JANE-EMILY by Patricia Clapp

October 29, 2015 |

I went into Jane-Emily not knowing what to expect. In part because the descriptions for this book are all over the map and none of them really get to the heart of what the book’s about. The other reason I didn’t know what to expect was that I am never quite sure how older horror in YA holds up. I knew that a book that was reissued decades after it came out meant that there was something to it, but I had no idea if it would fall into the genuinely creepy camp or would be more in the silly camp.

This falls squarely in the “holds up and is totally creepy” camp.

Liz has been sharing her chapter by chapter thoughts on this one. Go read them. She’s picked up on a number of things that I thought about as I was reading.

Rather than talk about what did and didn’t work in this book — for me, it was an all around winner in terms of working — what really captured my attention with this one was how it was framed and structured and whether or not a book like this would be considered YA today.

Louisa is our narrator, or at least, she’s the primary voice we hear through the story. She’s 18, and she’s been dating a boy for quite a while before she and her cousin Jane go spend a summer at Jane’s grandmother’s home. Understand that Jane has experienced a lot of loss and trauma in her life; this summer is meant to give her the opportunity to be a kid and enjoy her summer. Louisa agrees to go, even though she’s a bit more reluctant. She also reluctantly agrees to send and receive letters with her boyfriend who is far more attached to her than she is to him.

This seems to be Louisa’s thing, being somewhat distant.

The bulk of the story, though, focuses on Jane, who begins to see and experience strange sensations that she knows belong to the spirit of Emily. Emily was her grandmother’s daughter, and she was, as grandma and everyone else in the house continues to say, “a not good kid.” Emily “resides” in a mirror ball, and her spirit continues to reach out to little Jane. It’s creepy in an atmospheric, Shirley Jackson type way — it’s far more about what you don’t see than what you do see. It’s clear that Emily is haunting Jane, though I frequently wondered how much of that was a true spirit haunting her vs how much was Jane’s own trauma coming to haunt her. I think the fact you don’t ever REALLY know is the part that’s most chilling.

But back to Louisa. For being the main voice, we actually never get to know her, aside from the fact that she’s got this boyfriend who she seems distant from, and she’s been set up by her great aunt to meet a local doctor for potential dating purposes. Louisa’s not impressed with the doctor at first, but slowly, he begins winning her over, even though he speaks less-than-flatteringly of women. This book was set in the early 1900s, so pre-suffrage, but there’s little to no pushback on the doctor’s mentality by Louisa. I don’t think it’s because Louisa doesn’t have an opinion; rather, I think it’s because Louisa isn’t interested in telling her own story at all. She’s instead the vessel for Jane/Emily’s story.

This construction fascinates me. Being that Louisa is the teenager here and Jane is a mere 9 years old, it’s a little strange that this book is and was marketed for teenagers. The teenager in the story (the only teenager in the story!) is Louisa, but her story doesn’t matter at all. Rather, this is about the 9 year old, and this is the kind of book that would go over well with middle grade readers. Mary Hahn Downing fans would find a lot of good here.

I think this book would also do well with adult audiences in many ways. Ignoring the nostalgia factor, which is certainly important with this particular book and its potential audience, a lot of the way the book is written has appeal to adult readers who want a chilling story. There’s distance between subject and story, and there is a lot to dig up in terms of what was going on at this historical moment. Again, Liz has done a fabulous job pulling out the questions she’s had as an adult reader, including how old the characters were when big historical events were going on, as well as what was and wasn’t in fashion during this period. The ripeness this book has for that sort of unpacking leads me to think about how appealing it would be for adults; look at books like The Book Thief and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. In different parts of the world, they were treated very differently and for different audiences than in the US.

It’s odd to think of a book being marketed as being for teens doing better or being more suited as a middle grade OR an adult novel, but I do think middle grade and adult fiction have some interesting parallels to them. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought this, but it’s the first time I’ve sat to digest the importance of voice and framing when it comes to where and how a book fits with an audience. Of course, we know “YA” is a marketing tool, rather than a necessary “type” of book, but this book, being one that was indeed intended for teens, seems to allow room for really thinking about what it is that makes a book for teens or not. Jane Emily isn’t interested in the teen’s story at all. But would moving it outside of Louisa’s perspective change it? Would it be as chilling? Would we be able to figure out what’s going on if it were from Jane’s perspective?

All of that isn’t to say teens won’t enjoy this. They will, but I think this book will tick off all the boxes for that 9-12 readership that’s ready for a YA-type book but do not necessarily want YA. It’s told through an older voice, which is immediately appealing, though the story itself is about the experiences of a 9-year-old. It’s creepy in an atmospheric way, so while it could definitely cause nightmares for more faint of heart readers, the primary take away isn’t in Emily’s ghostly (…or not ghostly!) character. It’s far bigger in terms of grief, loss, and trauma.

Another really interesting note on this book: it’s short. The entire story takes place in roughly 140 pages, and it doesn’t take shortcuts in developing story in them. Sure, we don’t get to know much about Louisa or her love life, but Louisa is built as a distant character from the start. We accept the lack of details to be part of how she takes in her world and how she wants to present the story to us. Susan Hill does this same thing, building atmosphere, character, and story, in about the same number of pages in her classic The Woman in Black, too. Which again: my comps for this title fall right into the middle grade *and* adult arenas. Would fans of teen scream queen Lois Duncan like this? Absolutely. But I also think Duncan has great appeal for that 9-12 age range (that’s when I was reading her, for sure).

It’s interesting to think about this book, how well it went over, how it came back into print, and how it lacks the page counts of today’s books. Does brevity help its longevity? Because it doesn’t dwell on details — and it is set in the past — does that help in its timeless feel? Do the holes in the details make it appealing to adults who will want to fill them in with their own historical knowledge?

Jane Emily was such a great read, and I recommend it, if for no other reason than the number of question it left me with in terms of audience, readership, structure, voice, and more. In a lot of ways, its succinctness left those doorways open in a way that a longer, larger, meatier book sometimes closes. And for me as a reader (and as a horror movie lover), the true chills aren’t in the things we see, but in the things that go unsaid and in the questions that stick around for a long, long time.

A Few Cybils Reads – Part II (2015)

October 28, 2015 |

The Game of Love and Death by Martha Brockenbrough

It’s 1930s America, and Love and Death are playing a game. They each have chosen a player: Love has Henry, a white boy whose parents have died, leaving him in the care of a family who considers him not-quite-a-son; Death has Flora, a black girl who dreams of flying her own airplane across the ocean and sings jazz in a nightclub she partly owns. The rules of the game aren’t quite clear initially, but as readers we do know that these two teenagers will fall in love, and the implication is that their love will be rocky and affect Love and Death – and perhaps the world – in uncertain ways. This is a slow-moving and contemplative story, one that takes a considerable investment of time to appreciate. At first I found it difficult to connect with the story and its characters, which I think is deliberate. The narration is third-person omniscient (mainly), which can often lead to that kind of feel. Some portions are told from the perspective of Love and Death, and they’re both inscrutable entities, though they become a bit clearer as the story goes on. This kind of narration brings inevitable comparisons to The Book Thief, though the two didn’t seem very similar to me. By the time I got over halfway through, though, I felt like I knew the characters on a really deep level – and I felt like I knew Love and Death, too, despite their strangeness. This is a unique sort of book that should appeal to fans of historical fiction and those seeking something different.

A Thousand Pieces of You by Claudia Gray

This is a story about parallel worlds, which is one of my plot kryptonites. Marguerite’s parents are scientists who have been researching the possibility of travel to parallel worlds, and just as it seemed they had finally figured it out, one of their research assistants – Paul – kills Marguerite’s father and steals all of his research, running away to one of these parallel worlds. Marguerite teams up with another research assistant, Theo, and they go after him. Of course, all is not as it seems, and Marguerite begins to suspect that Paul was framed – but by whom, and for what reason? Fleshing out this mystery is a really fun series of adventures. Marguerite and Theo first travel to a world where technology has advanced at a much faster rate, so we get to see what a potential future would be like. Then they find themselves in Russia in a world where neither the Russian Revolution nor the Industrial Revolution happened – though both might be on the cusp of happening, putting Marguerite in exceptional danger. It’s tons of fun to see all of these possibilities play out, like the best combination of a parallel worlds and alternate history story. There’s a love triangle that adds a lot of appeal, and the question of who really killed Marguerite’s father and why propels the story forward. Exciting and well-written.

Magonia by Maria Dahvana Headley

Aza Ray Boyle has always been sickly. Since she was a small child, she’s had trouble breathing, and it’s sent her to the hospital many times. She wasn’t expected to live to see her 16th birthday, which is right around the corner. She’s been hearing something calling her name lately, and then something crazy happens with a bird, and Aza dies – maybe. She actually wakes up on a ship in the sky, surrounded by strange bird-people, though her body is being buried on the earth below. It turns out Aza is actually one of these bird-people, kidnapped at a young age, and her mother – a bird person as well – has finally found her and brought her “home.” This is one of the weirder books I’ve read. You’ve really got to buy into the concept of a race of bird-people living up in the sky unbeknownst to all the humans below, plus believe the explanation for how Aza’s body was buried but she isn’t really dead. The narration (I listened to this one on audio) is excellent, infused with all the panic and disbelief that Aza feels when she finds herself in a sky ship. Aza’s voice overall is pretty good, actually, and starts the book off really strong – she’s snarky about her illness and how people treat her because of it, and there’s a lot of dark humor in the early parts. Personally, I never fully connected with the bird-people living in the sky plotline, but I’m sure it’s just the right kind of weird for another reader.

Covering JANE-EMILY: A Look at Design

October 26, 2015 |

This week, both of my posts will be about Patricia Clapp’s classic Jane Emily, as I’m taking part in a read and blog along with Leila Roy and Liz Burns.

It’s been a while since I’ve done a YA book cover retrospective, wherein I pull up as many of the old covers of a book as possible and look at the ways it’s evolved and what/where it might fit into the book’s story. Jane Emily was originally published in 1969, to see a few cover evolutions over the course of its early life. When it was brought back into print in 2007 by Harper, it took on another cover that, despite being new, still harkened back to the original look.

I’ve tried to pull as much information as possible about these covers, but there may be places where it’s missing or unavailable. Anyone who knows more or knows of other cover variations — foreign covers, especially — feel free to let me know. I’d also love to know what you think about these covers, whether or not you’ve read the book. I’m purposefully talking about the covers before the content because, as we know, covers are what “sell” a book. Is a novel from 1969 still able to be sold to today’s teen readers?

You might be surprised.

Original 1969 Cover

The original cover for Jane Emily is quite simple and offers surprisingly little into what the story may be about. The girl on the cover appears to be a teenager, and behind her, there’s a younger girl looking into a wishing ball. The use of flowers here is representative of something in the book, though as they’re rendered here, they don’t make a whole lot of sense to the cover. The house, of course, does play a role in the story.

Design wise, this is dated, but it’s interesting to note that it does contain representations of all the key pieces of the story. Though the fact it’s focused heavily on the older girl — Louisa — seems misrepresentative of what the story’s truly about. This is something I’ll hit on in talking more in depth about the book, but the primary focus is on Jane, who you see looking through the wishing ball in the background.

Looking at this cover wouldn’t suggest it’s a horror read. It looks a little bit like it’s the kind of story a reader who loves Anne of Green Gables might want to pick up. Sure, Louisa has a romance in it and sure, there are moments of sweetness, but the feel of the book is atmospheric and haunting and creepy.

1971 Paperback

There is nothing I do not love about the 1971 Dell paperback edition of Jane Emily. This is a cover that screams horror, that embodies atmosphere, and it puts Jane/Emily in the center of the story. There’s also a really great pull quote from the Booklist review to hammer home to readers that this is a scary read.

It’s interesting to look at the way the house is depicted here, as opposed to how it’s depicted in the hardcover above. In this one, it’s clearly Gothic and sinister. In the hardcover, the house looks like the White House — it’s stately, clean, and not menacing, but elegant. This paperback cover doesn’t have a whiff of romance to it, either.

The look of horror and shock on the girl’s face is so fantastic. This cover would have absolutely sold me on the book when I was a teen reader (or honestly, a middle grade reader wanting to “read up”) and it’d be the kind of book that I’d have scooped up if I saw it in a used book store.

1974 Paperback

The quality of this cover image is bad, but it’s the best one I could find in my searching. From 1974, we take the look in a direction that tries to marry the romantic vibes of the original hardcover with the most sinister feel of the paperback. But this particular cover doesn’t offer a feeling of either one. It’s a weird shade of bubblegum pink, with a young girl who seems to have oddly blue-green skin looking into the mirror ball. There are still flowers here,but they’re roses (which isn’t the flower in the book that matters). And rather than a house in the background, we have a forest, along with a glowing orange orb that could be either a sun or a moon. It’s hard to say, seeing the sky is an odd shade of yellow.

Without question, this cover tries to appeal to female readers. But it also doesn’t do the story justice. You know there’s something odd going on with the mirror ball, but it looks more like a Wizard of Oz type tale than it does a horror read.

I snagged this cover image from a really fascinating post about the book from Kelly R. Fineman from 2008 on Livejournal. I love how she talks about rereading this one and how much she remembers the experiences of reading it.

Portuguese Edition

Again, another poor quality image because the same one appears to be used over and over throughout the internet. This particular cover is of the Portuguese edition of Jane Emily. I’ve been unable to come up with a year for this one, as I’ve seen some sites suggest it came out at the same time as the hardcover, but I also found a glut of sites sharing reviews and discussions of this one from 2009.

The cover for this foreign edition is pretty great. It looks a lot like a horror film poster, and it’s effective in telling the reader this is about a younger girl and a house that isn’t all that it seems to be. This is a stripped down look from the others, too, as we don’t see a lot of the elements that make up the story shown. There’s not a mirror ball, nor is there a garden or flowers. Again, the focal point is on Jane, the younger girl, rather than Louisa, the teen in the story.

In a lot of ways, this cover looks like it’s aimed at an adult audience more than anything. It looks mature and complex even in its simplicity.

The font for the title reminds me a lot of Jane Eyre here. I can’t place my finger on why, other than the names looking similar. Perhaps I’ve seen an edition of the Bronte classic with this sort of font treatment.

1993 Beech Tree Books Paperback

If a cover could encompass the 1990s teen paperback aesthetic, this is it. It’s filled with clashing covers, weird illustrations, and it’s smashed together in a collage that indeed includes everything from the book. Where to begin?

First, we have Jane at the center. Kind of. But it’s not really Jane — it’s Emily through the mirror ball. Of course, unless you’ve read the book, you wouldn’t know that. Then there’s Louisa, who takes the big image in the middle of the page. She’s very “buttoned up” here, which I didn’t get the sense of from the book being her look or style. Behind her is the doctor (I believe!) that she begins to see romantically while at her aunt’s home. But that’s not a given; it could be her boyfriend from back home, Marcus. I’m betting though it’s the doctor by appearance alone.

Also included on the cover are the house, which looks more stately than ominous,as well as the flowers and garden that play a role in the story. Then there’s another weird bubble going on in the background, too. I’m not entirely sure the role of that, but I guess they needed to use something to fill the space on the cover since nothing else would bring it all together quite the same way.

The tag line for this, though, is the clincher for me: “A ghost story. And a romance.”

That makes it sound like it’s a possible romance with a ghost, doesn’t it? And yes, there is romance in here, but it’s hardly a big deal in the story and it’s not what a reader will pick this one up for. If they do, they’re going to be pretty surprised about how that all plays out.

2007 Harper Paperback Reissue

Taking bits from the Dell paperback is the Harper rerelease from 2007. I love this cover — it’s absolutely perfect for the novel, as it captures the eerie supernatural spirit. I love especially that it’s askew. We don’t see a hard-on image of Jane, but we see her on the side, holding onto the mirror ball and looking frightened by what she sees in it.

The house, which could look stately, is made to look creepy through the use of the branches and green-blue shades. It’s so simple, but there’s a sort of perfection in the simplicity.

My favorite part, though, might be the font treatment. I love how it feels old and classic, making it clear this isn’t the kind of scary story you’d pick up right now and expect today’s world to be inside. This has an old Gothic flavor to it, right down to the light yellow color on Clapp’s name. My only complaint about the choice in font, though, is that the title isn’t particularly distinct from Clapp’s name. This might not be the case were the title not also a name, which I can see causing some confusion.

While I only have seen the 2007 edition in person, since it’s the one I bought, it’s worth noting it’s also the largest in size. Jane-Emily is only about 140 pages long, so the previous editions of the book are thin. The 2007 edition, though, contains a second book within it, so it’s much more on par size-wise with traditional trade paperbacks in YA today, though it has two books inside.

October Debut YA Novels

October 22, 2015 |

It’s time for another round-up of debut YA novels of the month.

Like always, this round-up includes debut novels, where “debut” is in its purest definition. These are first-time books by first-time authors. I’m not including books by authors who are using or have used a pseudonym in the past or those who have written in other categories (adult, middle grade, etc.) in the past.

All descriptions are from WorldCat, unless otherwise noted. If I’m missing any debuts out in September from traditional publishers — and I should clarify that indie presses are okay — let me know in the comments. As always, not all noted titles included here are necessarily endorsements for those titles.

The Distance From Me to You by Marina Gessner: McKenna and her best friend planned for over a year to defer their freshman year of college to hike the Appalachian Trail all the way from Maine to Georgia, so when her friend backs out McKenna embarks alone on a physical and emotional journey that will change her life forever.

First & Then by Emma Mills: Devon is a high school senior, wondering if she really wants to go to college, what to do with her cousin Foster (a freshman) who has moved in with her family in Florida, and whether she likes Ezra, the stuck-up football star at her school, or cannot stand him.

An Infinite Number of Parallel Universes by Randy Ribay: As their senior year approaches, four diverse friends joined by their weekly Dungeons & Dragons game struggle to figure out real life. Archie’s trying to cope with the lingering effects of his parents’ divorce, Mari’s considering an opportunity to contact her biological mother, Dante’s working up the courage to come out to his friends, and Sam’s clinging to a failing relationship. The four eventually embark on a cross-country road trip in an attempt to solve–or to avoid–their problems

It’s A Wonderful Death by Sarah J. Schmitt: Seventeen-year-old RJ always gets what she wants. So when her soul is accidentally collected by a distracted Grim Reaper, somebody in the afterlife better figure out a way to send her back from the dead or heads will roll

Romancing the Dark in the City of Light by Ann Jacobus: A troubled American teen, living in Paris, is torn between two boys, one of whom encourages her to embrace life, while the other–dark, dangerous, and attractive–urges her to embrace her fatal flaws.

Underneath Everything by Marcy Beller Paul: Mattie discovers surprising things about herself and her long-term best friends when she decides she has had enough of her self-imposed isolation from most of the school and two of her three friends, reconnects with her ex-boyfriend, and enjoys all the parties senior year has to offer.

We’ll Never Be Apart by Emiko Jean: Haunted by memories of the fire that killed her boyfriend, seventeen-year-old Alice Monroe is in a mental ward when, with support from fellow patient Chase, she begins to confront hidden truths in a journal, including that the only person she trusts may be telling her only half of the story.

Willful Machines by Tim Floreen: In a near-future America, a sentient computer program named Charlotte has turned terrorist, but Lee Fisher, the closeted son of an ultraconservative President, is more concerned with keeping his Secret Service detail from finding out about his developing romance with Nico, the new guy at school, but when the spider-like robots that roam the school halls begin acting even stranger than usual, Lee realizes he is Charlotte’s next target.

Recently Read: ONE by Sarah Crossan and SEE NO COLOR by Shannon Gibney

October 19, 2015 |

October is on track to be the best reading month of 2015 for me. I’m not particularly surprised, though. Since I track my reading, it looks to me like this is a regular occurrence: every October I tend to read more books than in other months. Part of it is that the weather always seems to give me more energy, and the other part is that I tend to let myself read more than one book at a time, since I love trying to read as many horror novels as possible, in addition to my regular reads.

Instead of talking about those horror reads, though, here’s a look at two recent YA novels I devoured. One of these came out recently, and the other will be hitting shelves shortly. They’re both novels featuring characters who aren’t your typical white girls, and both are the kinds of stories that will really resonate with teen readers.

One by Sarah Crossan

Grace and Tippi are conjoined twins. Their bodies are connected from the hip downward, and they’ve been operating as two girls in one shared body for their entire lives. But now that money is tight at home, they’re being sent to a special private school, paid for by the state. Entering a new school has both girls concerned about how others will look at them, react to them, and treat them. Lucky for them, they find two new friends — maybe one who is a little more than a friend to Grace — who accept them and help them make the transition more smoothly.

It’s anything but smooth, though, as both girls begin feeling their body/ies falling ill. It starts slowly, but then things begin to get more serious. And when a visit to their specialist doctor reveals there’s a serious problem, they and their family have to make the decision on whether or not it’s time to surgically separate them.

Told in verse, Crossan develops a really thought-provoking, sympathetic, and emotionally-engaging story about Grace and Tippi. This is the kind of book readers who want a tear-jerker will love, since it’s going to bring tears throughout.

More than being a story about the conjoined twins, though, this book looks at the whole life of the girls. We see how their parents struggle with keeping a job and an income. We see a father succumbing to alcoholism. We see a younger sister whose life has been upended time and time again because of the needs of her conjoined sisters. Where many would see this as a novel packed with a lot of things, Crossan weaves these threads together effortlessly and shows how stories about “big things” like conjoined twins are never confined to a single narrative. There are so many elements that are a part of their lives outside of their body/ies, and Crossan offers us such a nice picture of that. One of the things Grace talks about is how she and her sister get tired of answering intrusive questions, and by offering an insight into the bigger, more life-altering elements of their lives, we as readers are forced to pause and wonder why it is we’re curious about the weird things, rather than empathetic about the whole picture.

One should also be applauded for having a beautiful design. This is a book you want to read in print because the verse is laid out elegantly, but more, the little design elements throughout really do pack a punch. The silhouette on the cover goes throughout the story, and it is one of the pieces that will further the need for a tissue at the end of the story. A smart, fast, and engaging read for readers who are curious about twins, conjoined twins, verse novels, and more. One is available now.

See No Color by Shannon Gibney (November 1)

Alex has never thought about the fact she’s a mixed-race girl who was adopted by a white family. She’s never put too much thought about the fact she has both a younger brother and sister who are white, born from the mother and father who adopted her after thinking they could never have children. Alex’s big driver in life has been being the great baseball player that her father has pushed her toward being. After his own career as a potential big leaguer in Milwaukee falls apart, he pours all of his energy into making Alex and her brother the next big stars on the field.

Her game, though, begins slipping. And when Alex’s game begins slipping, she begins to pay more and more attention to her racial status. She begins hearing what people say about her and more, she begins to think about the lies she tells people, including the black boy she’s met and begins taking a shine to. Where other people regularly say they don’t see her race, Alex begins to understand that’s not necessarily a compliment. Yet she’s not quite sure what to think of herself, either.

Alex begins to spend more time with her black boyfriend’s family, and she begins to really think about blackness as part of her identity. She also discovers, through the aid of her sister, the name of her real father, and she takes it upon herself to drive out and visit him in Michigan — where she’s confronted again with the reality of her black identity. These are situations in which she’s uncomfortable, but they’re ones that force her and the reader to understand that her black identity matters. There’s a particularly moving scene where Alex goes to a black beauty shop for the first time and learns — really learns — how her hair and her looks require a different sort of treatment that she has to learn for herself. But more, what this scene reveals is that her white family has to step back and recognize and acknowledge blackness as a part of her identity, too.

This fast-paced, shorter novel packs a punch. Transracial adoption, black identity, baseball, and romance all play a part in the story, but they’re not the whole of Alex’s story. This slice-of-life story will resonate with so many readers, including more reluctant ones, so make sure you find space on your shelf for it and more, make sure this is the kind of book you’re promoting and book talking with readers. There is much to dig into here, and it’s timely, relevant, and more, it’s timeless. Gibney doesn’t offer a time period setting in this one, though as a reader, I found it to be set in the late 90s or early 00s, simply because of a lack of technology/access to technology. But that lack of true time setting is a benefit to the story, as it furthers the themes as ones that always resonate.

Pair this book with Renee Watson’s This Side of Home. They’d make for outstanding conversation about race, identity, and family. Hannah Gomez wrote in depth about this title over on her blog, and because she can talk about things I cannot in terms of experience, I highly recommend reading her take on this book, too (it’s positive!).