Book reviews
This review is spoiler-free, as any plot points discussed can be learned from reading the inside of the book jacket.
I’m still fairly new to the world of graphic novels, but so far it’s a world in which I love to immerse myself. The combination of gorgeous artwork and complex storylines appeals to both my inner book nerd and the part of me that always wishes I could draw (or color inside the lines). I also have a special place in my wheelhouse for female characters who don’t need anyone else to take care of them. This last item was the most important factor in my decision to read Monstress, Volume 1, Awakening by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda. Monstress begins after a horrible war between humans and hybrid Arcanics. Maika Halfwolf, Arcanic but with a human appearance, lost her arm and her mother in the war and now she is looking for answers and revenge. Throughout the novel, she teams up with an adorable Arcanic named Little Fox, who reminded me of Mei from Totoro (if you don’t get that reference, take an hour and a half to watch Totoro; it’s fantastic), and a two-tailed cat with a tendency to “quote the poets,” though I don’t recall any poets famously delivering the line, “We’re f***ed.” In her quest for vengeance, Maika ends up in possession of part of a cursed mask, which fills her with a “hunger” that she is powerless to suppress. While the force now residing within Maika causes her to often behave like a villain, it also might be just what she needs to save herself and her friends. (When I say it “might be,” I’m not being coy; I actually don’t know. This is only the first volume, so Liu and Takeda haven’t revealed everything yet.) Though this is my first exposure to Liu’s and Takeda’s work, they’ve possibly earned a lifelong fan through Monstress for one main reason: Maika Halfwolf isn’t always a likeable character. Some of her decisions made me want to throw the book across the room. (I refrained from doing this solely because I was reading it on my laptop and computers are expensive.) Maika also doesn’t seem to have any qualms about killing innocent characters; however, this might have more to do with the hunger residing within her than with her actual personality. Regardless of why she does what she does, the fact that Maika isn’t a perfect, typical heroine makes me love her so much more because it makes her more realistic (as realistic as you can be in a fantasy graphic novel). Another reason I’m a fan of Monstress (and most graphic novels in general), is the handling of diversity. The story takes place in an alternate universe of Asia in the 1900s where society is run by a matriarchy (and we all know I’m a fan of taking down the patriarchy, so I am all about this society). The majority of the characters are women, and not skinny, busty, blonde, white women; realistic-looking Asian women. Some of them (the protagonist included) suffer from some form of physical disability. Some of them aren’t stick-thin. Some of them are lesbians. But they all have one thing in common: All of these women kick ass. They also, for the most part, keep their boobs covered, so you can hand this book off to your teenagers without worrying that they’ll see something within it’s pages that they’ve already seen if they’ve watched almost any movie targeted at teenagers. For all of the high school English teachers out there, with some creative lesson planning, you might even be able to incorporate Monstress into your curriculum. If you’re a fan of graphic novels, I have no doubt you’ll enjoy Monstress. And if you’ve never read a graphic novel before, Monstress is a great place to start.
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This review is spoiler-free, as any plot points discussed can be learned from reading the inside of the book jacket.
I have a rule when it comes to books that I’m not buying: Don’t read the description. If I’m not paying for a book, I simply judge it by the cover. This has led to some interesting reads, mostly because I have no idea what I’m getting myself into when I open the book. The most recent of these “blind reads” was The Last One by Alexandra Oliva. I was browsing through NetGalley and saw a cover that was a person silhouetted against a sunset beneath the title The Last One. My first thought: “Ugh, Nicholas Sparks knockoff.” Then I thought that maybe I should read more sappy romance novels. Maybe I should give writers like Nicholas Sparks a chance. So, I sent a request for the book, though part of me was hoping my request would be denied. Boy am I glad I took a chance on sending that request. The Last One is absolutely nothing like a Nicholas Sparks’ novel, a fact I would have quickly realized had I even glanced at the plot description. No, the best way to gauge whether or not you might like this novel is to ask yourself the following questions: 1. Do I enjoy the competitive nature of shows like Survivor? 2. Do I enjoy the brief glimpses of the game makers and the idea of the arena in The Hunger Games? 3. Do I enjoy the paranoia that follows reading about a deadly epidemic like the one described in The Stand? If you answered “yes” to one or more of these questions, The Last One might just be the book for you. This book takes you inside a reality survival show called In the Dark, where all of the contestants are referred to by their occupations rather than their real names. The plot primarily follows the character called Zoo, an intelligent blonde who signed up for the show as one last adventure before settling down to begin a family with her husband. She forms and breaks alliances with several of her competitors throughout the novel, most often partnering with a survival enthusiast known as Tracker. In the real world, however, a strange illness is spreading rapidly throughout the United States, and possibly the rest of the world. With no idea what’s happening beyond the boundaries of their game, though, the competitors have no way to prepare themselves for the day they wake up alone, with no cameramen recording their every move. Assuming this is still part of the show, Zoo sets out with one goal in mind: victory. But at some point, the game and reality begin to overlap, making it impossible for her to determine what is real and what has been designed specifically for her by the show’s creators. The Last One is suspenseful from beginning to end; so suspenseful that I hope Oliva is planning to write a sequel, as the ending seemed to lack some closure. The chapters alternate between the events of the show and Zoo’s solo journey back toward the real world, giving clues as to what she might find if she survives the game. The inclusion of chat room message boards discussing the events on the show add an extra element that helps tie in the real world with the world of the competition. If you decide to give this book a chance, let me know what you think. I can’t imagine you’ll be disappointed. Unless you answered “no” to the three questions above, in which case I’m not sure why you’d read this book in the first place. This review is spoiler-free, as any plot points discussed can be learned from reading the inside of the book jacket.
When Morgan Chalfant messaged me to ask if I would read a copy of his novel and write a review of it I almost threw my phone across the room. I knew that he had a couple of books published but I didn’t know much about them other than the genre. Urban fantasy. For reasons I can’t explain, the words “urban fantasy” did nothing for me. I assumed the book in question, Ghosts of Glory, would probably be a bunch of overly-buff god-like dudes running around with their shirts ripped open, fighting over girls with boobs too big to leave any room for personality. Don’t ask me why this was the picture my brain supplied in connection to urban fantasy. I don’t understand how my brain works. Because of this preconceived notion, I avoided answering him for a few days. In the meantime, I tried to find someone with a copy I could borrow. My plan was to read the book without telling him. That way, if it was terrible, I could tell him that I was too busy to read it and then I could anonymously write a scathing review, warning potential readers away from it. As usually happens, my plan didn’t work, so I finally just agreed to read the book. Morgan sent me a digital copy, I downloaded it onto my laptop, and then I ignored it. I let it just sit on my computer for probably three months before I decided to just suck it up and read the thing. This is the part where I confess to all of you that I am, in fact, an idiot. Let that sink for a moment. Got it? Great. Moving on. Ghosts of Glory does not fit into my ridiculous idea of urban fantasy. Well, in all fairness, there was some hunky shirtlessness, but I’m not one to complain about that. The plot follows Jersey “The Brawler” Romero as he struggles to restore the city of Glory to its former...well, glory. Unfortunately, darker forces are at work, thwarting Jersey’s every attempt to save the city and her people. Despite having the Spirit of Glory on his side, Jersey isn’t the man he once was and he is constantly plagued by doubts in his own ability to succeed in his mission. This book has so many of the things I love: creepy cult leaders, supernatural creatures, destroyed cities with seedy underbellies, backstabbing, betrayal, sex scenes that further the plot rather than serve as unnecessary filler between poorly-written drivel (come on, we all know what book I’m talking about), and mythology references. All of these are right in my wheelhouse (especially the creepy cult leader thing, which definitely doesn’t make me weird), and Ghosts of Glory masterfully weaves all of them throughout the novel. So, even though I’m a little upset that Morgan’s book caused me to be wrong about something for the first time ever, I’m still going to go ahead and recommend it. If you enjoy dark stories about anti-heroes in need of redemption they may not deserve, Ghosts of Glory by Morgan Chalfant is right up your alley. But, you know, it’s probably a dark alley, so take a flashlight. And maybe some mace. This review is spoiler-free, as any plot points discussed can be learned from reading the inside of the book jacket. It also originally appeared on my old blog, which no longer exists.
“This is it: somehow, in these pictures, the mystery of the accident is contained, and the explanation for Dara’s subsequent behavior, for the silences and disappearances. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do. If you don’t understand that, I guess you’ve never had a sister.” Lauren Oliver’s Vanishing Girls is ultimately a story about sisters. Nick (short for Nicole) and Dara Warren have been close since they were little, and have spent years sharing clothes, makeup, secrets, and their best friend, Parker. But all of that changed the night of the accident. Driving home from a party, Nick lost control of her car, and Dara (not wearing her seatbelt) was thrown from the car. Months later, Dara is no longer speaking to her older sister and she refuses to engage in any public interaction, partly because of the hideous scars that mar her once pretty face, and partly because she no longer knows what to say to all of the “friends” she feels abandoned her while she was recovering. But the novel pulls in another pair of sisters. Nine-year-old Madeline Snow and her older sister, Sarah, are the subject of extensive discussion in Nick and Dara’s household after Madeline goes missing while Sarah is babysitting her. As bits of their story unfold, it becomes clear that the Snows and the Warrens may be connected in several unsettling ways. “There’s something backward about living in a place so obsessed with the past; it’s like everyone’s given up on the idea of a future.” The irony in this statement is that Nick is living much of her life in the past. All of her actions are driven by the desire to return things to the way they used to be. Before. Before Dara started dating Parker. Before Nick allowed a rumor to color her previously pristine reputation. Before Nick crashed her car. Before Dara stopped speaking to her. Throughout the book, the reader is given glimpses of the past through “Before” chapters, as well as keeping up with the present situation in the “After” chapters. Additional information is provided through chapters consisting of news articles, online discussion boards, diary entries, and letters between characters. All of these elements combine to allow the reader inside the minds of Nick and Dara, as well as seeing what is going on outside of their little world. The turning point in the story occurs on Dara’s birthday. Despite the huge surprise Nick tempts her with, Dara chooses that night to run away. Torn between annoyance at her sister’s dramatic tendencies and true fear that Dara may have been abducted by whoever took Madeline Snow, Nick attempts to find Dara. Her search leads her to discover several dark secrets that Dara would have preferred to keep buried, including her connection to Sarah Snow. As Nick is pulled further down into the rabbit-hole of Dara’s world, she begins to learn that she really didn’t know her sister at all, and she is now positive that Dara is in serious danger. I can’t say more without ruining the ending, so I’ll stop there and move on to my recommendation. In all honestly, this book took a few days for me to finish. It didn’t grab my attention from the first page, and there were a few times that I set it aside and worked on other things instead of reading. It does take some effort to get into. That being said, I blew through the second half of the book without putting it down once. And as soon as I finished it, I immediately wanted to read it again, as I was having a hard time believing the ending. Having finished it, I now believe that Lauren Oliver intentionally crawled with the beginning of the story in order to build anticipation for the sprint of the second half. So if you decide to give this book a try, don’t give up on it. It gets significantly better and will leave you considering an immediate reread. This review is spoiler-free, as any plot points discussed can be learned from reading the inside of the book jacket. It also originally appeared on my old blog, which no longer exists.
“If after reading this book you come to my home and brutally murder me, I do not blame you.” The narrator of Me and Earl and the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews is a breath of fresh air for those of you who found Augustus Waters (of The Fault in Our Stars fame) a bit difficult to stomach. Don’t get me wrong. I loved John Green’s ill-fated teen as much as the next girl; but Greg Gaines in Me and Earl has a huge advantage over Augustus Waters. He talks like a real teenager. As much as I love to read long, flowing, beautifully-crafted sentences about metaphorical cigarettes, I much prefer to read the language of a self-deprecating teenage boy whose biggest problem is attempting to graduate from high school virtually unscathed. He’s managed to succeed so far by refusing to become part of any particular group. Instead, he floats between cliques, always treating everyone nicely enough to avoid making enemies, but never getting close enough to be considered part of the group. All of that changes when his former friend/ex-girlfriend, Rachel, is diagnosed with leukemia just before their senior year. While Greg would be perfectly willing to send her a “Get Well Soon” card and call it good, his mother has other plans. With tears in her eyes, she demands that Greg reach out to Rachel and rekindle their friendship, as Rachel is going to need someone to lean on more than ever now. After several failed attempts to hang out with Rachel, she finally, begrudgingly allows him to come over and see her. “This book contains precisely zero Important Life Lessons, or Little-Known Facts About Love, or sappy tear-jerking Moments When We Knew We Had Left Our Childhood Behind for Good, or whatever. And, unlike most books in which a girl gets cancer, there are definitely no sugary paradoxical single-sentence-paragraphs that you’re supposed to think are deep because they’re in italics.” Because I began by comparing Me and Earl to TFIOS, I’m going to continue with it. John Green weaves together the story of the beautiful relationship between Hazel and Augustus. They speak like pretentious English majors. They get to literally make their wishes come true. They get their own perfect version of a limited forever. Jesse Andrews, on the other hand, constructs the story of the painfully forced friendship between Greg and Rachel. They talk about school and movies and masturbation and Greg’s dysfunctional friendship with Earl. (I would love to make a post that focuses solely on Earl, but I don’t know that I could do him justice. He’s hilarious. If nothing else, read the book just for all of the ridiculous comments he makes.) Greg and Rachel don’t have big dreams that they struggle to achieve. She wants to not die and he wants to graduate high school without putting in too much effort. They don’t get a forever together, because they don’t want one. He starts hanging out with her because he has to and she lets him stick around because he’s kind of funny and she doesn’t really have any other friends willing to come visit her. There is so much more I could say about this book, but I’m afraid that if I gush about it for too long I’ll end up giving away something important. So I’ll end with this recommendation: If you hated The Fault in Our Stars for being too pretentious or sappy, read Me and Earl instead. And if you don’t laugh out loud at least once, I will let you come punch me in the face. (As long as you avoid the nose. It’s my one attractive feature.) And for those of you who love The Fault in Our Stars, read Me and Earl anyway. You’ll get your fix of reading about a teenage girl with cancer, but with an extra dose of reality sprinkled on top. This review is spoiler-free, as any plot points discussed can be learned from reading the inside of the book jacket. It also originally appeared on my old blog, which no longer exists.
“His hands are everywhere and he’s a vicious weight on top of her that she can’t breathe against so she cries instead, and how do you get a girl to stop crying? You cover her mouth.” The moment I read this passage in All the Rage by Courtney Summers, I was hooked. This book was exactly what I’d been searching for: prose written so well that it would keep me up until three in the morning, unable to tear my eyes away from the words on the page. All the Rage perfectly captures what society has become in our perpetuation of rape culture, especially within the school system, especially in small communities. In our determination to shield ourselves from anything ugly, we have made it unacceptable for anyone to draw our eyes toward inconvenient or unpleasant truths. The novel follows high school student, Romy Grey, who is forced to deal with the aftermath of her accusation of rape against Kellan Turner, the sheriff’s son. Because of his popularity and family connections, no one is willing to believe that he would have potentially ruined his future on someone like Romy. Even her best friend refuses to stand by her. She is ostracized by her classmates, her teachers, and most members of her everybody-knows-everybody community. She is constantly attacked, both verbally and physically, by those who have branded her a liar and wish to punish her for damaging the reputation of their golden boy. When something unthinkable happens to her former best friend, the town doesn’t hesitate to focus the blame on Romy, who may shoulder more responsibility than she’s willing to admit to herself. One of the elements of All the Rage that resonated deepest with me was the town’s treatment of Romy. Instead of worrying about how she might be suffering, everyone around her was furious that she would dare to accuse one of the Turner boys of such a despicable act, especially considering her poorly hidden crush on Kellan, which was exploited by her best friend and used in Kellan’s defense. Romy wanted Kellan, so of course what he did couldn’t be considered rape. But as Romy explains, she did want him, but she didn’t want him like that. The fact that Kellan was sober - but had poured Romy nine shots throughout the evening - was also used in his favor. Her drunkenness was considered enough consent for Kellan to take what he wanted from her, and the rest of the town was inclined to agree. This book opens several avenues of conversation for teens, parents, counselors, and teachers. One of the most important themes is the idea of consent, the rules of which have become muddied in our society. If a girl is too drunk to see straight, can she consent? If a girl has a crush on the boy she’s with, does that automatically equal consent? If a girl dresses in clothes designed to draw attention, is she consenting to allow someone else to take them off of her? The answer to all of these should be a resounding “NO!” Unfortunately, society has made it acceptable to blame the victim in these circumstances. As Romy mentions in the book, she has to be fast to outrun all of the boys who think they can take what they want, because they’ve never been told not to. Another topic that this book brings into the light is underage drinking and the blind eye adults turn toward it. Most of the parties in this book are ignored by the adults (including the cops), despite knowing that they’re happening. In a few instances, the parents even supply the alcohol for their children. Having spent the past year around teenagers, I know that these things are happening. I know that they have no problem finding alcohol because there is always some adult willing to supply them with drinks, usually expecting money for their trouble, but occasionally accepting other forms of payment. I have also witnessed the disturbing “if we don’t talk about it, it isn’t happening” attitude that many school officials and parents have. How many 17-year-old kids have to wrap their cars around trees before we’re willing to talk about it? The third element that I feel compelled to discuss here is the way teenage girls treat one another. Instead of rallying to Romy’s defense, they turn on her. She is labeled a slut, whispered about just within her hearing, physically attacked in the locker room, and publicly shamed at school. Some people might not believe that girls are capable of this kind of malicious behavior and that these events were used merely for dramatic effect, but I have experienced (and unfortunately helped instigate) girl-on-girl crime. When another girl dares to come to her defense, she earns a target on her own back for her trouble. This behavior is disgusting and it needs to stop. As Tina Fey points out in Mean Girls, when girls call one another sluts and whores, it gives guys permission to call them sluts and whores. High school is one of the most vulnerable times for most girls, and having no one to lean on during those years makes navigating the teen years exponentially more difficult. Reading All the Rage has changed my perspective on how I view the world around me, especially through my “teacher eyes.” Too many girls are facing these problems and the adults they are supposed to trust aren’t doing anything about it. Everything is swept under the rug or handed off as someone else’s problem. I know that one book can’t make all the difference, but it can encourage a step in the right direction. So teenage girls, read this book and know that for every adult who turns away from you, deaf to your cries for help, there is an adult waiting to welcome you in, who will encourage you to tell your story. Teenage boys, read this book and strive to be the good part. Be the boy who stops. Parents, read this book and understand that the hardest part of being a parent is being unable to protect your children from everything. But even when you can’t protect them, you can still be there to put the pieces back together when someone else breaks them. And the best way to do this is through judgment-free understanding and acceptance. Teachers, read this book and learn to sympathize with the plight of today’s teenagers. Understand that teenage girls are a vicious species and are ruthless in their determination to destroy one another. And then be willing to reach out to the victims and the bullies alike and attempt to teach them they’re fighting a losing battle against one another that can only end when both sides are broken. To those of you who don’t fall into any of those categories, read this book and gain a little insight into what our society has become. And then take up the fight to change it. |
Jacinta M. CarterProfessional Book Nerd Archives
March 2017
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