Friday 15 January 2010 at 3:07 pm
Sometimes I feel I'm a little harder on books I like a lot, than on books that I can see are written well and are fine stories, but don't have the energy and readability of something like The Monstrumologist. This is one of those books that I loved. Capitals L-O-V-E-D. However, there were things that I felt could be improved on, to the point that I felt nitpicky, because it was a heckuva ride.
It begins with author Rick Yancey receiving a stack of personal diaries from a rest home or museum curator (that part isn't really clear.) Yancey takes the diaries home, forgets about them, then comes back to them and is completely enthralled. The diaries themselves (well, the first 3) make up the bulk of the book. They are from a boy named William James Henry, who was orphaned at age 11, and came under the care of his father's employer, Dr. Pellinore Warthrop. Warthrop is a monstrumologist, someone who studies monster, and Will becomes his apprentice. Late one dark and dreary evening they are awakened by a terrified grave robber, Erasmus Gray. Mr. Gray knows of the rumors about Dr. Warthrop and has brought the body of a girl and a monster that seems to have died feasting upon her. This is how Dr. Warthrop and Will begin to hunt a pack of Anthropophagi, monsters who have been referenced in the works of Shakespeare and other classic texts. Will is a great character, scared, but not wimpy, always able to face fear head-on, without really thinking about it. And Warthrop is a prickly old man trying to train the young Will for the worst. Along the way they meet another monster hunter, Dr. John Kearns, a smart-alecky Brit, who may or may not be Jack the Ripper.
Like I said before, this is a great read. The prose is smart, but not too heavy. And it's packed to the brim with blood, gore, and plenty of action to keep things moving along at a brisk pace.
However, like I said, there were things that bugged me throughout. Yancey goes to great lengths to make the diaries seem real. The whole prologue and epilogue are painstakingly vivid in trying to make the book seem like a work of absolute truth (or Will Henry's truth, at least). However, once the book starts, it is very clear that this is a 21st century version of 1888. Will is a little too self-aware, and there are a few hiccups in vernacular. Both can be explained away because Yancey says he has changed some archaic grammar choices, and the journals were written by an older Will, after his adventures. But that leads to a secondary problem, Will (or Yancey) overuse a lot of the same descriptors, making each time they come up cringe worthy. One such instance: using the word ejaculated instead of said. It maybe happens three times in the book. The first time it seems silly. But by the third time it is silly. Why would someone claim to change archaic grammar, and then keep the word "ejaculate," with its present day connotation, more than once? Yancey, also, has characters continually call each other by their full names. I didn't live in the 19th century, and neither did he, but if that was really the way they talked then I am glad. Lastly, I remember reading a review of When You Reach Me from School Library Journal, where the reviewer talks about how Rebecca Stead uses subtle foreshadowing in her book and it is refreshing to not be beat over the head with it. If I had not recently read that review, I don't know if I would have noticed Yancey's Mack Truck-sized use of foreshadowing.
Nitpicky, right?
Especially for a book I thought was pretty dang rad. I didn't want to put it down it was so good. Seriously. Read it. And ignore my crabbiness.
Monday 11 January 2010 at 2:24 pm
What is the What is one of those books that needs to be explained, reviewed, gushed over in vague, but glowing, buzzwords.
Fascinating.
Harrowing.
Touching.
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.
It is, indeed, all of these things. And hard to talk about without giving it those, and more, words of praise. None, however, quite capture it though.
What is the What is the fictionalized Autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng, which causes for some early confusion. Valentino Achak Deng is, in fact, a real person, and the events in this book are, for the most part, real events. However, writer Dave Eggers has shortened timelines, moved events around, and added some literary license to make for a better story. But it's hard to tell how much is Eggers and how much is Deng. The voice of the narrator is so complete, that it's easy to buy this as just a straightforward autobiography. Things that I think of as being Eggers-y, sort of a postmodern clown who can add humor and insight to unbelievably sad occurrences, are here, but not in abundance. And even when they do show up, they don't sound like Eggers. Maybe that's how the two became friends, they share similar traits. Deng's story is much sadder and horrific than Eggers's (Eggers lost both his parents in a short period of time and then became the primary guardian of his 10-year old brother (a story he told in his acclaimed memoir, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.)) Even if it is Eggers's influence, Deng tells his story of political unrest, violence, and displacement in his home country of Sudan to the culture shock of his move to the United States with more hope and humor than a soul-crushing sadness (which would have been easy, even understandable.)
Deng's humor in the story isn't one of naiveté either. He is, instead, capable of a subtle form of observational humor. And the book is an easier read because of this. Neither Deng nor Eggers want to have you bawl your eyes out; they don't even seem to want anything from the reader. They just want Deng's story, and all the Sudanese who Deng's story stands in for, to be told. If it's sad, then be sad. If it's funny, then laugh. If it makes you outraged, then be outraged. But it doesn't ask for you to be any of these things necessarily, it just has the power to elicit them. And that is the mark of solid storytelling.
Monday 11 January 2010 at 1:41 pm
This book is not really my venti cup of chai-tea latte. But it's also not "not really my venti cup of chai-tea latte." That is to say, I am sort of a sucker for romantic comedy that isn't to overly cutesy or girly. This is a little cutesy and a little girly, but not too much of either. In fact, it's its cuteness that ultimately won me over.
Synopsis: Jane Turner is a senior in high school, passing the time with easy classes, and a low-stress job as a barista, until she can get into fashion school. A few months ago, while she was bored at work, she started writing down drink orders, and what they said about the people who made them. When a recently-single regular comes in, followed shortly by a co-workers friend, Jane can't help but think the two would be a perfect couple, based, of course, on her coffee drink personality profiles. So she matches them. And it works. Soon she's matching other friends. When she becomes assistant manager of the coffee shop, her boss looks to her for help improving the store. Then Jane and her Espressology become the toast of Chicago, as she is asked to help singles throughout the city find love over the holidays. But can she find her own coffee mate?
Essentially, the book relies heavily on a gimmick (its main character's ability to match coffee drinkers based on their drink of choice.) But Kristina Springer doesn't overstay her welcome with the cutesy gimmick, and she also makes it (and her characters use of it) seem plausible. It's not a stretch to see something like this taking place in a bigger city. And the character' view of how people are come off as believable. She's not some world-wise teen who has seen it all, but she's also not totally vapid. There's a nice balance created in the character, which makes her a believable teenage heroine.
That isn't to say that this is the greatest book I've ever read. It's not. It's a fluffy, by-the-numbers teen romance. Those looking for something with a little more substance, should probably look somewhere else. But those looking for a light, clever read with strong characters should spend the hour or two this one takes, and just enjoy themselves for a bit.
Monday 11 January 2010 at 12:25 pm
Everyone knows the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina was devastating, especially to those in its wake. Most notably and visibly, we were treated to daily horror reports of the residents of New Orleans. The storied town was now filled with death and water, sadness and blame. During those days there seemed to be little hope.
Now artist Josh Neufeld has painstakingly spent the time to tell a more complete story of those living in New Orleans, before, during, and after the levees broke. The book follows six survivors, most of whom were still in New Orleans during the flooding. Some of them seem silly; a doctor sticks around because his house has survived storms for a century or more, yet others who stuck around for worse reasons are glad he did when he comes to their aid. But the devastation felt by them all is poignant, maybe none more so than the simple, even trivial, story of one survivor losing his comics collection, only to have strangers from around the country help him rebuild it after he has resettled.
NuefeldÂs style of drawing is simple, better than I can do, but not outstanding. Still, there are times when his simplicity helps to draw the reader more emotionally into the story. In particular, a few times throughout, there is a drawing of the huge front (squall?) of the storm as it prepares to devastate New Orleans. ItÂs absolutely terrifying being face to face with it, even if it is just a drawing, and not an overly complex one at that.
The thing that makes this book best though is its humanity. These people never seem like caricatures. And it never looks down on them. It is told with a journalistic remove, but the stories are so moving and complete, that we canÂt help but connect with these peopleÂs plight. I was most moved by the bookÂs correcting of news reports and how Âthe thugs depicted so negatively, were actually the most helpful and organized of survivors waiting around the convention center and Superdome. Also, while the end of the book does offer hopefulness, it is not a saccharine hopefulness, but a real one, tainted, but there.
Monday 11 January 2010 at 11:55 am
Anax is a young historian striving to join The Academy, a shadowy, important class of philosopher-rulers in a futuristic society called, the Republic. Anax chooses to spend her grueling four-hour entrance exam to discuss her hero Adam Forde, a rebel who caused wholesale changes in the Republic. She is questioned on his sordid past, asked to examine the ethical impact of his decisions, and implored to show how heÂs impacted their society.
Beckett has written a fascinating book, short, yet surprisingly complete. ItÂs a thrilling page-turner, filled with political intrigue and post-war terror, but also a philosophical mental exercise forcing the reader to draw their own conclusions or search for personal meaning.
And the ending. Well, I wonÂt spoil that, but let me just say, it left me utterly breathless. It offers a twist, that may annoy some, but I saw the "twist" coming. It is the questions raised by the ending that make it so meaningful.
ItÂs maybe one of the best books IÂve ever read, and will certainly be rereading soon and often.
