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The Line by Teri Hall

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Any reader or librarian can tell you that after paranormal fiction, the second most popular style of book to be published in the last few years is the dystopian novel. We can thank books like The Hunger Games for that trend.

But like any genre, there are some hits and plenty of misses. For me, The Line straddles the line there. For me as a reader, I was never once convinced and I had some other gripes, but for the upper elementary age audience, this might work quite well.

Rachel and her mother live on The Property, which is owned by Ms. Moore who runs a greenhouse in the backyard. The Property is close to The Line: a border which is meant to keep the Others in Away. That is, it protects citizens of the United States and detracts those from outside from ever venturing in. The US had been attacked from the outside before and this was its means of having total control of borders and of its citizens.

Rachel, being young — age never given — is curious and wants to explore. As she does more and more research through their version of the internet on this so-called Away place, she wants to see it for herself. But her mother Vivian will make this difficult by reminding her of her deceased father, the hierarchy of society in the US, and ultimately the story of why they are living on The Property.

But will Rachel listen to her mother or will she take her fate and curiosity into her own hands?

The Line has a premise and a conspiracy element to it that spoke well to me, but ultimately, I found that Hall’s writing relied far too heavily on telling me, rather than showing me, about this dystopia. Never once did I feel like I saw or discovered anything for myself as a reader. Instead, I was hand-held through explanations from Rachel’s mother and Ms. Vivian about this world and why things are the way they are. I was a total outsider and had to put my trust into their versions of the history, and never once was I convinced. But I had to be because there was no other way. It was a bit alienating and off-putting, so I never found myself wanting to care about Rachel, her mother, or Ms. Moore. It never mattered because it would just be explained away in a few pages.

Tension in the book never happened, again as a result of the telling-rather-than-showing writing employed. When we are introduced to a new set of characters about 2/3 of the way through the book, it was jolting, but I never found myself really wanting to know more about them. Rachel did, but since I was so removed from Rachel, well, you get the idea.

The language and writing in the book itself is simplistic, and Rachel seems to be very young. I believe this is the sort of book that would appeal to the crowds reading Lois Lowry’s The Giver, rather than the crowds reading The Hunger Games. I mean that in terms of age, not necessarily interest. This is a good thing, as this isn’t a bad book. It just doesn’t work particularly well for those expecting something akin to other well-known dystopian reads, as older and wider readers likely are. But I must also interject here that those younger readers may find themselves boggled with the political issues that arise in the story; they may not be mature enough to understand some of it.

Since The Line is the first in this series, I think that might have huge appeal for the younger readers, too. There’s a lot that’s laid out in book one that lends itself to plenty of opportunity for future volumes. I’m half wondering if this is the sort of book that requires reading all of the volumes at once to get a real appreciation for the story and style; it could be the case that Hall purposely makes the first book a tell-rather-than-show so she can pull a cord and switch the course in the next book. Time will tell.

I’m waiting on a number of loose ends, including the greater purpose and meaning of the green house on The Property in the next story. Rachel is forced to be a sort of apprentice in it, making her a god-like character. I anticipate this to play a large role in the next book, and it is certainly something I am eager to read more about.

Although certainly not my favorite book and though it has a number of faults, I do plan on picking up the second book when it pubs. I wish this volume would have been a one-off, with more depth and development that I’m anticipating in the next one, but because of what seems to be the intended audience (young readers), maybe this is a better route.

AudioSynced: A Tale of Two Audio books

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In trying to catch up on many wonderful books I haven’t had time to read yet, I’ve been listening to audiobooks more frequently — although I’m not new to them, I’ve been making an effort to really listen to them in order to better hone my sense of what makes an audiobook great and what, well, doesn’t. As you may recall, I’ve covered the basics of audiobooks.

Last week, I finished two very different audiobooks, and they were certainly a study in contrasts. Sarah Dessen’s Along for the Ride was named an Amazing Audiobook for Teens this year from the American Library Association, and it was an enjoyable, though lengthy, audio to sink into for a while. Rachel Botchan narrates the entire book, but she does shift her voice for a few of the main characters — a semi-voiced performance. As the ALA committee mentions, the entire book feels like Auden, the main character, is sitting you down in a coffee shop and sharing with you the details of the summer before she went to college. It is very easy to sit back and listen, and since it’s a classic Dessen-esque book, there’s not too much that happens that requires paying too much attention to details, as they are easily drawn, developed, and enveloping. I found myself drifting into and out of paying attention to the story, but I had no problems falling back into the narrative. Botchan is very even in her performance, and I didn’t have any issues with her narration changing, her tone shifting, nor did I find myself hearing any vocal slips (breathing, swallowing, or other unfortunate sounds).

Unfortunately for this audio, I was quite disappointed in the editing. Many times throughout the story, I found it quite obvious where recording sessions were cut, spliced together, or otherwise pieced together to develop a cohesive audiobook. Although I’m not very seasoned in editing techniques, for me it was obvious when sound qualities would change, moving from an even sound to suddenly becoming quieter or louder. I felt the production could have been strengthened a bit, especially with such a good narrator and compelling story.

My other qualm with the audio of this title was that I never quite felt Botchan’s voice really matched Auden. Botchan sounded older and wiser than Auden, and while Auden always acted and felt older than 17, if the story were meant to sound like a reflection of a summer, given the growth and changes Auden has over that summer, I wouldn’t have wanted such a wise, intellectual, and almost snooty voice for the narration. I wish she could have sounded a bit younger or a bit less bookish — perhaps a bit more like Esther did (where Botchan did a fantastic job with a very memorable voice and character). On the plus side, her depiction of a Carolina accent was spot on without being over done or under done; rather, it was recognizable enough to better set the scene.

Contrasting Along for the Ride with the second title I listened to this week, and it’s clear that audiobooks really fall on a spectrum of listening experiences. My coworker suggested I listen to Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie. She hadn’t listened to it, but read it, so she couldn’t speak to the quality of listening to it, but with a strong story line, I felt this would be a good bet.

I didn’t check the reader prior to popping in the first disc, but when I heard a very familiar voice, I was suddenly VERY excited to listen. Joel Johnston is the reader on Sonnenblick’s well-known middle grade novel; if the name’s not familiar to you immediately, he is also the reader on Gary Schmidt’s The Wednesday Wars and Jay Asher’s Thirteen Reasons Why. His voice is the quintessential young teen boy — perfectly wavering on the border of childhood and full-blown adolescence, with just enough innocence and experience to be utterly believable and charming.

Like Along for the Ride, Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie is semi-voiced, so just a few of the main characters have distinct voices throughout. Fortunately, this title features relatively few characters, and instead, the focus is on Steven and Jeffrey, a pair of brothers who will be experiencing a very challenging disease – one on the experiencing as victim side and one on the experiencing as brother side. It is a short audiobook at four discs at about an hour each, but the span of the story fits perfectly within those four hours.

With any book on audio, something that is essential is pacing. As I mentioned before, Botchan is very even in her performance of Dessen’s title, and it works there. Johnstone, however, has a way of pacing in his audio titles that allows him silent space. At critical moments, and even at moments where it is clear that a character would be pausing or thinking or needing a little breathing space, Johnstone gives those silences in his performance. In doing so, I never once felt myself drift away from the story; instead, he builds in space for the listener to step back for a moment or two and, well, “space out.”

Likewise, there are absolutely no quality or production issues in this book. If you’re a little unsure about these issues in audiobooks, think about it this way: if it feels like the reader never once stepped away from recording, then it was well produced. If during listening it becomes clear it was recorded over more than one session, then the editing could have been tightened. In Sonnenblick’s title, I felt like Johnstone was so in love with the story he was sharing that he never once stepped away.

One pet peeve of both of these titles is something that I have not experienced once during my current listening of Neil Gaiman’s Coraline: CD breaks. In both Dessen’s title and Sonnenblick’s title, there is never an indication when the disc ends; instead, the reader must pay close enough attention to know they’re listening to the same material again or have a good disc player that tells them their track has gone back to the start. Because I only listen to audiobooks in the car, this is frustrating, as then I am often not prepared with the next disc immediately. Productions like Coraline, on the other hand, incorporate music at the beginning and termination of a disc, making is very easy to know when it’s time to switch.

Next week, I plan on venturing into the world of non-fiction on audio. I haven’t tried that land yet, and I suspect that the narrator is going to be the absolute key on making the book work on audio. There are some fictional titles that have really terrible readers (I’m looking at Susan Beth Pfeffer’s The Dead and the Gone, where the narrator is way too old and way too flat voiced and emotionless) but the story is compelling enough to make you keep listening.

Have you listened to any of these titles? Any thoughts?
Have you listened to any others on audio that you either absolutely loved or hated? I’m building a nice sized “to listen” list, so I’d love your suggestions.

Leaving Gee’s Bend by Irene Latham

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Sometimes you read a book that you just can’t get into but yet, when you’ve finished it, you crave more. Leaving Gee’s Bend by Irene Latham did exactly that for me.

Ludelphia Bennett lives on a sharecropping farm in Gee’s Bend, Alabama. The time is 1932, but this isn’t a story focused wholly on the Great Depression; instead, this is a story of Ludelphia trying to help her mother overcome an illness. Because Gee’s Bend is African American and because this is a time of challenges and because this is a story set in the South before Civil Rights, you can bet there’s not a doctor in town.

When Mama has a coughing fit so hard she goes into labor with Rose, Ludelphia decides to head to the next biggest town — Camden — which is across the river by ferry. But things go terribly, terribly wrong and the wife of the farm where Ludelphia’s family sharecrops is not happy. She’s so unhappy, she seeks her revenge.

Will Ludelphia be able to find a doctor for her mother? Will little Rose survive? Will the family lose everything they have?

Interwoven into the story line is the story of quilting. Mama loved to quilt and taught Ludelphia the same. This act and the symbolism behind it cement the story of Gee’s Bend and the story of family and struggle.

For me, the story’s pace was a bit uneven: at the beginning, I felt the story moved too slowly, but the end of the story moved far too quickly for me. I loved the setting and wish I could have gotten more flavor for Gee’s Bend; this is precisely one of the reasons I liked this book — I’m very compelled to go learn more about the area. Thanks to the author, I’ve got a list of resources in the back to whet my appetite for it, too. I found the subplot involving the Red Cross, which we come to find out at the end is a big thrust of the story, comes very late into the novel and isn’t quite developed enough. I think this could have been pushed further throughout to make it stronger and more powerful.

I’m not a big historical fiction fan, but the setting and time period for this one were engaging and unique. Although the story is set in the age of the Depression, developing a plot around an African American family was memorable and one that’s very underplayed in the grand world of fiction (not just teen fiction – I mean all of it).

Ludelphia’s voice felt like that of a 10-year-olds, and I felt that for the most part, her age and her actions were spot on. I thought some of the resolutions were too tidy to be accomplished by a character her age, but the fact this is a story set in a time where children were expected to be adults early on makes it believable.

Leaving Gee’s Bend sets itself apart from the growing field of middle grade novels. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say this might be a title you hear about come next year when awards are around. Although not as intricately detailed as Evolution of Calpurnia Tate, I kind of felt like I was reading a similar story. These books arouse a sense of comfort with them, perhaps one triggered by the fondness of historic places or stories (Latham’s author’s note mentions this and how a quilting exhibit in New York spurred her to write the book).

Although I thought the quilting metaphor was done well, I wanted more. I think it could have been pushed a bit further and emphasized a little more to really pack a punch at the end.

While it’s not one of my personal favorites, this is a book with merits. I think it might be a tough sell to kids because it’s a historical fiction, but this is one that would work wonderfully in a classroom unit on the 1930s, culturalism or regionalism in America, or even art/crafts. Because there’s enough adventure and not too much stress on emotions and feelings, boys might enjoy this one, as well. For kids who love historical fiction, this is a home run. I appreciated that the book was much shorter than others of this ilk, which may itself make it one kids would be more open to trying.

On the very superficial level, I LOVE the cover. We have a person of color who, while faceless, captures the essence of the story perfectly. This one’s memorable.

Needless to say, you can bet I’m going to track down some of these other titles about Gee’s Bend. What a neat story to share that will raise awareness and interest in a place so many know so little about.

* I got an advanced copy of this from the publisher. They don’t expect a good review, and I sure hope you’ve figured out by now that I’m not afraid to be honest. But a good book review will give you both the good and the bad. I’m still not sold on writing these disclaimers, and I’m not afraid to tell you that.

ALA Youth Media Awards

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We’ve talked about the Printz here, the Newbery, the Morris, and more. Now you can see who took home the ultimate awards right here.

I think the Printz list is pretty sad. None have moved much at my library – you know, with teens – though I haven’t read a single one myself. Three of the five are heifers in size: Going Bovine is 496 pages; The Monstrumologist is 448 pages; and Tales of the MADMAN Underground weighs in at 532 pages. Part of me wonders if “literary merit” – the goal of the award – actually just means Very Long Book.

I read and Kim blogged about this year’s Newbery, When You Reach Me. This was absolutely no surprise. An odd little book indeed, one which reminds me of One Of Those Books Adults Think Kids Like and Should Read. I don’t see kids liking this one. It’s too strange and told in a very traditional style (yes, it’s odd, but the story telling is straight out of a teen book from the 1970s).

As far as the Morris, I cannot be happier that Flash Burnout won. This was my favorite pick, though I didn’t think the committee would pick it. This is one that might just have some teen appeal.

But you know what the real good story of the entire youth media awards was?
The Twitter foible.

While I sat at my computer, thinking all of the things I was thinking about these choices (and how when I thought about becoming a teen librarian back in the day one of my mentors told me that an award sticker on a book is simply a seal of death for kids) I was really glad to see Random House Kids spill the beans too soon. Nearly 25 minutes too soon, in fact, they told us their “When You Reach Me” won the Newbery. Then School Library Journal claimed that Neil Gaiman did the same thing last year (he did not!).

That, my friends, was the highlight.

What did you think of the winners? Are you surprised or not?
Have any favorites for 2010 awards yet? I’ve got one to review this week that might just be a contender next year.

What I’m Reading, Twitter Style.

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I’ve been busy – between moving and reading for Cybils, my personal reading has been a little everywhere (and a little spare). But here’s what I’m reading or have recently read, Twitter-style!


Wish / Alexandra Bullen: Disappointing fairy tale w/ predictable plot, uninteresting characters, & off-putting writing style. Cannot believe there’s a sequel coming.

Leaving Gee’s Bend / Irene Latham: Historical fiction set during 1930s w/o being about the Depression. Engaging & one that will be considered a “best” in 2010. Low teen appeal.

The Happiness Project / Gretchen Ruben: Eager for perspective on happiness. Think this year-in-my-life may be valuable guide, rich w/insight w/o preachiness. Husband loved it.

Along for the Ride / Sarah Dessen: Audio book has some voice & volume inconsistencies, but the story is engaging enough, though predictable & same as rest of Dessen’s oeuvre.

Searching for Whitopia / Rich Benjamin: Unscientific but interesting non-fiction about what quality makes a community feel “safe” and “special.” Black author on whiteness = unique.

Travels with Charley / John Steinbeck: Professing the love of one’s country w/ trip through it. Highly entertaining, beautiful descriptions. I underlined many passages for memory.