In three very different stories, master storytellers Gene Yang and Derek Kirk Kim pit fantasy against reality, for good or for ill.  Subtle, surprising, and entirely entertaining.  The Eternal Smile delves into our dreams, and the unexpected places they lead.

That’s from the inside flap of The Eternal Smile by Gene Luen Yang and Derek Kirk Kim.  It’s a short story collection in graphic novel format, and, as the description says, all three are about how fantasy affects reality and vice versa.  The three stories are “Duncan’s Kingdom,” “The Eternal Smile,” and “Urgent Request.”

What I Liked

- If I had to pick a favorite story, it would probably be “Urgent Request.”  The artwork is amazing, and the storyline is quietly affecting from beginning to end.  Janet is empowered by her online experience, even though we know from the beginning that she’s responding to a scam (it’s the Nigerian prince dealio).  It just went in an interesting and unexpected direction.

- The twists of all three stories are pretty ace.  That moment when it’s clear what they’re doing and what the message is just really hit it.  All three got me right in the gut, they were so heartbreaking.

- I like that all three have different things to say about how reality and fantasy go together.  Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not.  But it’s not all good or all bad or any extreme really.

What I Didn’t Like

- The drawings in “Duncan’s Kingdom” and “The Eternal Smile” are kind of garish, but they make sense in the story.  For both, though, it wasn’t until the end that it became clear why they were drawn the way they were.

- I didn’t really connect with the narratives (except for “Urgent Request”).  I appreciate them as art, and I liked the endings, but I was just reading to see what would happen without really caring about the characters.

In conclusion:  It’s a fast read, and the endings pack a wallop, but I’d probably only really call one out of the three stories a good story that I would want other people to read.

POC Challenge:  4/15; YA Reading Challenge 8/75

Since then, this old and great civilization has been discussed mostly in connection with fundamentalism, fanaticism, and terrorism.  As an Iranian who has lived more than half of my life in Iran, I know that this image is far from the truth.  This is why writing Persepolis was so important to me.  I believe that an entire nation should not be judged by the wrongdoings of a few extremists.  I also don’t want those Iranians who lost their lives in prisons defending freedom, who died in the war against Iraq, who suffered under various repressive regimes, or who were forced to leave their families and flee their homeland to be forgotten.

That’s from the introduction of The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, a graphic novel that chronicles her coming of age as a young woman in Iran, Europe, and Iran again.

- I have to say, the graphic novel format really suits this work.  It’s in black and white, and the graphics are relatively simple (or maybe deceptively simple), which makes the people and their attitudes the real stars of the story.

- I love, love adolescent Marji.  She’s just such a kid, trying to understand the world the best way she knows how.  She wants to be a prophet, she plays martyr and torture, and she isn’t afraid to stand up for herself.  She is just adorable.

- I also love young adult Marji, but in a different way.  She, too, is trying to find her place in the world, but that story is more heartbreaking because she has to leave home to be safe and then she’s a stranger in a strange land once she gets to Austria, and then she’s a stranger in her homeland when she goes back to Iran after being in Austria.

- I also love her parents and her grandma (love her grandma!) and just…all of the characters/people are very fully drawn, and their motivations are clear.  It’s just wonderful characterization all around.

I just really enjoys books like this and Anne Frank because, honestly, it just shows how similar all of our experiences are, even when they’re vastly different.  War torn countries aside, both stories are about girls becoming young women and so much of that experience is universal.

Sometimes it is hard to really like a book because there is nothing to say except “I like it!  It’s awesome!  Read it!”  But, you know, I like it.  It’s awesome.  Read it!

Women Unbound:  4/8; POC Challenge 3/15

Luscious, I thought.  That’s what I’ll be.  Not perfect.  Not flawless.  Luscious.

Tangled by Carolyn Mackler is the story of four teens and what happens after they take a trip to the Paradise resort in the Caribbean.

What I Liked

- The form.  The story takes place over four months, starting in April, and each month is narrated by a different character.  I certainly wasn’t expecting that, and after the first switch in narrator, it was fine.  Because such a huge chunk of the time is devoted to each character, there’s no real adjustment period aside from that first, “Oh, okay, so we’re with Dakota now.  Got it.”  It’s a very interesting choice, and it works so well because even though we leave a character, we still find out what’s going on with the other characters, so it’s not like they’re being left in the dust.  Part of the fun of the novel was seeing how/where/why they would show up again and how we’d get those nuggets of information about them.

- The characters.  They’re not all likable, but Mackler does this thing where they are all understandable!  And then they all transform in really believable and organic ways.  And I love the way she shows that the way they see themselves is not the way that other people see them or that the way other people see them is not the way they see themselves.  But sometimes it is!  For example, there’s this awesome disconnect between how Jena sees herself [chubby, too talkative] and how Skye sees Jena [cute, bubbly, effortlessly friendly].  Just proof that we are our own worst critics.

If I had to pick a favorite, it’d probably be Jena because she says in her narrative, unironically:

I’m obsessed with quotes.  You name the person–Albert Einstein (smart), Toni Morrison (very smart), Nicholas Sparks (pure genius)–and I’ve got one of their sayings.

Nicholas Sparks = pure genius.  Which, if you’re a sixteen-year-old romantic, he would be.  So I thought she rang very true, and I loved her attitude about life.  (She’s the one who has the breakout quote up there about being luscious.)

- The plot.  This is more of a character study, but there is a plot underneath it all.  So if you take the form and the characters together you get this plot about transformation and being true to yourself and being your best self.  It’s pretty subtle, but kind of amazing.

What I Didn’t Like

I didn’t dislike anything!  If anything, I just wish it could’ve been longer and we could’ve spent more time with each character, but I think it does what it needs to do without more than that.  I just enjoyed reading about the characters.

In conclusion:  Immensely readable (I read it in one sitting) and a great character study.  This should have been my light read following the WWII stuff (even though there is some heavy stuff in here) because it was such an easy read.  I really enjoy Mackler because she is rarely, if ever, predictable, and this book is no exception.  I honestly had no idea where the story was going, even with the one thing I did figure out early in the story.

YA Reading Challenge:  7/75

My breasts are making me a mockery of a sham.  They are like two sticky-out beacons attracting all the sadsacks in the universe.

After reading two books about World War II, I decided I needed something silly and fun to read, so when I saw Knocked Out by My Nunga-Nungas, the third book in the Georgia Nicolson series by Louise Rennison, at the library I picked it up.  I’ll admit that I read the first two books years ago but got annoyed by Georgia and never bothered to read any of the others.  But my daughter and I watched Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging the other weekend, and it definitely charmed me, so I decided to give book three a try.

What I Liked

- As a friend of mine pointed out, the voice is pitch perfect.  Georgia sounds exactly like a teenager who is concerned with teenager things.  By which I mean, authentic teen voice without the hint of Trying Too Hard.  Plus, since I saw the movie, I heard movie Georgia narrating it and that made it even more fun.

- Lots and lots of funny moments.

- I like all of the parts with her little sister doing toddlery things.  Because why do they need to bring every toy they own along wherever they go?  Also, those parts are always kind of sweet.

- I like that the book is just for fun.  Because sometimes you need that.  From Louise Rennison’s site:

I wrote the book to make myself laugh. I always wrote what I remembered making me laugh when I was that age. I didn’t attempt to teach.

- I liked the direction the book takes with Robbie (aka the Sex God).

- I loved Georgia comparing herself to a red-bottomed baboon.  All of those bits made me laugh.

What I Didn’t Like

- The reason I stopped reading after the second book is that Georgia started to annoy me.  A lot.  That did not change with this book.  She is really annoying in this one as well.  There is self-absorbed and silly, which is fine, but Georgia really pushes the line for me.

- Georgia is still mean to Jas.  But.  I figured out that they are both equally self-absorbed, so Jas was probably thinking the same mean things about Georgia, so that made it better.  Also, best friends can be infuriating.

- At the beginning of the book, Georgia gets groped by this guy.  When she calls Jas to complain, Jas basically accuses Georgia of doing something to make the boy grope her.  Not only that, but she says the equivalent of “No one was there but you and this has happened before.  Are you sure you’re not doing something to make boys grope you?”   And Georgia is mad about it, but briefly and it totally goes unchecked/unargued.  THAT IS IRRESPONSIBLE.  And I don’t care if Rennison wants to teach or not, accusing a girl of “asking for it” without challenging it is NOT ON.  Oh, it made me so mad.

- I think, after reading Anne Frank and Summer of My German Soldier, that Georgia was a mite too shallow.

In conclusion:  I should’ve read something by Meg Cabot instead.

YA challenge:  6/75

Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me.  Not only because I’ve never written anything before, but also because it seems to me that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl.

Oh, Anne Frank.  If only you knew!  Although, you did kind of know there, didn’t you?  Because I read The Diary of a Young Girl:  The Definitive Edition by Anne Frank (edited by her dad, Otto H. Frank, and Mirjam Pressler), and it’s based on both of Anne’s diaries.  The foreword of the book explains that the first diary was written for herself, and the second was revised and edited in response to a radio broadcast wherein Gerrit Bolkestein said he hoped to collect eyewitness accounts from Dutch people under German occupation, and he specifically mentioned letters and diaries.  So Anne planned to have her diary published as part of that account.

I really don’t know what to say about the book.  I read it for the Women Unbound challenge because it’s a memoir that I haven’t read yet (I’ve seen bits of the movie and read some excerpts).  And, I’ll be honest.  Part of the reason I wanted to read it is The Freedom Writers movie.  I wanted to know why it had such an impact on the kids Erin Gruwell worked with.  And I get it now.  I do.

Because Anne is just a girl.  A girl who fights with her mom and feels frustrated by the perceived favoritism of her sister and likes boys and is curious about sex and has ideas and feels deeply and thinks deeply.  And all of that is compounded by the horrors of war, by the fact that she can never escape her parents and the suffocating feelings she gets being around them all the time.  She feels ganged up on and misunderstood and cries a lot and fights a lot and…Anne is just a teenager.  Who, as my daughter said, had a really hard life.

Memories mean more to me than dresses.

The book starts when Anne is thirteen and ends when she is fifteen.  As the book goes on, she becomes less of a petty self-involved teenager and more of a thoughtful young woman–which is to be expected.  In the beginning it’s all, “Nobody understands me!  Nobody listens to me!” but by the end, Anne has a handle on what she adds to these situations.  This clarity probably would’ve come much later had she not been, essentially, imprisoned in the Secret Annex, but because she has nothing to do but think and consider her actions, she has that depth of thought and feeling at fourteen.  (It took me until I was in my twenties to even think that way.)

I think the unfairness of the story really resonates.  I went into the book knowing Anne would die, which made it hard to read at times.  I found myself thinking how unfair it was, and how I wished she would survive. And while it’s good that Anne personalizes the experience for the reader because we’re attached to her, it also made me stop and remember that Anne’s story doesn’t exist in a vacuum.  She is one of millions of Jews who were unfairly and systematically murdered to further racist ideology.  And it makes me sick to think of it.

I love that Anne plans for the future, even as it makes the book even more devastating to read.  That she and her sister focus on education, so that when the war is over, they can pick up where they left off, go back to school, and become productive members of society.  I love that Anne longs for school, not only for the book learning but because she realizes it provides a much needed break from her family.

I found all of the quarrels that broke out in the Annex fascinating.  Not because they were fun to read about or anything, but because it was so clear that the fighting was so petty and always about control.  Well, not always.  Sometimes there were very real things to be upset about, like the arguments over food.  But others were so ridiculous and Anne would point out how they were ridiculous, and it was the type of thing that could probably be blown over if they were living in ordinary times, but they weren’t in ordinary times.  They were trapped in a house, terrified for their lives.

I really liked that Anne explained everything that I wondered about (bathroom schedules) and things I wouldn’t even think about.  Her descriptions of the bombings, of the terror they lived in was so real and palpable.  I liked when she made fun of how scared they were because it was clear that if they couldn’t laugh about it sometimes, they would surely die from the tension.  I liked knowing the bathroom schedules because I wondered how they worked that out, but I hated when the toilet would break or they couldn’t flush the toilet for fear of being overheard.  And usually when that happened it was because they were terrified, so everyone’s stomach was a mess.

A good hearty laugh would help more than ten valerian drops, but we’ve almost forgotten how to laugh.  Sometimes I’m afraid my face is going to sag with all this sorrow and that my mouth is going to permanently droop at the corners.

The friendship/romance with Peter was something I thought was just in the movie (for Hollywood tension, you see), but no, the two were drawn to each other.  And why wouldn’t they be?  Anne points out that she would’ve sought out Peter’s company if he were a girl because she longed so much for a friend.  But Anne is also aware of her own (sexual) power.

And she has her own ideas about sex.  She is all for comprehensive sex education–from parents.  The danger of learning about sex is not the facts of life, but getting information from your classmates who don’t understand anything.  She thinks parents are scared to talk about sex with their kids because “purity is a bunch of nonsense.”  She thinks it’s okay if a man has experience before he gets married, and she also knows that she wants more for her life than being an “ordinary housewife.”  Anne is, in short, a budding feminist:

One of the many questions that have often bothered me is why women have been, and still are, thought to be so inferior to men.  It’s easy to say it’s unfair, but that’s not enough for me; I’d really like to know the reason for this great injustice!

…but how many people look upon women too as soldiers? [...] in childbirth alone, women commonly suffer more pain, illness and misery than any war hero ever does.  And what’s her reward for enduring all that pain?  She gets pushed aside when she’s disfigured by birth, her children soon leave, her beauty is gone.  Women, who struggle and suffer pain to ensure the continuation of the human race, make much tougher and more courageous soldiers than all those big-mouthed freedom-fighting heroes put together! [...] I don’t mean to imply that women should stop having children…What I condemn are our system of values and the men who don’t acknowledge how great, difficult, but ultimately beautiful women’s share in society is.

Ultimately, though, Anne is relatable.  She wants to be a writer and a good person.  She wants a better life.  And she wants people to stop being so stupid.

To be honest, I can’t imagine how anyone could say “I’m weak” and then stay that way.  If you know that about yourself, why not fight it, why not develop your character?

I have often thought the very same thing!  Oh Anne.

My favorite bit in the book comes near the end when Bep, one of the women helping to hide them, gets engaged, and Anne talks about how it is a Bad Idea.  Because Bep wants to get ahead in the world, but Bertus is holding her back.  Sound familiar?  Then there are the arguments about the proper way to raise a child and how parents are stupid and boring and grown ups are lame and everything you’ve probably ever thought when you were 13, 14, or 15.

I was reading this at the same time as Summer of My German Soldier and what struck me most is that both are, ultimately, about acts of kindness and how they can change your life.  Anne and her family get two extra years, even if they are in hiding.  They are as safe as they can be in a country filled with warmongers who hate them.  And it’s all because of the kindness of the people hiding them.

That’s something we should never forget; while others display their heroism in battle or against the Germans, our helpers prove theirs every day by their good spirits and affection.

Hiding Anne and her family is an act of heroism.  And an act of defiance.  These people are putting their lives on the line to help keep Anne and her family safe for as long as they possibly can.

But in the end, Anne dies.  Everyone hiding with her dies.  Except her father, who gets her diaries from the secretary who helped hide them, and decides to publish her diary–first heavily censored/edited and later in full.  The great tragedy is that Anne, Margot, Peter, Anne’s mom all die shortly before liberation.  And Anne and Margot are dumped in a mass grave.  She doesn’t make it.  But like I said, she’s one of millions.  Millions.  I’m just glad her dad was able and willing to share her story with the world.

I sometimes wonder if anyone will ever understand what I mean, if anyone will ever overlook my ingratitude and not worry about whether or not I’m Jewish and merely see me as a teenager…

Oh, it’s sad, very sad that the old adage has been confirmed for the umpteenth time:  ”What one Christian does is his own responsibility, what one Jew does reflects on all Jews.”

One day this terrible war will be over.  The time will come when we’ll be people again and not just Jews!

Women Unbound challenge:  2/8; YA Reading Challenge:  5/75

“Superman’s not brave. [...] He’s indestructible. You can’t be brave when you’re indestructible. It’s guys like you and me that are brave, Angus. Guys who are different and can be crushed–and know it–but go out there anyway.”

Athletic Shorts:  Six Short Stories by Chris Crutcher is…a book of six short stories.  All of the stories except one feature characters from his books Stotan!, Running Loose, and The Crazy Horse Electric Game.  Of those books, I have read exactly none–not that it matters.  The stories are accessible and stand up well on their own.  They are also slightly spoilery for the other books–not that that matters either.  If anything, they made me more interested in the stories and worlds featured.

What I Liked

- My favorite story is probably the first one, “A Brief Moment in the Life of Angus Bethune.”  Mine and Hollywood’s since it was turned into a movie.  At any rate, Angus’s parents are awesome, his voice is awesome, and the story is a lot of fun.  It’s one of the two more light-hearted of the six stories, so that’s also a plus.

- Even though these are short stories, they are clasic Chris Crutcher, dealing with issues of death, racism, abuse, guilt, homophobia, and bullying.  You know, the usual.

- “The Telephone Man” is the story about racism and it is uncomfortable to read because it’s from the POV of a racist, but I liked its honesty.  Before each story is a small explanation for it, and this is what Crutcher says about Telephone Man:

Racism speaks volumes about those who hide behind it, says exactly nothing of those at whom is it directed.

I think the story does a great job of exposing the kid who hides behind racism and also where he gets his ideas.  (Hint:  It’s his daddy!)

- I loved the story about homophobia.  It was very affecting.  Great characters.

What I Didn’t Like

- I think there was maybe one story I’d count as a weak link.

In conclusion:  One weak link makes for a very solid short story collection.  It’s  a great introduction to the themes that dominate Chris Crutcher’s works as well as to his storytelling style.  I liked it a lot.

YA Challenge:  3/75

“I am a third child!  I want to be treated like everyone else!”

When I did my independent study at Iowa State University, the professor book talked Margaret Peterson Haddix’s Among the Hidden, so when I saw it at the library book sale, I snatched it up.  It’s not hard to make the premise interesting because it is.  Luke is a third child, living in a world where it is illegal to have more than two children.  He’s not supposed to exist, and so he hides in his family’s home, unable to go to school or play outside or…anything.  And then one day, he sees the face of what could only be another third child in one of his neighbor’s windows.

What I Liked

- The premise.  This is dystopian fiction, so Haddix is able to call attention to the silent and nameless and faceless.  These children aren’t alloted food or privileges because they shouldn’t exist.  Why?  Because they’re a drain on the country’s resources and have no real purpose (according to the government) except to drain those resources.

- Jen.  Jen is awesome and amazing and I love her.  LOVE.  In fact, I honestly wish the narrative had been about her instead of Luke.  Or at least that we got to spend more time with her.  You know, like the whole book.

- Among Jen’s awesome?  She starts a movement to protect and guarantee the rights of third children.

- As with other dystopian novels I’ve read, this one is very strongly anti-censorship.

- There is also a great discussion of propoganda.  The ultimate message?  Extremes are not good.  Period.  Balanced information is key to making informed decisions.

- The book moves fast.  It does drag a little in the beginning, but as soon as Luke sees Jen, it picks up and never really slows down until the end.  That’s not to say it’s all go, go, go, but the readability factor is very high.

What I Didn’t Like

- As usual, there are, apparently, no minorities in the future/dystopia (unless you count the third children).  Unlike The Giver, no mention is made of what could have possibly happened to all of these people or why there is an absence of them.  (It’s like Minority Report in that way.)  You could read the book as minorites, the poor, etc. being third children, but, you know.  It’d be nice to get a mention in there somewhere.

- Jen is way more interesting than Luke, and, yet, he is the POV character.  When Jen isn’t around, her absence is obvious.  (Did I mention that I love her?)

In conclusion:  All in all, a good read.

I wasn’t going to count this for the YA reading challenge because it’s really a middle grade novel.  But it is an ALA Best Book for Young Adults, so on the list it goes.

YA Challenge:  2/75

A review I wrote of Robinn Gourley’s Bring Me Some Apples and I’ll Make You a Pie and Anita Silvey’s I’ll Pass for Your Comrade: Women Soldiers in the Civil War appears in Purdue University’s First Opinions, Second Reactions. [Direct link:  "First Opinion: Women of Distinction".]

Right now I would love to have a personal message from God.  I want to believe the way I used to, when my dad or mom or sometimes both would pray with me at night and I would picture God listening, kind-eyed and bearded.  He was real to me, as real as my own parents.  I don’t know when God stopped being someone I saw as my true friend, and turned into something I’m mostly confused about.

Once Was Lost by Sara Zarr is about Sam, a preacher’s kid, who has a crisis of faith that is compounded by the kidnapping of one of her peers.

What I Liked

- I really enjoy Sara Zarr’s writing.  She is a sparse writer, but the emotion in all of her scenes is palpable.  I feel what Sam feels, always.

- The tension between Sam and her father.  That he doesn’t belong to just her but to the community, but that she wants him to see her as just as important and worthy of his attention as his calling to his congregation.

- Likewise, I love the way Sam’s mother is handled in this text.  I’ll have to agree with the review on Zarr’s page about how the mom isn’t villainized because she’s an alcoholic.  Because, yes, it’s true that not all drunks are mean drunks.  That doesn’t mean it’s a positive experience having an alcoholic parent, but…right.  Not all drunks are mean drunks.  That’s all I can say about that.  I also like that it’s clear Sam’s mom is suffering from depression, specifically, and not just raging alcoholism.

- The relationship between Sam and Nick.

- Okay, so basically all of the relationships in the book are fantastically handled.

- I also just really, really like how Zarr handles Sam’s loss of faith and how she navigates that necessity for something to grasp on to, not just to understand God, but to understand her world, which has been shattered first by her mother going to rehab and next by Jody’s abduction.

- The tension between who and what people expect Sam to be and just who she really is and how she really feels is well-handled.  You know, like everything else in the book.

I used to think my faith was mine. [...] I thought that what I believed was what I believed.  Now I think maybe I’m just…here because my parents expect it.

What I Didn’t Like

- This is honestly a dumb complaint, but the book is so sad.  It’s dumb because the book is melancholy from the outset, and the subject matter lends itself to sadness.  However, I have to say, I felt overwhelmed by sadness as the book continued, and I really, really wanted Sam to be happy, and it frustrated me that she was so unhappy.  Which is the point!  So, yes.  Dumb complaint.  But also a hint at how much I connected with Sam.

In conclusion:  Great book; great theme; excellently handled world, characters, and plot.

“I can’t do anything but try to stay out of trouble.”

“Then how will you stay out of trouble, Ruby?” she asked me. “There must be something you can articulate.”

I thought for a moment.  “I can keep away from boys,” I answered.

The Treasure Map of Boys is the third book in the Ruby Oliver series by E. Lockhart.  In this book, Ruby is still in therapy and still trying to navigate her interpersonal relationships in the Tate universe.

What I Liked
-    I love Ruby Oliver.  She is totally one of my favorite characters ever.  I cannot say that I personally relate to her, but she would be a friend of mine in real life.  I don’t know what that says about me.  Or my friends.  But there you go.

-    Another complex look at female friendships and relationships.

-    The book is funny and fun.

-    I really like the way that Lockhart uses the books to examine issues related to feminism (more on this later).

-    I loved the ending a lot.

What I Didn’t Like
I cannot think of anything!

Women Unbound?
I know that The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks is Lockhart’s specifically feminist novel, and while it obviously is with its emphasis on power structures, the old boys club, and the glass ceiling, I really enjoy Ruby Oliver’s brand of feminism more—probably because as a teen, I’d be more able to relate to it.  Ruby likes boys and is constantly negotiating her world because liking boys and being liked by boys creates so much confusion for her with the other girls.  I mean, she is a famous slut and hasn’t done anything, really.  And it’s all reputation, which is very important, especially for teenaged girls of her socio-economic status.

There are also moments in the novel, like when Ruby is organizing the bake sale, where the characters specifically address gender roles and responsibilities.

And why was it that I had to lie to my friend in order to do the right thing by her? In order to be a good person, I had to pretend I didn’t feel the way I felt.

Ruby encapsulates the double bind.  She is also selfish and self-centered in her way, which makes her authentically a teenager.

In conclusion:  Great read if you’re looking for something fun.