The joy of reading YA is that stories about young adults, written for young adults, often veer off in unexpected directions. This is a s6 January 2023
The joy of reading YA is that stories about young adults, written for young adults, often veer off in unexpected directions. This is a story about five teens and a dog living in yet another small town hollowed out by catastrophe and no future. Two have just graduated, but this summer will be spent with time carved out from between their jobs at Walmart and the YMCA shooting video of themselves ghost hunting. And then one night something amazing falls from the sky...
You can shoot your own trailer from that. There's danger and excitement and mystery in the best Scooby-Doo tradition, although these kids can't afford a van. There is ever increasing creepiness and un-put-downable suspense. And then there's more.
The beginning, the grim reality of their lives, drags on the reader as much as on Franny. But Henry knows how to raise the stakes. So worth it.
Because Hendrix knows exactly what can actually terrify me, I only read his books in the morning, when I won't be alone or in the dark05 February 2023
Because Hendrix knows exactly what can actually terrify me, I only read his books in the morning, when I won't be alone or in the dark for hours yet. Sitting here, petting the cat, watching the Spouse sleep through the open door, I look up from the page, the freeze/fight/flight adrenaline stronger than 2 cups of coffee and my ADHD meds with a decongestant chaser.
"falling as fast as she could, landing...so hard it knocked the soul right out of her body...and a millisecond later her head hit the wooden floor with a jarring, hollow knock she could smell."
That sounds so Southern, and the synesthesia works well.
***
06 February 2023
Finished this morning. So satisfying. The contempt for people from outside the South buying up houses is spot on, as is the excitement to be looking at a profit in that inflated, hot sellers market. See The House Next Door for a 1978 Atlanta take.
What makes it so great is how banal it is: the family at the funeral, the stupid, embarrassing fights, the ugliest house in the neighborhood, the stuff left over when the kids move out and on, the detritus parents hang on to, nostalgic for a childhood the kids can't leave fast enough.
April 18, 2022. 97 of 228 pages Update here because I am too damn wordy for the actual update box.
I love a compelling story of a medical and legal conuApril 18, 2022. 97 of 228 pages Update here because I am too damn wordy for the actual update box.
I love a compelling story of a medical and legal conundrum, like The Day of St. Anthony's Fire. I wonder if any country has a good response team established to deal with catastrophes like this that aren't about property. As far as I know there isn't anything in place in the US's insane monster of a "medical system." There would be investigations, but nothing to cover the immediate medical and social services assistance, as far as I know. And Oxycontin has shown us that even when a source of funding is finally found in lawsuits, there is little likelihood of timely care to those harmed, or even to non-specific treatment such as substance abuse clinics. Did any tobacco-settlement money go to providing treatment for chronic breathing disorders or lung cancer? It isn't as if we didn't know that more disasters like this will occur, and that victims won't necessarily be in close proximity. If anyone can recommend a good source for what kind of treatment, if any, has been provided to the Flint lead-poisoning victims, I would be grateful.
***
Apr 19, 2022
The writers always focused on people which provides the connection that unites the very different emphasis of each chapter. Nuanced and well-rounded, it's an outstanding example of covering a difficult subject without belittling viewpoints, except those of actual Nazis who were trying to avoid prosecution. And even then it wasn't a simplistic "Nazis are evil" hot take. They referred to specific aspects of the whole hideous machinery of genocide that would predispose doctors in particular to a callous disregard for others.
If you're interested in real and terrifying topics, there are a lot of nightmares to choose from. Body horror of many different kinds, legal shenanigans from Kafka and Dickens, and so very many wrongs perpetrated against the children of thalidomide. As if that weren't enough there is also some high-level political/corporate malfeasance and an array of upsetting diseases. For all that it isn't a grim book: we are also shown people who made decisions and fought the good fight at every level from struggling families all the way up. More than one hero is just trying to do their job the best they can.
There is one specter raised, though, that is almost funny to me now. Throughout the book the authors return to how relentlessly the children shaped by thalidomide were studied and experimented upon. There is mention of a doctor finding an unexpectedly high incidence of autism among them. When the expected number was more like 16 out of 10,000 people, among thalidomiders it was more like 5%. (This is current in 2000.) The incidence of autism in 2022 is estimated at 1% in all countries reporting. And there is reason to consider it higher. Anyway, I'm cynically amused because an autism panic started around then, just as wrongly invested in the need to fix a new batch of broken children, without consulting people with the same lived experience.
During the two months of All Hallow's Reading each fall, and for a fair while ahead of that, anything to do with death/murder/horror/suspense etc. thaDuring the two months of All Hallow's Reading each fall, and for a fair while ahead of that, anything to do with death/murder/horror/suspense etc. that happens to catch my eye goes in the stack. The idea of Death being made to take a sabbatical and use up all that vacation time amuses me. Had I looked to see who the creator was I might have anticipated that it would be rather less funny or morbid than I was hoping, and more quiet observations about modern life in corporate America. It's realistic in all ways except that Death is a job that lots of people have like Sales Rep. The bureaucracy makes sense in a world of 7 billion people; sure, you'd need middle management and HR and all. I wonder what the classified ads would look like.
It was very much a New Yorker Death, so: amusing, thoughtful, understated. I liked it, even though this was no Terry Pratchett Death. Or even Bill and Ted Death.
Read for my 365 Kids Book challenge. You can see all the books on their own shelf.
A good cover grabs me, and I grab it, without reading the flap or anRead for my 365 Kids Book challenge. You can see all the books on their own shelf.
A good cover grabs me, and I grab it, without reading the flap or anything. So this morning I had a stack of Moon books. And started off the top. Ugly crying before breakfast for me. Please consider this a public service to sensitive adults. It says Grief on the back but I didn't look at that. I just thought, cool for illustrating a child in a wheelchair for no special reason. Sometimes I am just that dim.
That said, it's a nicely depicted relationship between the friends, and a realistically depicted decline. Many adults choose books to read with young kids to help work through issues they might have trouble expressing in real life. In which case, this is an excellent book to help explain to your child about their dying friend. My preference is to read a book like this when no one is dying as more an empathy-building exercise without the emotional content.
So much win. It's kind of amazing how much I love Moriarty's books. I really liked how it all came together. Interesting universe with so many piratesSo much win. It's kind of amazing how much I love Moriarty's books. I really liked how it all came together. Interesting universe with so many pirates and dragons and water sprites, but also committees and dull trips and people being late to pick one up at the station. I only had two tiny quibbles: it's weird to read about a girl living in a more-or-less-contemporaneous setting who wears dresses or skirts all the time. It's just a slight thing, but it pulls me just the tiniest bit out of the story every time a dress or skirt is mentioned because I so rarely see girls or women in them anymore. And also, this is a very white world. Not that everyone is explicitly called white, but because no one isn't. The illustrations reinforce the white-is-default impression. It's a good thing that I've become so accustomed to reading books with a diverse cast that I can't stop noticing when there aren't any other characters.
Despite those two issues, I loved the book. It's my favorite middle grade in I don't know how long. Highly recommended for white readers.
Using books to raise topics with children has never especially appealed to me, but for those who do want an entree into a conversation about death andUsing books to raise topics with children has never especially appealed to me, but for those who do want an entree into a conversation about death and grief, this would be a good one. It is a warm and quiet book, not at all creepy. Sweet, really, about missing someone, feeling as if they're still right there, and eventually, letting go and letting someone new in.
Lovely, even if you've never had the bittersweet pleasure of being haunted by your own beloved cat.
I put "hockey" into the library search, and this came up, and sounded good, and was immediately available as an ebook. So knowing nothing about the boI put "hockey" into the library search, and this came up, and sounded good, and was immediately available as an ebook. So knowing nothing about the book or the author I gave it a go. Lucky me, I was rewarded for my random impulse. This is a fine portrayal of the messiness of families and life. There's multi-generational conflict, a fabulous beach house, and some very serious themes underpinning everything. Lovely and I am not disappointed that hockey wasn't more central.
This is how highly I think of Catherine Bailey's work: she has a new book, I place an order, I receive it, I start reading it. Why no, I hadn't even nThis is how highly I think of Catherine Bailey's work: she has a new book, I place an order, I receive it, I start reading it. Why no, I hadn't even noticed the subtitle until I pulled the book up here to mark it Currently Reading. Doesn't matter. It's going to be fascinating.
***
And it was. I hate the title though. Not that I have a better suggestion.
The topic is right in my wheelhouse: women in wartime. In this case, a young woman, daughter of the German ambassador to Italy during WWII. She met and married an Italian nobleman, bore two sons, and tried to hold the estate, its farm, and the surrounding community safe against the Germans. Meanwhile her father and her husband are both off, fighting against their respective country's fascist leaders.
The Gestapo come for her, taking her and the boys to Austria, where they are taken from her and she is sent through a succession of concentration camps.
Italy isn't a country whose history I know very well, and although I've read a fair amount about WWII none of it was ever about the resistance within Germany to the Nazis and their atrocities. You know how in time travel stories everyone's first thought seems to be "Let's kill Hitler?" There couldn't have been many more attempts on his life if all those stories were true. I had no idea.
It is heartening to know that so many within these countries were resisting, often at enormous personal and familial cost. There are those who think blaming some poorly-treated minority for the ills of their society, rather than, say, the actual people who are running the government and controlling the capital. But there are also the others who despise aggression and are appalled by violence. I need to hear more of those stories.
Side bar: it is not a "brothel" full of "prostitutes" in the concentration camps. Rape as an act of war isn't any less horrific for being indoors and controlled by military authorities.
That was a wonderful diversion from real life. I love the idea of the French novels being written around and between and during family life. Sort of thThat was a wonderful diversion from real life. I love the idea of the French novels being written around and between and during family life. Sort of the opposite of work/life balance, or a return to an earlier version along the cottage industry model.And now I picture all the kids having their regular novel-production chores to do: and it's very silly, along the lines of gathering up the fresh supply of adjectives every morning, or by analogy with film making, doing the establishing shots without the star (it's first person, there aren't any scenes without the star). Random, pointless speculation of this sort, unrelated to the actual novel I just finished, is possible because I rate the French novels so highly that I read every single word of the bonus material at the end, including the ad for the contest a decade back. Anyway, no doubt I will elaborate on the image next time the King family of writers comes up, or Laura Lippman and her husband, and so on.
It's all perfect, really. The art features a girl and a skeleton, minimalist, just a tad creepy, but also adThis has such a perfect cat on the cover.
It's all perfect, really. The art features a girl and a skeleton, minimalist, just a tad creepy, but also adorable. Which is pretty much the same as the text. It's fascinating what questions kids ask, and Doughty is clear and accurate in a casual, slightly snarky tone. The answers are age-appropriate for even quite young children because there's nothing scary: it's all the debunking of scary, really.
Really entertaining and clever. Now I'm eager to read her other books.
For some reason it wasn't calling to me. It was on my stack for nine weeks and I never cracked it open until I got the notice that there were no more For some reason it wasn't calling to me. It was on my stack for nine weeks and I never cracked it open until I got the notice that there were no more renewals.
And then I was blown away. These are great stories and an interesting mix, one feels very much like The Twilight Zone, others have a small town humorous vibe, two are fairy tales, and the title novella is funny and dark and bitter and poignant and marvelous.
Happily, I was able to take it to the library, return it, and check it back out. To think that I almost missed these.
All the feels. Seriously, a full gamut, emotions I can't even name. And some rage. I hate that our society rewards so few with so much and makes life All the feels. Seriously, a full gamut, emotions I can't even name. And some rage. I hate that our society rewards so few with so much and makes life so fucking hard for everyone else. There is some progress for some people, but, damn, I really thought it would be better by now. It's not some Star Trek future utopia that I am expecting, and disappointed not to have, it's basic stuff like actual voting rights for everyone, and the right not to be randomly murdered by the police, the right to clean drinking water, and not being continually subjected to harassment and assault.
In contrast to the rage, I am also hopeful, because clearly I am not the only one feeling this way. Weiner is kind to her characters, and compassionate towards them all, which is a lovely blessing. We could all use more kindness.
Knisley recounts her adventures in birth control, conception, miscarriage, pregnancy, delivery, birth, and the early days of parenting. Her particularKnisley recounts her adventures in birth control, conception, miscarriage, pregnancy, delivery, birth, and the early days of parenting. Her particular experiences are frighteningly common, but largely undiscussed except among closest friends and family. She discovers, like many other adults, how much we don't know about trying to become pregnant and how very much failure is built in, and how very badly the US is doing on almost all fronts (our maternal death rate has been increasing since 2000). It's a book both marvelously specific and broadly of interest, where her experiences are exemplars or points of entry into the data, where the pain of loss is contrasted with the joy of anticipation, and none of it looks like the movies.
Highly recommended, because Knisley's books are always entertaining and informative, but also in this case I think forewarned is a good idea. There's a lot of superstition in the practice of medicine, a tremendous amount of "helpful advice" from strangers that isn't helpful and is strange, and so many gaps in the basic science still (how many fertilized embryos fail to implant? the range of estimates is vast, but "whoa, that's a lot!" is probable).
Anyway, I'll be around if anyone wants to swap glad tidings or horror stories in comments.
All of the World Book Day titles get me excited every year, but this one was already on my radar as one I wanted to read, so this is the one I'm most All of the World Book Day titles get me excited every year, but this one was already on my radar as one I wanted to read, so this is the one I'm most eager to start.
Someday I will go back and shelve all the former World Book Day titles so that I can find them, too.
But yay! Nine diverse reads to fatten up my Kindle!
***
Biography isn't usually my cuppa. I don't think that, to pick an example at random, Hitler's life story tells us how to prevent the rise of duly-elected monsters who hold themselves above the law and who marginalize and demonize groups of people, and for whom scapegoating and incitement to violence is a substitute for productive governance. What we need to know is how to prevent 53% of the voters from legitimizing that kind of bullshit.
But this book isn't like that. This is the story of a woman who managed to live through very interesting times indeed. And who, despite enduring considerable losses, had the resilience to keep starting over. Charmingly, Allene Tew who was raised from being a poor relation to a very wealthy woman by her pretty face went on to be a fairy godmother to others, becoming a literal godmother to Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands.
Highly recommended as just a fascinating swathe of history.
It's not the future dystopia of The Hunger Games, but it's not far off. Henry VIII requires an heir, and he must be rid of Ann Boleyn, and this is wheIt's not the future dystopia of The Hunger Games, but it's not far off. Henry VIII requires an heir, and he must be rid of Ann Boleyn, and this is where it all starts going horribly wrong. Because the reader already knows how the story turns out there is a constant and oppressive suspense as one reads over all the details, and the details are rich. It doesn't feel like an historical novel, it feels like history, with all the bits thrown in that make it fun: the clothes, the plotting, the king losing touch with reality.
Maybe, because it's such a grim story, it shouldn't be so much fun to read. But it is.
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