books the villains are usually doomed while the heroes make it to the end; in Treasure Island, for example, the reader knows Jim Hawkins will survive because he’s telling the story, but there’s no such guarantee for John Silver. It’s Silver that you need to fear for. Perhaps because of this, I was always more interested in the villains than the heroes when I was a kid. I imagined Cal, the narrator, to be similarly fascinated by the villains of Treasure Island, by the tension they produce whenever they step on the page.”
Later in the interview, asked about other influences, he mentions going “back to a couple of classic memoirs about adolescence, This Boy’s Life by Tobias Wolff and Stop-Time by Frank Conroy.” Granta also offers an extensive excerpt from the novel.
DYBEK, Nick. When Captain Flint Was Still a Good Man. 320p. Riverhead. 2012. Tr $26.95. ISBN 978-1-59448-809-2. LC 2011049336.
Adult/High School–Loyalty Island, home to 15-year-old Cal Bolling, is a dark and murky place off the Olympic Peninsula where his father operates a crabbing boat for the local fleet owned by John Gaunt. When Gaunt suddenly dies and his cynical and unpredictable son, Richard, decides to sell the business, the livelihood of the entire island is threatened. But before the sale, Richard inexplicably decides to join the fleet in Alaska and is lost overboard. It is a tragedy that doesn’t greatly upset the families of the island who will now continue to have work. Cal, however, soon discovers that Richard is alive, chained up in the basement of Cal’s own house. He and his best friend, whose fathers are involved in the kidnapping, visit Richard even as they keep his existence secret. Cal grew up on stories of the pirate Captain Flint, who murdered his own crew after they buried chests of gold for him in Treasure Island. Just as he rooted for the doomed pirates in Robert Louis Stevenson’s tale, Cal wants Richard to somehow survive. Should the boys free him before the fleet returns and he is likely to be murdered? Should they protect the secret and save the legendary industry of Loyalty Island? It is an excruciating moral dilemma that tests their friendship, their conscience, and their allegiance to their families. Teens will appreciate the Goonies-like friendship and banter between Cal and his friend; lovers of Treasure Island will enjoy the parallels to that classic tale of murderous greed.–John Sexton, Greenburgh Public Library, NY
Catherine Chung’s widely acclaimed debut novel is about Janie’s search for her sister after she disappears. Janie’s family has lost a daughter in every generation, the aspect of the story emphasized in its haunting book trailer. The author weaves Korean history, including the war, into her family narrative.
Chung was named a Granta New Voice in 2010, and there is an interview with the author featured on the Granta website this month.
Adult/High School– Like Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club (Putnam, 1989) and Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake (Houghton, 2003), Chung’s graceful debut novel portrays immigrant family life in modern times. Tied to the traditions of Korea, Jamie’s parents expect the world of her, and more. Her younger sister, Hannah, feels many of the same pressures, but doesn’t have the coping mechanism to deal with them. When Hannah packs up and leaves one day, leaving no note, Jamie is expected to find her and bring her back. Chung weaves haunting stories from the family’s past, of sisters from each generation who go missing, and of survival during war, with promises for the future in Jamie’s schooling and the heartbreak of illness. Jamie’s desire to be everything her parents wish her to be while longing for a path of her own will resonate with teens as will Hannah’s departure. The Forgotten Country showcases a family whose members struggle to stay together while finding their individual identity. This lyrical tale filled with heartbreak and forgiveness illustrates the bonds that hold a family together.–Sara Campbell, Rowan Public Library, Salisbury, NC
Anna Solomon has a fun story about coming across the idea for The Little Bride. She was googling herself, and found a woman named Anna Solomon Freudenthal who was a Jewish pioneer in the 19th century.
The launch party for The Little Bride was held at the Tenement Museum. Although not found on most tourist agendas for New York City, it is a fascinating place and a wonderfully appropriate venue for a book about a young woman immigrating to the United States. Next time you’re in the city, take a tour!
Twice the winner of a Pushcart Prize for her short fiction, this is Solomon’s first novel.
SOLOMON, Anna. The Little Bride. 312p. Riverhead. 2011. pap. $15. ISBN 978-1594485350. LC number unavailable.
Adult/High School– In late 19th-century Russia, Minna Losk carries the stigma of family disgrace. If only she can manage a lasting marriage, she knows she can find redemption and a chance to live for herself, a luxury she was denied when she lost her parents. A 16-year-old servant, she longs to escape draining physical labor and the horrors of the pogroms. Hoping for a new life in America, Minna signs with Rosenfeld’s Bridal Service. After enduring a probing physical and psychological exam, she’s declared fit for a match and sent to the hardscrabble South Dakota Territory. Her husband-to-be falls far short of her dreams; devoutly Orthodox Max is more than twice her age. He is more suited to Talmudic study than farming, and his homesteading abilities are sorely lacking. His teenage sons look to a more skilled, Christian neighbor as a role model. Minna struggles to make house in a crude one-room dugout while submitting to her spousal obligations. Her mind races. Will Max turn her out when she fails to bear a child? Does he realize she doesn’t pray? Worst of all, does he see that she’s in love with his oldest son? First-time novelist Solomon fully fleshes out all of her characters, making them believable and sympathetic. The Little Bride explores themes of love, family, community, and the consequences of fervent belief. What will God forgive? Solomon turns her extensive research on Jewish homesteaders into fascinating, page-turning historical fiction. Rich in language and detail, this novel will appeal to teens who enjoyed Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books and are ready for more adult storytelling.–Paula J. Gallagher, Baltimore County Public Library, MD
from graphic novel guest blogger, Francisca Goldsmith:
Last week I met a school librarian who was quick to announce, as soon as we’d been introduced, that I would be pleased to hear she and her colleagues have begun to collect graphic novels in the high school library. “I can’t read them, of course, but I show them to all the kids with reading problems.” Wow, really? I tried to imagine that conversation: “Slim, I hear you don’t enjoy reading so let me show you these books over here. I don’t read them myself, but I think they will appeal to you.” And why would Slim (a) choose to take something so dismissed for a test drive or (b) come back to get reading suggestions from the source that offered this backhanded approach to knowing and advising from the collection?
This week’s reviewed title (below) doesn’t deserve such dismissal either, although if you’re going to dismiss a whole format because you find, that for you, acquainting yourself with a different way of reading is too difficult to pursue, it seems likely you won’t get closer to its exquisite and learning rich possibilities. First, the author wrote his novel in the traditional format. Then the novel, with his input, was interpreted into a movie. Movies and books, we all know, aren’t interchangeable on a one-for-one point comparison. Even more interesting with this story, however, is that much of the story itself devolves on story-telling, story-making, and then discovering how life itself is a story.
Then the graphic novel appears, again written–scripted–by the original author and not adapting his original, but interpreting a story about stories and story-telling and story discovery into a third medium. This medium allows this particular story to take fewer pages to tell, given that image as well as text work to show the characters, events, literary motifs and plotline in a condensed manner. Condensed, not abridged: think substance that requires dilution in order to become palatable. In this case, the diluting agent is the reader’s head, that organ with which all good reading is done, whether of text alone or images with words, or–dare I suggest it?–even through the sounds of language (which is how the boy Hassan acquires his reading experiences).
Instead of dismissing a format as inadequate to the librarian’s sophisticated reading needs, while trying to claim that reluctant readers will find some sort of magic bullet support in that format, I hope she will take a dose of her own advice. If she does, I am putting money on her discovering that this version of the story packs the biggest wallop of all, and that the wallop happens inside the reader’s active mind, not the passive eye that is simply awed by color and action.
HOSSEINI, Khaled. The Kite Runner. illus. by Fabio Celoni and Mirka Andolfo. unpaged. Riverhead. 2011. Tr $19. ISBN 978-1594485473. LC number unavailable.
Adult/High School– Hosseini’spoignant story is brilliantly retold in this graphic novel. The author has provided the text; enhanced by Celoni and Andolfo’s artwork, the account of the complicated friendship between Hassan and Amir, two boys of very different social classes, carries all of the power and emotion of the original. Amir’s story continues, framed by changes in Afghanistan after the Soviet invasion, the subsequent Taliban takeover, and his journeys to Pakistan, the United States, and back to Afghanistan as he struggles to understand what it will take to “be good again.” The artists use a realistic illustration style and different palettes to add dimension to the story. Richer colors for the early days of Amir and Hassan’s childhood friendship, deeper, darker colors during difficult times, and sepia tones for memories all add depth to the telling. This visual version of The Kite Runner provides a way to bring the story to teens who may be reluctant to pick up the text version, serves as a powerful introduction for those who are new to graphic novels, and would work well in combination with the original to analyze differences in storytelling between the two formats.–Carla Riemer, Berkeley High School, CA
Lucinda grows up at the very end of the Cold War, the daughter of a military family who has never lived in the United States. They have moved from one base to another her whole life. This book is about how she copes during her teen years, particularly with a volatile mother, an oblivious father, and unreliable friendships. It is also about her saving grace — rock and roll. The specific time period, circumstances and setting make it feel like historical fiction, as recent as it is, and I think that may be the way I booktalk it to teens.
I found myself quite absorbed by this coming-of-age story. There is no struggle to reading Along the Watchtower. The writing is smooth, the characters are interesting yet perfectly realistic, and the setting almost steals the show. A lot happens — a best friend’s father suicides, Lucinda’s parents divorce, she is nearly raped after allowing the wrong boy to take her to a club, she is kicked out of the house by her mother and left homeless, the boy she loves signs up to go to war. Yet somehow this is all part of real life, and life goes on. In Lucinda’s case, music helps a lot. After all the craziness of her family and school and friends and boys, at least she can shut her bedroom door and turn on a cassette tape.
In the review, I comment that the author gets every little detail right. One scene particularly sticks in my mind. Lucinda’s 9th grade class takes a school trip to Dachau. The entire situation is uneasy, but it’s not the tour itself so much as the stop at McDonalds for lunch afterwards that resonates. The palpable relief of returning to the present.
Lucinda’s parents are a big part of the story, her father especially. He is a terribly fallible man who loves his kids, even if he’s too selfish to take care of them very well. He is oblivious to his family’s needs, he cheats on his wife, he considers Lucinda’s epilepsy a weakness to be overcome. He later allows her to work three jobs supporting herself as a college student at the University of Oklahoma while contributing to a college fund for her younger siblings. You want to hate him, but he is saved by his vulnerability and the times he really does try to do the right thing. He’s human. And Lucinda sees all of this, although her teenaged perceptions do not always interpret what she sees correctly.
I enjoyed this article about Squires, especially the fact that it was while reading Sherman Alexie that she realized her own life could inspire her fiction.
SQUIRES, Constance. Along the Watchtower. 308p. Riverhead. 2011. pap. $15. ISBN 978-1-59448-523-7. LC number unavailable.
Adult/High School–Lucinda, her mother, and her siblings arrive at their latest army posting in Germany to subpar lodgings and no supplies to speak of. This is typically neglectful of Lucinda’s father, so she runs out to find him, leaving her volatile mother raging in the apartment. She meets a group of fellow army kids in the stairwell and immediately hits it off with Syd. Unfortunately, his family is about to transfer. Making friends is difficult knowing you will lose them; it is also complicated by Lucinda’s mortifying bouts of epilepsy. Surely everything would be simpler if they lived in the States. Lucinda is saved by a growing obsession with music, especially after her father asks Nately (a soldier who can hardly refuse his commanding officer) to share his LPs. Their common love of rock and roll sparks a touching friendship. Sadly, when she finally moves to the States after her parents’ divorce, Lucinda feels more lost than ever. The novel is divided into three sections, during which Lucinda is 13, 16, and 19 years old, and spans the end of the Cold War through Desert Storm. Teens will enjoy the insider view of life as an “army brat” and find Lucinda’s coping strategies affecting. They will also enjoy her sparring with charming Syd, who reappears more than once. Squires gets even the smallest details of time period, setting, and emotion right. Although the book becomes a bit preachy (Lucinda’s father returns from Desert Storm disillusioned by the army’s willingness to wage war for oil profits) and the plot meanders, this is an absorbing read.–Angela Carstensen, Convent of the Sacred Heart, New York City
One of the programs I attended at Midwinter last weekend was the ALA/ERT Booklist Author Forum Literary Fiction Panel, moderated by Brad Hooper of Booklist, featuring authors Susan Vreeland, David Levithan, Stewart O’Nan, and Armistead Maupin.
I always enjoy the Friday Booklist Forums at ALA Conferences. This time I was particularly interested because Susan Vreeland’s Girl in Hyacinth Blue is an all-time favorite. (I have tried booktalking it for teen readers, with little success. However, I have a couple 10th graders avidly making their way through Tracy Chevalier’s books at the moment, and I plan to suggest this one next. Stay tuned.)
Thanks to Brad Hooper’s expert moderation (he really is a master), the program turned into much more than a chance to hear about each author’s latest (or upcoming) book.
Susan Vreeland was the first to be questioned, and the first to address the topic of the day: Is there a distinction between popular and literary fiction? Vreeland responded that she enjoys books that are character-centered, complex, multi-layered and literate.
Hooper also asked why the historical fiction genre is so popular today. Vreeland answered that historical fiction used to be about kings and queens. Now it is about common man, about all kinds of people and how they experienced a particular time in history. It gives a voice to the inner person. (Her new book is Clara and Mr. Tiffany, published by Random House earlier this week.)
David Levithan was up next. He made it clear that he hates the distinction between literary and popular; the hope is that all writing is both literary and popular. He does not believe that readers make a distinction.
Interestingly, Levithan also stated that he finds no difference between writing for adults and writing for young adults. Adults read his YA fiction; YAs will read his adult fiction. Oh, yes! His new book, The Lover’s Dictionary is his first for the adult market. It was published at the beginning of January by Farrar Straus and Giroux.
Stewart O’Nan reminded the audience that many writers who were popular in their day are now considered literary. Shakespeare, for example. He also posited that the “literary” label is sometimes determined by the marketplace. (His upcoming novel, Emily, Alone, a sequel to Songs for the Missing, will be published in March by Viking.)
Armistead Maupin began by relating a truth that Christopher Isherwood once shared with him – “Don’t let anybody ever tell you that art and entertainment are mutually exclusive.” He believes that commercial, popular, and literary are marketing terms, that a story is a story. It was obvious that he loves telling stories, and could not care less if his books are considered literary or not. What an entertaining man! (His most recent book, Mary Ann in Autumn, was published by Harper in November.)
David Levithan later mentioned his joy in the fact that the “gatekeepers” of the YA marketplace (i.e. librarians) afford him the luxury of taking risks. He is able to publish books that might not have obvious commercial potential because the gatekeepers respect quality.
Overall, a fascinating hour. Personally, I believe that readers do make a distinction between literary and popular fiction. Even young readers can be snobs (wonderfully so) about the merits of the books they choose to read. Maybe it is length, or how “serious” a cover might appear, but teens take great pride in tackling something substantial, just as they sometimes request books to read “just for fun.”
In the end, all of the authors seemed to come around to the conclusion that storytelling, and being a good storyteller, is everything.
Agreed. So often a good story is exactly what a teen reader responds to in an adult book. Really, do our teen readers care if a book is published for them directly, or for an adult audience?
Whew! If you made it through all of that, please stick around a little longer for today’s review. I chose Salvation City because it is a good option for teens who notice writing, who appreciate the beauty of a seamless narrative. It will also be enjoyed for its story by those who read for plot and character.
Adult/High School–Cole is living the life of a typical young teen when a devastating flu pandemic hits the United States. He spends time in an orphanage before being taken in by PW, a fundamentalist Christian preacher, and his wife Tracy. They live in Salvation City, rural Indiana, not far geographically from the town to which his parents had recently moved them from Chicago. It might as well be on a different planet. Cole was very, very sick during the worst of the pandemic, and the flu affected his memory. Because he narrates his own story, readers are never entirely sure what happened. They know his parents died. They learn that cities were especially hard-hit, and that whole communities were wiped out. Now the country is rebuilding, and Cole is trying to find his place in a new world. Cole begins as a scared boy with no control over his circumstances. He transforms into an older teenager who makes his own decisions, who can picture his future, and has the patience to bide his time in order to achieve it. He ponders the nature of heroism and deals with survivor’s guilt. Nunez presents Cole’s voice in spare, straight-forward prose. This is a quiet book that calmly takes readers through Cole’s horrifying experiences. It is not overtly emotional or sentimental, yet gives readers a deep sense of Cole’s feelings as he himself recognizes them: his confusion, his fears and, eventually, his hopes.–Angela Carstensen, Convent of the Sacred Heart, New York City
I have been telling everyone I know about Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok ever since reading it last spring. It makes a great booktalk (I used it several times at the end of the school year), and would be a satisfying bookgroup choice for either adults or teens.
Publishers Weekly printed a short interview with Kwok in their March 15, 2010 issue where she makes it clear that her character’s experience of coming to America with her mother under less-than-idea circumstances closely mirrors her own experiences as a child.
Maybe it is this personal knowledge that makes it special; plot description hardly does the story justice. My own experience of reading this book, months ago, is still etched in my memory. I sat with my hand over my mouth for the last 60 pages, hoping and wishing that things would turn out well for Kimberly.
KWOK, Jean. Girl in Translation. 293p. Riverhead. 2010. Tr $25.95. ISBN 978-1-59448-756-9. LC 2009041041.
Adult/High School–Kimberly Chang moves to Brooklyn from Hong Kong with her mother when she is 11. Her mother was a music teacher in Hong Kong until she lost her husband and fell sick with tuberculosis. Now she is reduced to working for her bitter older sister in a Chinatown sweat shop and living in an unheated, rat and roach-infested apartment. Neither speaks English upon arrival, but Kim learns fast. She goes from failing miserably to winning a full scholarship to a top college prep school. Every day after classes she rushes to the factory to help her mother finish her required quota, working late into the evening. There she befriends Matt, another kid helping his mother. As they get older, they fall in love.
This may sound like a familiar immigrant story, but this one is exceptional. Kim’s narration has a clarity that reflects her own practical and determined character, lightened by her charming way of introducing the occasional Chinese phrase, which she translates for readers. This has the effect of keeping the foreignness of her new life in the forefront, without losing narrative momentum. Indeed, Kwok keeps the story moving forward until it reaches an intensely emotional ending. The feelings between Kim and Matt build to a climax that leaves readers breathless. Teens will want to talk about Kim’s surprising decisions and their consequences.–Angela Carstensen, Convent of the Sacred Heart, New York City
Angela Carstensen is Head Librarian and an Upper School Librarian at Convent of the Sacred Heart in New York City. Angela served on the Alex Awards committee for four years, chairing the 2008 committee, and chaired the first YALSA Award for Excellence in Nonfiction for Young Adult committee in 2009. Recently, she edited Outstanding Books for the College Bound: Titles and Programs for a New Generation (ALA Editions, 2011). Contact her via Twitter @AngeReads.
