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books

What I’m Reading Now

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My reading life lately has been preoccupied with Cybils books, which I can’t discuss yet, but I have managed to squeeze in some other books in between. As always, I’ll probably have a few longer reviews of these titles up at a later date.

Eon: Dragoneye Reborn by Alison Goodman

I’m a little late to the party on this one, and I’m so glad I finally picked it up. It’s a great example of why I love fantasy: the worldbuilding is exquisite and I never get tired of learning more about Eon’s culture – even when it’s told rather than shown. Moreover, while some fantasy tropes are certainly present, I can fairly say that this is one of the more unique stories I’ve read in a while (there is no riding of dragons, for instance). I’m listening to this one, and the narrator is perfect.

Fables Volume 16: Superteam by Bill Willingham

I always look forward to a new Fables volume. This one let me down a little bit – the showdown with Mr. Dark is anticlimactic and the creation of a Fables “Superteam” is gimmicky. Granted, the gimmick is deliberate and meant to be a bit of a satire, but it didn’t work so well for me. Of course, Willingham teases us with a new plot twist at the end that makes me eager for the next volume. Plus, the first story in this volume is unabashedly Oz-inspired (and illustrated by Eric Shanower), so you know I was all over that.

The Raft by S. A. Bodeen

I really enjoyed this solid story about a girl who survives a plane crash only to be cast adrift at sea. There’s not much more to it than that, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. While the end isn’t ever really in doubt, Bodeen is great at keeping the tension and suspense high, particularly when there isn’t much opportunity for character interaction. Plus, I learned all sorts of things I can do to survive at sea. Always handy.

 
The Obsidian Blade by Pete Hautman

Strange but intriguing, Hautman brings us a science fiction tale that involves time travel, strange new cultures, and aliens (maybe?). It’s so odd, and part of the reason for its oddness is that Hautman just lets the story unravel on its own. There’s almost no explanation of the backstory, no wizened old man who sits down and tells our teenage protagonist what’s going on. (This is a good thing.) I’m really digging it so far.

 After the Snow by S. D. Crockett

Willo is living in another ice age. Society has broken down and food and shelter, much less education, are hard to come by. Willo narrates his own story in dialect. Books written in dialect are always tough for me at the beginning. I’m about halfway into this one and I still haven’t fallen into it well enough for the reading to be natural. It’s not a good sign, but the plot is intriguing enough that I want to see how it turns out.

The Storm in the Barn by Matt Phelan

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I realize I’m a bit late to the party with this one. I always intended to read it, and then oh look, it’s three years after it was published and I still hadn’t picked it up. I rectified that problem this evening, and I’m glad I did.
It’s Kansas during the dust bowl. Jack is eleven years old and lives on what used to be a prosperous farm. Since the rain stopped, though, the farm has stopped as well, and Jack feels useless. He’s also being bullied and his older sister is sick with pneumonia. One day, he spots a strange shape in an abandoned barn near his home. He initially ignores it, but he eventually investigates…and what he finds there has huge ramifications for the whole town and Jack’s own sense of self.
There’s a big emphasis on storytelling here, which I dig. At the local store, Ernie tells Jack stories about the King of the West Wind, the King of the Blizzards, the King of the Northeast Winds, and so on. These folktales are then reflected in Jack’s own adventures facing off against the being in the barn.
Part of the reason I never actually sat down to read the book is because the art did not speak to me initially. I’m not normally a fan of the kind of art found here: sketchy, with loose lines and washed out colors. For this story, though, it works. In Jack’s world, the dust and wind have invaded everything, so it’s fitting that even the people look a bit swept away. Phelan is also great at creating facial expressions with some very simple lines – with just a small curve, he can show frustration or happiness or anything else necessary to the story.
I think it’s important to note that The Storm in the Barn has more wordless frames than you normally find in a graphic novel. I struggle most with wordless panels, and at times I found it a little hard to follow. Due to the sketchiness of the art, a lot of the figures kind of melted together and it was difficult to tell what was really going on. This was particularly true during some of the scenes in the barn where Jack fights the being there.
The book hasn’t seen huge circulation at my library. I’m not really surprised. Most (note most, not all) kids that are drawn to graphic novels at my library like the ones that are cute or funny or exciting or gross (or all of the above). The Storm in the Barn isn’t any of those, but it will hold appeal for kids who like their stories a bit quieter. For fans of historical fiction, it’s dynamite. The historical setting doesn’t overwhelm the story. Instead, it enhances it, letting the plot and characters shine. Historical fiction is a big awards darling with less popular appeal, but there will always be the kids who dig it. (I was one.) Hand them this one.
Bonus: Jack’s older sister read Ozma of Oz while she’s sick in bed. She relates a lot of that story to what she sees going on around her, which is great, but what’s even better is that Phelan has brought some attention to a lesser-known Oz book.

A Couple Brief Reviews

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Bayou by Jeremy Love
Lee is a young girl living in the American South in the 1930s. As a black girl, she has a lot of prejudice to deal with, and so does her father. One of the first major events of the book involves Lee being sent to retrieve a body from the bayou near her home. The body is that of a young black boy who was lynched for supposedly whistling at a white woman, and it’s Lee’s job to get it because she’s the only one small enough to reach into where it’s caught. (This book is not for the very young.) 
Lee has a white friend named Lily. One day, Lily is taken – eaten, really – by a creature that lives in the swamp, and Lee’s father is blamed for it. He’s arrested and taken away, and Lee knows he’s soon to be lynched just like the other black boy was. In order to save him, Lee ventures into the swamp – a sort of horrifyingly magical alternate world – to rescue Lily. Along the way, she meets up with a benevolent giant called Bayou who helps her.
Bayou is one of those rare stories where I enjoyed the realistic aspects more than the fantastical aspects. Once Lee began her journey with Bayou, my interest waned. I think it became a little difficult to follow, and it doesn’t help that this is the first installment and is therefore an incomplete story.
While the story lost me after a while, the art is incredible throughout. I admit that part of the reason I loved it so much is that it’s heavy on the greens, which always makes my heart go pitter patter. The illustrations are detailed and expressive, but also somewhat soft (without being babyish or overly sweet, since this is certainly not a sweet story). Many of the landscapes look like something I’d like to have hanging in my house. I’m obviously not doing the art justice with my words, but you can take a look at some of the images and see what I mean.
I loved Everybody Sees the Ants, so I was really looking forward to King’s previous novel, which garnered a Printz honor and was a finalist for the Edgar. While I enjoyed it, it didn’t live up to my expectations. In a nutshell: Vera’s best friend, Charlie, has died in mysterious circumstances. Vera knows what happened – and all about the events leading up to it – but she’s not sure she should share it with the police. Before Charlie died, he and Vera had a major falling out, and Vera’s still trying to wrap her mind around her feelings for Charlie and how it should impact her actions.
Vera’s dealing with a lot of other major issues aside from the death of her best friend – a mother who abandoned her, bullying, alcoholism, a loving but pushy father, etc etc. While her voice always seems authentically teen and Vera isn’t really a wallower, there just wasn’t enough humor to balance out the darkness of this novel for me. One thing I loved about Everybody Sees the Ants was the dry humor that permeated it – in particular Lucky’s voice and the ants’ antics (PUN). King tries it here with Vera’s father’s flow charts and some random sections narrated by the town pagoda, but it fell flat for me. I was also disappointed that this wasn’t more of a mystery. I’m really surprised it was a finalist for the Edgar, since the circumstances of Charlie’s death are known to the reader and there isn’t really a mystery to it.
All those complaints makes it sound like I didn’t enjoy the book, but I really did. I just had higher expectations.

Nursery Rhyme Comics

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I’m always wary about short story collections. Most of themusually have some very good stuff, but you have to wade through some verymediocre (or often bad) stuff to get to it. In Nursery Rhyme Comics, FirstSecond has pulled together fifty different artists to interpret fifty differentnursery rhymes, and it’s a treat to see which direction the artists go with theirchosen rhyme.

Some of the contributors re-invent the rhymes inparticularly clever ways, and these are the most successful entries. Lucy Knisley has a funny take on There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, and James Sturm’s Jack Be Nimble shows the consequences of jumping over candlesticks. Scott Campbells’s Pop Goes the Weasel brings sense to a previously nonsensical rhyme while retaining its liveliness. I also particularly loved Stephanie Yue’s Hickory Dickory Dock. My favorite, however, is the very first entry, Patrick McDonnell’s The Donkey. It’s just so darn cute and is a perfect example of how something a little extra can add a whole new dimension to a well-known rhyme.
Less successful are artists who merely illustrate the rhymeswithout adding anything new or interpreting them in a surprising way. Many of therhymes are silly or nonsensical, and I would have liked to see a few of theartists attempt to bring some kind of sense or meaning to these (although there is certainly something to be said for embracing silliness). Readers who are drawn to the collection more for theillustrations than the rhymes may be satisfied by these serviceable entries,but the book would have been better served by including more unique takes. Thesestraightforward illustrations may also be more illuminating for readers who arenot as familiar with the rhymes, in particular younger readers. Older readerswill require a bit more.
That said, the art is almost universally good, and that issaying something for a book with fifty different illustrators. There’s no denying the artists know theirstuff. I personally would have preferred a little more creativity with the interpretations, but the art is a treat to pore over, particularly in full color.
Overall, Nursery Rhyme Comics is precisely what I wasexpecting – some real standouts, a few duds, and a lot that falls in themiddle. Even the stuff in the middle is worth a read/look, which speaks tothe high quality of the collection.

Review copy received from the publisher. Nursery Rhyme Comics is available now.

Mini-Reviews: A few of my recent reads

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A few of my recent reads, mini-review style:

The Son of Neptune by Rick Riordan: No one can deny that Rick Riordan can write. His scenes are humorous, his characters are vivid and flawed, and his research is impeccable. This book even featured the return of Percy Jackson, who finds himself at Camp Jupiter, Camp Half-Blood’s Roman counterpart, strangely without his memory. However, this book just seemed a bit too slow and bloated for me–too long by about 100 pages.

Habibi by Craig Thompson: A gorgeous melding of illustration, story, history, religion, identity, guilt, repentance, and love. Two refugee slaves are separated, then find their way back together, navigating their unique relationship in a world of corruption, desperation, and poverty. Stunning illustrations and a multi-layered tale. I’m looking forward to picking up Thompson’s Blankets soon.

Circle of Fire by Michelle Zink: A lush, beautifully written conclusion to the Prophecy of the Sisters trilogy. Zink has the ability to make both the assumed villains and the supposed heroes multi-layered, and her depiction of the Lia/Alice relationship is brought to a satisfying close. Zink’s prose is gorgeous and her words truly evoke the novel’s Gothic setting.

White Cat by Holly Black (narrated by Jesse Eisenberg): I first picked this up in print last year and couldn’t get into it. Yet Jesse Eisenberg’s narration truly pulled me into this original story of Cassel Sharpe, teenage con-man and the only member of his family who isn’t a curseworker (persecuted and feared members of society who can alter your emotions, luck, or even form with a single touch). Yet he does suffer from the guilt of knowing that he killed his childhood best friend, Lila. He can’t remember anything about the murder, but just recalls looking down at her body, at the blood. But when a white cat shows up, Cassel starts to suspect that he is part of something bigger than himself—that he is the one being conned. Eisenberg’s voice is the perfect mixture of knowing, awkward, and sheepish, and Black’s plot is original and inventive, with plenty of memorable characters, twists, and turns.