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Boys, Girls, and Other Hazardous Materials by Rosalind Wiseman

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Have you ever read a book that, while you’re reading it, you can see how the movie would be filmed perfectly? Not only that, you’re able to pretty much cast it, as well?

Welcome to Boys, Girls and Other Hazardous Materials
by Rosalind Wiseman, set to be published in early January of 2010. Does that name ring a bell at all? Aside from this earlier post by Kim, which I’ll get to in a minute, this is the same author who wrote the book Queen Bees and Wannabes, a non-fiction title that was the basis for the hit film Mean Girls starring Lindsay Lohan.

I think that Boys, Girls, and Other Hazardous Materials could go in the same direction, and I think that it would also be a hit!

Wiseman’s story follows high school freshman Charlie Healey (whose real name is Charlotte) as she navigates the tricky waters of fitting in, making friends, and figuring out exactly who she is. Charlie’s going to a new high school — one that is just outside her old district — in order to avoid Lauren and Ally, who made her last year in middle school miserable. They got her in huge trouble on a class trip to Washington D.C., with a punishment of not only being suspended from school for a bit, but she also lost the trust of Nidhi, a girl who she really wanted to bond with. What Charlie doesn’t acknowledge is that she’s really going to this high school because she’s intelligent and talented; the new high schooler’s perspective’s a bit different than that of readers, her peers, and the adults in her life.

When Charlie gets to school for orientation, though, she meets and befriends Sydney right away, who is the type of girl you want to hate: tall, thin, beautiful, and genuine. Charlie’s excited to make a friend so quickly, and as we learn, it’s a friendship based on more than adoration. Oh, and that same day she meets Will, who had been one of her best friends for a long time and had moved away. Throughout the book, their relationship develops stronger than when they were friends at a younger age, and this relationship will be tested in many ways throughout their freshman year.

It’s at this point you’re probably thinking this is all set up for the Mean Girls scenario, right? But you’d be wrong. This time, it’s the boys who are mean to one another, and it centers on the ideas around hazing and initiation. Charlie is witness to an awful incident near the end of her freshman year that leaves an innocent person injured, and she must make the decision whether to let it go or to test these relationships she’s built and rebuilt through that tumultuous year. Add in a subplot of reconnecting with Nidhi, becoming a strong writer for the high school’s newspaper, and a fast-paced, engaging writing style, and it’s no surprise that this is the sort of book that will fly off shelves. Wiseman’s entrance into the growing world of young adult literature is certainly a welcome one!

Before delving into what makes this book such a great one, let me step back and critique some issues I had. First and foremost, the new cover is deceptive and is a VERY poor choice. The initial cover — the one my galley has — is the black cover with red bomb. It doesn’t tell you anything about the story, and I think this is important, since this is the sort of story that unwraps itself and doesn’t lend to an easy “telling” on the cover. The new cover, as seen here, pictures a very thin girl kissing a boy. Kissing might be an understatement, even.

There was no making out in this book. There were no girls ogling over boys nor boys ogling over girls. In fact, this was a very clean read through and through; in the instances where crushes or dates were brought up, they were very realistic, awkward, and there was never one mention of their sex drives. I would feel 100% comfortable handing this sort of title to those who don’t want a book that will make them blush, and it’s the sort of books parents wouldn’t mind having a kid read.

But you know? This cover says EXACTLY the opposite. How am I supposed to sell the merits based on a cover that clearly suggests otherwise? Oh, and Charlie makes clear in her prologue that she’s not a stick thin, hair-model type girl. So why is his cover that way?

Back to the good, though.

Boys, Girls, and Other Hazardous Materials delves into a topic that really isn’t covered much: boys as the “mean girls.” Throughout the story, we see how boys are mean to one another and mean to girls in a way that is absolutely realistic. There is the picking on, then there’s the tormenting verbally or physically (in this instance, there’s a scene where a group of boys intentionally clap through a class presentation given by Sydney which makes all her hard work look worthless), then there’s the outright harassment and pain infliction. Besides there being retribution for these actions, there’s a lot in the way of discussing what power and influence do in terms of getting people out of trouble for their own actions.

Wiseman, in her end note, talks about how this was a tough book to write and thanked a class of students who helped her edit it. It shows: this book is put together so well and so realistically; I was able to put myself right back into my freshman year of high school and live so many of the same moments that Charlie did. Wiseman’s writing style is smooth and lively. This is a book that teens will relate to — there’s crushing, there’s involvement, there’s sports and discussion of sports in ways that don’t put it down or make it the be-all-end-all of high school, there’s praise of intelligence and confidence, and there’s good kids. You know what else this book has that makes it a knock out?

Good parents.

Almost all of the kids in this story have strong parents who are good influences in their lives, and the kids who don’t, well, you see what happens. Wiseman achieves something here that is rare: good, realistic, dependable parents who the kids actually have relationships with. Another element important to mention is that Charlie is keen to seeing discrimination and understanding enough to know it’s bad without moralizing or making it a crusade. Nidhi is Indian and Hindu, and it’s this fact that causes a lot of the problems arising between Charlie and former friends Ally and Lauren. Wiseman is really spot on with this issue, as she is also spot on with pop culture references that won’t necessarily date this book.

There’s been much buzz lately about books being picked up for film, but I certainly hope this one does. There is plenty of action, great dialog, compelling and realistic characters, and many wonderful messages about being happy with who you are. Charlie is a winning character, and I think that so many teens will find themselves rooting for her the entire time, since they can see bits and pieces of themselves in her. This is a clean read, with a lot to latch on to. Although there is more to enjoy in this book, I think it’s one that will generate a lot of discussion and lend itself easily to a book group.

Here’s a classic high school story in the making!

* Obviously, the publisher was kind enough to send an ARC for me. There was no expectation of a review, much less a positive one.

Back Home by Julia Keller

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When I was in college, I majored in Psychology. I’ve always had a fascination with the brain and how it works, so when I saw this new title out by Julia Keller, a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist. I was very excited to read it. In addition to a story about brain injury, Back Home delves into the contemporary issue of the Iraq War and its impact on families — a topic not quite explored in depth just yet.

Rachel knew something was wrong when her mother sat her, her sister and her little brother down on the couch to talk about their dad. Rachel’s mind ran with the inevitable: her dad was dead.

Dad was a member of the National Guard and had been sent to Iraq. Rachel had the suspicion it could end with his being killed, but it turns out that that may have been easier to deal with. Dad hadn’t been killed, but instead, he sustained a major brain injury and lost a leg and an arm.
It would be a few months before dad would come home, as they were treating him at a national army hospital and giving him therapy to try to resume his normal life.
Upon returning, though, things did not go as planned – because of the massive brain injury, Rachel’s dad had many more challenges ahead of him than she and her family were led to believe.

Back Home is an incredibly powerful story about a family coping with the physical effects of war on a family member. Julia Keller has written many articles about brain injury and the Iraq war, and her expertise is clear in this story. This is not a happily-ever-after book, nor does it pretend to be. It’s an utterly realistic, terrifying, and sad look at the lives of those who are unable to resume life as they knew it before going to war. One of the most memorable and poignant moments occurs when Rachel reflects on the term “vegetable” and what it means in relation to a human being — painful but touching.

I felt like Keller had a lot of characters in the story, and while this was problematic to me as a reader to distinguish among these people, I also felt like it was almost necessary: many of those characters played a real ancillary role in Rachel’s life making them simply a cast to her. But moreover, it almost allowed us as outsiders to feel like her father and his understanding of familiar and not. Additionally, I really wanted a little more to the story, but knowing how important this issue is, I’m not disappointed.

A number of reviews I read on this title were quick to judge it as a “message” novel or one useful for bibliotherapy. While I don’t disagree that there’s a message here or that this book will make an excellent one to hand to someone dealing with a similar issue, I think this is short changing the novel and story itself. There’s a nice metaphor throughout the book about building a fort that goes deeper into a story than into a problem, and I believe that Rachel is constructed strongly enough to be a character rather than an idea. I think much of this may stem from this being a new topic in the YA literature realm and because of Keller’s staccato journalistic writing style. I think going into this believing it is only one thing detracts from the greater story.

So few books explore these issues without getting political, but this is one that manages to stay focused on the issue of brain injury. I found the ending particularly touching and realistic, and I am very eager to see what Keller writes next. Her style is very journalistic, so don’t expect a pretty story; it’s the facts.

*Disclosure: I was informed if I gave a good review to a book, I had to disclose if it came from the publisher. I like to think my reviews are critical enough to make it clear that I’m actually reading to review and not reading to get free stuff. Indeed, I’m almost offended I have to disclose that I got an advanced copy of this title because the reality is I read EVERYTHING critically and am not afraid to share my insights.
I would like to thank Edgmont, though, for providing me this fantastic book. I am eager to share this one with my teens who may be experiencing similar things or know others who are.

What I’m reading, Twitter style (alternatively: Lest you say I only read YA)

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Maybe there’s a hidden theme here, but I suspect it’s a matter of finding a ton of really interesting things to read in succession. Without further ado:

Our Lot by Alyssa Katz: Even-handed history and exploration of real estate and mortgage lending in the U.S. Readable and terrifying and utterly necessary reading.

Generation A by Douglas Coupland: Coupland’s last few titles have been flops for me. This title revisits themes of “Gen X,” but w/ the millennial generation. Fingers crossed.

Back Home by Julia Keller: Father returns home from Iraq War completely different – this is a story of a daughter coping with that change. Keller is an expert on topic.

In Cheap We Trust: The Story of a Misunderstood American Virtue by Lauren Weber: History and social commentary on thriftiness as “American.” Delves into why we are cheap but why we are afraid to admit to it.

Ayn Rand and the World She Made by Anne C. Heller: New biography of Rand that’s gotten a fair amount of both positive and negative press. Likely contrast to current biogs by her institutions.

Coraline by Neil Gaiman: On audio: I’m behind in my listening, but this title, narrated by Gaiman himself, should be a winner. Excited to listen then watch the film.

A Dying Cause

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Suicide is a morbidly (oops) fascinating topic for people — it’s something that we simply don’t understand and it’s something that affects everyone surrounding the people who do decide to go through with it. About 5,000 teenagers do it each year, and it is the second leading cause of death for those between the ages of 14 and 25 — Livestrong can give you more terrifying statistics if you’re interested. Many teens have been impacted by it somehow, so it’s not a surprise that it’s been making an appearance throughout teen literature in the last couple of years (and even before that).

2009 brought at least two such titles, including Nina LaCour’s Hold Still (Dutton, 10/2009). Caitlin’s best friend Ingrid killed herself at the end of last school year; for Caitlin, this was a summer to mourn before needing to step back into a routine at school that would now have a huge void.

Throughout the story, Ingrid’s diary is a device for communicating her thoughts with Caitlin. Ingrid left no note nor explanation but instead shared her feelings on other life experiences. As a reader you can pick up the pieces little by little, but you will not walk away with a solid understanding. Instead, the story is told from Caitlin’s point of view — her mourning and her attempts at resuming her own life.

As the year progresses, as indicated by changing seasons in the book (starting with the summer after, then fall, winter, and spring), Caitlin begins to experience the things like a normal teenager again. She develops a friendship with a new girl that as readers we understand begins tenuously out of fear of loss, and she also begins exploring a romantic relationship. But all is not well, of course. Caitlin’s grades are slipping, particularly in a photography class that where she had met Ingrid before. The teacher constantly talks about how her and Ingrid were a pair but that Caitlin needs to grow her own talent and self now. This is hard when Ingrid’s work is immortalized on the walls, of course.

Hold Still is an interesting exploration of suicide from a best friend’s perspective, but I’m going to be honest and say it felt inauthentic. I’m no expert in understanding how suicide feels from a best friend’s perspective, but I can say that I’ve been in high school when a very popular student took his life. There was not an immortalizing of the student, and in fact, faculty was upfront and honest in avoiding the issue. There was no memorial nor fascination with them. While friends had the opportunity to mourn and seek counseling, the issue was something the school felt was not appropriate to “celebrate.” Likewise, it seemed to me that no one in the story was angry. It seemed that the characters actually felt only one or two emotions, and there was not much wrestling with feelings. Caitlin had one angry outburst, but perhaps what left me a little unsure was Ingrid’s parents at the end of the story — they were almost too accepting and, frankly, blase about their daughter’s selfishness and desperation.

Personally, this book was a mixed bag. It didn’t delve deeply enough into character, as Caitlin to me seemed hollow. Although I believe this is the case because of her situation, I felt in discussions of her prior to Ingrid’s suicide that she still didn’t have any interests, passions, or feelings. The diary was a bit too much of a safety device in the story that took us away from the graveness of the situation and instead gave Ingrid a voice and personality. This made it too hard to be angry or frustrated with her, since she seemed so sincere. Too many times I believed that Ingrid was rational enough to get help, and though I know it’s not that simple, I just didn’t feel a connection between her and me or her and Caitlin. Likewise, her parents and the art teacher really made me insane. To me it seemed the adults were written too much as teenagers. And as alluded to before, many of the situations about how the school reacted just weren’t realistic from my experiences. A little research would have really made this book that much stronger.

That said, Hold Still will resonate with teen readers. As an adult who can reflect back on my experiences, I felt it fell flat of some real potential. But with the number of teens who probably live Caitlin’s story, this will be a comforting book to read. The lack of anger or discussion of Ingrid’s mental state and actions was frustrating, but perhaps this side of emotion will really impact someone. It can also be a potential wake up call to those ever considering this plan of exit. I’m excited to see what LaCour does next, as this was her first novel.

Five Minutes More by Darlene Ryan was also released this year (Orca Books, 04/09). If you know anything about the Orca series, it’s a publisher interested in fast-moving stories that target reluctant readers. This one was a quick mover.

D’Arcy’s dad has killed himself. He used to always say that anything could be solved by just “five minutes more,” a mantra that gets repeated throughout the book. But as we discover, D’Arcy’s dad could not live with Lou Gehrig’s disease for five minutes more and instead, chose to drive his car off a bridge and end his life.

Told through seasons, much like Hold Still, we see D’Arcy become a figure who removes herself from her life. Her budding relationship with Seth waxes and wanes, her grades drop dramatically, and she begins getting involved with drinking and smoking — something she’d never do if it weren’t for her father’s death.

Unlike Hold Still, as a reader we feel entirely distanced from D’Arcy and her relationships in Five Minutes More. To be entirely honest, I don’t remember much emotional discussion from D’Arcy; her feelings were acted upon and out for the reader. She broke many items in a way that felt quite authentic with her anger, but it seemed to me this was a strategy used a bit too much to give readers insight into her mind. For me, I wasn’t able to stand the thought of her breaking anything else, but thinking in context of the audience for this title (and this author), I think this is a story that reluctant readers will appreciate since there is NOT a lot of dwelling on emotions. Things happen instead.

Again, I’m not an expert on this topic, but this title also felt inauthentic to me as a reader. The voices were not quite there enough, and none of the characters seemed to be talking like people of their own age/experience. But then again, I’m not a teenager and thus cannot believe that there won’t be many who really see themselves in D’Arcy. What I did appreciate about this title was that it took a risk — it’s NOT just teenagers who take their lives. Ryan chose to have her adult character take his life and take it for a very different reason than a teenager: disease. I felt compelled to keep reading, though I was disappointed in an abrupt ending without any sort of closure. I’m sure this is intentional. I felt, though, her romantic relationship did not develop enough over the course of three seasons to make it an essential element of the story. I wondered what purpose it served since it didn’t have enough power in the story to even be brought up at the end.

I liked D’Arcy as a character a little more than I liked Caitlin, perhaps because D’Arcy felt like a real character, more fleshed out than Caitlin. I also actually liked D’Arcy’s dad in this one; by that I mean, I really wanted to know more about him and his challenges with Lou Gehrig’s disease. I did not feel that way about Ingrid.

Finally, what book discussion about suicide would be complete without at least making a mention of Jay Asher’s unbelievably popular title Thirteen Reasons Why (Razorbill, 10/07).

Like Hold Still, this book is held together with a plot device, namely a set tapes that Clay Jensen receives following the suicide of classmate Hannah Baker. He’s one of thirteen people to get this set of tapes that describes exactly what things people did or said that pushed Hannah over the edge. The story’s told through Hannah’s voice on the tape and Clay’s voice as he visits all of the people and places that impacted Hannah.

What Thirteen Reasons Why does that neither Hold Still nor Five Minutes More do is emphasize the impact that small things can have on a person. More generally, I felt like Hannah’s voice brought out the point that there are so many things that go into people’s decisions to take their lives. It’s not a simple thing or two but generally the accumulation of many issues. It’s not simple and it can’t be understood.

It’s been over a year since I read this one, so I had to pull up my review to see what I said initially, which was simple: well-crafted, insightful, consistent, and gripping.

All of this is to say that the teen fiction genre is full of titles that tackle this very complicated issue and each title takes the issue in a slightly different way. As such, there is going to be a title that resonates with a reader who will tackle the grief and lack of understanding that comes along with suicide in a way similar to one of these — or the other titles in this area. Although the word bibliotherapy bothers me, I believe these are the sorts of books we should know as tools for helping those struggling with the issue of suicide, both from the perspective of the person who is considering taking their life and the people who have been impacted by such a loss.

We will never truly know what is going on nor why things like this happens, but we can explore it as deeply and widely as possible to have a support system. Besides people, books are support; when you consider that each of these characters withdraws into themselves, then you know that a book can be a companion during those times of isolation.

Have you read any other similar titles or any of these? What are your takes on them? It’s a fascinating topic that deserves exploration, and kudos to each and every one of these authors for doing it the best they can.

All the Broken Pieces by Ann Burg

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The Vietnam war is something I am pretty underinformed about, aside from what I learned in a few history classes and those classes, as any student of history knows, are biased. But perhaps what is more a disservice than some of the bias is the fact that the Vietnam war lessons come at the end of a long semester (unless one takes a whole class) and gets short changed. A lot of what happened goes unlearned.

All the Broken Pieces by Ann Burg is a novel about the Vietnam war without being about the physical war itself. This quick novel, written entirely in verse, takes place in the aftermath of the war. More specifically, it is set when Americans had the opportunity to save Vietnamese children Vietnamese children of war and give them homes in America.

Burg’s book opens with Matt, one of the rescued children, recalling something that happened in his life — but as readers, we’re left blind to what experiences he had as a child in the war-torn nation. His mom was Vietnamese and his father was an American soldier who raped her and left her. When his mother sends him with Americans, he is adopted into a family that loves him dearly and gives him every opportunity they can. He’s got a natural baseball talent, but even great talent doesn’t stop members of the team he made from making fun of him and his heritage. Tensions were high after the war, as it touched the lives of so many. Rob, one of his teammates, really dislikes him and goes out of his way to make Matt’s life difficult.

As the novel moves forward — and it moves VERY fast — we watch as Matt makes decisions about what he shares and doesn’t share about his experiences. At the same time he is involved in truly American pastimes, including baseball and music lessons, his mind reminds him of his uniquely non-American life. This comes to a head when he and Rob are paired for an exercise on the baseball field that causes them to come to total understandings of one another and of themselves. It is at this moment we as readers develop a total understanding of Matt and his life both in Vietnam and America. At this same time, Matt learns about how the war impacted other people he interacts with daily in America and he relates with them in a new way because he, too, is able to share his experiences on the other side. All the Broken Pieces is a novel that highlights cultural understanding in a way that readers of all ages can relate.

I found this to be quite a moving book; Matt is an exceptionally drawn main character with a great voice that left me wanting to know more. I felt like his adoptive family in hoping he would share his story with me and I felt great satisfaction when he did. Along with that satisfaction, as a reader I felt utter sympathy for him and his experiences. Moreover, this is the sort of book that left me as a reader wanting to know more about the Vietnam war’s outcomes and effects on civilians both American and made-American.

All the Broken Pieces is a Cybils nominee in the middle grade category, and while I don’t disagree with that age appropriateness, I think it might be better appreciated by those who are a little older. This is a story that has less in the way of action and more in character development, and the verse use is spot-on. Berg could not have picked a better way to share her story, and I am excited to see what she does in the future. I think this is a title that’s been under the radar this season, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see it get its due come awards time. At least I hope so!