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books

Black Helicopters by Blythe Woolston

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When you go into a Blythe Woolston novel, you know to expect your mind to be worked out. You know it’s going to be a novel that will require a lot of you mentally and you know it’s going to be a novel you want to talk about.

Black Helicopters is no exception. In fact, Black Helicopters took me three reads before I felt like I had a good grasp on what I wanted to say about the story. But that’s not a bad thing. In fact, the compulsion I had to reread it that many times is testament to how much there is packed into this little book. As a heads up, note that the bulk of this review is spoiler-filled. This is because Woolston’s novel is not very long and not entirely heavy on plot. It’s the sort of book that lends itself to analysis. 

15-year-old Valkyrie — Val — has had a hell of a life. If it can even be called that. Her mom was killed by the black helicopters when she was young, and her father went to great lengths to protect her and her brother from Those People thereafter. But Bo, her brother, had way more privileges than she did. He could actually go out. It was her job to stay hidden, to know the plan, to understand just how bad Those People were. That way, when they came back, she would be able to save everyone. She would do so by destroying them. 

Then the house she and her family live in burns down and their father is now dead. It’s up to Bo and Val to establish some sort of life now. Except, they’ve been so indoctrinated with contempt for all they’ve lost thanks to Those People, they see nothing but the need to destroy. And even in seeking safe places, they’re finding more dangerous places. They’re finding out about the true life dad lived. That true life means that, well, there’s no hope here. 

Val is herself a weapon. 

Bleak might be a nice word to describe Woolston’s third book. What’s at heart in the story is a girl who has been brainwashed to believe she needs to be paranoid about the world around her, particularly in regards to government. As such, she is herself a tool of destruction, led to believe that her duty in life is to bring it down, since it was what brought so much devastation to her own life. But it’s not just that she’s been brainwashed to believe her duty is to destroy the system, she is literally the tool by which the destruction must happen. She is the Queen.

Woolston marries Val’s story with a brilliant and mind-bending metaphor about chess. But even though she’s Queen and she has the power to keep the King in check, ultimately, she is reminded again and again that she can and will never rise above where she is now. There is a painful scene in the story where Val’s body becomes the payment for her debts. But it’s not so much what those men do to her to remind her of her place, it’s what happens with the gun immediately after the first time someone collects the rent. The violence and anger and emptiness of it all is penetrating. Is a reinforcement of all she’s experienced in her life.

Val’s a weapon because the only way she can get out is through death. And where this story takes a turn is that, when the plans for destruction are sidetracked because of another person’s decision to seek momentary jollies, Val’s left alone to her own devices. She’s seeking the help of a high school boy who knows she’s the girl to be watching out for. And when he’s kind enough to help her and do so knowing she could at any second destroy him and his little brother, Val has her turnaround. She knows the death she needs — the out she needs from this existence — can only be her own. No one else has to pay for what she’s already suffered.

This is a little book, but it is dense. It’s literary, and what is not said is more powerful than what’s actually said. It’s masterfully crafted and requires rereading to pick up on how the timelines interact, how Val’s character comes to be as it is, and to appreciate the ending as it is. There are no punches pulled in this book: it’s dark. It’s not dystopia nor futuristic — this is a slice of life by the likes we rarely, if ever, read or see. This is contemporary. What I appreciate about Woolston’s writing and what shines through in Black Helicopters is that readers discover a whole different world operating within their own. This dark, paranoid world isn’t one of the future or one of other times. It is a slice of today’s world to which we’re so often not privy daily nor within books. 

There are a lot of interesting threads here about gender, about power and privilege, about choices. I’m fascinated, too, by the depiction of rural life, of what I believe to have been drug and human trafficking issues that were at the heart of her father’s life/what caused the death of her mother and the desire for revenge on both sides, sex/body politics/ownership, violence, government paranoia, and more. I’m not sure how so much is packed into 160 pages but damn. There are also alternating time lines in this book, making the experience even more pulsating, as the pieces of the past click into place with the present. 

It’s hard to say this early it’s a potential award book, but I see the Printz committee looking at this one closely. Black Helicopters will appeal to readers who want a deeply literary novel with layers which can be unpacked endlessly. Each read of this book brought something new to the surface for me, and there are so many other threads that can be teased out that I may not even be conscious of from my own reading. While I haven’t read Elizabeth Scott’s Grace, I’ve got a feeling there might be some interesting parallels between Scott’s book and Woolston’s which could make them worthwhile read alikes. Pass this book off to readers who want a challenge and who want to work for a really satisfying pay off in their reading. 

Review copy received from the publisher. Black Helicopters will be available from Candlewick on March 26.

So You Want to Read YA?: Guest Post by Rae Carson (author of Girl of Fire and Thorns)

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This week’s addition to the “So You Want to Read YA?” series comes from YA author Rae Carson.

Rae Carson is the author of Fire and Thorns trilogy. Locus, the premier magazine for science fiction and fantasy, proclaimed, “Carson joins the ranks of writers like Kristin Cashore, Megan Whalen Turner, and Tamora Pierce as one of YA’s best writers of high fantasy.” Rae’s first novel was a finalist for the Morris YA Debut Award and the Andre Norton Award, and was named to ALA’s 2012 Top Ten Best Fiction for Young Adults. She dabbled in many things, from teaching to corporate sales to customer service, before becoming a full-time writer. She lives with her family in Ohio. You can follow her on Twitter at @raecarson.

“So, Rae, I read your book (or The Hunger Games or Harry Potter), and I want to try some more YA. Where should I start?”

*rubs hands*

I love this question. I’m hearing it a lot lately. According to this article in Publishers Weekly, 55% of YA books are bought by adults. Of those, a whopping 78% are purchased for their own reading.

So why are so many adults gobbling up young adult literature? My totally not-scientific survey of fanmail, fellow authors, and internet articles suggests that most crossover adults are prolific genre readers, often drawn to the faster pacing, tighter (angstier?) POVs, and even the bright, shameless covers of many young adult novels. In other words, adult readers of YA are not crossover Criterati. Maybe YA is appealing to their inner teenagers. Or maybe it’s a good match for already established genre sensibilities.

(This is a sweeping generalization. There are crossover readers from every literary tradition currently enjoying YA. And rightly so.)

So if you’re interested in YA, here is a list of books you might enjoy based on your reading preferences— with an emphasis on speculative romance. (Why speculative romance? Because that’s what I write, and it’s my list, dang it.) Thanks to my totally not-scientific survey, I resisted the temptation to only choose mind-blowing masterworks of literary acclaim. But I promise that each book listed below is someone’s favorite read.

Do any of these scenarios describe you?

You read mostly inspirational romance. You prefer books that are tender, beautifully written, and chaste. Francine Rivers and Karen Kingsbury are among your favorite authors. Try:

1) Incarnate by Jodi Meadows
2) Entwined by Heather Dixon
3) Book of a Thousand Days by Shannon Hale


You love psychological thrillers. Bonus points for unreliable narrators or a hint of paranormal. You’ve enjoyed books by Gillian Flynn, Dennis Lehane or Alice Sebold. Try:

1) The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin
2) Madapple by Christina Meldrum
3) Imaginary Girls by Nova Ren Suma

You read a lot of fantasy. Detailed worlds and epic stakes make a romance even sexier. Some of your favorite authors might be Robin McKinley, Juliet Marillier, or Maria Snyder. Try:

1) Vessel by Sarah Beth Durst (My favorite fantasy of 2012!)
2) Seraphina by Rachel Hartman
3) Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo

You prefer your romance with a hearty dose of science fiction. The juxtaposition of new ideas with classic themes makes you swoon. You’ve enjoyed books by Lois McMaster Bujold, Marion Zimmer Bradley, or Sharon Shinn. Try:

1) For Darkness Shows the Stars by Diana Peterfreund
2) Under the Never Sky by Veronica Rossi
3) Arclight by Josin McQuein (forthcoming April 2013)

You’ll tolerate a little romance if it doesn’t get in the way of the action. You want sharp dialog and high- octane set pieces. Bonus for explosions.

1) Divergent by Veronica Roth
2) Unwind by Neal Shusterman
3) The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness

You love a heroine who’s in charge. Even better if she wields supernatural powers and snark. Some of your favorite books are by Ilona Andrews, Patricia Briggs, or Kim Harrison. Try:

1) Hourglass by Myra McEntire
2) City of Bones by Cassandra Clare
3) Hex Hall by Rachel Hawkins

You hoard Twinkies and toilet paper in preparation for the inevitable apocalypse. You love World War Z, The Road, and I Am Legend. Try:

1) Ashfall by Mike Mullin
2) This is Not a Test by Courtney Summers
3) Monument 14 by Emmy Laybourne

You often loathe books other people love, and love books other people loathe, because you’re not afraid to try something risky and unusual. It’s worth it to discover a hidden gem you can be passionate about. Try:

1) Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein
2) Above by Leah Bobet
3) Beauty Queens by Libba Bray

Any egregious omissions? Tell me in the comments!

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Rae Carson is the author of the Fire and Thorns trilogy, which begins with The Girl of Fire and Thorns. The third and final installment in the series, The Bitter Kingdom, will be available on August 27 of this year. 

Taking Control of the Narrative

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If you’re harassed by someone, don’t stay silent. Your silence is protection that they do not deserve. When you see misogyny and sexism running rampant, speak up. It isn’t easy. It’s hard work. It’s women’s work.

Those are some of the closing words on a post I’ve linked to before, Your Silence is Protection That They Do Not Deserve. I can’t stop thinking about it.

When the verdict in Steubenville was handed down, CNN pointed out how the promising lives and careers of these two teenage boys — now convicted rapists — were ruined because they were found guilty of taking advantage of a girl. CNN did not look at the implications of the rape on the victim. Football reigned supreme in Steubenville and as such, commanded incredible respect and honor in the town. Those boys on the team, they were small-town heroes who had reputations and responsibility. It was an honor to play.

But then they took that power too far.

CNN seemed to be saying that whether or not the boys’ position on the team impacted their behavior isn’t really important. That, because these boys had earned some kind of respect and prestige in town, the inexcusable and disgusting acts they performed upon a girl who did not give her consent were not important. Rather, it was a shame that this verdict happened as it did, that the decision to punish these boys who deserved that punishment for their vile acts against a woman because it would ruin their promising futures. That their status as football players, as revered for this honor in the town of Steubenville, was somehow more important than the fact they did something utterly despicable.

This is a big deal and this is a big conversation we need to be thinking about and considering. Because it’s not just these high-profile cases where we continue to excuse the people exploiting their power. We continue to allow these people to speak and behave from a position of power and we call anyone who dares speak out against it as either a hater or as someone who is just jealous.

There are tactful ways to engage and there are ways to engage with another person that pull from a perceived — or real — place of power. Then there are acts of microaggression and microinvalidation that, on the surface, seem so throw-away and meaningless it’s easy not to consider the bigger implications of letting them go unaddressed. Then there are acts of derailing  as a form of trolling, when two or more people are having a conversation about a given topic and a third person starts posting unrelated photos, GIFs, links to videos. It’s “supposed to be funny!” but it’s really saying, “what you’re talking about is unimportant and/or makes me so uncomfortable that I’m going to change the subject by force! Look at this instead.”

While I’m not comparing the horrific incidents at Steubenville to something that happens on a small and non-physical level, it’s important to use these situations as opportunities to raise our own consciousness about the ways we are microaggressive and derail conversations in our everyday lives. Because if we continue to interact in those ways and if we continue to allow people to go unchecked in the way they converse with others, then we continue to desensitize ourselves to it.

We continue to forget how important empathy and respect truly are.

Here’s an example — a true one that happened online a couple of weeks ago. A male librarian derailed a conversation with a female librarian on a topic of importance to her. When she stepped back and approached him privately, saying that she felt uncomfortable with how their conversation played out publicly and she wanted to discuss things between the two of them, he told her he was “not somebody to fuck with” and if she wanted to matter to him to “do something big enough I recognize your name.” The conversation went on to say that she should “come up with an idea that takes hold and makes a difference” and to “quit whining about how unfair life is” and “be so good they can’t ignore you.” If she did that, then she had the right to “talk shit to [him].”

All she’d done in this instance was take the conversation to a private venue and express her disappointment with the way he’d taken the initial discussion away from the original point to a place where her concerns were invalidated and belittled. And rather than say to her that he didn’t want to have the conversation — a fair and valid means of saying someone is not interested in dialogue — he chose instead to be aggressive in response. Not only was he aggressive, but he belittled her and invalidated her right to feelings and to expressing them in an appropriate manner.

When he did that, she spoke out. She did not afford him the silence he didn’t deserve.

What made this situation tougher was that the person who spoke those words to her did so not only in a demeaning and very gendered way, but from a specific place of power. That person was awarded one of the highest honors in librarianship, and even though it wasn’t public at that point, he was well aware he had earned it. And rather than simply tell her he wasn’t interested in continuing the discussion (which is fair and is his right), he chose to wield his power over her. He told her she wasn’t good enough. That what she did did not matter and worse, that he wasn’t a person to fuck with. Words like that are no joke. They’re belittling and they’re intimidating.

These are aggressive words. They aren’t words coming from a place of wanting to help or advance a conversation, nor are they coming from a place of wanting to help or advance another professional. Instead, they’re words that are meant to keep a person down. To silence their opinion and silence their emotions.

This weekend, when it was made public this individual earned one of the highest honors of librarianship, the librarian who’d he’d been aggressive towards pointed out his behavior again.

And then.

And then.

A group of people chose to stand up for the person who was belittled. Because the way she was spoken to was inappropriate and because sometimes, it’s our duty to support other people. They were then labeled a club of “mean girls”, fighting and defending the actions of the woman who was silenced and intimidated when she chose to speak up, rather than afford him the silence that he didn’t deserve.

The term “mean girls” is one worth noting and thinking about here. It’s a term that’s tossed around whenever a woman speaks up and does so without apologizing for it, isn’t it? In this instance, because a group of women chose to amplify the voice of another who had been hurt, they were themselves villainized and made to feel like they were doing something wrong by standing up and insisting that these sorts of microaggressions weren’t tolerable from anyone, let alone someone who earned distinction in this field as a leader. As someone who should know better than to intimidate someone else.

This was never about jealousy or envy about a distinction. It was about the way we converse and about the way the words we use speaks volumes about us as leaders.

Here’s the thing about respect: like power and money, it’s something you earn, not something you are entitled to because of your gender, your race, your status in your profession. It’s currency you earn every day, over the course of years, based on your work and your behavior towards others. You don’t have to “be nice” — we’ve talked about that before and how insidious it is. You don’t have to love everyone. You do have to be courteous and generous. Give people the benefit of the doubt. Think twice, post once. Be challenging, ask questions, be tough all you want. But be fair, too, and remember that you’re a member of a professional community.

Derailing earnest conversations? Dropping the f-bomb? Failing to apologize when you’ve been cruel? Not cool. And you will be called to account.

Additionally, choosing to align yourself with one side of a conversation and not listening to the other side doesn’t make you the narrator of any given conversation. It doesn’t give you the power to dictate who is and isn’t being a “mean girl.” And it certainly doesn’t entitle you to belittle the legitimate thoughts and feelings of other people in the conversation. Sometimes the narrative and the dialog contain much more history than appears on the surface. The conversation about gender, about youth librarianship, the conversation about the appropriate ways to interact and converse with one another collegially, about respect — this isn’t new terrain.

It’s not about rock stardom. It’s not about Movers & Shakers. It’s not about the honors or prestige that come from a place of being recognized and rewarded for hard work. It’s about being a decent human being with the capacity to engage in conversation and knowing how to step out of a conversation without belittling or intimidating another person and taking away their right to speak up and out when they need to.

Likewise, sometimes it’s about the way we choose to support and encourage those who need that sort of support and encouragement and empathy. And if there’s anything we can pull from the conversations about sexism in librarianship, about the tough fight there is to break into the “club,” as well as from the conversations surrounding the poor rapists of Steubenville who had their promising futures ripped from them, it’s that we have a hell of a lot to learn about empathy, still.

I’ve always had these thoughts

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Tonight I was going through some old boxes and pulled out the college newspaper I wrote and edited for back in the day. Rereading the articles was amusing — I wrote about everything from Anna Nicole Smith to Haruki Murakami to cleaning your room for exercise.

But then I saw this from December 2006:

This is apparently something that’s been on my mind for a long time and I don’t think it’s something that will ever go away.

Nor should it.

Mind Games by Kiersten White

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There’s been a proliferation of SF-lite YA books recently, and Kiersten White’s latest, Mind Games, falls neatly into this niche. It’s accessible science fiction that isn’t hugely imaginative or thoughtful, but fun nonetheless. I enjoyed it slightly more than other recent novels of its kind (Unremembered, Erasing Time, Eve and Adam) thanks to the main character Fia’s voice, which is a bit different and gives the book that push it needs to go beyond ho-hum quality.

Annie and Fia are sisters with unique gifts. Annie is the older sister, blind since she was a small child, but able to see visions of the future. Fia is the younger sister, but she’s been told for many years that it’s her job to take care of Annie. Fia, too, has her own special power – but I’ll leave that for you to tease out as you read the book. The girls’ parents died several years ago in a car accident that Annie saw but was unable to prevent.
Annie’s and Fia’s particular abilities attract the attention of a special school for girls while they’re still pre-teens. The administrators of the school tell Annie that they’ll be able to one day repair her eyesight. They tell her they’ll take both her and Fia and educate them on a generous scholarship. Fia can feel that something is wrong, but she sees how hopeful Annie is, so they both enroll. 
It isn’t long before the school is using Fia for their own violent ends. And they hold Annie hostage, the unspoken threat of her death hanging over Fia and preventing her from just running away – or disobeying. 
The book alternates between past and present and between Fia’s and Annie’s perspectives. It’s not entirely successful, but there are parts that shine. I really dug Fia’s voice in particular. She is a seriously messed up girl, in a way that is very fun to read about (does that make me sound heartless?). I’ve read some reviews that say her perspective is full of stream of consciousness writing, but really, there’s not a lot of it. I didn’t find it overwhelming, just a good way to show how scattered her thinking is. What I really enjoyed, though, is how angry she is. She is angry at everyone – the school, her “friends” there, her sister, her parents for dying. I suppose it’s not unusual for a teen character to be angry, but White really made me feel it and understand it. Her anger informs her actions and makes her deeply flawed and human.
Plot-wise, this is nothing new, but it’s a fun ride throughout. It’s already a rather short story, and dividing it into two stories (the past and the present) makes it even shorter. It’s not dull even if it is kind of predictable. I was a bit disappointed in the ending, though. It’s ambiguous, but it also doesn’t seem to really end. I love me a good ambiguous ending on occasion, but this one didn’t satisfy me.
If you’re a fan of the books I mentioned in the first paragraph, this one will likely suit you just fine. Its topic is certainly highly appealing right now, and it goes down easy, making for a pleasant way to spend a few hours. Just don’t expect fireworks.