The Plot: Fairy tales are real; Fairy Tale Land is real. An evil curse attacked the land and the people, and they all now live in Storybrooke, Maine, unaware of their “real” lives. One person, young Henry — born in our world — is aware of the curse and seeks out help to try to break the curse.

The curse-breaker? His birth mother, Emma, born in the Fairy Tale world and sent to our world when the curse was made, unaware of her origins as the child of Snow White and Prince Charming, and not believing any of Henry’s stories about fairy tales.

The curse-maker? Snow White’s stepmother, the evil queen, who also happens to be Regina, the Mayor of Storybrooke and Henry’s adoptive mother.

The Good: I have to admit, I heard the premise of the show and was all, “really?” But it has some of my favorite actors in it (Ginnifer Godwin, Roberty Carlyle, Lana Parrilla) and show creaters Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis were writers on Lost, and Jane Espenson from the Whedonverse was also involved, so that’s some pretty darn good reasons to watch.

I’m really, really glad I did. It’s a ton of fun, yes — spotting the fairy tale characters (Red Riding Hood is now called Ruby, wears a lot of red, and works in the local diner) and the many references to the fairy tales. Disney is producing the show, which means it can use the familiar images and references from the Disney version of films. Before you get scared that it’s all Disneyfied — no. no. no. This Snow White is unlike any other you’ve seen before. If you haven’t been watching, I don’t want to give much away, but I’ll say this: when she and Prince Charming meet for the first time? She’s not some damsel in distress who needs saving.  The sparks fly, and at that moment I became a total Snow/Charming shipper.

Once Upon a Time is part romance (the Snow White/Prince Charming relationship, in both the Fairy Tale world and Storybrooke), part adventure (princes killing dragons, Emma battling the evil Mayor Regina), part mystery (what is the curse? who is aware of their other lives? how does all this work?) The last question — how does all this work — is almost headache inducing. All the Fairy Tale people look like they did in the fairy tale world: they haven’t aged a day. Henry explains to Emma that time stopped in Storybrooke. Time began again when Emma stepped into town. Because Emma was sent to our world just before the curse, she was never in Storybrooke and is now in her late 20s. Henry is about ten; so Henry has apparently been raised in a town where no one around him ages, except for Henry who was born here. What is great about Once Upon a Time is rather than these things being flaws, they are strengths, because these are not mistakes but rather secrets to be discovered.

In many ways, despite the Disney connection, Once Upon a Time goes back to the darker roots of fairy tales in both how the characters are portrayed in the fairy tale world and in the present day. People die; people are hurt; bad things happen. The back-story of Rumpelstiltskin / Mr. Gold (Carlyle) has been both sad and horrifying; he is both evil, one of the “bad” characters, yet also one whose origin story leaves one thinking, “oh, no.” Grimm Fairy Tale purists, as well as Disney purists, may not appreciate some of what goes on (“but that’s not what happened in the original story/film”), but I adore the way they play with the stories, weaving them together, making them fresh.

What is Fab Films about? “Each year, the Fabulous Films for Young Adults committee selects a list of films around a theme that will appeal to young adults in a variety of library settings. Titles will be selected to appeal to young adults with varied tastes and interests.”

Wait, that doesn’t sound quite right. Are you sure? Yes, I’m sure; but you may be thinking of, and confusing it with, a different committee: “In 2007, the YALSA Board of Directors approved changes to the Selected DVD & Videos for Young Adults list, changing it to a thematic list called Fabulous Films for Young Adults, beginning with the 2009 lists. The Selected DVD & Videos lists named the best DVDs and videos released each year for young adults, through the 2008 list.”

2012′’s list is Song and Dance. 2011 was Other Times / Other Places; 2010, Outside In: Rebellion vs Conformity; and 2009, Coming of Age Around the World. Lists can also be found from the Selected DVD & Video lists, from 1997 to 2008.

Stay tuned as I post about the policies and procedures for this committee!

The Plot: It begins with a cough. A sneeze. An itch. A fever. Then, strange behaviour. Finally, death.

Of course, when it begins, when the first handful of people get sick on the island, sixteen year old Kaelyn doesn’t realize what is going on. Neither, really, does anyone else. Not until it’s too late: the island is quarantined, food and medicine are scarce, the doctors and nurses are trying to help people with dwindling supplies and few resources and no idea how to stop it, how to save people. People are dying, people are trapped, people are desperate.

Some people loot stores; others make sure neighbors get enough food. Kaelyn can do little but watch, as her friends and family fall sick.

The Good: The Way We Fall is a dystopian novel that is not set in some strange future, or alternate universe. It’s the here and now. A virus, a quarantine, panic, create a dystopian world in a typical, normal island community.

Kaelyn is a shy sixteen year old, more comfortable around animals than her fellow students. This year, she tells herself, this year she will be friendlier, she will make friends, she will say “hi” and not retreat to her books and nature studies. Of course, as luck would have it, this is the year when the virus hits. Kaelyn is both pushed and pulled. Pushed to go out into the world, to connect with a handful of others who are trying to help on an individual level. Gav, organizing food deliveries. Tessa, scavenging for medicine in empty summer homes. Pulled back into the safety of her home that is no longer safe. Her father, a microbiologist, trying to help contain the contagion. Her mother, struggling to keep some type of normalcy. Her brother Drew and Uncle Emmett, both thinking the only answer is to leave the island.

This is a look at the world while it collapses: the little moments. The day when it’s no longer safe to go to school, the day when there is no work to go to. The moment of realization that it’s no longer safe to walk the streets. Kaelyn has a seven year old niece, and she tries to help maintain some semblance of normalcy for the little girl. It’s a goal that gradually becomes impossible. It’s not just that people are getting sick. It’s also the quarantine, and the isolation, and the violence that takes place. It’s the looters and the gangs that spring up, once any other semblance of law and order disappears.

This is Kaelyn’s story, told in a series of journal like letters to a friend, Leo, who is away at school. Because Kaelyn is just sixteen, we see what she sees, knows what she knows. The bigger details of how her country and the world are handling the virus, what has really happened with the quarantine, and whether it’s escaped to the mainland aren’t told because Kaelyn doesn’t know. She, and apparently her parents, believe that the Internet and phone lines are down because of an accident; I suspect something darker. Kaelyn has some knowledge others don’t; her father is a microbiologist, working at an ocean research center. The politics of the island are vague, but that’s believable because Kaelyn doesn’t know the mayor or others in local government. The military and national initiatives are all screened either through what her father knows (and early on, it’s clear he’s not telling all he knows or suspects) or what the television shows.

Not everyone gets sick, but once someone does get sick, there is very little chance of recovery. Is a cough just a cough? An itch just an itch? I’m hesitant to say too much, but people die. Sometimes from getting sick, but also from the violence that erupts when fear takes over. I’ll say this: it makes me wonder, what would I do.

Kaelyn has returned to the island after living on the mainland for several years. It makes her both and insider and outsider, knowing things but also a stranger. Interestingly, Kaelyn’s father is the mainlander; her mother is the islander; and her father is white and her mother is black. She is the “weird girl whose mom and dad were different colors.” Leo, the friend who she writes to in her journal, is also an islander who doesn’t look like the others: he was adopted from Korea.

I didn’t realize until after I read The Way We Fall,  until I went to the website for the book, that this was first in a series. There is no cliffhanger ending; but it is also not a tidy ending. I look forward to the next book, but I’m also afraid of what the next book will bring. Is it about a community rebuilding? Or has the virus escaped beyond the island borders? Before you eye roll at oh, no, another trilogy, check out the author’s blog post explaining the genesis of the series. Crewe had an idea for a story, and it turns out it was a story that demanded three books to tell it.

Volume II

Chapter I

“Justine died.” Poor Justine!

Meanwhile, the father is being the voice of reason and cautions all against “immoderate grief.”

They are in the house in Belrive; Victor spends his days on the lake. He’s emo boy, all right.

Elizabeth is upset about Justine’s death, especially that an innocent person was convicted. I guess before this, she thought the system always works. “Now misery has come home, and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other’s blood.”

And now to Chamounix. Victor continues to feel things, deeply. He continues to feel guilty. He continues to do nothing about his deep feelings. To be honest, I’m not sure what Victor could be doing right now. Any time for action was in the days after the creature was made, and he was ill then.

Chapter II

And now Victor climbs Montanvert, and it doesn’t really matter why, because this, the first time he’s been alone for weeks, guess what happens? Why yes, his stalker, er, his creation, shows up!

The creature talks, sounding oddly like Elizabeth when speaking about social order: “I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king.” That natural lord and king being Victor.

At this point, I’ll go on record saying that while I like Victor (really!) I have more sympathy for the creature than for Victor, because the creature did not ask to be made, did not choose his appearance, did not ask to be abandoned. Though, arguably, the monster could have stayed in Victor’s student apartments and it wasn’t so much as Victor abandoning the monster, rather, Victor chose not to pursue him. However you want to characterize Victor’s action, I’m disappointed in him. His running away and avoidance seems both shallow and weak.

Anyway, a lot of ice. Just like at the beginning of the book.

Chapter III

And thus the creature’s tale begins.

The creature’s birth and infancy, as it were, is remembered by him, but not well. Pretty much, he’s a blank slate and begins teaching himself, well, pretty much everything. At this point, the creature is much more admirable because look at all he was doing while, basically, Victor ran away, fell asleep, ran again, and then had a “nervous fever.”

Much as I’m sounding Team Creature, I’m not, totally. Because wow, the creature kind of has it easy, or as easy as a hideous eight foot monster who has just come into existence can have it. He conveniently finds fire, food, etc. 

Aw, the villagers see him and drive him out because he’s so ugly. Sad!

The creature hides in a hovel by a cottage, something so low he cannot even really sit up. He steals bread, he steals a cup, he reinforces his little dwelling, puts some straw on the floor, and is close enough to the chimney in the adjoining cottage to be warm. He’s so happy with so little! It just so happens that there is a boarded up window in the cottage, in the shared wall, so the creature creates a tiny chink in it so he can observe the inhabitants of the cottage.

The creature doesn’t have TV, so instead he watches the inhabitants of the cottage.

Chapter IV

Even though the creature is new born, and has no knowledge of anything, he instinctively is impressed by the “gentle manners” of the three people in the cottage. The creature watches and learns; he even tries to help out with little chores. He begins to learn words. In a way, the creature is a Renesmee. Oh, he doesn’t instagrow because he’s born this size, but he’s learning by leaps and bounds. His learning is especially impressive because it’s self-taught under some pretty dire circumstances. Either he’s highly motivated, or maybe it’s because an adult brain (I assume) was used?

The family next door is a father and two grown children, Felix and Agatha.

And much as I admire the creature’s learning, his observing this family is, well, kinda creepy. Sort of stalkery. A bit obsessive.

The Plot: Lord Durrel Decath is in prison, accused of murdering his wife. Decath saved Digger’s life once. She owes him. She knows he could not have done it, and uses her skills as a thief and a spy to try to figure out what happened. Of course, nothing is ever as simple as it looks.

The Good: Digger, from StarCrossed, is back and oh, she is such fun to be around! Even better is that Liar’s Moon is a full out mystery, with Digger as the Veronica Mars. (What, you thought I’d say Nancy Drew?) How great is it that StarCrossed wasn’t a mystery, and Liar’s Moon is!

Let’s back up a little. When last we saw Digger, she was part of something, admittedly under another name, with the army of rebellion. Turns out, what Digger wanted most was to go home to Gerse. It didn’t matter that her love and partner, Tegen, was dead. She wanted home. So she’s back, but distanced from those she met in StarCrossed, even those who are also now in Gerse, because her brother is after her. Her brother, the Inquisitor, a man of great power and cruelty.

You know what’s funny? And another reason I love this book? I think any other author would have reversed these two books: introduced us to Digger first in her familiar setting so we could get to know her. Digger the Thief, inhabitant of Gerse, knowing the back alleys, seeing the town as a thief. Then, after knowing Digger, put her and the reader in the new, unfamiliar world outside of Gerse. Instead, Bunce switched it up. Not only that, but Durrel Decath only appeared in the first few chapters of StarCrossed. Yes, he matters — he helped save Digger’s life — but his was such a brief appearance that it’s a surprise not only that he shows up, but that he shows up in prison, and that he needs Digger’s help. Other authors would have played up Durrel’s role in the first book simply because he was going to show up in the second. That Bunce didn’t do that, that she used Durrel in the first book for exactly the amount of time he needed to be there — brave and genius.

Digger, Digger, Digger. I love that she is so in her element, and aware. This is who she is: tough. Smart. Loyal. Moral; because yes, despite the fact that she is a thief, a criminal, sometimes a spy, she has a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong. She lives in a world that is corrupt, a world where those in power abuse it; a thief with a heart of gold makes much more sense than her brother, the Inquisitor who legally tortures and kills and persecutes.

The mystery is tightly plotted. Digger tracks down clues, follows up leads, learns more than she’d care to know. Digger’s world may be one of magic, but magic only complicates things, it doesn’t solve them.

I can’t wait for the next book! Not only because of what happens in the last chapter of Liar’s Moon, but also because I’m interested in seeing how Bunce will mix it up once again. Meanwhile, also check out the Bookshelves of Doom review which has this terrific line: “this is DURREL DECATH. He doesn’t go around killing people. He just… goes around being awesome. And, you know: Dreamy.”

Some insights into the series are in this interview with Bunce and a three part interview on the writing process (Part I, Part II, Part III) at Brooklyn Arden.

Below are the books on the list that I’ve read, with links to my reviews. Please go to the YALSA website for the full list and YALSA’s own annotations. Because of how many books on the list, I’ve broken this into two posts, for today and yesterday.

For the counters: I read 7 of the 10 Top Ten; and 32 of the 113 BFYA books.

Which ones have you read?

Which ones do you plan on reading?

Lo, Malinda. Huntress. Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, 2011. My review. “If Ash was about recovering from grief (via a Cinderella retelling), Huntress is about love and what people will and won’t do for love and how those actions and non-actions impact people and their world. Love can be nurturing but it can also be destructive.” One of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.

. . . .

Marchetta, Melina. The Piper’s Son. Candlewick Press, 2011. My review. “The Piper’s Son left me breathless with heart pounding — it is a beautifully written love song about the flaws and strengths of family and the long journey of grief, about the love and laughter and disappointments that tie people together.” My audiobook review. “While, for me, Tom’s emotional journey of putting his life back together, still broken but together, is what resonates with me. For others who, say, may want more action? Here’s the pitch: Two years ago Tom had a one and a half  night stand with a girl he loved and after, treated her so badly that not only won’t she talk to him, she has left the country. When you’ve treated someone horribly, is it possible to fix it.” In either format, one of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.

. . . .

*McCall, Guadalupe Garcia. Under the Mesquite. Lee & Low Books, 2011. My review: “Under the Mesquite is a window into a family dealing with cancer; but it is also more than that. It’s the look at an immigrant family, balancing traditions and cultures. It’s parents saving money for their children’s future until medical bills eat up the savings. It’s a family whose life is full. It’s the story of Lupita, as she balances her roles of sister and daughter, of caretaker and child.”  

. . . .

*Myracle, Lauren. Shine. Abrams/Amulet Books, 2011. My review. “Myracle does a beautiful job of depicting this rural area and its inhabitants with both compassion and honesty. It’s not entirely hopeless, but neither is it romanticized. Here is Cat: “My heart, as I closed the cabinet and rose to my feet, was a small dead creature. If I could bury it in the woods, I would.”

. . . .

*Ness, Patrick.  A Monster Calls. Illus. by Jim Kay. Candlewick Press, 2011. My review. “This is a heartbreaking look at how one teenager copies with the terminal illness of his mother. The monster yew tree who visits Conor nightly tells him stories. Stories without happy endings, stories with uncomfortable truths. “There is not always a good guy. Nor is there always a bad guy. Most people are somewhere in between.” Stories pushing Conor to admit to the truth he hides even from himself. It’s not the truth you’d think. Conor’s alienation, his anger, his hurt, crushed me. I’d be just another adult in his life saying, “poor Conor.” A Monster Calls doesn’t hide the anger and ugliness of a parent dying.”

. . . .

Ockler, Sarah. Fixing Delilah. Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, 2010. My review. “Family secrets? Including an almost decade-long feud? And a summer spent cleaning out the dead grandmother’s house? It’s easy to tell why I moved this book to the top of my to-be-read pile. What moved it to my “favorite books read in 2010” list? Fixing Delilah  is not “oh noes, this thing happened eight years ago, here it is eight years later, sorry, all better now.” Oh, the book begins eight years later and yes, something happened, and yes, the three women work towards reconciliation. The family argument splintered the family, with Delilah’s mother and aunt barely speaking, but it splintered a family that already was broken.  As we find out from Delilah, she, her mother, and her aunt are not unscarred or untouched by the eight years and what came before. Delilah and her mother have issues that link back to before the fight. The fight is not “the event”; it’s one event in family dynamics and dysfunction.” One of my Favorite Books Read in 2010.

. . . .

Oppel, Kenneth.  This Dark Endeavor: The Apprenticeship of Victor Frankenstein. Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2011. My review. “Because Victor’s voice is compelling. Because his choices took me on a breathless adventure. Because This Dark Endeavor was both an extended game and a literary wonder. Because its made me want to read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. This is a Favorite Book Read in 2011.”

. . . .

Resau, Laura & Maria Virginia Farinango.  The Queen of Water. Random House Children’s Books/Delacorte Books for Young Readers, 2011. My review. “It would be easy to say that The Queen of Water breaks your heart; when a seven year old is taken from a family and shown a dirty rug to sleep on. When she realizes her parents aren’t going to bring her home. The first time she is hit. The second time. When her desire to learn to read is mocked. When the person she trusts betrays her. When she realizes that she is caught between two cultures, without a home.” One of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.

 . . . .

Roth, Veronica. Divergent. HarperCollins/Katherine Tegen Books, 2011. My review. “For terrific, nuanced world building; for an amazingly mature romance; for a strong main character that is just the perfect mix of confidence and doubt; for leaving some conclusions for the reader to make; and for being a book I just gobbled up; Divergent is one of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.”

. . . .

Schmidt, Gary. Okay for Now. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt/Clarion Books, 2011. My review. “The voice! Doug’s voice! I adored it, was swept away by it, not just in how Schmidt captures a thirteen year old with a chip on his shoulder trying not to be “that person” who strikes out in anger, but also how Doug reveals information. Look at that simple quote, above — “I hate that we had to come here” — and how in those few words we find out so much about Doug. It’s not the town he hates, but the fact that his father lost a job, that they had no options, that it’s a step down, that they “had” to do this. Again and again, Doug reveals information he doesn’t realize he’s revealing. It’s a thing of beauty, actually, to go through the book and find instance after instance of this.”

Sedgwick, Marcus. White Crow. Roaring Brook Press, 2011. My review. “White Crow scared the hell out of me. But why? Not because of the horrors of the past. Rather, it’s because Ferelith so smoothly manipulates Rebecca, putting her in danger that is physical, emotional, and mental, playing on Rebecca’s trust and need and loneliness. It’s because the rector is so willing to rationalize events and actions, including manipulation and betraying trust. Because White Crow scared me for all the right reasons. Because the image of Winterfold disappearing a foot at time haunts me. Because the triple narration showed just exactly how to use different voices and different perspectives. This is a Favorite Book Read in 2011.”

. . . .

*Sepetys, Ruta. Between Shades of Gray. Penguin Group/Philomel Books, 2011. My review. “The first chapters have some stunning sentences that, in a handful of words, shows the horrors that Lina will be living through: “They took me in my nightgown.” “It was the last time I would look into a real mirror for more than a decade.” “Have you ever wondered what a human life is worth? That morning, my brother’s was worth a pocket watch.”  

. . . .

Stiefvater, Maggie. The Scorpio Races. Scholastic Incorporated/Scholastic Press, 2011. My review. “Killer horses. There are some reader who just need to know “killer horses.” I am not one of those people. Sorry, but I was never one of those girls who went through a horse phase. So, in other words, for me, Stiefvater had to work for it to make me fall for The Scorpio Races, and fall I did. What made me fall: the setting of Thisby. A small, isolated island except for the tourists who come for the Scorpio races and come to buy horses. The world where capaill uisce are real, and iron and bells and salt and circles can help tame them. A world where water horses kill and people view it as tragic and sad, but not unexpected. Thisby and the capaill uisce are from Stiefvater’s imagination (though based on the myths and stories of man-eating water horses), and so, too, is the time. It’s a world of cars but no Internet. It’s familiar, but slanted. Thisby is so real that midway through I began to wonder, half seriously, if I could visit.” A Favorite Book Read in 2011.

. . . .

*Taylor, Laini. Daughter of Smoke and Bone. Little, Brown, Books for Young Readers, 2011. My review. “Daughter of Smoke and Bone is stunning — I’ve never read anything quite like it. Taylor tells us, up front, “once upon a time, an angel and a devil fell in love. It did not end well.” Talk about your spoilers! And this illustrates why spoilers don’t matter — yes, there will be an angel. There will be a devil. They will fall in love; the reader even knows how it will end. The entire plot is given away before the story even begins. Yet, still, the reader turns the pages, wondering, who is the angel? Who is the devil? How do they even meet to fall in love? What does this have to do with Karou, who lives in Prague and meets her best friend for coffee and picks the wrong boyfriend, yet also knocks on a normal-looking door and enters the mysterious workshop of Brimstone, a world where wishes come true for a price, and the price is teeth. Oh, what does Brimstone do with all those teeth . . . .” One of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.  

. . . .

Valente, Catherynne M. The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making. Feiwel & Friends, 2011. My review. “How lovely, just how quickly September accepts the invitation of the Green Wind and how easily and deeply she believes in it, the Green Wind and his flying leopard, Fairyland and witches and dragons. September makes friends and accepts challenges and jumps into adventures. It’s not risk free. There are real dangers, both to herself and her new friends, and important decisions have to be made. September’s seamless acceptance of the magical makes this a read for both those young enough themselves to believe that Fairyland may exist in the back of wardrobes, but also those old enough to no longer care what others think of their reading choices. This a delightful, rich, inventive book for both children and adults, readers understood by another writer whose magical world just happened, without explanation.”

. . . .

Whaley, John Corey. Where Things Come Back. Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing/Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2011. My review. “Because of how much I enjoyed this book; because of the complexity of Cullen’s loss and grieving; because I’ve reread the ending a half dozen times; and because I’ve been searching for other reviews, looking for insights and analysis; this is a Favorite Book Read in 2011.” 

. . . .

Wynne-Jones, Tim. Blink and Caution. Candlewick Press, 2011. My review. “Because I found myself caring so deeply about what happened to Blink and Caution. Because it hurt, knowing how deeply Caution was hurt by what she’d done. Because I wanted these two teens to connect, and once they connected, I wanted to see what they would do. Because this was one of the best audiobooks I’ve ever listened to. This is one of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.”

. . . .

A big thank you for the hard work of the BFYA committee, who read a lot of books to create this list. The Best Fiction for Young Adults Committee are: Patti Tjomsland, Chair, Mark Morris High School, Longview, Wash.; Jennifer Barnes, Malden (Mass.) Public Library; Carol A. Edwards, Denver Public Library; Debbie Fisher, Central Falls (R.I.) High School; Michael L. Fleming, Pacific Cascade Middle School Library, Issaquah, Wash.; Clio Hathaway, Hayward (Calif.) Public Library; Diana Tixier Herald, Genrefluent.com, Glade Park, Colo.; Janet Hilbun, University of North Texas Department of Library and Information Science, Denton; Alissa Lauzon, Haverhill (Mass.) Public Library; Shelly McNerney, Blue Valley West High School, Overland Park, Kan.; Stacey McCracken, W.F. West High School, Chehalis, Wash.; Shilo Pearson, Chicago Public Library; Judith E. Rodgers, Wayzata Central Middle School, Plymouth, Minn.; Ted Schelvan, Chief Umtuch Middle School, Battle Ground, Wash.; Gillian Engberg, Booklist consultant, Chicago; and Carol Steen, administrative assistant, Columbia Valley Gardens, Longview, Wash.

Below are the books on the list that I’ve read, with links to my reviews. Please go to the YALSA website for the full list and YALSA’s own annotations. Because of how many books on the list, I’ve broken this into two posts, for today and tomorrow.

For the counters: I read 7 of the 10 Top Ten; and 32 of the 113 BFYA books.

Which ones have you read?

Which ones do you plan on reading?

. . . .

Billingsley, Franny. Chime. Penguin Group/Dial Books, 2011; My review. “Because when I read this book, I put post-its on every page; and because Briony is such a complex character; and because the way this story is told; Chime is one of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.”

Black, Holly. Red Glove. Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing /Margaret K. McElderry Books, 2011. My review. “I had the pleasure of reading White Cat and Red Glove back to back, and I can’t wait for the third book. The world Black has created, and the characters within it, are complex and fascinating and a little bit (um, no a lot) scary. There is humor, warmth, and love in these books, but there is also darkness.” One of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.

Blake, Kendare. Anna Dressed in Blood. Thomas Doherty Associates/Tor Teen. 2011. My review. My review. “Anna Dressed in Blood is both scary and romantic; Anna is both sympathetic and horrible, a murdered girl whose life was taken, a grand injustice, but also someone who has spent more than fifty years tearing apart anyone who steps into her house. The pacing is terrific; I especially loved it when I thought it was “the end” and it turned out much more was going on than I, or Cas, suspected.” One of my Favorite Books Read in 2012.

Blundell, Judy. Strings Attached. Scholastic Incorporated, 2011. My review. “After reading Strings Attached, you’re going to want to some of the great films from the late 40s and early 50s. Blundell recreates that New York world, so well you think you can open a door and step into it. It’s in the little details, of the clothes, the food, the hair. Kit manages to be of her time, but also “modern” enough to be identifiable to the modern reader. She has a dream, she’s chasing that dream, but she also loves a boy. As for the dream chasing, it’s not like she’s doing something unthinkable at the time; many young women went to New York with similar dreams of fame and success.”

. . . .

Bray, Libba. Beauty Queens. Scholastic Incorporated, 2011. My review. “Here’s the short pitch: America’s Next Top Models plus Lost multiplied by Arrested Development.” One of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.

. . . .

Bunce, Elizabeth C.  Liar’s Moon. Scholastic Incorporated /Arthur A. Levine, 2011. My review later this week!

. . . .

*Carson, Rae. The Girl of Fire and Thorns. HarperCollins Publishers/Greenwillow Books, 2011. My review. “Because Elisa is such a wonderful, smart, unique main character; because The Girl of Fire and Thorns is about taking responsibility for one’s life and actions; because belief and God and religion is treated with respect; because the food made me drool; because for a few minutes I actually wondered how I could travel to Joya and see what Elisa sees and eats what she eats; for all this, The Girl of Fire and Thorns is one of my Favorite Books Read in 2011.”

. . . .

Chayil, Eishes. Hush. Walker and Company, 2010. My review. “Hush is a fascinating and brutally honest examination of what happens to a family and community that believes that if they think child sexual abuse doesn’t happen, then it doesn’t happen, and anything — or anyone — that says otherwise should be quieted, excluded, shunned, hushed. Best to act as if nothing ever happened. I could not read this book in one sitting. I had to put it down, take deep breaths, literally walk away.”

. . . .

Clement-Moore, Rosemary. Texas Gothic. Random House Children’s Books/Delacorte Press, 2011. My review. “In my review of Clement-Moore’s The Splendor Falls, I compared it to books by Barbara Michaels: “You know all those Barbara Michaels books you go looking for? Young girl, old family home, dueling love interests, with the three s’s: setting, suspense, supernatural? And when they’re done, you wonder what to read next?” Texas Gothic shows that Clement-Moore is this generation’s Barbara Michaels, and I guess it’s more accurate to say that those teen readers who like these books should be shown the Michaels books rather than vice versa. It is 2011, after all.”

. . . .

Dessen, Sarah. What Happened to Goodbye. Penguin Group/ Viking Juvenile, 2011. My review. “While What Happened to Goodbye has a romance in it, this is not a romance. Rather, it is about a girl whose life fractured, whose sense of self fractured, and who spent two years hiding from what had happened by trying on and discarding new personas. Now, Mclean is at a time and a place, both physically and emotionally, where she can put those pieces together and become herself.”

DeStefano, Lauren. Wither. Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing, 2011. My review. “Linden’s rich and powerful father buys him three new brides. Rhine, who misses her brother. Jenna, 18, who is just as involuntarily a bride as Rhine. At 13, Cecily is an orphan who believes she is now living the fairy tale: a room of her own, clothes, good food, servants. Linden’s brides are on a locked floor, locked away from the world, birds in a cage. As I watched the Royal Wedding, I kept on thinking of how Wither was a twisted, nightmare version of the happily ever after fairy tale: here is your prince, your castle, your life of luxury. The price paid to be a princess is high.”

. . . .

Edwardson, Debby Dahl. My Name is Not Easy. Marshall Cavendish, 2011. My review. “Depressing things happen in My Name Is Not Easy. It’s not just having to live apart from parents, family, home. Luke and his brothers are forbidden to speak Inupiaq with each other; corporal punishment is not unusual; Isaac is taken from his brothers and, without his mother’s permission, adopted by a family in Texas; one of planes taking students home crashes; the government conducts testing on the Eskimo students. There is a difference between a depressing book and a book where sad things happen; this is not a depressing book. Yes, things are lost; Luke’s name is not easy, and neither is his time at the school. There is also love, friendship, kindness, and survival. Not just survival, but triumph.”

. . . .

Handler, Daniel; Why We Broke Up. Illus. by Maira Kalman. Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, 2011. My review. “I confess, after reading Why We Broke Up and put it back on the shelf, I think about Min and Ed as if it were real. What crazy party scheme is Min thinking up now? Doe Ed still drink his coffee the same way Min does? And because of that — because I care both about Min and Ed — this is a Favorite Book Read in 2011.”

. . . .

Johnson, Maureen. The Last Little Blue Envelope. HarperCollins Publishers /HarperTeen, 2011. My review. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who threw Thirteen Little Blue Envelopes across the room when the last envelope was stolen. ARGH. And while I understood and it made perfect sense for the book, I still was very ARGH about it. So I was pleased as punch when I heard that there was going to be a sequel and my torment would end. . . .By the end of this book, I was resolved to start saving my money immediately to go to London, Paris, Dublin, and the other places Ginny visits. Johnson does a spectacular job of conveying a range of settings, in a way that makes you wish you were there. Except, I wouldn’t stay in hostels. Unless I had my own bathroom and my own bedroom.”

Johnson, Maureen. The Name of the Star. Penguin Group/Putnam Juvenile, 2011. My review. “Rory Deveaux is spending her senior year at Wexford, a boarding school in London. Meeting new people, figuring out a new school system, being in London instead of a small town in Louisiana, should be amazing.  And it is — except for the murders. Murders that are mimicking the infamous 1888 Jack the Ripper murders. Rory and her fellow students try to get on with life and school; all that changes when Rory sees someone suspicious by the school, someone the police think may be their Prime Suspect. Someone only Rory saw. Is Rory at risk?”

. . . .

A big thank you for the hard work of the BFYA committee, who read a lot of books to create this list. The Best Fiction for Young Adults Committee are: Patti Tjomsland, Chair, Mark Morris High School, Longview, Wash.; Jennifer Barnes, Malden (Mass.) Public Library; Carol A. Edwards, Denver Public Library; Debbie Fisher, Central Falls (R.I.) High School; Michael L. Fleming, Pacific Cascade Middle School Library, Issaquah, Wash.; Clio Hathaway, Hayward (Calif.) Public Library; Diana Tixier Herald, Genrefluent.com, Glade Park, Colo.; Janet Hilbun, University of North Texas Department of Library and Information Science, Denton; Alissa Lauzon, Haverhill (Mass.) Public Library; Shelly McNerney, Blue Valley West High School, Overland Park, Kan.; Stacey McCracken, W.F. West High School, Chehalis, Wash.; Shilo Pearson, Chicago Public Library; Judith E. Rodgers, Wayzata Central Middle School, Plymouth, Minn.; Ted Schelvan, Chief Umtuch Middle School, Battle Ground, Wash.; Gillian Engberg, Booklist consultant, Chicago; and Carol Steen, administrative assistant, Columbia Valley Gardens, Longview, Wash.

School Library Journal’s Battle of the Books!

For those of you unfamiliar with SLJ BoB; sixteen books are picked. Similar to a sports tournament, they are put into brackets so that one book goes against another. An assigned judge reads the two books and selects a winner. Those winners face off, again one on one, and so on and so on, until the final two and a winner is selected. The fun is twofold: not only what book you think will win, but, once the judges are revealed, trying to guess what book the judge will favor.

The 2012 Contenders, from the SLJ BoB website (links also from the SLJ BoB website). As you can see below, I’ve read many of them. It is more fun to follow if you’ve read the books.

 The specific brackets can be viewed here with a downloadable version available here. The judges are still being announced at the SLJ BoB website. Keep on eye on the website, because there are also posts rounding up reactions or explaining the process for selecting these titles.

I’m holding off making any predictions until I find out all the judges and what they’re reading!

AMELIA LOST by Candace Fleming. A nominee for YALSA’s Excellence in Nonfiction for Young Adults.

ANYA’S GHOST by Vera Brosgol

BETWEEN SHADES OF GRAY by Ruta Sepetys. My review.

BOOTLEG by Karen Blumenthal. A finalist for YALSA’s Excellence in Nonfiction for Young Adults.

THE CHESHIRE CHEESE CAT by Carmen Agra Deedy and Randall Wright

CHIME by Franny Billingsley. My review.

DAUGHTER OF SMOKE AND BONE by Laini Taylor. My review.

DEAD END IN NORVELT by Jack Gantos

DRAWING FROM MEMORY by Allen Say

THE GRAND PLAN TO FIX EVERYTHING by Uma Krishnaswami

HEART AND SOUL by Kadir Nelson. A nominee for YALSA’s Excellence in Nonfiction for Young Adults.

INSIDE OUT AND BACK AGAIN by Thanhha Lai. My review.

LIFE: AN EXPLODED DIAGRAM by Mal Peet

A MONSTER CALLS  by Patrick Ness. My review.

OKAY FOR NOW by Gary Schmidt. My review.

WONDERSTRUCK by Brian Selznick

Chapter IV

“It was on a dreary night of November, that I beheld the accomplishment of my toil.” Another terrific line.

Victor is really unclear on the specifics of his jigsaw puzzle man, including how he was put together and how he ended up being about 8 feet tall. But man, boys — given the chance to create something, Victor starts big. There’s no assistant, but it does happen during a rainy night. Vague clues: “the instruments of life around me,”  as well of mention of having to “infuse a spark of being“.

Shelley is clear on one point: the creature is ugly. U.G.L.Y. you ain’t got no alibi, you’re ugly. No, really.

Alas, poor Victor! “I had worked hard for nearly two years” (So he’s about 20, 21) “for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body.” “Now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.” I think we’ve all been there, where the reality doesn’t measure up to the dream.

So, what does Victor do? He runs away. No, really; he leaves his workroom and hides out in his bedroom thinking “what have I done?” Seriously, Victor, you had TWO YEARS before this date to think this out. Victor falls asleep and wakes up to the creature’s ugly face. Did I mention he’s ugly? “The miserable monster” is at his bed, so Victor… runs away. I’m beginning to sense a pattern to how Victor deals with things he doesn’t like. (Also, possible message here about fathers abandoning their children.)

Oh, boys. They get what they want, they never want it again. I think there was a song about that. Only, it wasn’t about a monster.

As Victor wanders the streets, guess what? Of all the people in the world, he runs into his BFF Henry Clerval who has finally got the OK from his father to go to study! Clerval addresses Victor as “my dear Frankenstein” and this, my dear reader, is the first time — absent the title — we learn Victor’s last name. (Page 36 in my copy).

There’s a joyous meeting, and then Victor falls sick for several months. Lucky Victor, Henry is there to help nurse him. Poor Henry! This long wait to leave home, pursue his education, and he ends up playing nursemaid.

Chapter V

A letter from Elizabeth!

Some details include that Ernest is nearly 16, so Victor is nearly 22, and William is about six. There’s a bit of a digression as Elizabeth ponders Ernest’s future career path, with Elizabeth wanting him to be a farmer and Mr. Frankenstein wanting him to go into law. I know one shouldn’t play guessing games about “what the author is thinking,” but here (and in other places) I can’t help but think we’re not hearing a character’s views but, rather, the view of either Shelley or her husband. Also? Elizabeth’s views seem either overly romantic and unrealistic (it is a “very healthy happy life“), or her talk of “being a farmer” is more along the lines of how a rich person would be a farmer: living in the country and hiring others to do the work.

The next mini-story in Elizabeth’s letter is about a servant, Justine Moritz, which leads to musings about class as well as a detailed backstory about a nasty mother. Regarding class: “[In Geneva,] there is less distinction between the several classes of its inhabitants; and the lower orders being neither so poor nor so despised, their manners are more refined and moral.” Interesting that Elizabeth observes that how one is treated, especially how a whole class of people is treated, can impact the actions of those so treated. Yet, even though this is clearly fairly modern (and a bit of foreshadowing regarding the creature), the use of “lower orders” seems to reflect a view that there are, indeed, different classes of people.

As to Justine’s backstory, is it told to condemn favoritism? Are all these anecdotes simply to convey a fuller sense of place and character, or are they supposed to be instructional? Or is Elizabeth just being chatty?

As for chattiness, there is also humor with a touch of snark! “The pretty Miss Mansfield has already received the congratulatory visits on her approaching marriage with a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her ugly sister, Manon, married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn.” Oh, the poor Mansfield sisters, to be described so! When I first read this, I thought Elizabeth was just being nice (the pretty) and then I realized she was distinguishing between the two (the pretty one and the ugly one) and was all “um, that’s not nice.” Also, it tells us that Elizabeth and Victor have always referred to the two sisters this way.

Elizabeth has written herself (and us) “into good spirits,” as well as reminding the reader of the family in Geneva.

Victor is feeling better, he’s totally broken up with science following his disastrous experimentation and success with creating life. Clerval studies languages (Persian, Arabic, Hebrew) and so Victor joins him. “Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy elating to a degree I never experienced in studying the authors of another country. When you read their writings, life appears to consist in a warm sun and garden of roses, — in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your own heart. How different from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and Rome.”

And thus another year passes.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, how quickly years go by? And, is it just me, but isn’t Victor a bit bipolar? Or maybe it’s that I was reading this while watching Homeland.

Chapter VI

And now, a  letter from Victor’s father! Alas, bad news: “how shall I inflict pain on an absent child.”

Who is dead? Because, really, with that beginning you know someone is. “William is dead!” It’s even worse than that, because “Victor, he is murdered.” He was strangled, and a miniature of Victor’s mother stolen.

Dad (whose name is Alphonse, for those who like to know things like names) preaches peace even as he writes about the murder of his youngest.

Victor gets ready to go home, having been away for nearly six years.

Let’s take a moment, forget everything else, and instead look at that. Six years away from home, with only letters, with no visits home and no visits from home. This, perhaps, is one of those things about culture and time that I as a modern reader don’t get but Shelley’s contemporaries would: that when one went to university, one would not go home. Years would pass, and that would be the norm.

Alright, so Victor is on his way home, and first swings by where William was murdered. Which, by the way, I understand. And, during a storm, he sees the monster. Even though two years have passed and it’s a storm, Victor instantly realizes it’s his creation and seconds later thinks, “could he be (I shuddered at the conception) the murderer of my brother?”

Normally, I would say Victor is being a wee bit melodramatic and jumping to conclusions, except, thanks to films, I know that the monster did kill William. (Oops, spoilers.)

Part of the reasoning behind Victor’s belief: “nothing in human shape could have destroyed that fair child.” Aw, poor Victor. Except, it’s logic fail. Sadly, people in human shape do destroy children. Yet, interesting to observe a belief that somehow, William’s status as “fair child” would have protected him from any natural (i.e., not monster) event or person. Ignoring for the moment that Victor hasn’t seen William since infancy so how does he know William wasn’t a nasty brat of a child, I again jump in with assuming the text is telling us about the author, specifically, showing us some of her own mourning over the children she lost. (Shelley had four children, only one who lived to adulthood.)

“Two years had nearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; and was this his first crime?” Oh, Victor. NOW you wonder what he’s been up to for two years?

OK, this next bit is weird. Victor is now home, and he’s looking at “the picture of his mother that is over the mantelpiece” which was painted “at my father’s desire.” The picture shows his mother “in an agony of despair, kneeling by the coffin of her dead father.” Isn’t that odd? To commission a portrait of someone in her grief? And, also, to have a picture of this woman at her worst possible moment — poor and orphaned and alone? It’s both creepy but also a bit sinister, as if it was there as a constant reminder to the mother of what the father did for her, rescuing her from poverty. Maybe that’s just me.

Meanwhile, remember Justine, who Elizabeth conveniently reminded Victor (and us) about? Guess what, she’s been accused of murdering William! She’s in prison awaiting trial. The evidence: she took to bed and also had the missing miniature on her!

Chapter VII

Victor’s home just in time for Justine’s trial. Victor is convinced of her innocence because he’s decided that the creature killed William. He’s not going to tell anyone, because who will believe his science project killed his brother?

Elizabeth is also convinced that Justine is innocent. “I am. . .  the cousin of the unhappy child who was murdered, or, rather his sister, for I was educated by and have lived with his parents ever since and even long before his birth.” Which, eww, gross, considering her quasi engagement to Victor.

Verdict: guilty. Because Victor kept quiet. Then, Justine confesses — she is bullied into the confession by her confessor. (More on that when I talk about the various essays about Frankenstein.)

End of Volume I.

Michael J. Rosen is here as part of the 2012 Blog Tour for the 2012 Sydney Taylor Book Awards. 

Full information on the Book Awards and the Blog Tour may be found at The People of the Books blog (the Association of Jewish Libraries blog); more information on the award is at the Association of Jewish Libraries, at the Sydney Taylor Book Awards site.

Liz B: Where were you when you learned you’d won the Sydney Taylor Book Award for Younger Readers?

Michael J. Rosen: Here at my home. I had just opened a bottle of wine—Friday night, welcoming the Sabbath, the weekend, the Thai green-chili dinner I was cooking with a friend’s help. And Barbara Krasner telephoned from California. She was especially excited that the award was being conferred upon a pop-up book, an intergenerational book. She said it was unprecedented. So I raised my glass with something even more special to toast.

Liz B: Chanukah Lights shines a light on the times and places Chanukah has been celebrated, from immigrant ships to shtetls. What type of research did you do in selecting these times and places? Was there any particular time or place that you would have liked to included, but could not?

Michael J. Rosen: Choosing eight moments, or windows, into Jewish history was beyond “challenging,” particularly for someone who would never claim to being anything like a scholar of history. Let’s just say my scholasticism is set in the present tense. :¬)

The continuum of events, the complications of history, the recurring (okay, sadly redundant) conflicts. It was like entering a room where thousands of dominos stand in some snaking, zigzagging pattern. There’s no picking one—or eight—without all the other tiles zipping into a blur of motion. And yet, after setting ‘em up and knocking ‘em down many times, I thought I’d found eight moments that were both specific enough to create unique scenes, and general enough to represent more than just one precise date or exact location in history.

For instance, when Robert designed the vessel in which escaping Jews are lighting a menorah in its hold, the sailing ship’s structure does suggest one century, although ships of one sort or another transported Jewish refugees over the course of many centuries.

There were two other scenes that we considered. One was a Jewish settlement in Spain. Something prior to the Inquisition. But Robert compelling argued that he needed to create some iconic thing that could blossom from a page. Some unmistakable structure. And nothing emerged in his research that presented an that dramatic possibility for a pop-up.

We also debated about a scene set amid the Holocaust. Robert felt the magnitude of those years—the hold they have on our modern memories—argued for inclusion. And even if documentation could persuade readers that some Jews, at some camp, managed to gather around a menorah, I felt that such a scene would overwhelm readers. Stop the flow of the book. And while I allowed for the fact that much—too much—of Jewish history is about enduring or escaping persecution, my hope for this book was to be celebratory. A beautiful experience to share with children. A kind of grace or blessing that still recognizes suffering or hardship as so many prayers and Jewish ceremonies include. Like the portion of challah dough that’s left in the oven to burn. Always an acknowledgment.

Liz B: Can you tell us a bit about your collaboration with Robert Sabuda? What was that working process like? How was the process different from working on a picture book?

You can tell a bit of the process from my previous answer. Here’s another example. We also wrestled with the initial spread of the Temple. Uniquely, for both of us, we started this book before there was any text or concept beyond the fact that Candlewick had given the two of us a chance to do a book on Chanukah. Robert and I had a working friendship that spanned to the beginning of our different careers. Over 20 years. So there was an energy and ease about diving into the project. For instance, in no uncertain terms Robert told me that he was not designing a pop-up of a family standing around candles, or opening presents. “No paper latkes jiggling in a skillet as a page opens?” “That’s right.” From the outset, we knew we were embarking on a book for Chanukah that would have to make its own place on the crowded shelf.

So we had a few long phone conversations, just lobbing ideas, stumbling around, spinning off into new options. One funny accident: We were talking about the “desecration” of the Temple that’s used as the pivotal start of the Chanukah story. And we got all excited about a pop-up spread with columns crashing, oil barrels spilling, fires, and so forth. And then, coming back to my senses after the call, I remembered/realized that we let “desecration” turned into “destruction,” and that neither of the two destroyed Temples are in the this story. I shot Robert an e-mail: “At this point, the Syrians had basically taken over the Temple, erected an altar to Zeus, sacrificed pigs within its space, unsealed the oil containers, etc., but there’s no rubble to tumble and pop up. If scratch-and-sniff is an option, a bacon scent might be nice here.”

The rest of the process followed the same give-and-take process: I’d sketch out the scenes, draft possible texts, and send them to Robert. He’d call with questions from his design team. They researched the architecture that would be present in each scene. And then they worked to translate those shapes into paper architecture.

Again, unique to this book, the first visual thing Robert presented to the editor and me was a complete, full-size dummy of the book in all white. All the pop-ups cut and assembled by hand. A set of sketches simply wouldn’t suffice.

And while there was much he’d eventually refine, this dummy helped us all see what the book needed. We worked at rearranging and substituting a few pages. I wrote other drafts of the text (shorter and shorter) to fit the odd open spaces in each scene. We’d see photos of individual pages. The studio created an MPEG of the book so that the rest of us could see the actual pages opening. Just a remarkable collaborative experience—I can’t underestimate the contribution of Robert’s studio members. Nor of Candlewick’s editors, who offered both that essential deference, leeway, and confidence in their author/artist team, and that equally important scrutiny, alertness, and nimbleness to revisit even what had been taken as final, as settled.  

Liz B: What are you working on now?

Michael J. Rosen: Like many authors, there always seem to be a variety of projects in stages. I rather feel like one of those eccentric jugglers working to keep a watermelon, a flaming baton, four rings, and a running chainsaw…all in the air. But specifically, I have a number of much loved, but long out-of-print titles coming back as eBooks this spring, as well as a novel in poetry and two voices, Running with Trains.

Take a peak at Chanukah Lights, with this book trailer:

Thank you, Michael J. Rosen!

And thank you for stopping by. Have fun reading the rest of the blog tour!