STACKED

books

Recently at Book Riot

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Since I’ve changed up the biweekly “Links of Note” posts into something a little different, I haven’t been linking to some of the stuff I’ve been writing at Book Riot back over here at Stacked. Since I’ve been writing a little more over there — and soon will be adding a new regular feature I’m really excited about (I’ll get to that in a second) — I thought I’d do a roundup of what I’ve been talking about at the Riot.

  • Reading Pathways: Blake Nelson — if you’ve wanted to read any of Nelson’s work but don’t know where to begin, I’ve created a pathway into his books. These are good starting places with an idea for what he’s writing about and why you might want to pick it up. 

  • In His Own Words: Walter Dean Myers — I pulled together some of Myers’s talks, articles, and passionate pleas for books, diversity, and reading with kids in a tribute. Included is Myers’s talk at SLJ’s Day of Dialog from 2012, when he was a keynote speaker. 
  • My Grandpa, The Non-Reader — I don’t like to blog a lot of personal stuff, but I was doing some shelf rearranging in my house a few weeks ago and stumbled across my unopened copy of Marley and Me and decided it was time to talk about why that book is important to me. 
  • LEGO Stories: Your New Favorite Tumblr — Do you know about the LEGO Stories tumblr? It’s a blast. I pulled out some of my favorite LEGO stories they’ve put together. 
  • The Perfectly Shaped Treat: Literary Cookie Cutters — I went down an Etsy hole one afternoon and pulled out some bookish cookie cutters. I’m pretty positive I’m going to follow this one up with some bookish dishes at some point. I think I could build an entire literary kitchen. 
Book Fetish

I’ve been doing the Book Fetish feature for a few months, sharing responsibility with another Rioter. But now that she’s settled back into her routine, I’m giving it back over to her fully. No worries though: I still plan on writing about neat bookish things, and I’ve been asked to create my own weekly feature to take the place of doing this one. I’ll be putting together a weekly “Three on a Theme” series, featuring three YA books or YA book-related things each week that center around a single theme. It’s my hope it’ll delve into lesser-known YA, into backlist, and into fun YA stuff that isn’t what you’re already seeing everywhere. This will be in addition to the “Beyond the Bestsellers” series, which I’m still putting together semi-regularly. The series will kick off (fingers crossed) July 23 and run on Wednesdays. 
Here are the last few Book Fetish posts I’ve done. Rather thank link you to the words, you can just click on the image and get to the post because it’s more fun that way:
There are some other really exciting things on the horizon with what I’ll be doing at Book Riot, and I can’t wait to begin sharing that stuff as it comes down the pike. 

Growing Up, Leaving Some Books Behind

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about treasured childhood reads that lose their luster for us as adults, for whatever reason. I’ve written about this a little before. More recently I’ve ruminated upon books that seemed harmless or innocuous enough when I read them as a kid but that I recognize are very problematic as an adult reader.

For me specifically, this is about the Narnia books, which I loved so much as a child but have a very contentious relationship with as an adult. I loved the PBS television adaptations that my family recorded to VHS tapes, and I loved the whole series of books, though I held most of my fondness for the first two or three. I still remember how smart and awed I felt when I discovered that the professor from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was the same person who had all those adventures in The Magician’s Nephew.

I’m not a religious person, so when someone told me that the Narnia books were a Christian allegory, I was shocked and didn’t believe it at first. I quickly learned it was true, of course, and it didn’t bother me a whole lot, really, once I got over my initial surprise. (I think I was around 12 years old, maybe younger.) The books functioned really well for me just as stories, and I didn’t care so much that they were allegories for something I didn’t believe in. Biblical stories are interesting too, after all, and it was a sort of fun treasure hunt for me to take my then-limited knowledge of the Bible and try to discover the parallels in the Narnia books. As a kid, I didn’t feel like Lewis was preaching to me.

I still feel that way about most of the books. I decided to re-read them all a few years later, probably when I was in my late teens or early twenties. I remember being fine with them all, still quite enchanted by most of them, until I got to the very last book, The Last Battle. Here, the Pevensie children – excepting Susan – all die in a train accident (something I found very unjust as a child and didn’t understand until I was older – I still have big problems with it, but for different reasons). Susan isn’t on the train, which is lucky for her, until we consider the fact that Lewis writes that Susan doesn’t get to go to Aslan’s Narnia like her siblings did when they died. Looking at this as a Christian allegory, as it clearly is, this means Susan doesn’t make it to heaven – not alongside her siblings in the train accident (which can be seen as a good thing), but also not when her death eventually comes in whatever form it takes (unless she undergoes a major personality change, at least).

And why doesn’t Susan go to heaven? According to Peter: “My sister Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia.” According to Jill: “She’s interested in nothing nowadays except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown up.” And Polly says: “I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she’ll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age.” (Pages 134-135 in my versions)

Many people, including JK Rowling, have extrapolated these lines to mean that Susan became interested in sex and therefore couldn’t be religious, much less let into heaven. Others believe that they more broadly mean Susan grew up (of which sex is a part), which is interesting considering that Lewis chose to kill off the most faithful of his characters – Lucy – before she had a chance to grow up. In any case, the second line is quite clearly a sexist critique, attacking Susan for doing things that a lot of adult women do.

How much do the ideas contained within The Last Battle affect my overall feelings about the series? (And here I mean not only that Susan is excluded from paradise, but also that Lewis had to kill off the entire Pevensie family to prove his point in the first place.) Is it possible to love a story with such deeply problematic ideologies, ones that contradict our own ideologies as adults? More to the point, should a childhood favorite still be loved despite problems like these? Is reconciliation possible – or even desired?

This is something librarians have been grappling with for a long time. The Little House on the Prairie books continue to be widely loved by (mostly white) children, despite their fundamental problems with their depiction of Native Americans. Public libraries still carry these books, of course, and librarians know when to recommend them to the right readers. Part of being a public librarian is carrying out these tasks. Fellow librarian Angie Manfredi attempts to mitigate some of the issues with the books by also recommending The Birchbark House at the same time a patron asks for the Little House books – it’s good reader’s advisory and brings a wider audience to a book that deserves it. 

But this is a professional task, and it doesn’t answer the question of how to personally approach books we may have once loved. Can we love them while recognizing their problems at the same time; should we even try? The answer will vary from person to person, but I don’t think I’d be wrong in saying that it’s tough for a lot of adults to completely abandon a book that made them feel so excited and enchanted, that helped awaken them to the possibilities of the written word at such a young age. (And of course, not all problematic books are equivalent in their level of awfulness.)

As for myself, I still love the way the Narnia stories made me feel as a child, but I don’t know if I’ll ever read them again. It would be difficult to read about Susan’s adventures as a queen knowing that Lewis chose to use her in the way he did, knowing what he tried to say about women who choose such things in his books for children. The movies are a little easier – a lot of spectacle, over more quickly, simpler not to dwell on any greater meaning there. But the books? They’ll never be the same.

For a lovely epilogue to Susan’s story that may serve as a balm to other readers like me, check out this tumblr post.

July Debut YA Novels

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Ready for your monthly round-up of debut YA novels? If you’ve missed any of the prior editions from this year, you can find earlier debuts through the debut authors label here. 

As usual, all of these are books by first-time authors. These are their very first published books, rather than their first foray into YA or their first YA novel within a particular YA genre or their first YA novle under a different name. Descriptions come from WorldCat unless otherwise noted. 

July tends to be a quieter month in publishing, so there aren’t a whole lot of debuts to talk about. But if I’ve missed any traditionally published debuts coming out this month, let me know in the comments. 



Extraction by Stephanie Diaz: When she proves Promising enough to be “extracted” from the planet Kiel’s toxic Surface to the much safer Core, sixteen-year-old Clementine learns that the planet’s leaders are planning to exterminate Surface dwellers, including Logan, the boy Clementine loves.

The Fire Wish by Amber Lough: When a princess captures a jinn and makes a wish, she is transported to the fiery world of the jinn, while the jinn must take her place in the royal court of Baghdad.

Illusive by Emily Lloyd-Jones: After a vaccine accidentally creates superpowers in a small percentage of the population, seventeen-year-old Ciere, an illusionist, teams up with a group of fellow high-class, super-powered thieves to steal the vaccine’s formula while staying one step ahead of mobsters and deadly government agents. 

Between by Megan Whitmer: When a supernatural freak of nature forces her family to separate, seventeen-year-old Charlie Page must turn to her frustrating (yet gorgeous) neighbor, Seth, to help reunite them. Seth whisks Charlie to Ellauria–a magical world filled with the creatures of myths and legends–and tells her of the Fellowship, the group charged with protecting mystical beings from human discovery. (All except Bigfoot: that attention whore is a total lost cause.) But when Charlie learns that she’s under the Fellowship’s protection herself, well, stressed is an understatement. Ellauria should be the safest place for Charlie while the Fellowship works to find her family, but things in the mystical realm aren’t what they seem. Magic is failing, creatures are dying, and the Fellowship insists Charlie holds the key to saving everyone. With her family still missing and the danger in Ellauria growing, Charlie doesn’t know who she can trust. She’s dealing with a power she never asked for, falling for a guy she can’t have, and being forced to choose between her destiny and her heart. And if she chooses wrong, she could destroy magic forever. Charlie may be in over her head. 

Dream Boy by Madelyn Rosenberg and Mary Crockett Hill: The day after Annabelle dreams of the perfect boy, he walks into her science class and whispers her name as he brushes past her, and suddenly she has a wonderful boyfriend and a prom date, just like a dream come true–until the dreams stop and the nightmares begin.

Midnight Thief by Livia Blackburne: Kyra, a highly skilled seventeen-year-old thief, joins a guild of assassins with questionable motives. Tristam, a young knight, fights against the vicious Demon Riders that are ravaging the city. 

Copper Magic by Julia Mary Gibson: The year is 1906, and twelve-year-old Violet Blake unearths an ancient talisman–a copper hand–beside the stream where her mother used to harvest medicine. Violet’s touch warms the copper hand and it begins to reveal glimpses of another time. Violet is certain that the copper hand is magic–and if anyone is in need of its powers, it’s Violet. Her mother and adored baby brother are gone, perhaps never to return. Her heartbroken father can’t seem to sustain the failing farm on the outskirts of Pigeon Harbor, on the shores of Lake Michigan. Surely the magic of the copper hand can make things right for Violet and restore her fractured family. Violet makes a wish. But her ignorant carelessness unleashes formidable powers–and her attempts to control them jeopardizes not only herself, but the entire town of Pigeon Harbor. In Copper Magic, land and waters are alive with memories, intentions, and impulses. Magic alters Violet and brings her gifts–but not always the kind she thinks she needs. 

(This skews maybe more middle grade than YA, but I’m including it anyway since the main character is 12.)

The Half Life of Molly Pierce by Katrina Leno: Molly, a seventeen-year-old girl who suffers from dissociative identity disorder, has played host to Mabel, a completely distinct personality, for most her life. When Molly faces a crisis Mabel doesn’t know she can handle, Mabel lets Molly in on her secrets.

Illusive by Emily Lloyd-Jones

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When I was a teen, I really liked reading about teenage criminals. There was something very heady about a teen who deliberately broke the law – sometimes for a selfless reason, sometimes not – and got away with it, over and over again. Putting something over on adults is a time-honored tradition for teens in literature, and I’m happy to report that Emily Lloyd-Jones’ debut, Illusive, is a a terrific addition to this noble genre.

There is perhaps no better “meet” marketing pitch than the one for this book: X-Men meets Ocean’s Eleven. Unlike many others, this one actually works. It’s about a group of teens with special powers who carry out heists. Their powers derive from a vaccine that cured a deadly illness. In a small percentage of the population, the vaccine caused peculiar side effects. Our protagonist, Ciere, found herself with the ability to create illusions – including the ability to make herself nearly invisible. Drawing a firmer parallel with the X-Men, the world Ciere finds herself in is one where people like her are hunted, recruited, and imprisoned. The only way to be free is to hide who you are – if that can be called freedom at all.

In the tradition of Divergent, Illusive is a bit of a vocabulary lesson. The vaccine created seven distinct categories of superhumans: illusive (create illusions), mentalist (read minds), eidos (perfect recall), eludere (sharper senses), levitas (levitation), dauthus (physical power), and dominus (mind-control by way of hypnosis). A dominus is rare, and when one appears on the page, it’s intense. A few select portions from the POV of Daniel, who has been captured by the dominus and placed under his control, are chilling.

Like any good heist novel, the book is full of red herrings and surprise twists. The main thrust of the story involves Ciere and her crew (led by a Fagan-type named Kit Copperfield) running a job to steal a dead woman’s will from a lawyer’s office. What precisely the will contains and why their client wants it in the first place are teased out over the course of the novel. Naturally, the will is much more than it seems, and their client isn’t the only one who wants it. Add to that the fact that a mobster is after Ciere for robbing a bank in his territory, and you’ve got an exciting, high-stakes ride.

The writing here is smooth, despite the fact that it’s written in third person present tense. (I know I talk about how much I love third person, but paired with the present tense, it’s so awkward. I still sort of wish the book were written in first person, or maybe past tense instead, but only sort of. It works.)

Particularly well-done is the experience of Ciere witnessing someone being killed. Often in stories like these, the tone is light and people are always cracking wise, even when they’re killing people or being shot at. There’s plenty of wisecracking here, but it was nice (if you can call a scene like this nice) to see that Ciere reacted viscerally, unpleasantly, realistically to a man being stabbed before her eyes. It adds a bit of seriousness to what is, after all, a serious situation. I also appreciated that there are a couple of f-bombs thrown in (not an overwhelming amount, but two or three). It makes sense that teen criminals would curse occasionally (or even, dare I say, frequently…).

I’m of the opinion that there just aren’t enough YA heist novels out there, so I’m glad to see another join the ranks. This should satisfy fans of series like Heist Society (though it’s a bit more intense) who don’t mind the added sci-fi element. I can imagine that for many readers, the sci-fi element would only sweeten the pot. It may also appeal to fans of Mind Games by Kiersten White or Sekret by Lindsay Smith, also books about teenage criminals with superpowers (I feel a book list forming). 

Review copy received from the author. Illusive is available today.