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A Few Cybils Reads – Part VII (Audiobook Edition)

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Noggin by John Corey Whaley
Whaley’s follow-up to his Printz-winning Where Things Come Back is a character-driven novel with an SF twist. Travis’ cancer was going to kill him, so he opted to have his head chopped off and put in cold storage, hoping one day science would advance far enough and he’d be revived using a donor body. He figures he’ll wake up in hundred years or so. Except that’s not what happens. It only takes five years. For newly-awakened Travis, it seems like no time has passed at all. But for everyone else, the world has changed. His friends (including his girlfriend) are now adults. His death profoundly affected his parents, and the fact that he’s alive again doesn’t magically fix everything. Not to mention the fact that he’s walking around in (on?) someone else’s body.

Whaley’s writing is very, very good, matched by Kirby Heyborne’s equally good narration. I wouldn’t have enjoyed this nearly as much if Heyborne weren’t narrating. Travis’ growth, the way he comes to terms (or not) with the way his life has changed, the way his family and friends come to terms with it – it’s masterfully done and quite compelling. Travis’ voice is clear; he’s not always likeable, not even at the end, but he’s believable. I can see why it was shortlisted for a National Book Award, and I can easily see this appealing to readers who normally don’t enjoy science fiction. The focus is entirely on Travis’ adjustment, and the medical/scientific procedure that allowed him to wake up five years after his “death” is not explained. That’s not what Whaley considers important in this story. I’ve seen some reviewers describe the premise as absurd or weird, but as far as SF novels go, it’s pretty tame.

Night Sky by Suzanne & Melanie Brockmann
Sasha, the little girl that Skylar babysits, has gone missing, and her father – who has also disappeared – is the prime suspect. The police already think Sasha is dead, but Skylar refuses to believe it. Then a girl named Dana comes into town, and Dana exhibits some of the abilities that Skylar believes she may have – like telekinesis. She learns that she’s a “greater-than,” which basically means she has superpowers. A lot of them. She and Dana, along with wheelchair-bound best friend Calvin and Dana’s sidekick Milo, decide to figure out what happened to Sasha on their own – and they discover it has everything to do with the greater-thans.

I’ve never read an adult Brockmann book and I can’t say this would encourage me to pick one up. The premise certainly has appeal for a certain kind of reader – those who can’t get enough books about teens with superpowers, for instance. It’s fairly diverse, too, though only in its ancillary characters. It’s action-heavy with a good vs. evil plot. But it goes on a little too long and the writing is weak. There’s a certain sentence structure that’s overused, so glaring that each time it happened I winced. (“He did this as I did that” or “I did this as she did that” with a long, drawn out second half. I could hear the narrator run out of air trying to get the whole sentence in without pausing for a breath. Just make it two sentences!) The narration isn’t great. Melanie Brockmann does it herself and she doesn’t voice any of the characters. Her voice is reedy and it sounds like she’s not getting enough air, even when the sentences are short. There are better offerings. (Kirkus gave it a starred review. But what do they know?)

Divided We Fall by Trent Reedy
This is one of those books that may be good in print, but is absolutely fantastic on audio. It’s about a high school kid, Danny, who joins the Idaho National Guard at age 17. He’s sent to help police a protest in Boise. Things get out of control. Someone bumps into his gun and it goes off. Then more people start shooting. Twelve people are killed. Not even Danny knows exactly what happened, but he becomes the face of the state of Idaho’s resistance to the federal government, which started as a refusal to implement a controversial federal ID law. The president wants Danny and the rest of the soldiers arrested, and the governor refuses. Events escalate. Each chapter ends with snippets from television news programs, tweets, radio callers, and the like, and these are all fully voiced by a diverse group of narrators. Some strongly recall Fox News or Rush Limbaugh (the latter of which is particularly painful to listen to), while others are more middle of the road, or simply reactionary. You’ve heard this stuff before, about similar things, things that are happening in real life right now. It’s at times more interesting than the main narrative itself.

Reedy does a good job of balancing each “side” of the story – those who support the state government and those who support the federal government. It’s a really tough tightrope to walk, but he succeeds in not making his book seem like it has an agenda. That’s partly due to Reedy’s protagonist, who is an everyguy – but of the kind we don’t see a lot in YA fiction: he lives in a semi-rural area, participates in rodeos, plays football, doesn’t intend to go to college, enjoys guns and country music. He joined the National Guard because he loved his state and he loved his country. These are all things we tend to associate with conservative kids, but his political views aren’t what’s on display. He never wanted to get caught up in everything that happens and would rather it all go away. This is a tricky, very discussable book that will probably piss some people off. The setting could have been Texas (my home state) and been just as believable. It’s very close to home; that’s what makes it worth the read.

Audio Review: Cleopatra’s Moon by Vicky Alvear Shecter

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Though the title may lead some readers to think it, Cleopatra’s Moon is not, in fact, about Cleopatra VII, the most well-known Cleopatra of history who was famously portrayed by Elizabeth Taylor. Instead, it’s about her daughter, Cleopatra Selene, whose name is not nearly as well-known. In fact, in her author interview at the end of the book, Shecter mentions that many people didn’t even realize Cleopatra had a daughter – the romanticized stories aren’t particularly interested in Cleopatra’s children.

“Selene” means “moon” in ancient Greek, hence the title. Cleopatra Selene had a twin brother named Alexandros Helios; the second part of his name comes from the ancient Greek word for sun. People with names like these cry out for a story.

Unlike most YA novels, this one starts off with Cleopatra Selene at a pretty young age and keeps her there for a big portion of the book. It opens with her parents crowning her queen of a few Egypt-controlled territories and I believe she’s around 4 or 5 at that point. The story then progresses a few years, through her parents’ deaths and her time in Rome in the household of Octavia, Octavianus’ (Caesar’s) sister. When she first goes to Rome, she’s a pre-teen, and much of her growth as a character happens during this time. It’s only during the last third that she is old enough to be called what we think of as a “young adult” (a teenager). Despite her various ages, this is a young adult novel throughout – its themes are more complex than a middle grade novel, and the narrative voice is more mature and reflective.

This is a treat for fans of ancient Egyptian history. Do you know a reader who would have loved Mara, Daughter of the Nile if this were 1985? This book is the 21st century’s Mara. It’s got romance, political intrigue, murder, thievery, and a fantastic setting – two of them, actually, since the first portion is set in Egypt and the second portion in Rome. The fact that Cleopatra’s Moon is about an actual person, who lived and breathed and interacted with these people who seem right out of legend, only adds to the book’s allure. By the end of the book, Cleopatra Selene seems like a legend herself.

In her author interview at the end of the audiobook, Shecter talks about historical fiction as an exercise in “filling in the gaps.” This is especially true for ancient historical fiction, where most readers can only find out very basic information from a casual perusal of Wikipedia or their public library. There are a lot of gaps for an author to work with and a lot of creative license she can take. Shecter sticks close to what historians know of Cleopatra Selene, including her siblings’ lives, her move to Rome as a captive of Octavianus, and her eventual marriage. But even if you read up on the history before diving into the book, meaning you know just where Cleopatra Selene ends up as an adult, there’s plenty of narrative tension – there’s a lot to explore in the gaps.

Shecter’s writing is strong. Cleopatra Selene has so much to handle at so young an age (her parents’ suicides, attempted assassinations in Rome, and her own desires to reclaim Egypt), but never do we believe she won’t be a match for it, even if it may take her a while to figure things out. Above all, Shecter writes her characters and their story with respect. This is especially evident in her treatment of Cleopatra Selene’s religious beliefs. This is Cleopatra Selene’s story and her faith is as true to the author as it is to her. The characters and their cultures never feel exoticized.

The audiobook is narrated by Kirsten Potter, who isn’t one of my favorite narrators for a first person YA novel. Her voice sounds very mature, not like a teen’s. She also narrates the Hattie Big Sky audiobook, and that’s one reason I didn’t much care for it. (This is a case of personal preference; I know many listeners who enjoy Potter’s narration.) It’s a credit to Shecter’s storytelling skills that I was completely entranced regardless. Chapter breaks include haunting music which I quite liked and definitely help create the appropriate mood.      

This is another frustrating audiobook which does not include the historical note. It does include an interview with Shecter, which is fine, but doesn’t answer the nagging questions any historical fiction reader will want to know: What really happened and what did the author create? For that, you’ll have to find the ebook or the print book. It’s especially important for books like these, which are set in a time most people don’t know much about. If you do listen to the audio, and I recommend it, do yourself a favor and hunt down the ebook or print book so you can read the historical note as well.

Audiobook borrowed from my local library.

Nonfiction on Audio

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It might not seem like it, but I do read adult books occasionally – even adult nonfiction! It’s rare, but when I do read adult nonfiction, I find that I enjoy it a lot on audio. Nonfiction is easy to listen to in pieces without losing the thread of the narrative, making it great for commutes or workouts or cleaning frenzies. Below are a few nonfiction books I’ve listened to in recent years that I’ve enjoyed. Do you find that you enjoy a certain type of book more on audio?

A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson
The basic concept of the book is this: Bill Bryson describes how the universe, and everything in it, came to be. This is a pretty tall order, but it’s precisely because he covers so much in so little space that he manages to keep the lay reader (or listener) interested. He covers the big bang, evolution, plate tectonics, ice ages, and volcanoes, among a dozen other subjects. He also talks a lot about the people behind the major discoveries and includes a few funny stories that show just how odd (or just plain human, really) scientists can be. The book is never dry or boring, but it also doesn’t give the reader a full picture on any one subject. It’s a fascinating look at science for non-scientists and would be especially great paired with the the recent tv series Cosmos. Bryson’s narration is fantastic, bringing out the humor in book. The experience is also tailored to the listener, not the reader. By this I mean that whenever the text read “If you’re reading this,” it was changed to “If you’re listening to this.” It’s a nice touch that iced the experience for me.

On Writing by Stephen King
King’s well-known writing memoir is part autobiography, part meditation on the craft. By marrying these two concepts within the book, King makes the act of writing both personal to himself and accessible to his readers. King’s life is interesting but also ordinary in many ways – much like his fiction writing, which usually addresses how ordinary people react to extraordinary events. He narrates the book himself and does a wonderful job. I’ve read a few other books on writing (Bird By Bird, Crafting a Life) and this is by far the best.

When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris
Sedaris’ books are (almost) always winners. I first listened to his books while in library school and have been hooked ever since. Sedaris’ essays are funny, often raunchy slice-of-life stories that frequently put me in stitches. Sedaris himself is perfectly suited as the narrator. He relates his stories with a dry, almost deadpan tone, which enhances their humor. I know the veracity of his stories has been called into question, but they’re funny and thematically true even if the events themselves didn’t strictly happen in the way described. This volume is his sixth and may be my favorite.

Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg
I can’t say I thought this was the feminist manifesto of our times, but I’m glad I read it. It’s definitely part of our cultural conversation, which means I can now converse intelligently about it with others. I agree with a lot of the common criticisms. It focuses almost entirely on the white, privileged, middle to upper class experience, and its central premise – that women can and should alter their behavior in order to get ahead or level the playing field – smacks of sexism itself. I particularly disliked the part where she counseled women to refer to us ourselves as “we” rather than “I” so we don’t come across as self-centered when in meetings or negotiations. Um, what? I’ll avoid that suggestion, thanks. She also calls for solidarity among women near the end of the book, seemingly at the expense of honest discussion and criticism. The problem isn’t women disagreeing with each other, the problem is institutional sexism – which also includes institutional racism, heterosexism, and so on. It’s all connected, and by avoiding discussing these connections, Sandberg’s book is only truly helpful to a few.

All that said, I did find parts of this useful or insightful. The one thing that really stuck out to me was how Sandberg encourages girls (and I mean those under 18) to be ambitious. I felt this very personally. I grew up without much ambition, I think. It’s pretty common in my field for the women to say they don’t want to be managers and the men to say that’s their ultimate goal, even while still in library school. This starts from a young age – boys are encouraged to reach for higher and higher goals, while girls are encouraged to hang back, told that ambition makes them unattractive or unlikeable. As a result, I do think it’s helpful for girls and women to be given “permission” in a way to be ambitious, to want more, to be confident they can achieve more, and to go for it completely. After reading this, I’ve found myself being much more open about my own goals (which are ambitious!) and encouraging other women to reach for more as well.

The narration, done by Elisa Donovan, isn’t great. Donovan speaks clearly and carefully, but she overemphasizes a lot of the points, making them come across as great revelations rather than just perfunctory statements. For example, Sandberg writes that women are more successful when their romantic partners are supportive. Well, obviously. This is not new. The way Donovan tells it, though, you’d think she were announcing a miracle.

Audio Review: A Matter of Days by Amber Kizer

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The BluStar pandemic has killed most of the Earth’s population. Nadia and her little brother Rabbit (nickname for Robert) managed to survive thanks to an injection given to them by their Uncle Bean, who somehow knew what was going to happen and had a vaccine available. Their mother, though, never got the shot, and after Nadia and Rabbit watch her die, they pack up the family’s Jeep and head out east, intending to travel to their Pappy’s home, where Uncle Bean mentioned he’d meet them when he saw them last.

They know it’s not going to be an easy trip, but their father – a military man who died a few years ago – taught them how to “be the cockroach” and “survive the effects.” They know how to shoot a gun, how to forage for food and supplies, how to survive without electricity. Rabbit actually read up on survival guides while Nadia was taking care of their dying mother, so he neatly avoids embodying the annoying younger sibling trope. He’s a kid, sure, but he’s also helpful.

The story is very episodic: Nadia and Rabbit travel for a bit, make a stop, run into some trouble (with wildlife, unsavory people, or the environment), survive it, then move on. They’re alone for much of the story, though they do pick up some strays along the way (a dog, a bird, a teenage boy, and a little girl).

The narration, done by Alex McKenna, is a failure. She voices Rabbit like a 60-year-old with a lifetime smoking habit. Nadia doesn’t fare much better, but the problem with her voice (which is the primary one, since this is a first-person story) is where McKenna chooses to place emphasis. More often than not, she’ll overemphasize entire sentences that should have been read neutrally or matter-of-fact. When sentences should be emphasized, the words she chooses to emphasize are strange and don’t carry the meaning she intends. It often made me wrinkle my brow in confusion and brought me out of the story.

Still, the book wasn’t a complete loss. Despite its episodic nature, I found myself fairly engaged, in a “If I miss a bit of this because I’m not fully focused on it, it’s not a big deal” way (great for driving!). There’s no complicated overarching storyline that the listener needs to puzzle out – just a girl and a boy traveling across the country, meeting and overcoming a series of obstacles.

In a way, this reads like a younger version of Ashfall, except with a pandemic instead of a supervolcano. But where Ashfall was frequently harrowing, A Matter of Days is not nearly so dark or filled with tension. There is certainly danger, but it’s not felt very strongly. Most of the story involves the fairly mundane aspects of survival: finding food and fuel, coping with poor hygiene, navigating roads full of stalled vehicles. For the most part, I thought it was nice to read a book without having to constantly worry if a beloved character would be violently murdered (or eaten).

That’s not to say there is no threat of violence. There is, but much of it occurred in the past. Nadia and Rabbit stumble upon a lot of dead bodies, and not all from BluStar. Nadia does have occasion to use her gun, and they run into some people who wish them harm. Where other end-of-the-world survival stories tend to emphasize the violence, though, A Matter of Days tries instead to emphasize the kids’ loss and the other non-violent horrors. Nadia and Rabbit are now orphans, and they’re not even sure Pappy and Uncle Bean will still be alive when they reach their destination. There’s a genuinely heartbreaking moment during a flashback as Nadia cares for her mother on her deathbed. There’s also a lovely moment when Nadia is hiding from a group of violent raiders in a room with a decomposing body and she mentions she tries to swallow her own vomit. Early on in the book, Nadia and Rabbit rescue a dog and have to pick glass out of its paws. There’s not a lot of blood, but there are a lot of moments like these.

This will probably appeal to fans of Ashfall, though hardcore post-apocalyptic readers will likely find it a bit tame for their tastes. (And I’d recommend picking it up in print.) If you’d like to listen to a bit of the book and see if you agree with me about the narration, Random House has an excerpt on their website.

Finished copy received from the publisher. A Matter of Days is available now.

Audio Review: The Freedom Maze by Delia Sherman

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I was quite surprised by how much I enjoyed The Freedom Maze. While I like historical fiction, I’m very picky about the time periods I choose, and neither of the time periods featured in The Freedom Maze (1860s and 1960s American South) are ones I normally seek out. But audiobook selection is limited and this one won the Nebula (Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy Book), so I gave it a shot.

It’s very good. It’s a book in conversation with Edward Eager’s The Time Garden, which I have never read, so I won’t be able to comment on that aspect. But if you have read the book and my plot synopsis sounds very familiar, that’s why.

It’s 1960 and thirteen-year-old Sophie has been forced to spend the summer with her aunt and grandmother at the old family estate in Louisiana. It used to be a large plantation, home to a wealthy family and many slaves in the 1800s. It’s much reduced in the 20th century, but the old ideas still linger in the mind of Sophie’s grandmother and mother.

Sophie resents being there so much that she wishes she were somewhere else – a place where she has a family and friends who care about her, something she feels is missing in her current situation. This wish is overheard by a magical trickster being, who sends Sophie 100 years back on time to 1860, but leaves her right where she is physically.

No one recognizes Sophie when she shows up at the plantation 100 years in the past, and due to her tan and her frizzy hair, Sophie is mistaken for a slave. She’s assumed to be the pale daughter of the family’s white brother from New Orleans and his female slave, but a slave nonetheless. From there, the story takes Sophie to the big house as a house slave, then to the fields and the sugar house of the sugar plantation. Along the way, Sophie comes to care for the slaves she works with and comes to a greater understanding of the history behind the racial tensions she’s experienced in the 1960s.

More than that, though, her wish is fulfilled: she has friends and a family who risk their lives for her. And Sophie, in her turn, risks her life for theirs. She also does a good bit of growing up. This is historical fiction but also very much a coming of age story. In that way, it feels a bit retro. I think it’s definitely one my mother would have picked out for us to listen to on a long car trip.

The idea of combining two historical time periods is an interesting one. I’ve only ever seen it done elsewhere in Emily Whitman’s Wildwing, where it was fun but not as entertaining or consuming of a story. There’s actually quite a bit of time spent in the 1960s, more so than I initially thought, but I was fascinated by it. Sophie’s mother is a racist, a mindset inherited from her own mother, who is a near-clone of “Old Missy,” the matriarch of the plantation family in the 19th century. But other views her mother holds are more progressive: she’s divorced her husband and buckles at the idea that to be a proper Southern belle, she must be a homemaker and eschew employment. Due to the divorce, she needed to find a job, and she did so – and then discovered she really enjoyed the work. I appreciated the interplay of the two time periods. The 1960s are there for a reason, not just as a stand-in for the present.
A brief author interview at the end of the book describes how much research Sherman put in to her story (it took her many years to write it), and it shows. Setting and historical details are excellently drawn. I also feel that Sherman does a good job of making this Sophie’s story, as the protagonist, but also avoiding turning Sophie into a white savior of black people, which could have been very easy to do in this sort of setup.
This is an easy choice for historical fiction fans, especially since it covers two historical time periods. And for anyone who’s ever wondered what it would be like to live as a slave in the American South, this is a natural choice too – Sherman has done her homework. While it’s definitely a fantasy, what with the magical being and the time travel, that’s not the focus. Those aspects are simply the tools Sherman uses. 
And of course, I couldn’t recommend this without endorsing the narration, which is excellent. The narrator has a perfectly authentic Southern drawl and gives the white and the black characters accents without exaggeration. It’s a good thing this one earned the Nebula, because otherwise I doubt I would ever have bothered to read it; goodness knows that cover is not helping it any. But I’m glad it brought the book out of relative anonymity and is giving it a wider audience, something it certainly deserves.

Audiobook provided by the publisher.