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Fart Party and Drinking at the Moves by Julia Wertz

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I think I have a new hero in Julia Wertz.

To ring in the New Year, I treated myself to two of her comic autobiographies, and to say I had a good laugh or two would be an understatement. Before proceeding, though, I must warn that those who don’t have a tolerance for crude humor or profanity, these might not be the right books for you.

Fart Party, published in 2006 after originally appearing in smaller pieces online, is Wertz’s story about life as a 23-year-old in San Francisco. In it, we’re introduced to boyfriend Oliver, her younger brother, her older brother, and her mother (my favorite character). She lives on her own, works a job she loves, and does her comics on the side.

The story is told through vignettes that progress chronologically. To give the story some sort of anchor, I’d say it’s primarily about the development and ultimate death of the relationship between herself and Oliver. That’s not to say every comic is about that, but he plays a lead character in her life at this point, and she spends significant time talking about the growth and development of their relationship, up to its premature death. The end of their relationship comes thanks to his acceptance to school in Vermont and the reluctance on both their parts to change their minds — Julia’s to leave the city she loves and Oliver’s to engage in a long distance relationship.

But this is also the story of a girl learning how to devote herself to her art. Anyone who has had a passion — be it drawing, music, writing — will relate to Julia’s struggle to create. Amid the challenges thrown in her way, she still finds small pockets of time and energy to tell her stories, and she finds the humor in every day situations for fodder. And yes, she’ll even tackle that itself in more than one scene.

Although the art of the comics is nothing spectacular (simple pen and ink), it compliments the writing well. Wertz has an incredible sense of humor and although it is crude and at times offensive, this is the lens through which we get to know her characters so well. Julia is a 20-something navigating the tricky terrain of being on her own for the first time in a big city where things don’t always come easy nor where there is some sort of instructional guide. There are entire comics devoted to drinking the day away, the fact that cheese can make up a person’s complete diet, and how finding a television show you love can turn you into a zombie who needs nothing more than their next fix (ahem, not that that’s relatable or anything). But they are supplemented with comics about having her comics published, where she finds her inspiration, and the moment she knew her relationship with Oliver was officially over.

Fart Party’s tone is direct and honest, and although it is humorous, there is a lot of heart behind the story. This is a collection that begs to be read cover to cover rather than in spurts to get the full impact — in one strip you will be laughing to tears and in the next, you’ll simply be in tears because you understand completely how awful what’s happening really is.

What I found I loved in Fart Party I thought worked better in her 2010 book, Drinking at the Movies. Although the artistic style remains the same (and still works), the story arc and character growth and development are top notch in this volume. It feels more like a straightforward autobiography.

Drinking at the Movies chronicles 25-to-26-year-old Julia’s decision to leave San Francisco — the city she loves — and try to make it by in the mean streets of New York City. Now single, she has a little more freedom to roam, and like all good artists, she believes NYC (and the struggle to survive there) is a natural progression. Even though she doesn’t know a soul there, she packs up and moves.

We watch as she bounces between low-paying part-time jobs that offer no fulfillment, apartments that come with a myriad of quirks, and a variety of interesting health and art related challenges. She struggles with learning about her older brother’s inability to control his drug addiction, a family member’s cancer, and how to cope with her father’s new life with her step mother in Arizona. Then there’s the challenge of discovering how a city so different from the place she lived the first 25 years of her life works.

For me, Julia was a fuller character in this volume, and perhaps it’s because this is more a story of her figuring who she is through herself rather than a story about her relationships with other people and how they make her who she is. She has a lot of challenges and doesn’t deal with things particularly well, but they’re honest. She struggles to find the time and drive to make her art amid the personal challenges — and in this book there are far more personal and family challenges than in Fart Party — and she maintains a sense of humor throughout her huge and minute struggles.

Because I don’t want to spoil the end of the book, I won’t explain why this book resonates so strongly with me. But Julia comes to a conclusion at the end about herself and about where she is in her life that is something I still wrestle with on a daily basis. It’s a moment I felt coming and one which I wanted to tell her to look out for, but because I still can’t come to terms with it in my own life, I kind of hoped for a bigger fall. I suppose that will be tackled in her next volume.

Maybe Wertz’s style can best be described as what would happen to Daria when she leaves home and tries to make it on her own. Her books encapsulate life in one’s 20s with spot on humor and unflinching rawness. They are sad and funny, full of hope and hopelessness, crudeness, rudeness, and downright heartfelt moments. I am eager to dive into her other work and look forward to the possibility alluded to in Drinking at the Movies that Fart Party may become a television show in the near future.

The Great YA Librarian Blogger Meetup @ ALA Midwinter: Final Details

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Here are the final details of tomorrow night’s meet up at ALA Midwinter. Pass these babies around all you want!

We’ll meet at the Odysea Bar inside the Hilton Bayfront at 8:30 p.m. We are incredibly lucky to have Baen Books paying for the first $500 worth of drinks to attendees, and Jim Minz, their senior editor, has arranged for us to have a table ready to go. When you arrive, let the waitstaff or bar tender know you’re with the group (and mention Jim’s name if they’re confused) and meet us.

Make sure you have your business cards ready to pass out. There will be ya bloggers, publicists, publishers, editors, and authors in attendance, including Brent Hartinger, Sarah Jamilla Stevenson, Rebecca Fjelland Davis, and more.

See you there!

Audiosynced: Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson

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My library’s collection of audiobooks for teens and tweens was practically nonexistent before I started working there, and I’ve been building it up slowly over many months.  One title I elected to purchase was Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak, a novel which really needs no introduction.  I somehow missed out on reading it when I was a teen and it was first published in 1999, and it’s been in the spotlight once again recently, so I figured I should give it a whirl, even though I tend to stay away from contemporary YA.
In short: Melinda Sordino went to a party the summer between 8th and 9th grade.  Things got out of hand and she called the police, who arrived and broke up the party.  As a result, Melinda starts high school as a social pariah.  Her outcast status and unmentioned events that occurred at the party drive Melinda to silence.  Her former friends have ditched her, her grades drop, and she finds herself unable to talk to anyone about what’s happened – or, in most cases, talk at all.
While I think the book itself is a good one, the audio production is flawed.  The narrator speaks in a flat, monotone voice and as a result, it’s difficult to really feel for Melinda, even though what she’s experienced is incredibly traumatic.  Inflection is rare and there’s almost no vocal change between the characters.  I can understand why this choice may have been made: Melinda seems almost shell-shocked by what’s happened to her, and her reaction is to shut down rather than lash out.  It’s still not an effective narrative device for an audiobook.
Another factor that may have contributed to my dislike of the experience is my prior knowledge: I knew the midpoint twist ahead of time and thus was always anticipating when the ball would drop.  There was no mystery or “aha” moment for me. 
I did appreciate how the novel was structured, with a lot of cheeky asides and clever turns of phrase by Melinda (the cheerleaders get a group discount on abortions; her report card indicates an F in socializing and a D- in lunch).  Much of the dialogue is structured differently as well (“Mom: blahblah.  Me: silence”), an effective device for a novel about a girl who refuses to speak.
I think my mistake was listening to this novel on audio instead of reading it in print.  I never really got the impression that Melinda was silent, since I was, in fact, hearing her voice the entire time.  Thus the impact of the whole book was lessened significantly.
I listened to Speak right on the heels of Lauren Oliver’s Before I Fall, an excellent audio production of a different kind of story, but one whose intention was also to bring the reader into the head of the protagonist.  It was much more successful in this regard: I felt deeply for Sam, was completely invested in her situation, and believed wholeheartedly in her transformation.  In Speak, however, I felt more removed from Melinda than I think Halse Anderson intended.  I blame the audio production for this, since the whole point of Speak is that we don’t hear Melinda’s voice until the very end.
Speak is such an important book in the YA canon, and for good reason – it’s written well, is about an important topic, and still makes headlines more than ten years after its publication.  If you haven’t yet read it, it really should be added to your to-read list – but keep it off your to-listen-to one.

Synchronicity: What We Learned on the Cybils YA Lit Panel

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Synchronicities: 1. the quality or fact of being synchronous 2. the coincidental occurrence of events and especially psychic events (as similar thoughts in widely separated persons or a mental image of an unexpected event before it happens) that seem related but are not explained by conventional mechanisms of causality —used especially in the psychology of C. G. Jung —Merriam-Webster Online.

This list of similarities and coincidences among the 2010 Cybils YA Fiction nominations is humbly submitted to you by the 2010 Cybils YA Fiction Panel. It is no way to be considered completely exhaustive, as we are certain nominated books will have been missed. This list was originated out of amusement as the seven panelists read their way through the 182 titles. If you know of a nominated title that should be included in one of the synchronicities below, please feel free to submit it in the comments! To get the entire list, you’ll have to visit all seven of the panelist’s blogs.

I’m covering synchronicities #53-63. You can read #1-10 with Amanda, #11-21 with Ami, #22-32 with Cheryl, #33-42 with Jackie, #43-52 with Justina, and round out our list with #64-72 with Melissa.

Enjoy!

52: Religion as a theme in the story

  • Beautiful by Cindy Martinuson-Coloma
  • City of Cannibals by Ricki Thompson
  • Eighth Grade Super-Zero by Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich
  • Freaks and Revelations by Davida Wills Hurwin
  • The Karma Club by Jessica Brody
  • The Less-Dead by April Lurie
  • Losing Faith by Denise Jaden
  • Saving Maddie by Varian Johnson
  • Sorta Like a Rockstar by Matthew Quick
  • This Gorgeous Game by Donna Frietas
  • What Momma Left Me by Renee Watson

53: Main characters who are runners

  • The Deadly Sister by Eliot Schrefer
  • Split by Swati Avasthi
  • The River by Mary Jane Beaufrand
  • When I Was Joe by Keren David

54: Books that are sequels or companions to other titles (bonus: one is a sequel to another one nominated in this category!)

  • After Ever After by Jordan Sonnenblick
  • The Agency: A Spy in the House and The Agency: The Body in the Tower by Y. S. Lee
  • Beat the Band by Don Calame
  • Carter’s Big Break by Brent Crawford
  • Dirt Road Home by Watt Key
  • The Ghosts of Ashbury High by Jaclyn Moriarty
  • It’s Not Summer Without You by Jenny Han
  • Rules of Attraction by Simone Elkeles
  • Scarlett Fever by Maureen Johnson
  • Shakespeare Makes the Playoffs by Ron Koertge
  • So Over My Head by Jenny B. Jones
  • Sweet, Hereafter by Angela Johnson
  • Return to Paradise by Simone Elkeles
  • Runaway Storm by D. E. Knobbe

55: The use of sign language

  • The Dark Days of Hamberger Halpin by Josh Berk
  • Half Brother by Kenneth Oppel

56: Silkworms doin’ their thing

  • Dark Water by Laura McNeal
  • A Little Wanting Song by Cath Crowley

57. Watch out for the snakes in Australia — they bite! (Folks, I cannot believe there are THREE books in this category)

  • A Little Wanting Song by Cath Crowley
  • Ghosts of Ashbury High by Jaclyn Moriarty
  • Stolen by Lucy Christopher

58. Spanish speaking characters

  • Dark Water by Laura McNeal
  • Dirt Road Home by Watt Key
  • The Firefly Letters by Margarita Engle
  • Life, After by Sarah Darer Littman
  • Love Drugged by James Klise
  • Red Umbrella by Christina Gonzales
  • Addicted to Her by Janet Nichols Lynch
  • When I Was Joe by Keren David (There were 3 other languages but not Spanish. Forgive us. We make mistakes when trying to recall the things we’ve read in 182 books).

59. State mottoes make an appearance

  • Amy and Roger’s Epic Detour by Morgan Matson
  • The Things a Brother Knows by Dana Reinhardt

60. Stockholm Syndrome

  • The Tension of Opposites by Kristina McBride
  • Stolen by Lucy Christopher
  • Girl, Stolen by April Henry (Debatable!)

61. Unique or repetitive names

  • Bronwyn in I Now Pronounce You Someone Else by Erin McCahan and Bronwen in Amy and Roger’s Epic Detour by Morgan Matson
  • Cydar in Butterfly by Sonya Hartnett
  • Jace in Stringz by Michael Wenberg, Split by Swati Avasthi, and Glimpse by Carol Lynch Williams
  • Tank in Exit Strategy by Ryan Potter
  • Xander in Freefall by Mindi Scott and Swoon at Your Own Risk by Sydney Salter
  • Xanda in Tell Me a Secret by Holly Cupala
  • Will in The Less-Dead by April Lurie, Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan, and Will by Maria Boyd
  • Ty in Stolen by Lucy Christopher and When I Was Joe by Keren David (note: both of these books ALSO take place in part in Britain)
  • Poppy in Lifted by Wendy Toliver and Six by Karen Tayleur
  • Tessa in The Naughty List by Suzanne Young, The Tension of Opposites by Kristina McBride, Losing Faith by Denise Jaden (a big thank you to Denise for this one!)
  • Confessions of the Sullivan Sisters by Natalie Standiford gets an award for (nearly) an entire cast of wonderfully unique names

62: Suicide, attempted suicide, or suicidal thoughts

  • By the Time You Read This, I’ll Be Dead by Julie Anne Peters
  • Compromised by Heidi Ayarbe
  • Glimpse by Carol Lynch Williams
  • Hold Still by Nina La Cour
  • Hush by Eishes Chayil
  • Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly
  • Tangled by Carolyn Mackler
  • When I Was Joe by Keren David
  • Abe in Arms by Pegi Deitz Shea

Cryer’s Cross by Lisa McMann

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Lisa McMann’s Cryer’s Cross begins with a bang: “Everything changes when Tiffany Quinn disappears.” The reader is immediately plunged into a poor, working-class, small town community where everyone knows each other and just twenty-four students make up Kendall Fletcher’s senior class. Suspicion is immediately raised when new student Jacian Obregon enters the community, as both police and students suspect him of a possible involvement in Tiffany’s death. But life goes on, and both students and adults get back to the business of living, of working the farms for their livelihood, and of returning to school in the desperate hope that they will someday escape their stifling hometown.
Kendall, who loves dance, yearns for a scholarship to Juilliard, while her best friend and kind-of-boyfriend Nico aspires to be a nurse. Yet even beyond finances and opportunity, life is always difficult for Kendall, who struggles with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, a condition that she keeps under wraps from everyone but her family members and Nico.
But everything changes when Nico starts acting oddly: spacing out and flaking on Kendall, not at all like his normal, supportive behavior. And then he disappears–just like Tiffany had done months earlier. As the town sends out its second search party and begins imposing strict curfew restrictions on the children and teenagers, Kendall begins an investigation of her own, finally focusing on the desk that both Tiffany and Nico had sat in in their classroom, the desk that now appears to display strange carvings. And that seems to whisper messages of persuasion and comfort when Kendall herself finally sits in the desk.
I read and devoured Lisa McMann’s Wake series last year, and thus was eagerly awaiting Cryer’s Cross. However, while McMann’s trademark build-up of tension was fully evidenced in this book, the plot itself fell flat for me.
McMann does a wonderful job of building suspense through her writing, and her choice of using the present tense to orient the reader right in the moment with Kendall was a fantastic decision. However, I’m not sure if it is because I am so used to reading first person narratives, but the use of third person slightly disoriented me, jarring me a bit and taking me out of the story when I wish I would have been sucked further in. Perhaps this was a calculated choice on McMann’s part, but it did not quite work for me.
Perhaps it was this disconnect that never quite let me into Kendall’s world fully, never fully let me connect with her as a three dimensional character. The book itself felt like a framework, waiting to be filled and shaded in more fully. Similarly, Kendall’s growing relationship with Jacian was rather predictable and sudden, and I just never quite felt the chemistry that I was meant to feel.
I also have mixed feelings at the treatment of Kendall’s Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder in the novel. While McMann does depict Kendall’s routines, compulsions, and the panic she feels when her urges are stifled, I still felt like the disorder was being given short shrift and that the author never quite showed the full effect that OCD had on Kendall’s life. The disorder’s ultimate contribution to the novel’s conclusion was a bit of a stretch, and didn’t quite match up to the way that Kendall had experienced OCD throughout the rest of Cryer’s Cross.
While the evil forces working in this book were ultimately explained, the build-up to this revelation was a tad bit confusing to me. Short, not even one page sections between chapters hinted at the supernatural forces threatening Cryer’s Cross, and although these sections made sense upon the book’s conclusion, I then had to go back to the beginning in order to fully make sense of the clues dropped earlier in the novel. I also found the concept of the desks unconvincing, as well. While I may be reading too much into the plot, but the supernatural twist was a stretch for me.
However, where McMann excels is at creating a fast-paced, page-turning narrative that really does give the reader the creeps. The eerie atmosphere permeates every word of Cryer’s Cross. I read this book in a night, eager to see exactly who kidnapped Nico and if Kendall would figure out how exactly the graffiti had a hand in the disappearances. It was also quite refreshing to see a character embrace parts of her mental illness at the end, realizing that all of her quirks and struggles aren’t world-ending, but actually aided her in parts of her life.
Despite some of the weaknesses, this would be a fantastic book for reluctant readers, as well as fans of the Wake series. Paranormal fans of Becca Fitzpatrick’s Hush, Hush, Jeri Smith-Ready’s Shade, and Kelley Armstrong’s Darkest Powers series may also enjoy this.
Cryer’s Cross will be released on February 8, 2011. Review copy received from publisher.