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Graphic Novel Roundup

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It was another comics-reading weekend for me, and I feasted on a crop of middle grade books plus one for adults.  Fortunately for me, I enjoyed them all and wouldn’t hesitate to recommend any of them.

So cute!

Jellaby, Volume 1
Kean Soo

I am such a sucker for the cute, and Jellaby is about as cute as they come.  Portia has just moved to a new city with her mom (her dad mysteriously disappeared sometime before) and is having trouble making friends.  One day (or night, rather), she decides to investigate the woods behind her house and finds a big purple monster she names Jellaby.  Jellaby doesn’t speak, but he (or she?) is very friendly and communicates in ways that don’t require words.  Portia makes an unlikely friend in Jason, a boy who is always being picked on by the school bullies, and together they try and hide Jellaby from the adults of the town, ultimately hatching a plan to somehow return Jellaby to his home – wherever that may be.

I really enjoyed the art in Jellaby.  It’s done in mostly whites and purples, with some black thrown in when Portia experiences a flashback.  You’d think with all that purple and a cute, cuddly monster (seriously – cutest monster ever), the book would fall on the wrong side of saccharine, but it doesn’t.  It’s got a warm-hearted story about friendship at its center (friendship between Jellaby and Portia as well as that between Portia and Jason) and a good dash of adventure.  The wordless panels are among the best in the book at conveying emotion and creating character.  My only complaint is the book leaves us with a major cliffhanger – and now I have to hunt down volume 2.  Oh well.  I’m much more forgiving of this with comics than regular books.

Robot Dreams
Sara Varon

Sara Varon has done something pretty brilliant: created a dialogue-free (and nearly word-free) treatise on friendship that isn’t your usual warm and fuzzy fare.  A dog buys a robot, puts him together, and they become fast friends.  They visit the library together, visit the beach, go for a swim…which is a mistake for the robot, because he starts to rust.  Soon, he can’t move, and the dog leaves him on the beach.  The dog comes back to try and rescue the robot later, but the beach is closed.  Time passes and the dog makes other friends while the robot lays on the beach, dreaming about being rescued, going on adventures, and generally living (as much as a robot can live) again.  Eventually, the summer rolls around again and the beach re-opens, but things don’t happen as you think they would.  Robot Dreams is one of those books that deserves repeated readings.  Bonus: multiple uses of reference books!

Zita the Spacegirl
Ben Hatke

The concept of this one is simple: A mysterious device zaps Zita’s friend through a portal to an alien world, Zita follows, and adventures ensue.  The alien world they are transported to is in the path of an asteroid, and the indigenous people have walled themselves up with Zita’s friend held captive, believing he will save them.  Zita meets up with a motley band of adventurers (not your usual band – more than half of them are robots) and must battle strange-looking aliens and double-crossers and hostile landscapes in order to rescue her friend.  Adventure, humor, bright colors, odd tentacled creatures (Zita finds a whole reference book of odd tentacled creatures, in fact) – what more could you want?  Bonus: the volume tells a complete story!

Hereville: How Mirka Got Her Sword
Barry Deutsch 

The tagline for this book is terrific: Yet another troll-fighting 11-year-old Orthodox Jewish girl. How can you not want to read this book now?  I loved two major things about Hereville: its tongue in cheek plotline (involving a rampaging, talking boar and a fight with a troll) which is funny but also a terrific adventure, and its insight into Orthodox Jewish life, which is incredibly fascinating to someone who knows almost nothing about it (me). Deutsch sprinkles Yiddish words and phrases throughout the book, defining them at the bottom of the page.  The lifestyle of the religion is an integral part of the story and informs the interactions between the characters, who are likable but also have believable faults.  Mirka herself is an engaging protagonist, feisty, full of energy, argumentative, and always talking back to her decidedly un-evil stepmother.  The art is terrific too.  This is a particularly well-done graphic novel that stands apart from its fellows.

Fables: 1001 Nights of Snowfall
Bill Willingham

The lone comic book for adults I read this past weekend, 1001 Nights of Snowfall was one of the most enjoyable.  I’ve waxed rhapsodic before about how much I love the concept of Fables – all the characters from fairy tales and legends you’ve known about since you were a child are living in New York City as exiles, having fled a terrifying adversary that conquered the Homelands.  Despite its fairy tale background, this series is decidedly for adults.  While I mostly read books for kids, it is nice to step outside of that and read something written for people my own age every once in awhile.

1001 Nights of Snowfall uses a twist on the story of Scheherezade as a frame tale: in Willingham’s version, Snow White travels to the Arabian lands to try and broker an alliance with the Sultan in their fight against the Adversary.  Instead, he takes her captive and threatens to chop off her head in the morning.  To keep him placated, she tells him stories, and those stories just so happen to be the origin stories of the characters we’ve come to know and love throughout the series proper: Snow White herself, Bigby, Old King Cole, the Frog Prince, and more.  It’s a great way for Willingham to showcase his creativity, bending the stories we know from our childhoods to suit the characters he’s created.  As a bonus, each of the stories is illustrated by someone different, and if you read comics at all, you’ll recognize at least some of the names (Derek Kirk Kim, for example, is featured).  Great for fans and also a good entree to the series for those new to it.

Take your pick Friday

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In case you ever believed I was a little one sided in my reading, I thought I’d shake things up for this Friday and post two shorter reviews of books I’ve read lately. Not only are they much different than my normal YA fare, but they’re also as different from one another as they could be.

First up, William March’s classic The Bad Seed. You may be familiar with the movie; this is the dark story about a mother raising a child who is a killer. I haven’t seen the movie myself, but after reading the book, you bet I’ll be watching it soon.

Rhoda Penmark’s always been a bit of a strange child, but her mother hasn’t thought much of it. The thing is, it’s becoming harder and harder for her mother to ignore it when the little boy who won an award that Rhoda believes she earned is found dead. His medal is missing as well. When the rest of the class mourns the boy’s loss, Rhoda continues living as though nothing happened, as though the boy himself never existed. And not just that, but she continues insisting she earned the honor and deserves it.

This chilling novel is not for the faint of heart, and it’s not necessarily a quick read. It’s filled to the brim with Freudian psychology, which is something that interests me to no end. As readers, we’re dropped into the mind of the mother, except that we have the knowledge — or at least the great suspicion — that Rhoda’s got a killing streak in her, and we can’t help but want to shake sense into mom. But what do you do in that situation? How do you punish a child who has no remorse? How do you come to terms with yourself as a parent raising a child like that? Are you to blame or is society to blame?

Hand this book to those who like psychological thrillers/horrors that are less on the bloody side and more on the strange side. I think readers who enjoy books like or Flowers in the Attic (for the strangeness) or Mommie Dearest (the family drama) would find this one a worthwhile read. It’s an adult book, but your teen readers will be interested in this book. It’s a classic that shouldn’t be left behind. I know I’ve mentioned I’m not a one-sitting kind of reader, but this was a book I devoted an entire day to because it was that engaging and, well, horrifying.

After reading a heavy book, I thought I would treat myself to something completely sweet, which is why I dove into My Milk Toof by Inhae Lee. Although not a graphic novel, this book is similar in set up, but it uses large photos with captions to tell a few short stories about a pair of milk teeth (baby teeth) who choose to reunite with the person whose mouth they came from years ago.

A knock on the door one day leads the author to discover a small tooth waiting for her. He introduces himself as Ickle, and he’s welcomed into his new (old?) home with a story, a snack, and even a place to sleep. He’s happy getting so much attention, but it’s not too long before Lardee shows up, and like any siblings, the two of them have their fair share of spats. But they don’t fight all the time — the two of them have adventures together, including bath time (probably my favorite story in the book).

What I love most about this book is how sweet the images are. Everything is real, but the focus is on the tiny details of the teeth and their toys. When Ickle begins teething (because, yes, milk teeth can teeth too!), you see him in comparison to the door he’s chewing. The teeth change their facials expressions throughout, as well, so as readers we know exactly what they’re feeling, even without reading the text. This is a cute story without being cloying, and never once did I feel like it was over done or the story got old. These sorts of books usually don’t work for me because they feel phony and overdone, but Lee gets enough emotion behind the stories to make me care about the characters — even if they’re just teeth. In fact, my husband, who is a non-reader of fiction and certainly a non-reader of comics, read this one cover and cover and really liked it, too.

To get a little more background into the project and for more of the cute stories of Ickle and Lardee, check out Lee’s blog. I’d be comfortable handing this book off to older children through adults; it’s perfectly appropriate for all ages, and it’d be enjoyed on different levels. My Milk Toof is one of those books I’ll be picking up after a bad day and one which I hope has more prints made available soon — I’d love to get a copy of Ickle telling Lardee he can’t play because he’s too busy reading.

Long Tail Kitty by Lark Pien

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Long Tail Kitty by Lark Pien officially takes the prize for Cutest Graphic Novel Ever.  Long Tail Kitty (abbreviated LTK) is a kitty with a long tail (surprise!).  He’s got two visible teeth and a red stripe around his middle.  He has a number of friends, including a bee that stings him (they’re still friends, don’t worry), Good Tall Mouse (you guessed it, a tall mouse), and three aliens who come for a visit from their home planet (but they must be back in time for breakfast, Mom’s orders).  
The book is a series of five vignettes, and only two of them have any real conflict.  Usually this would be a death sentence for a book, but it works here.  The illustrations are so delightfully cute without being cloying, and LTK’s facial expressions are hysterical.  There’s a huge amount of energy and humor in every panel, thanks to Pien’s wonderful drawings, and despite the fact that not much happens in a lot of the book, it’s always entertaining.
My favorite part of the book involves LTK and his friend the bee, who stings him on the nose (despite the fact that LTK doesn’t really have a nose).  The bee’s stinger is nowhere to be found afterward, and the bee is distraught.  LTK doesn’t understand why the bee is so upset, since he seems to be flying fine without the stinger.  “Just imagine what it would be like if you lost your tail!” the bee exclaims.  LTK imagines just that, and the results (depicted so cleverly in his thought bubble) are hilarious. 
I don’t tend to read a lot of graphic novels for the very young set, and I’m glad I picked this one up.  I read it through in just a few minutes, but it’s worth poring over closely two or three times more.  Pien’s illustrations are simple, but she expresses so much with just a few lines.  There’s a fold-out page in the center that is especially delicious for the eyes.  Pien also includes one page at the end that teaches the reader how to draw LTK her/himself, plus another page with examples of LTK’s many moods (all hilarious and so expressive with a minimum amount of line).  Directions like these are a wonderful way for budding comic book artists to feel inspired and pick up the pen.
Everything about the look of this book is perfect: the cut-out window where we get our first glimpse of LTK on the front cover, the lettering (playful yet readable), the colors (semi-muted with a water color feel), and the final image of LTK dancing on the back cover.  When we talk about books being works of art, this is the type of book we mean.  Everything – page design, illustrations, lettering, cover and spine design, binding, even the type of paper used – works together so well.  It’s best for readers who appreciate illustration as much or more than they appreciate story, since the story is rather slim throughout, but honestly, I can’t recommend Long Tail Kitty strongly enough.

What I’ve Been Reading: Two Mini-Reviews

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What Happened to Goodbye, by Sarah Dessen

Mclean’s father has just moved them to their fourth new house in as many years. After her parents’ bitter divorce, where her mother left her father for the couch of her father’s favorite college basketball team, Mclean and her dad have been constantly on the move, following her father’s job (a consultant for failing restaurants) wherever it takes him. And with each move, Mclean reinvents herself, choosing a new name and a new personality, always trying to escape the person she actually is, the person she doesn’t quite know yet. However, in this new town, Mclean mistakenly gives her own name, and finds herself being real with the friends she meets along the way, especially Dave, her child-prodigy-looking-to-actually-be-a-real-teenager neighbor, who somehow finds his way to the core of Mclean. While on the surface, this seems like a very quiet novel, it is the relationships that Mclean forms throughout the book and the strong characters that give it depth and power. I loved Deb, the timid, unconfident friend who takes charge of the town model that Mclean suddenly is roped into helping build. I loved the details of Luna Blu, the restaurant that Mclean’s father takes over. And I loved the rocky, slowly transforming relationship between Mclean and her mother. This is a book that slowly finds its way into your heart: my favorite Sarah Dessen novel yet. (Release date: May 10, 2011. Review copy borrowed from Janssen at Everyday Reading.)

Skipping a Beat, by Sarah Pekkanen
Julia and Michael were high school sweethearts, rescuing each other from their small town West Virginia life and running to Washington, D.C., where they vowed to escape the legacies of gambling addiction and unhappy marriages that they left behind them. When Michael’s hard work finally pays off and his start-up company selling flavored vitamin water takes off, the life that they had once imagined suddenly pales in comparison to the riches set out before them: a palatial estate in Washington, D.C., another house in Aspen, gardeners, servants, and endless reserves of money are all at their beck and call. Even though the love is gone from their marriage, Julia tries to be content with her life, still scarred from the lack of security in her own childhood. But then Michael’s heart stops. And he dies. Clinically dead for more than four minutes, he wakes up a transformed man, one who gives away all of his money and auctions off his possessions, now concerned with love and personal fulfillment, rather than money. Now Julia must decide whether to leave her husband, who once gave her only a loveless marriage, or stay and try to make it work with this stranger, who promises her love and adoration…but not security. Sarah Pekkannen truly creates a masterfully layered protagonist in this novel, one whom I slightly disliked at the beginning of the novel, yet eventually grew to respect and understand, if not ever love. Julia is complex, and can be both frustrating and sympathetic. Yet all of her actions are firmly rooted in her backstory, and the novel itself is well-plotted. One quibble I did have was with the ending, which seemed to rely a bit upon a deux ex machina. However, the conclusion did still work, in its own way. Recommended for fans of Jennifer Weiner and Emily Giffin.

Family by Micol Ostow

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Melinda Jensen is 17 and has had one hell of an awful life. Her mom is worthless, she has no father, and the guy who calls himself uncle Jack does little more than take advantage of her. When she decides she’s had enough and needs to leave, she heads through the streets of San Francisco, and that’s when she meets Henry.

Henry offers to take her in, teach her what love is really like, and give her a real family. A place where she can feel safe. The set up is perfect for Mel: this is a family that shares everything. There are plenty of people who live together, love one another, and take care of each other. And every member of this family is interested in helping fulfill Henry’s lifelong dream of becoming a musician — he is, of course, helping them all out by offering such a wonderful place to live and love.

It sounds a little like a polygamous sect, but it’s more of a cult. There’s no marriage involved, and everyone’s following a religion: the religion of Henry. Mel in her story worships him, refers to him in the uppercase Him. Everyone wants to make His dreams come true.

But like any good cult story, things will fall apart. They may even become a little bloody, and everyone will become a suspect, an accomplice to crime.

Family is one creepy story. The book is written in episodic verse, meaning it’s not a standard prose novel and it’s not a standard verse novel. It walks both threads, and it follows a bit of a stream-of-conscious style. We are right inside Mel’s mind, knowing what she’s thinking as she’s thinking it, and it’s messy. As a reader, I appreciated this, but I was also a little put off by it.

If you haven’t put the pieces together or haven’t read much pre-pub buzz about this title, it’s loosely based on the Manson Family murders of the late 1960s. I knew this going in, but I was not completely familiar with the history of the crimes; I decided to begin this novel without the preconceptions of that history in order to judge the book on its own merits, but I found myself pretty lost in Mel’s thoughts because of it. They were almost too loose and fluid, and I didn’t really get an opportunity to feel anything for her as a character. I had to focus too much on the plot and as a result, couldn’t get to know her or connect with what she wanted me to connect with (that being the desire to belong).

A few chapters into the book, though, I familiarized myself with the history of the Manson Family murders and immediately felt much more connected to Mel as a character. I cared less about the story and more about her. I understood why she was so interested in Henry’s music career and why she had decided to bond with this family. I bring this point up simply to state it might be worthwhile to be familiar with this story before diving into the book. A quick read through the wikipedia article will suffice. I’m of mixed feelings about this, too: I think had I not known that this story was loosely based on a real event, I wouldn’t have focused much on that idea and I may have immediately connected with Mel. But that lingered in my mind as I began, and I felt it impacted my reading. For teen readers, I don’t think there will be a problem connecting, but I wish that the novel could stand more on its own, rather than bring up the Manson connection on the jacket copy. On the other hand, perhaps a prologue or epilogue could have cleared up a little confusion or made the connection, as well. It’s possible either of these might be in a finished version of the book.

That said, when I did finally connect with Mel, I really cared about her. It was obvious she drank the Henry koolaid, and she made me believe in why she would even want to do so. I pulled for her, and I worried about her when the “helter skelter” began. I saw it coming from miles away, but her being naive and obsessed with the idea of family, she did not. Since we’re inside her mind, we know this and we really do care about her safety and her future. Mel wanted no part of this aspect of Henry and his family, and instead, she finds herself in a strange place. A place not unlike one Lacey from Carol Lynch Williams’s Miles From Ordinary finds herself. In fact, the last few chapters reminded me greatly of Williams’s book, and I think that on some level, they make for fascinating read alikes because of their explorations of family and belonging.

The exploration of cult dynamics is well-done, and it never tries to veer into other weighty topics like polygamy. It sticks to one aspect of cult dynamics — the kind most generally not accepted anywhere — and it explores how this lifestyle almost mirrors a religious devotion. In this, the non-traditional style of the book works, as Ostow is able to use the page as a way to tell her story. That is, the story isn’t limited to just the words, but also how they look and work on a page, making Henry a God-like figure in not only what Mel thinks but also how it appears.

After finishing and letting this book settle for a while, however, I’m not convinced that the style does the book a lot of favors. There are places it certainly does, but for the most part, I found the style overwhelming to the really great substance within it. It was distracting to read words and thoughts done and also through italics, and at one point, even with a page-long double arrow (<— like this —->). As readers, we’re already inside Mel’s head throughout the story; we don’t really need to see this played out so explicitly on the page. It almost de-emphasizes the seriousness of the story and the real predicaments in which she and the other family members find themselves. Episodic verse itself was a strong medium for the story, as Mel’s thoughts are and should be disjointed, repetitive, and rambling at times. But, the additional elements brought into that verse weakened it.

Family will appeal to readers who want a good creepy story. It’ll have appeal to fans of stories that explore cult dynamics, and it might work for readers of historical fiction. Even though this story is contemporary, there’s a definite late 60s feel to this, with all of the references to Woodstock and hippie lifestyle. As I mentioned, older teen fans of Carol Lynch Williams will enjoy this one, and I think that those who enjoyed Lucy Christopher’s Stolen might enjoy this one, as well. It’d be an interesting comparison, if nothing else. Family will hit shelves April 26.

Review copy received from the publisher.