STACKED

books

The Eternal Smile, by Gene Luen Yang and Derek Kirk Kim

|

Yang and Kim team up for The Eternal Smile, a graphic novel that uses three different stories to explore fantasy versus reality, and the ways in which the two overlap. It’s a fascinating theme that carries with it layers of potential meaning. While I believe both Yang and Kim collaborated on the storylines, the words in the book are by Yang and the illustrations are by Kim.

The first story features Duncan, a stereotypical hero in a sword-and-sorcery land who must save the kingdom (and the princess) from a terrible villain. It’s a great story to start off this trio of stories where things are never what they appear, since it seems at first that Duncan’s tale is simply one of those by-the-numbers fantasy tales we see so often. In fact, it’s not one of those at all, and the ending turns this little tale into a powerful story with a powerful meaning.

The second story is about an avaricious frog named Gran’pa Greenbax and his obsession with money. One day, Gran’pa Greenbax finds a smile up in the sky (from which the title of the book is derived), and his life is changed forever. Again, thing are not what they appear.

These first two stories are clever and thoughtful, but it is the final story, about a cubicle worker named Janet Oh, that really makes the book a worthwhile read. Janet works in an unrewarding job with a boss who degrades her. One day, she gets an email from Henry, a Nigerian prince, who desperately needs her help. All she has to do is give him her banking information, and he will give her a large cut of his family’s wealth and carry her away to Nigeria. What you think you know about Janet’s motivations is wrong. This last story is my runaway favorite – it’s so deceptively deep, and sweet too.

Unlike Yang’s Printz-winning novel American-Born Chinese, the three stories in The Eternal Smile do not all coalesce at the end. They are related only by their emphasis on a common theme. Their exploration of this theme is so well-done that I went back and re-read them the same night I picked up the book. This book especially lends itself to re-reading because of its emphasis on how we use fantasy in our lives – to escape from reality, to enhance our lives, to empower ourselves. Each story is more than just a fun romp – there is meaning there. This is what makes the book a good read, and one I’d recommend. While I feel I can safely recommend books that are fun but pretty devoid of meaning, I do try to attach a disclaimer to them (“Well, I enjoyed it, BUT…”). No disclaimer necessary for this one.

I admit that I’m a late adopter of graphic novels. I wrote them off as glorified comic books when they first started to make their mark in libraries, and when I had to read one for a school assignment, I dreaded the fact that I’d actually have to pay attention to the pictures in order to understand the story. I quickly got over this bias. I read Linda Medley’s lovely and clever Castle Waiting, and then I read Watchmen, and my prejudice against graphic novels was erased. In these two novels I read before The Eternal Smile, the illustrations were wonderful and creative and expressive and interesting. The same goes for the illustrations by Kim in The Eternal Smile. His illustrations for each story are so different in flavor that I initially thought they must each have been drawn by a different person. The drawings for the third story are particularly lovely, with each frame washed in a light blueish-gray hue – until, that is, Janet visits Nigeria, and the frames come alive with color (reminiscent of The Wizard of Oz film in more ways than one).

I still don’t see much of a difference between graphic novels and comic books, except graphic novels have the requisite beginning, middle, and end, whereas comic books are serial in nature (this is not a hard and fast rule, but it seems to be the main distinguishing factor). I’ve just come to realize that graphic novels can vary as much in quality as novels without pictures do.

Aside from clever stories and beautiful illustrations, the book itself is also a work of art. I read one reviewer describe the physical feel of the book as “solid,” and I agree with that description. It’s a surprisingly heavy book for its size, with thick paper that just feels wonderful in your hands. And it has that smell – you know, the “new book” smell that accompanies books with heavy, glossy pages and bright ink. It really belies my initial assumption of graphic novels as “comic books with a fancier name.” This book does not at all resemble the flimsy, thin-paged Archie comics I sometimes read as a kid. I’ve read some authors describe the difference between a graphic novel and a comic book as “the binding,” and that’s not totally wrong. But the binding makes a difference. This book is well-made, and I think that will go a long way in making kids want to pick it up. While younger kids may have a harder time understanding the levels of meaning in the book (the satirical nature of the second story in particular may go unnoticed), older kids and teens will likely get more out of it. Fans of fantasy stories may also come to see their favorite genre in a new light.

The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University, Kevin Roose

|

One of my favorite reads in the last couple of years was A.J. Jacobs’ A Year of Living Biblically, published in late 2007. Jacobs, who admits to not being the most religious person, spent a year living as close to the Bible as possible. While it sounded like it could get out of hand real fast — at least in my opinion — I found the book did a great job of treating a touchy subject like religion well. I learned a lot and gained a sense of respect for very devout people. I’d say his book changed my mind about many things.

Suffice to say, I was excited to pick up Kevin Roose’s The Unlikely Disciple, which came out this year. Roose’s book is an exploration into a semester at Liberty University, also known as Jerry Falwell’s dream evangelical liberal arts university. Roose took a semester off school from the ultra liberal Brown University to become a student at Liberty and understand who attends the school and exactly what the educational and social life is like at such a conservative institution.

Because this is a work of non-fiction, there’s not a lot to discuss plot-wise in a review. I found a lot of what Roose learned in his adventure to be entirely new to me, too. My perceptions and ideas of such a place were skewed much as Roose’s were and it was enjoyable to read about a lot of those perceptions being just flat out wrong. Perhaps it’s my background in psychology, but there is something fascinating for me in learning my ideas are actually far off the mark about things like this. Moreover, I loved seeing Roose change as a person, too. He made good friends with many people at Liberty, and I found the conclusion of his time at Liberty to be just….sweet. I won’t go into details about that aspect nor about the huge event that happened at the end of his semester which I had not even remembered to think about until he reported it.

This is a book that people who liked Jacobs’ work will like, as well as people interested in how a facility like Liberty runs [less on the administrative side and more on the social/student side]. The Unlikely Disciple is written in a journalistic style that makes it easy to skip around when parts get dull or are just not of interest to you as a reader. I appreciated that as some parts did a little dragging. Roose is respectful, attentive to detail, and does a good job of telling a story.

Throughout the book, I did have an ethical question that did not arise out of what Roose was doing. Roose admitted in the first chapter of his book that he interned for Jacobs while at Brown. Considering the time frame in which Jacobs did his experiment and published a book and the internship and subsequent experiment by Roose, it seems almost certain to me this entire story is ingenuine in its goals. I dislike speaking ill of a good story, but I do have a problem with the notion that Roose either a. did this because his mentor did it, b. did it at the suggestion of his mentor, c. got himself the book deal before embarking on the experiment, or d. some combination therein. There is a lot of discussion in the reading world about Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love because she got her book deal before embarking on her life changing journey. Well, it seems to me that Roose got his book deal before deciding to do this experiment.

How geniune are the lessons then? Does it impact how you read the book? I’m curious because I really did enjoy the concept and the way the story comes together, but there is a lingering feeling of disingenuity in this book that makes me question both Roose and Jacobs and makes me a bit hesitant to want to read more from either of them. It seems more about the money than about the story, in a manner that most journalists seems to rail against.

Should we not read or promote the books? Nah, I think people will enjoy them and I enjoyed them. But there’s a point where you need to take it with a grain of salt and constantly question your author. Perhaps the real value is in enjoying the story while also being able to think critically about the source and the spin — something invaluable in navigating a world fraught with information and disinformation.

Genesis by Bernard Beckett

|

Genesis by Bernard Beckett was STACKED’s first round-robin review choice. Each of us read the book and offer our takes on this new title. We took something different, so enjoy and if you’ve read it, PLEASE share your takes!

Kimberly:

I’ve mentioned before that I love dystopias. “Love” may not even be a strong enough word for the way I feel about them. It began with The Giver in middle school and was solidified when I read Biting the Sun as a teenager. (These two books, plus Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake, form the pinnacle of great dystopias, in my oh so humble opinion.) Since then, I’ve followed a steady diet of dystopian fiction, reading mostly everything I could get my hands on. There have been some duds, some gems, and some in-between.

So is Genesis a dud or a gem? Easy answer – definitely a gem.

Genesis is still a weird book, even by dystopia standards. The story is set sometime in the nebulous future on what used to be New Zealand. The world has been devastated by a plague, and the island is the only place left inhabited. Anax, our protagonist, wants to enter the prestigious Academy, and in order to do so, she must pass a grueling four-hour oral test. This book is the record of that test, and through the test, the reader learns about the world in which Anax lives.

Genesis is a short novel – a novella, really – and its length is one of its strengths. The format of the book is mostly a sustained conversation between Anax and her examiners. Due to this format, most of what happens is told rather than shown, which is usually considered a major taboo when writing fiction. Beckett makes it work. Coming in at just over a hundred pages, the conversation could become tedious or frustrating if it went on for much longer. As it is, the book is just long enough to keep the reader in suspense, and just short enough to prevent the reader from being so frustrated as to give up.

Dystopias are always better when you don’t know much about the plot, so I’m not going to go into it any further here. Most dystopias have a grand twist – or several twists – at the end that try their best to rip your heart out and shake up your world, making you question everything you just read. I like to believe that predicting these twists has become old hat for me, but often I am still surprised. Genesis surprised me. After I had finished the book, I had to open it back up to re-read several sections. I’m still thinking about it many days later. The twist makes the book, but that’s not the only thing that recommends it as a good read. Beckett presents some enduring questions about the nature of humanity (that have admittedly been asked before), and his writing is excellent.

I think Genesis will appeal to fans of the subgenre who are eager for something new and fresh. While Beckett certainly uses tropes that have been used before (the four levels of society are particularly reminiscent of Brave New World), the story is told in a unique way, and the ending is surprising and deceptive in its simplicity. It was hugely fun to go back through the book and pick up the seemingly innocuous clues that would have given away the secret, if only I had paid closer attention. Despite its brevity, Beckett’s book is deep. For those readers who may not be quite as familiar with the dystopia canon, this book may seem really “out there.” I don’t think it’s something they can’t handle, though, and because of their ignorance of the subgenre, the book may be all the more exciting and make that much more of an impact.

Bonuses: When you’re done reading, take another glance at the cover. Something there will have a different meaning than when you first looked. Also, the book’s Amazon page has a simple, but cool, trailer.


Kelly:
This book flew! When I began and throughout the first three hours of the interview, I kept thinking about books that delve into philosophical arguments like Ishmael and Sophie’s World. Though Genesis is based on a dystopian society and the history and philosophies underpinning the story are entirely fictitious, it was saddled in such a way to be almost realistic in a future world.

I’m being purposely vague in my review because that is how a reader should approach this title. You’ll read it and be both thoroughly confused and understand exactly what is going on — Anax’s exam is about sharing her beliefs in what happened during the history of her society, so there is a lot of history and postulation that the reader is in on and which leaves the reader out. This is okay.

Though there were times I wanted to reread and try to understand the history as intimately as possible, I did not and recommend not doing so. Getting the idea of what is happening and focusing on Anax, rather than what she’s saying, will pay off heavily in the end. This is the sort of book that kept me wanting to read. I kept thinking about it when I put it down, and I kept thinking to myself that I knew what was going to happen.
But the ending? What a twist! I was convinced I knew what was going to happen, but then I was thrown off kilter and felt like Beckett did a real service to me for that. Genesis was not the book I was expecting, and for that reason, I really felt like this was one of the best I’ve read this year.

Genesis will appeal to those who love dystopias, philosophically-driven books, or something “just different,” if you will.

Although we’re round robin reviewing this one, I have to say that keeping the story vague is important; to really get the pleasure of reading this one, you have to go in knowing very little and build your own expectations and conclusions. Likewise, this very fast read is one I wanted to open again as soon as I finished it. I’m pretty excited with how much exposure this one is getting. I received it as an advanced reading copy but just as I got it in the mail, I noticed it all over the airport, too. I think this is one of those titles that can appeal to so many readers, but it will require the reader put aside their biases — those who have been turned off to “harder” reading (think of those I mentioned before, as well as other titles like Candide) might not be willing to invest in this one. I think it could help shift those biases, though.

Jennifer:

I’m going to be the lone dissenter in this love-fest for Genesis. I agree, this is a well-written, interesting book containing an unusual dystopia within its pages. But after reading, I can’t say that I liked this novella.

I found that Genesis has more in common with a screenplay than a novel. I kept imagining how it would be filmed. The recited dialogues would be flashbacks filmed with soft lighting. The holograms would really just cut away to tense battles of wills reminiscent of 12 Angry Men. Some sort of tricky device would be used to reveal the final twists; I can see an aspiring director filming everything from a first person point of view in order to emphasize the final reveal. With a little reformatting, Beckett’s work could easily be turned into a script – just change the spacing, add a couple of sluglines to establish place, and the transformation is complete! The structure lends itself to a future movie deal. Intentional? It’s hard to tell.

Maybe I’m a cynical product of my surroundings. I live in Los Angeles, a place where the majority of media consumption is film-related. A frightening number of my friends call themselves aspiring screenwriters; dystopia is a popular topic. I’m reminded of the inordinately large number of student films deal with similar philosophical issues… replete with unexpected turn at the end.

I read through this book thinking, “I’ve seen this before.” I know much is intentional, especially in regards to Beckett’s inclusion of classical philosophy and Judeo-Christian theology. Those examples declare themselves loudly, pointing to their sources with little subtlety. Glimpses of modern popular culture rare their heads within this novel as well. Joseph and the young Adam reek of “Maverick” and “Goose” from Top Gun. I could imagine stormtroopers from Star Wars as soldiers in the New Republic. And the first encounter between Pericles and Anax contains much of the simmering sexual chemistry of Sarah and Charles from John Fowles’ The French Lieteunant’s Woman. It feels like Beckett draws upon familar myths to lull the reader into a sense of understanding of this world and our protagonist.

This is a smart book, going beyond a simple amalgamation of all the ideas presented in Philosophy 101. Beckett seems like he genuinely cares about the nature of humanity. But in the end, something rings false for me. I never full engaged with the history lesson or our historian. Unlike Kelly and Kimberly, I had real problems getting the willpower to struggle through the countless arguments and conversations. I felt manipulated and unwilling to draw my own conclusions from the novel. It just wasn’t for me.

I will, however, agree that the cover is exceptionally well-done. I love the additional layers of meaning that develop after reading the novella.

BBC America Audiobook club

|


Here at STACKED, we like audiobooks. We also like book clubs. So why not put the two together? That’s just what the lovely folks over at BBC Audiobooks America have done. Their June selection is Peter Benchley’s Jaws, and they’ll be having a discussion at their facebook page from June 24-28. Just become a fan of the group and then dazzle everyone with your insights. As long as you’re located in the United States or Canada, you can participate.

It just so happens that June is audiobook month, so this is a good opportunity for those of you who might not have thought about picking one up to get in on the movement. I have yet to enter a library that doesn’t have audiobooks for checkout, and Jaws is such a classic, it would surprise me greatly if your own local library didn’t have it. Then you can tell us if it’s true that the book is always better than the movie. (In my oh so humble opinion, this is not a true adage, but that is a topic for another day…)

Double Take, Part VI

|

This double take comes courtesy of the lovely Janssen. Like many of the other titles that have been featured as double takes, it seems crazy to me that two books can have the same cover and be published so close together.

Remember this title I reviewed? After the Moment features a distinctive cover:

Freymann-Weyr’s book was published May 18 of this year by Houghton Mifflin Books for Children. I actually really liked the cover, as it captured a great moment of emotion, had a great color that stood out from the crowd, and, well, I’d never seen anything like it before. A refreshing change of pace, really.

But wait!

Get a look at Felicia C. Sullivan’s Sky Isn’t Visible from Here, published April 2009 by HarperCollins:

Yep, same cover, same girl, very similar color. The difference, of course, is the cropping of the picture itself.

Although I usually don’t have a strong opinion on “who did it better,” I think Freymann-Weyr’s cover is better because it better captures an emotion. I don’t like the cropped face in Sullivan’s cover because it shields an emotion in the book, and while I don’t believe as readers we should be hand held through character depiction, I do think that that emotional set up is a perfect rendering of the book itself. I haven’t read Sullivan’s book yet, so I can’t say for sure that the decision on cropping is representative of anything within it. Likewise, something else interesting to note with Sullivan’s cover is that this is just one of the cover variations — this cover is quite different and striking in a very different way.

What do you think? Who did it better?