Two Books, Two Days

In between working and sleeping, the last two days have been consumed by two delightfully satisfying YA novels, Twisted and The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. These two bildungsromans, written by Laurie Halse Anderson and Sherman Alexie, respectively, follow two very different young men from uncertainty and anger to a choose-your-own-destiny sort of conclusion. I’d been waiting to read these books for months, and neither disappointed.

Twisted: A Synopsis
On probation for vandalizing his school, 17-year-old Tyler Miller returns to school as the nerd he’s always been—but now with a dangerous reputation, which gains him favor from the alpha female of the school, who happens to be his dad’s boss’s daughter. Struggling against a dysfunctional family, suicidal thoughts, and a police investigation thanks to false accusations from his peers, Tyler begins to learn what it means to be a man.

Coming from Anderson, author of the critically-acclaimed and personally-beloved Speak, I had great expectations for Twisted, her first foray into the male mind. The front lapel* of the book reads, “Everybody told me to be a man. Nobody told me how.” It’s a simple, sort of cryptic, and highly provocative teaser, perfectly appropriate for the story.
Laurie Halse Anderson delves into her protagonist’s mind, painting a spotless and sometimes troubling portrait of adolescence. She delves into high school, which is never uglier and never more meaningful than when she holds the shovel. She delves into the troubles of a suburban American family, offering hope without succumbing to a happy ending. Five stars for Twisted, easily. (If you decide to read this story, remember that Anderson doesn’t tell pretty or comfortable stories; although she does tell important ones.)
I can’t resist repeating one of the promotional quotes on the back of Twisted, from author Chris Lynch: “Laurie Halse Anderson is the undisputed bard of suburban American high school society.…Reality may bite, but perception just might tear you to shreds. The last line of defense for our hero is the same as it’s always been—character.”

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian: A Synopsis
Junior (Arnold Spirit, Jr., formally), born with many medical issues, grows up on the Spokane Indian Reservation as the brunt of many jokes and fistfights, and as the target of many bullies, including adults. Sick of poverty, inadequate education, and hopelessness, he decides to attend nearby all-white, small-town Reardan High School. The rez community sees Junior’s decision as a betrayal of his home and culture.

True to his self-aware form, Alexie manages to write about serious issues—death, alcoholism, racism, growing up—with a lighthearted and ironic, though still reflective, voice. A chronic cartoonist, Junior inserts many drawings into his “diary” (Part-Time Indian does not really follow the traditional journal format, but whatever), a multi-media dimension that is verging on a bit of a trend in YA lit, a revamping of old-school illustrations. Sherman Alexie, being Sherman Alexie, covers a lot of rez angst and culture conflict; and, of course, being Sherman Alexie, he does it honestly, without getting whiny.

Reading Part-Time Indian within 24 hours of Twisted was probably a mistake, since they are both coming-of-age stories aimed at the same audience, thus demanding a comparison. Anderson’s writing is very involved, mentally and emotionally; she sets a high standard of storytelling. As much as I love Alexie’s poetry, his prose—at least in this book—seems just so-so. His protagonist writes straightforwardly, without the layered depth Alexie usually employs. Yes, Junior’s voice is strong and honest and lovable, but there’s a lot of depth Alexie leaves wanting, which is surprising considering how personal this story is: While it’s being marketed as a novel and not autobiography, Junior’s story follows the author's own life (at least the first three paragraphs of it) quite closely. To be fair in comparison, though, Alexie uses humor to a perfection Anderson can’t compete with. And in the end, both are resoundingly satisfying tales of two boys coming-of-age.

Twilight (Stephanie Meyer)

Bella has just moved to Forks, WA. to live with her dad. She's clumsy but surprisingly popular in her new school, where she notices a peculiar but strikingly beautiful classmate, Edward Cullen. Edward is at first hostile, then overly-friendly, constantly shifting his mood. He has perfect superpowers, perfect timing, a perfect mind, and a perfect body. In fact, despite a few confusing mood swings, Edward is pretty much a perfect man. Well, actually, he's a vampire, but that doesn't stop Bella from falling in love with him. He, in return, is infatuated with her. Fast forward through about 300 pages of hormornal upheaval in which Bella and Edward explore the perfect romance in which Bella is perfectly besotted and Edward is perfectly heroic, handsome, and charmingly conflicted about his monsterish nature. Bella eventually meets the whole vampire family, (Please don't condemn the vampires because of their monsterish nature because they are, in fact, "vegetarian" vampires who abstain from human blood, thus making Bella and Edward's relationship possible.) who soon have the task of protecting her from bad vampires who want to, well, suck her blood. Fortunately for Bella, Edward and his family are immortal and, as mentioned, have perfect timing.

How perfect, right?
Stephanie Meyers has authored an ordinary romance novel, devoid of artistic merit or a hint of substance, and she assumes I, her reader, will sigh and wistfully say "Oh, I wish I could be Bella!" And yes, maybe her assumption is correct, because girls by the thousands are buying Twilight, indulging in what boils down to being just another teen fantasy...

There are hundreds of similar books on the market; I was especially disappointed in Twilight, however, because I expected so much more. I expected a story suspenseful, artistic, and original; I read a romance novel predictable, mediocre, and cheap. I, in my steadfast optimism toward YA lit, hoped for something different, something to perhaps challenge me. Something with engaging characters complimented with an intelligent storyline. It was a foolish hope.
It's told a bit differently and sold a bit differently, but in the end, Twilight is just more of the same old story.

[editor's note: When I wrote this review (which I edited and revamped a bit before posting here), it was on demand from one of my friends, who loved the book. I was angry, rushed, and the original review was a bit irrationally muddled for it; it shows even in the edited version, but I hope I made my point without sounding like a maniacal, raging idiot.]

Books Worth Stealing

This list is not comprised of what I consider to be the top ten books of all time or even my favorite books. It is, I suppose, just a list of YA books I have read and enjoyed, and would probably recommend. Because it's been a while since I read most of the following (not to mention this post has been sitting in drafts for over a month), the reviews will reflect the lasting impressions they gave me more than a precise opinion. I also would like to get this published tonight, so the capsules will be much briefer than I originally intended.

Rebel in the Night (Peter Jones)
Immoral and unflinching, backdropped by the Revolutionary War, Rebel is probably the most flagrantly irreverant book I've read in the young adult genre. And it is irreverant...towards every establishment involved. There's a lot to be said about Rebel, but it'd make me sounnd like a "Fresh Air" correspondant.

A Northern Light (Jennifer Donnelly)
A Northern Light is marketed as a murder mystery. And it is...but it really isn't. What remains in my mind is the poetic honesty and the simplicity with which Donnelly portrays the messiness of grief and poverty and struggle. Her story-telling is seamless and exquisite; her characters, unforgettable.

The Boys of St. Petri (Bjarne Reuter)
Ah, World War II, the omnipresent backdrop for a good book. Compared to the other war stories on this non-list, The Boys, set in Denmark (written by a Dane, even), is fairly tame and a bit rambling. Where Rebel concerns miscreants with, eh, questionable motives, The Boys is a more traditional tale of boyish heroics, tho still reasonable. Hope for Tomorrow included.

Trickster's Choice (Tamora Pierce)
Although her Song of the Lionness quartet was indubitably her best Tortall work, The Daughter of the Lionness couplet, and especially this first installment, seems to be less targeted and should appeal to a broader audience. An ensnaring yarn of intrigue and politics, Trickster's Choice is a variation from her other Tortall stories, more espionage than girl-power oriented.

Inventing Elliot (Graham Gardner)
In the hands of a less competant writer, this book would be outrageous; however, Gardner's Elliot manages to be rather engrossing, if still unexpected, even rendering the 1984-obsessed Guardians believable. Elliot is a flawed, offbeat book exploring choice and deliverance that somehow works, despite--or because of--its surrealism.

Bloody Jack: Being an Account of the Curious Adventures of Mary "Jacky" Faber, Ship's Boy (L.A. Meyer)
A rollicking good tale, from the slums of London to the high seas aboard a Royal Navy ship. Meyer takes one of the great, tired cliches of YA lit (girl, pretending to be a boy for greater opportunity in a chauvenistic world) and makes it work--and well--while avoiding most of the pitfalls of this scenario. He writes as if the idea has never been explored before, and there is an unpretentious and sensible backbone to this story. Jacky is luckier than most yet the story remains grounded. This is a novel filled with memorably flawed characters, a rough and brutual world, and the dynamic narration of an orphaned, ignorant, charismatic girl often in danger of losing her Immortal Soul.
(Ediotor's Note: After writing my own synopsis of sorts, I preceeded to see "rollicking good" used as a description of Meyer's tale in several other reviews. "Great minds," as they say...)

Eldest
Yes, I've mentioned it before (corrupted comments and all); and yes, I liked it that much, even if it shamelessly parallels "The Empire Strikes Back.
(Editor's Note: You know you've made it big when you receive a nod from Wikipedia!)

The Book Thief (Markus Zusak)
Narrated by Death, Zusak's pecular rspectives and storytelling weave together to make the notable, poignant, hopeful account of Liesel Meminger, the book thief. If I start writing about this book, I won't be able to stop, so I'll just link to other people's opinions. (Beware minor spoilers.)
(Editor's Note: Zusak's I Am the Messenger also of interest.)

The Age
NYTimes {mixed)
NYTimes (positive)

Holes (Louis Sachar)
It's been years since I read this book, but I'll always love the story of Stanley Yelnats. It is a (or was when I read it) clever, surprising, and quick read.

A Random Piece of Kate's Opinion: Plot summaries are lame.

Facts and Fictions

Well, we lost our game last night by a ridiculous amount. It wasn't the amount that was so ridiculous, but the team. It should have been different. But it wasn't. It was a dirty game against a dirty team, with two technicals marrng the game.
I'm in Rupert at Kari's; since I got here just past noon, we've watched three movies, played two games of Clue and one of Continuo, as well as making a delicious, mid-afternoon pasta. This is an extension of last weekend when she was down at my house for the space of two and a half days, during which time we played four games of Clue, six of Yahtzee, several of Sequence; watched two movies; and went to a stage production of Beauty and the Beast which one friend and several aquaintances were acting in. Yes, this is a whole lot of nothing. But it's enjoyable nothing, seasoned with conversation and experience.
I'm currently re-reading one of my favorite children's books, The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt. I tend to revert to children's lit between larger, "older" books, and Minna is one of my favorite stand-bys, along with Lily's Crossing. "Advanced," Kayleen (Kari's younger sis) called it, in an attempt to be witty or rabarbative; I'm not sure which. (I made that last comment for the sole purpose of being able to use "rebarbative" in a sentence.) Both these books remind me unfailingly of myself when I was younger. And sometimes of myself as I am.

Inheritance Trilogy: Book Two

Aahhhh....MUCH better.

I have very few problems with Eldest. Most of them are rather petty or involved, so I shall briefly discuss but one:

The first hundred pages were as lame as Eragon, except I felt like I was walking through Middle-earth, renamed, instead of Star Wars; and Paolini introduced more two-dimensional characters (I'm thinking, mostly, of the Council of Elders here). This was quite disheartening, as I had been told by several people the second installment was much better than the first. I forgot about all that, though, once we got into Ellesmera.

As more of an observation than an outright complaint, the story arc still subtly parallels that of the latter three Star Wars episodes; I am pleased, however, that the arc has been completed, and there is nothing I can conceive of to continue the similarities in the final Inheritance installment.

There is a bridge Christopher Paolini crosses, somewhere around the time we first encounter Roran again (which was a pleasant surprise), in regards to his writing and story-telling. It matures. It gains depth. It becomes his. While he maintained a moderately compelling pace and style in Eragon, with proper form and such, there was still a paucity of...personality. It felt generic to me. And there's nothing worse than generic fantasy. Eldest, on the other hand, is his book, his story, penned by his voice--the voice of a story-teller, not just an admirer of other authors' books. Maybe it was time and experience that changed him. Maybe it was the confidence of selling millions of copies of his debut novel. Probably an amalgamation of the two. I don't know what caused the change. But I'm glad it happened, regardless.

Because of this, Eldest has the substance the first book lacked. The system of magic is explained in greater detail, religion and motivation are debated and explored discursively, the value (and meaning) of family is explored without seeming banal or mawkish; I found the twists of plot to be satisfying on two levels: I got to feel smart after partially predicting half of them, along with the thrill of the wholly unexpected. Anyway, Eldest is overall a worthwhile read, a successful endeavor on the author's part.

Christopher Paolini, the world patiently, eagerly awaits the finale to your epic tale.