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Romance Roundup

March 18, 2015 |

Any Duchess Will Do by Tessa Dare
I read a Tessa Dare book a couple of years ago and was underwhelmed. But I keep seeing her on lists of favorites, so I decided I’d give her another try. I’m glad I did. Any Duchess Will Do is funny, swoony, and narrated quite well by Eva Kaminsky, who nails both the upper-crust English voice of the hero (a duke) and the lower-class English voice of the heroine (a serving girl). It’s a re-telling of Pygmalion/My Fair Lady, in a way: the duke claims he will not get married, his mother tells him he must, he picks out a serving girl to annoy her, the mother says “game on” and decides to turn the serving girl into a duchess, hoping her son will then marry her.

The duke, Griffin, is kind of a jerk, but not in an “I’m going to go out of my way to make you feel awful” way. It’s more of an “I’m just concerned with myself and only myself” way. He makes an appearance in a previous book in the series, where he comes off rather badly. He does better for himself here. I doubted Dare’s ability to make me see him sympathetically, but she does a good job. Pauline, the serving girl, is a vastly more interesting character though. She has aspirations to start a library, stocked with naughty books for the ladies of her town to read, and she agrees to go through duchess training because Griffin has agreed to pay her to do a bad job and help get his mother off his back. The money he promises her will start the library. The pairing is a little different from most romances (where the woman is usually high-born), making this a refreshing read.

Just Like Heaven by Julia Quinn
I’ve read two of the other books in Quinn’s Smythe-Smith quartet, which share a universe with her much-beloved Bridgerton series. I didn’t really love them. They weren’t terrible, but their leads didn’t have much chemistry, the stakes felt ridiculous, and there wasn’t much personality to them – surprising to me, since Quinn’s books are usually loaded with personality. That’s what makes her so hugely popular.

Just Like Heaven, narrated by Rosalyn Landor, is actually pretty good. It’s the first book in the series (I read romance series out of order since there’s really no spoiling anything here) and it’s a sweet one. It doesn’t put its characters through the wringer. The hero isn’t particularly tortured and the heroine not particularly self-doubting or put upon by others. They love their families and have been friends for years. They actually get together rather easily, compared to most romances I’ve read lately. If this sounds a little boring, that’s because it sort of is. It’s not Quinn’s best work, but coming off of the other two disappointing books, it was nice to get a solid one. And there’s always room for the sweet stuff in historical romance. We don’t need all Tragic Heroes all the time.

The Luckiest Lady in London by Sherry Thomas
My previous experiences with Sherry Thomas have all been with her YA books, which are excellent. This was my first historical romance by her and I’m so sad my library doesn’t own anything else of hers on audio. Corrie James narrates this one, and she does an excellent job – but it’s Thomas’ writing that carries it.

The book features a hero whose parents modeled a loveless, manipulative marriage and a heroine who must marry well in order to support her impoverished family. Neither is looking for love, and when they marry each other, they don’t expect to find it. I’m not normally a fan of romances where marriage happens before deep affection or love, but this one works really well. Thomas’ writing is sharp, her portraits of these two flawed characters well-done. The exchanges between the two leads are witty, like the best banter from the Bridgerton books, but with a darker edge. I thoroughly believed in their attraction at the outset and their love at the end. There’s no real “hook” to this story plot-wise that sets it apart from others; it’s the execution that makes it shine.

Filed Under: review, Reviews, Romance, Uncategorized

Written in the Stars by Aisha Saeed

March 17, 2015 |

Naila is a first-generation American, the daughter of conservative Pakistani immigrants. Her parents allow her a fair amount of freedom, they think: she can choose her friends and what she studies in college and what her career will be, but boys are off-limits. They will choose her husband.

But Naila has fallen in love with a classmate, Saif, a boy of whom she knows her parents will disapprove. When they find out, they are disappointed, angry, outraged. They decide to visit Pakistan over the summer, ostensibly to help Naila learn about her culture and her heritage. Naila actually enjoys her time there, getting to know family she has never met and a place she’s never been. But her parents keep delaying their return to the United States, and Naila eventually learns the reason for the frequent visits from families with young sons: her parents intend to marry her off, and Naila will not have a choice in the matter.

This is a nail-biter of a book. It’s under 300 pages with relatively large text and short chapters. Naila’s knowledge of her impending forced marriage comes rather late in the book, but it’s something the reader has known all along (provided they read the jacket flap). I think this actually heightens the tension, allowing us to keep our eyes peeled for clues and hoping against hope that Naila will figure it out soon enough. She doesn’t. Her escape attempts are harrowing. Saeed is very good at getting us inside Naila’s head, letting us see just how terrifying it is to be alone, in a country you know very little about, where no one seems to wish you well. Where your own family treats you as less than a person.

The following paragraph is somewhat of a spoiler, but I think it’s important to discuss in my review, so you can feel free to skip to the next paragraph if you want to go in relatively blind. Once Naila’s marriage actually happens, the book takes a turn into some very dark territory. She’s deposited on her new family’s doorstep, and now lives with him and her mother-in-law plus two sisters-in-law. None of them are sympathetic to her. None of them care that she didn’t want this marriage. None of them even think to ask. (“Life is full of sadness. It’s part of being a woman. Our lives are lived for the sake of others. Our happiness is never factored in,” one of her new sisters-in-law tells her.) Her mother-in-law has no patience with Naila’s sadness and treats her cruelly. Her husband rapes her. She becomes pregnant. She has no passport and no visa and no method of transportation. Her immediate family has returned to America. She becomes resigned to her new life. It’s hard to read about, but it’s honest and wouldn’t have been a believable part of the story otherwise.

Despite the book’s brevity, Saeed packs a lot into it. Her writing style is simple, but it works for Naila’s story and the voice is authentic. Her descriptions of Pakistan, of the markets and the food and the buses and the packed house with visiting aunts and cousins, sprinkled with Urdu words, paint a vivid picture. It’s not difficult to see why Naila falls in love with the place and with her extended family.

Saeed’s own experience with a happy, arranged marriage (not a forced marriage, as Naila’s is) adds interest to the novel. Along with Saeed’s deft descriptions of Pakistan and the people not directly involved in Naila’s marriage, it helps prevent the book from being an indictment of Pakistani culture for non-Pakistani readers (not necessarily the most vital thing, but important when providing windows to young readers). It’s also important to note that arranged marriages (by choice or forced) happen in many cultures, including Western ones, which is something Saeed addresses in her author’s note.

Written in the Stars is a debut novel and it’s not perfectly polished. Some transitions happen too quickly or seem awkward, and the ending is rushed. Despite the imperfections, this is a heck of a book, one that I read in a single sitting and that should have high appeal to teens. I think the concept sells itself, particularly when I consider that it’s written like a thriller but actually happens to teenage girls (not the case with a lot of thrillers). It’s fascinating, intense, horrifying, and ultimately hopeful – a novel packed with love and a great deal of nuance. Definitely worth a read.

Written in the Stars will be published March 24. I received a finished copy from the publisher.

Filed Under: review, Reviews, Uncategorized, Young Adult

24 Thoughts on Sexism, Feminism, YA, Reading, and The Publishing Industry

March 16, 2015 |

This requires no more introduction than saying it’s a handful of thoughts worth considering and working through after the last week.

1. My feminism isn’t about making you comfortable.

As a feminist, I am not obligated to make you comfortable. As a feminist, what I owe is honesty, integrity, and truth, no matter how uncomfortable it is. Not liking my feminism is your problem, not mine.

2. Being part of an oppressed class means using subversive means.

Having a conversation in a calm, collective, “professional” manner depends entirely on how we define calm, collective, and “professional.” Those definitions are made through those in positions of power and privilege. And when the powerful class doesn’t want a critical lens turned on them, they will deny the oppressed class those calm, collective, “professional” tools.

So you do things in the way you need to to achieve a desired effect. Satire. Humor. Sarcasm. Protesting.

Those who don’t want to be criticized and don’t want to face the truth won’t listen to you anyway, so you do what you can, how you can, in order for everyone else to hear and understand.

3. Means, methods, tools, and places for criticism vary. 

You can’t use the same critical tools in every situation. Your methods depend entirely upon your goal and on the subject and situation at hand. When talking about an issue of sexism, if talking about the texts at hand won’t do the job, then you pick up the next tool available to you. This includes public commentary and interviews.

Sometimes a blog post is effective. Sometimes Twitter is effective. Sometimes Tumblr. Sometimes the best tool isn’t online at all but in an interview in person. On a panel discussion. During a Q&A.

If one tool doesn’t work, you pick up another.

4. White male allies need to step back. 

Quit patting yourself on the back for “empathy,” “niceness,” or “feminism,” especially if you’re a “nice, empathetic, feminist white guy.”

Use your platforms and your privilege to amplify the voices of the oppressed. You don’t need to interpret it through your perspective. Let others have your stage for a bit and listen.

As Eric Mortenson put so well — and this is hands down one of the best things I read this week: “If you’re really on women’s side, you don’t need to tell them. They’ll know.”

5. We love amplifying the white male ally voice.

Take a hard look at whose voices you’re relating to and sharing. If it looks like a sea of white men, reassess.

Watch who you’re crediting when you’re crediting an internet “kerfluffle.” Watch who you’re crediting when you’re crediting a discussion of sexism in publishing.

Bet it’s not the same people getting credit.

6. When you speak in generalities, people insist on examples. When you provide examples, you’re called a bully. 

When you talk about institutional sexism in a broad sense, people want explicit examples. But when you provide explicit examples, you’re a bully for doing the very thing you were told you needed to do in order to prove your arguments legitimate.

7. “Nice” doesn’t mean above criticism.

Plenty of nice people screw up every day. Plenty of nice people have good intentions.

Your “niceness” doesn’t mean you’re above being critiqued or above being called out for a thing you did that’s not good. Your “niceness” doesn’t absolve you from responsibility. Your “niceness” has zero bearing on what you create and the art or thought you put out in the world.

8. Art and artist are not one in the same. It is HARD to separate art from artists, as well as art from personal taste.

We are complex, challenging creatures. We don’t always know what we’re doing when we’re doing it. We don’t always know what we’ve created until it’s outside of ourselves. Let’s be generous enough to allow artists to live separately from the art they’ve created.

Art and artist are also separate from personal taste. You may find someone’s art distasteful; I may find it enjoyable. That is not a reflection upon the artist or his talent.

9. Girls don’t get points for experimenting. They have to get it right the whole way through. Men are right when they try, even if they fail.

“Trying” to be better isn’t the same as being better. Especially in a world where women can never be right and are never getting better.

“Trying” doesn’t pass for women.

10. We insist we love critics and criticism until the heat is on.

Back in the day, artists used to critique one another and did so harshly. There wasn’t fear that saying something critical about another artist’s work meant doom for your own career.

Now that we rely on outside critics more often than not, in the form of trade reviews and yes, blog reviews, we constantly talk about the important role those criticisms play. Those who take this seriously do so because they care deeply about the art and they care deeply about representation, voice, accuracy, and a whole host of other things.

But as soon as critics start to actually criticize art, suddenly, they’re out for blood. They’re the enemies. They have a vendetta.

11. Criticism isn’t easy, and it certainly isn’t fun.

It would be worthwhile to praise those critics who work with the heat is on high as much as it’s worthwhile to continually pat those on the back who praise things generously, with less criticism.

There are people who are absolutely, positively dedicated to change and fair representation. They put their criticisms out there every day in hopes of sparking change.

It’s not easy.

It’s NECESSARY.

It makes us BETTER.

12. You don’t get to determine whether someone’s concerns about sexism, or any other -ism, is correct or incorrect.

Just because it isn’t sexist to you doesn’t mean it’s not sexist to those who are speaking up about it, as well as the legions who are too scared to speak up or don’t have the means to speak up.

13. Nothing is either/or, but/and. Everything is a spectrum. Everything is complex.

Calling out a weakness in an author’s work — or a series of work — doesn’t mean that the rest of the work is done poorly. Badly drawn female characters are not an indictment against how the boys are written.

Suggesting that girls should be fully developed characters doesn’t take away from boys being fully developed or being the absolute center of the story. It’s not saying the books are bad.

It means readers want these stories, where both boys and girls are fully developed.

14. Sometimes people who are “outsiders” have to speak up because insiders are too close to the source.

Outsiders are reading the criticism. They offer a perspective that those too close to the art could never offer without bias.

Critics put their work out into the world for outsiders, not insiders.

It’s your job to help your friends and colleagues. It’s not mine.

15. Being called out sucks. Learn and do better.

We are all problematic. We are not without fault. And when you’re called out on something, it sucks, especially if you were trying everything to not be wrong. Sometimes you still are.

I am not above being called out. You are not above being called out. No one is.

Learn from your mistakes. Listen to those who are offering you insight. Then DO better. When you’re given the chance to learn from your mistakes, take it.

It takes privilege to leave the conversation before it’s over. And certainly, when you decide you’re exiting a conversation, rather than acknowledging it’s even happening — even with a simple “I am busy and can’t talk about this right now but will soon” — you’re not listening.

Listening means sticking around for the hard parts.

16. There aren’t fair levels of scaffolding in this industry. Be aware of yours and what others are.

Critics don’t usually have agents, editors, publicists, publishing houses or any other level of scaffolding behind them. There aren’t other people to step in and do damage control or offer up insight into process.

If there are people on your side with a financial stake in your career when you go up to bat for something, are selling a product, or creating art, you’re damn lucky.

17. You don’t get to invoke someone’s personal life as an excuse or value judgment. That’s theirs and theirs alone.

You aren’t empathetic or understanding when you invoke my mental illness as part of your “being understanding” of what I may be going through when I speak out. You also aren’t entitled to bring someone else’s personal life into the explanation for their creative weaknesses.

Those things are personal and the individual owning them is the only person who gets to invoke them in discussion, even if they’ve been open about it.

18. If you express criticism directly at someone, you’re a bully. If you don’t, you’re subtweeting/talking about them behind their backs.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. See #6. See #12.

19. Criticism isn’t bullying. 

The purest definition of bullying is this: when a person with superior strength or influence uses their their influence to force a person to do what s/he wants.

Speaking up about sexism isn’t bullying.

Being told you should die and never come back or else you’ll be given a reason never to come back is bullying.

20. No one likes being called a cunt, a whore, a bitch, a pain in the ass, and no one deserves to be told they should be given something to be scared about.

Women don’t often engage in conversation about sexism because they are fun and the rewards are high.

21. People go to the ends of the Earth to defend a nice guy. People don’t defend women in the same way.

See: #KeepYAKind, #GrasshopperGate, #AndrewSmith, change your avatars to a Smith cover, buy all of the Smith books, give away all of the Smith books.

The only reason I (and others, all female) knew people cared about me or defended my right to say what I did and how I did it was because I was reached out to.

Privately.

Those who agree with you most are the ones with the most to lose if they speak up. Speaking up without fear of career consequence is a privilege I have that many others in this industry — those who experience the DIRECT CONSEQUENCES OF SEXISM IN THIS INDUSTRY THIS IS DIRECTED TOWARD IN THE FIRST PLACE — do not.

Because that’s how institutionalized sexism and racism work.

22. True feminism isn’t about ideation. It’s about action.


If you don’t put your money where your mouth is, you’re not working toward a solution to the problem. You’re hot air.

You can’t just believe in change. You have to be an active part of doing something about it.

And it’s not only about women. It’s about ALL classes of people that face oppression.

I assure you straight white males are not part of the oppressed. Even if they think they are.

23. These conversations are born from hurt

No one decides overnight to highlight direct examples of sexism.

They are the result of people being hurt over a long time.

24. I have the right to speak. 

The risk of speaking up for women, as a woman, is great and often ends in threats of violence and death. When I told another woman I don’t know how some feminists do this every single day, she said, “If you stay, as a woman in this fight, you end up steel whether you want to or not.”

For further reading:

  • Anne Ursu on Some Exhibits in YA Coverage and Kindness, Sexism, and This Infernal Mess
  • Sarah McCarry On Kindness
  • Leila Roy on If You Don’t Have Anything Nice to Say
  • Ana at The Book Smugglers on Andrew Smith, Systematic Sexism, and the Call for Kindness
  • Tessa Gratton on Andrew Smith and Sexism and In Which I Keep Talking
  • Phoebe North on Why

Filed Under: books, feminism, publishing, reading, sexism, Uncategorized

The Only Thing to Fear by Caroline Tung Richmond

March 11, 2015 |

Alternate histories fascinate me. Most of them, it seems, involve a war going a different direction than it actually did, and it’s usually the Nazis winning World War II. I think for many readers, both adult and teen, World War II feels like the easy war – easy to understand why it was fought, easy to know who were the bad guys and who were the good guys. It’s also still firmly lodged within our collective memory as Americans. That other war we fought with clearly recognized “good guys” and “bad guys” – the Civil War – happened so long ago that no one who remembers it is still alive. Not so World War II. Our parents, our grandparents, our great-grandparents fought in it, or remember growing up as it raged around them. This societal memory is less prominent in the generation following mine (the ones who are teens now), but it’s still there.

I mention all this as a preface to my review of The Only Thing to Fear, Caroline Tung Richmond’s debut novel, because I think it’s important when considering the book’s accessibility. Alternate histories can often be niche reads, requiring knowledge of some lesser-known bit of history to fully understand. But when you write a book with the premise that the Nazis won World War II, your readers are right there with you, no explanation necessary. You have ready-made antagonists and no need to convince the reader they’re really the bad guys. And for teens who dig history, this is a question they’ve probably posed to themselves before: What would our world look like if the Nazis really did win the war?

In Richmond’s story, they had help: genetically engineered super soldiers. The Nazis now control the eastern United States and the Japanese control the western United States. Zara, our protagonist, lives in Nazi-controlled territory. Her father was Japanese and her mother white, and she’s hated by pretty much everyone around her. The white Americans hate her because the Japanese are allied with the Germans, and the Nazis hate her because she’s of mixed race. Zara also has a secret: she has abilities like the super soldiers do, and if the Nazis discovered it…well, it wouldn’t end well for her.

Zara’s extended family are part of a rebellion trying to free the United States of Nazi occupation, and that’s where the focus of the book lies. Zara wants to help out, but her uncle keeps telling her she’s too young and inexperienced. Of course, that doesn’t stop her from getting involved anyway.

Readers who have read some alternate history before may be bored by the plot of the book; it doesn’t go anyplace very new. The super soldiers could have been interesting, but they don’t really add much to the story beyond the reason for the Nazis winning the war in the first place. Zara’s experience as a half-Japanese, half-white teenager caught in this new, awful world is more compelling, and it – along with the rebellion – creates plenty of tension on its own without the super soldier angle.

For readers new to the concept of alternate history, though, this is a good entry point. The premise is easy to grasp and it’s got lots of broadly appealing elements: action, Fighting the Man, a dash of romance. It’s not the best example of alternate history I’ve ever read, but Richmond’s answer to the “What if?” question is interesting and worth a read for teens who have ever considered it themselves.

Book borrowed from my library.

Filed Under: Alternate History, review, Reviews, Uncategorized, Young Adult, young adult fiction

Booklist: Synesthesia in Middle Grade and YA

March 10, 2015 |

Synesthesia is one of those interesting phenomena that crops up every now and again in fiction for kids and teens. In medical terms, synesthesia is “a condition in which one type of stimulation evokes the sensation of another, as when the hearing of a sound produces the visualization of a color.” It’s the word for when someone says they can feel sounds or taste colors. The most common form is colored hearing: perceiving sounds as colors.

The first encounter I had with it was in R. J. Anderson’s Ultraviolet, which I read a few years ago. I was fascinated by it. I think it’s a difficult condition to understand for those of us who don’t have it, since it deals with the way we perceive the world around us. According to this article from the American Psychological Association, most people who have synesthesia wouldn’t choose to give it up, even though it may cause them some strife. I expect it’s equally strange for synesthetes to consider perceiving the world like I do as it is for me to consider perceiving the world as they do.

For many kids and teens, the path to understanding lies in fiction, so here are a few middle grade and YA titles featuring people with synesthesia. Descriptions are from Worldcat and links go to Goodreads. Do you know of any others? Let me know in the comments.

Ultraviolet by R. J. Anderson
Almost seventeen-year-old Alison, who has synesthesia, finds herself in a
psychiatric facility accused of killing a classmate whose body cannot
be found.

One + One = Blue by M. J. Auch
Branded the class loser, twelve-year-old Basil reluctantly becomes
friends with a bossy new girl who, like Basil, has synesthesia and comes
to Basil’s aid when his estranged mother returns and turns his life
upside down.

The Name of This Book is Secret by Pseudonymous Bosch
Two eleven-year-old misfits try to solve the mystery of a dead magician
and stop the evil Dr. L and Ms. Mauvais, who are searching for the
secret of immortality.

Starseeker by Tim Bowler
Still troubled by the death of his father two years before, Luke, a
virtuoso pianist, falls in with a local gang who persuade him to burgle
the house of a rich widow–an act that draws him into a mystery that
changes his life forever.

A Mango-Shaped Space by Wendy Mass
Afraid that she is crazy, thirteen-year-old Mia, who sees a special
color with every letter, number, and sound, keeps this a secret until
she becomes overwhelmed by school, changing relationships, and the loss
of something important to her.

Mondays are Red by Nicola Morgan
When he wakes up from a coma after having meningitis, fourteen-year-old
Luke finds that he has lost control of his senses and his thoughts and
he must fight an inner demon in order to return to his former life.

Filed Under: book lists, middle grade, Uncategorized, Young Adult

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