Stacked

The Testing by Joelle Charbonneau

2013-05-22T00:00:00.000-05:00

Cia lives in Five Lakes colony, the region of the country that used to be the Great Lakes, but is now a blighted region thanks to the Seven Stages War, a terrible conflict that killed millions and left most of the world environmentally destroyed. The United Commonwealth is now focused on revitalizing the country, clearing out the deadly toxins from the water and forcing the Earth to grow food again.

To do this, the country needs leaders. When they graduate from school at 16, all children become eligible for the Testing, a series of rigorous tests that determine entry into the the country's (apparently only) college. Cia is one of the select few chosen to compete. She has no choice in the matter, but she's happy to go; she knows it's the only way to get into college and she's eager to help lead the healing of the Earth.

But the Testing is not what it seems. Before she leaves, Cia's father - who participated in the Testing - tells her that though all participants' minds are wiped of memories of the Testing to ensure no inside information can be given to others, he's been plagued by disturbing half-memories. He remembers violence, death, terrible things children did to each other. He warns Cia not to trust anyone. He tells her that most people who go to the Testing - the ones who don't pass - aren't ever seen again.

So, does this synopsis sound familiar to you? It should - it's basically the Hunger Games. And I don't mean that in the way Divergent or Legend are like the Hunger Games. Those two books certainly have strong similarities, but The Testing takes it to a whole new level. The bulk of the book involves, unsurprisingly, an arena-like test where the teens must make it from one part of the blighted country (human-made obstacles included) to another, and only a certain number who make it will be admitted. They quickly learn that it's to their advantage to thin the herd. There's also another boy from her colony who Cia may or may not have a crush on, but can she trust him? Is his affection just a clever ruse?

I think it's interesting that Kirkus (usually the more unforgiving of review journals) claims that Charbonneau "successfully makes her story her own." I don't agree with that statement completely. It's not a carbon copy, but the aspects that are similar are eerily similar, in a way that seems to verge worryingly close to theft. I realize this is a pretty strong statement, and I thought a long time about how I'd remark on it. I felt it was important to share, though, so there you have it.

Despite all of that, though, this is a fantastic book. I know. If the Hunger Games didn't exist and I'd never read it, I'd be shouting this book's praises all over the place. But the Hunger Games does exist, I have read it, and The Testing owes so much to it (including its very existence, most likely). We don't read in a vacuum, and I can't and shouldn't pretend that we do. But I also feel it's important to judge a book on its own merits without necessarily comparing it to something else, and on its own, this book is fantastic.

Actually, I liked it more than the Hunger Games, which I enjoyed but didn't love immediately. I found the premise of the Hunger Games a little harder to believe and its depiction of the terrible things adults force upon the children in their care a bit heavy-handed. The Testing couches its violence in something that I think is more immediately relatable to teens - the competition for admittance to college - and shows the consequences of what we do to our children (intentionally or not) in a slightly more nuanced way.

Enough with the Hunger Games comparisons, though. The Testing affected me in a visceral way, and I can honestly say that no other book in recent memory has gotten my heart rate going quite like this one has. I resented having to go to work in the morning because all I wanted to do was read this book. Charbonneau is a master of suspense, of creating tension so taut that it hurts to keep reading but hurts just as much to stop. I wanted to turn the pages faster, faster, but at the same time I had to force myself to slow down because I didn't want to miss a single word. This is the kind of book that makes readers bite their fingernails until their fingers bleed, tug bits of hair out, shout at their significant others to leave them alone because goddammit they are reading, can't you see?

Beyond that aspect, there are some truly creative things going on here. I found the tests prior to the main survival round hugely interesting and quite unique in their own right, particularly the third round one involving teamwork. It's a great example of some creative plotting as well as character-building, and is the first real opportunity we get to see how ruthless children can be. The way Charbonneau gradually moves the tests from completely innocuous to more and more sinister is masterfully done.

The Testing does have its weaknesses. Cia isn't a hugely memorable character (though neither is she flat). There's not much background about the Seven Stages War, which is something that frustrates me in any dystopia I read. Some elements of the plot are easy to see coming - betrayals, alliances, deaths. Still, Charbonneau throws in enough twists to keep readers thoroughly engrossed, and like I mentioned before, it's nearly impossible to stop reading it once you start.

So, obviously, this is a perfect book for your fans of the Hunger Games and other action-packed dystopias. I'd love to discuss it with other readers and get their views on its similarities. This is one I see people having very strong reactions to one way or the other. For myself, I'm really looking forward to the sequel.

Review copy received from the publisher. The Testing will be published June 4.

30 Days of Awesome: Using My Platform Positively

2013-05-21T00:00:00.000-05:00

design by John LeMasney via lemasney.com

What began as a way to keep track of my thoughts on books has turned into something much bigger than I ever anticipated. And for a long time, I made a point to be very careful about sharing anything non-book related and I still take great effort to avoid talking about personal stuff here. This is and will always be primarily a blog about books and reading. Because those are two big passions in my life.

As STACKED has grown over the last four years, though, I've also seen myself growing as a blogger and as a thinker. I talked about this a my post last month and I've thought about it a lot in terms of what personal stuff I'm more willing to put out there now. I've talked a lot about speaking up and out as a woman, and I've talked about being an introvert, among other things. I've talked about how females are depicted on book covers and how there aren't gendered spaces.

Yet the post I feel changed everything for me in terms of blogging was this one. When I spoke up about ARCs, suddenly I found this little blog about books and reading being responded to in other blogs, both those within librarianship and those outside of it. It was the post that riddled me with a lot of guilt, then frustration, sadness, then anger. I was mad and upset about how my words were read and twisted. It hurt how people responded to me in a personal manner -- as if my career and personal life choices and decisions were things that factored in to what I had said in one single post.

After sitting on what I'd put out there for a couple of weeks, and thinking about how my piece had spawned reaction, I realized something big.

I had a platform.

People were listening.

Rather than rest on posting, though, I figured out that using this platform as a means to speak out was just the first step. I needed to use what I had in order to implement change. If something like ARCs could spur such heated discussion and rile up the sort of response it did, maybe I was on to something. So I put those thoughts and that post into action, suggesting a panel for the American Library Association's conference on the topic. It was accepted, and now we're in the process of organizing over 500 responses to our survey on how librarians, booksellers, and others use Advanced Reader's Copies so we can talk about why they're valuable and how they're used in the book world.

Anyone who has spent time here knows I've talked about being a woman and the challenges of speaking up and out over the last year too. That, whether you know it or not, came about because of my ARC post. Because of how people responded to that particular post and the thoughts I'd shared in the after. But when other people started talking about being a woman and the challenges of recognition for achievements on the ground level in libraries, it hit me that this is not just something that impacts me. It's something much bigger.

But.

I could use my platform here to highlight the awesome things that other people are doing. That I could use this position to respond to and showcase those things that other librarians, teachers, other book and reading advocates were talking about that were interesting. Even if I didn't necessarily agree with it. The value exists in bringing attention to those things which provoke response and provoke thought.

That is part of what brought this "30 Days of Awesome" series into existence in the first place. Rather than continuing to just link to cool things people were putting out there, I worked with Liz and Sophie to put together a coordinated effort that asks people to talk about those very cool things they're doing. To shine a light on themselves and brag. Because it's not just about saying "look at the things I'm doing." It's about also saying "here is how you can do it, too."

Realizing I had a platform and that people were listening to me changed my perceptions of blogging and changed my perceptions of what it is I can contribute to the blogging and blog reading world.

Wil Wheaton wrote a blog post a couple of weeks ago that I've been thinking about and that ultimately made me figure out what it is I wanted to contribute as my own piece for this project: "They make comments." Being at the center of two weeks of comments regarding the ARCs post, where people chose to spin my words and meanings into every possible formation, made me realize that it is a lot easier to make a comment than it is to take ownership of creating something larger -- even if that something "larger" is a blog post. Because it's out there, and it's permanent.

No doubt, people haven't liked other things I've blogged about. My post on introversion brought out a pretty nice series of anonymous commenters. I've seen tweeting and subtweeting pop up on any number of other posts I've written that shared a real piece of who I was in them. I've seen people choose to call me out on silly things left and right. Yes, they get to me a lot. I'm surprisingly sensitive. But thinking about what Wheaton's post said -- I've made something. They've made comments.

It's not just about making something in this virtual space though. It's about taking this virtual space and allowing this platform to be a way to do more. To reach new and different audiences. To allow other people a chance to have their voices and opinions heard. To meet new people.

To share.

While I may blog about things people disagree with -- and I always welcome an intelligent discussion -- I'm trying to keep in mind that my blog is something I get to make a choice about since it's my platform and my voice.

I choose this to be a space dedicated to being critical, to being thoughtful, to being helpful, and to actively pursuing my passions. It's so much more enjoyable to lift people up than it is to knock them down. And if I am in the position to do the first, I want to do just that.

So You Want to Read YA? Guest Post by Amy Stern, Literary Agent

2013-05-20T00:00:00.000-05:00

This week's contribution to So You Want to Read YA? comes from literary agent Amy Stern.

Amy Stern is currently an assistant agent at the Sheldon Fogelman Agency. She taught science fiction and fantasy at the Simmons College Center for the Study of Children's Literature, where she also got her MA in children's literature and her MLS in library science. She is occasionally pretentious about children's literature on her twitter @yasubscription and her blog yasubscription.wordpress.com. She reads a lot about superheroes, watches a lot of reality television, talks a lot about problems with gender normativity in popular culture, and spends entirely too much time on the internet.

We talk a lot about finding the "right book at the right time for the right reader" when we're talking about getting things for other people to read. I don't think that we give it nearly as much thought when we're choosing what to read ourselves. We are people who crave good stories, and then talk about them on the internet. We are the opposite of the reluctant reader.

One of the hardest things I've had to do- as an agent, as a scholar, and perhaps most importantly as a person who loves stories- was come to terms with the fact that I can't actually separate myself from the books I read. I can recognize the artistry and skill that goes in to telling a story without loving it; conversely, I can recognize there are parts of a novel that are deeply flawed while still connecting with it on a deep visceral level. But I will always see the best stories as the ones that combine those two for me, and that's inherently subjective.

So for this blog post, I didn't choose what I think of as the "best" novels by some kind of arbitrary external standard that probably doesn't really exist. And I didn't choose my favorites, because that's more an exploration of my id than young adult as an overall category. Instead, I'm taking this opportunity to look at twelve novels that made me reexamine my own criteria for what makes YA something worth taking another look at- books that were the right book at the right time for me as a reader, and why each of them struck when they did.

A HOUSE LIKE A LOTUS by Madeleine L'Engle

The first time I read the novel, I didn't get it. I mean, I really didn't get it. I was in fifth grade, and I just kind of passed over the parts that didn't fit into my world view. Looking back, I'm not sure how I got anything out of it without all of those parts, but I did have that emotional connection that made it one of my favorite books. A HOUSE LIKE A LOTUS is about Polly, a teenaged girl struggling with her understanding of the world in both practical and abstract ways. When I was older and reread the novel, I was stunned by how much of the world she discovers; the novel explores- sometimes delicately, sometimes clumsily- sex and sexuality, childhood and adulthood, belief and betrayal.

If you're familiar with L'Engle's work, it's hard to separate LOTUS from the context of L'Engle's other books. Polly is the daughter of Meg and Calvin, two of the protagonists of her Newbery-winning A WRINKLE IN TIME. This is never brought to the forefront, but it's a constant undercurrent; if you're familiar with L'Engle's Time Quartet, the characters will ring very familiar. And it's through that lens that it hits so hard when Max, Polly's brilliant but troubled mentor, points out that Polly's mother is unhappy.

Lots of young adult books deal with the complexity of realizing that the adults in your life have as many conflicting emotions as you do, but this was the first novel where I couldn't escape the fact that the adult in question was a grown-up version of a teen protagonist I'd identified with. She hadn't just grown up and lived happily ever after; she'd made choices, and those choices had consequences, both good and bad. A HOUSE LIKE A LOTUS is Polly's story, but when I remember it, I think about how Charles Wallace is off on a secret mission and Calvin is performing cutting-edge surgery on animals and Sandy is an international diplomat and Meg is at home, helping with Calvin's research and not getting her PhD because she doesn't want any of her seven kids to feel "less than," the way she did compared to her own mother.

A HOUSE LIKE A LOTUS isn't the book that introduced me to intertextuality, but it's the one that taught me- many years after my first read- that a series of books can be more than the sum of its parts.

EVIL GENIUS by Catherine Jinks

First, a word of warning: this novel starts when Cadel is seven and ends when he's a young teenager. But this is not a middle grade novel. This is the first novel in a trilogy, and by the third book Cadel matches up to the age we expect in a YA novel, but this is not Harry Potter. There isn't sexual content, and the violence isn't horribly explicit, but a nine-year-old isn't going to get much out of this. I'm 28 and some of the sociological and scientific concepts the book covers confuse me.

That said, this book is totally worth the time and effort it takes.

I love stories about giftedness, but hate stories about smart kids whose intellect is rivaled only by their failure at basic social interactions. As an awkward, nerdy kid who both had friends and liked spending time alone, I resented the idea that academic talent was inextricably linked to wanting desperately to belong and falling flat. When a friend gave me a copy of EVIL GENIUS and told me I'd love it, I cringed, but decided to give it a shot. And the book did the impossible, by turning that plot I hate into something I deeply care about.

Cadel's genius lies largely in understanding complex systems, and he views everything as yet another case study. Being raised by not-terribly-well-meaning adults who are trying to make him the best super villain he can be does not increase his empathy. He doesn't interact with other kids much, and while he may be lonely, he doesn't have any real desire to be part of their world. He simply views them as gears in the larger machinery, and the story- told in close third person- allows the reader to see this as logically as he does. When Cadel slowly develops empathy, it feels earned, and we see that his intelligence wasn't at all a blockade to connecting to other people. In fact, he's able to use it as a bridge.

EVIL GENIUS is my reminder that there's no story out there that's been done to death, because there are always new angles making something old fresh. If that angle is supervillainy, so be it.

ON THE JELLICOE ROAD by Melina Marchetta

For context here, I have to explain that I am a pretentious jerk who desperately wants to be well-read enough that when the ALA awards are announced every January, I say "Oh, I read that" and promptly begin arguing whether or not the best story won. Some years, I get more into this goal than others.

The year JELLICOE won was probably the height of my commitment to this completely asinine goal. I basically stopped sleeping in favor of reading a YA novel every night. I read all of the prediction blogs, and used them to make lists that I took to libraries and bookstores. I started to get YA lit fatigue; each book I read started to feel more like a chore than a treat, and I was so stressed about reading what would win that I wasn't registering the individual stories as much besides items to check off on a list. The day before the ALA awards were announced, though, I decided that if I hadn't read it yet, I wouldn't have read it. I'd read something for fun- something to relax. And I'd really liked SAVING FRANCESCA, so I figured I'd give this book I'd picked up on a whim a shot. Instead, JELLICOE wrenched me apart, and then it put me back together again.

I could talk for days about the ways JELLICOE uses various literary techniques to build an outstanding story, one which stands up even better on second read than on first. Structurally in particular, JELLICOE does what I love most in a novel: even unrelated parts parallel each other, adding depth, by the end, every aspect of the story feels complete and whole, without a beginning or an end; this is a Moebius strip of a novel. Nothing is extraneous; every piece has emotional or plot payoff, if not both, and even as the story comes full circle, so does the reader, as the appreciation of each part snowballs in the context of the pieces around it.

But more than anything, JELLICOE is a novel about the power of stories and of storytelling that also recognizes how things which help you heal are often the ones that hurt the most. None of its answers are easy, and that makes all of its answers, both good and bad, feel honest. And what matters most to me is that I found all of that in the story, not when I was looking at it with the lens of "will this win an award?", but rather when I just sat down and let myself drown in it. When I got myself to a place where reading YA novels felt like work, JELLICOE reminded me why I choose to read in the first place.

HOUSE OF STAIRS by William Sleator

I love a good dystopia as much as the next YA aficionado, but I have to admit that every time I read one, my evaluation of it butts up against my feelings on this book. Nearly all of HOUSE OF STAIRS takes place in a single room, with only five characters. The novel is short, under 200 pages. The teenagers feel contemporary, but small details pop up which feel incongruous to what we know of our world. Gradually, the reader realizes how disturbing the world of HOUSE OF STAIRS is.

Everything about this novel is surprising, but in a way that's earned; once you've read it, you'll see how much all of the groundwork was expertly laid while you weren't looking. My favorite part, though, is how the characters subvert stereotypes. I'm almost afraid to say more, because it gives away too much, but reading the novel there's a sense of "Oh, I know all of the pieces in this game" that slowly dissolves as you realize you know nothing about this world- just like the characters! (Yeah, shit gets deep in this book.)

This is not a perfect book. On my most recent reread, I was horrified by the fat politics of the story; additionally, when you step back, the overall plot has some holes you could drive a truck through. But even when I was appalled or disbelieving, I never considered putting the book down; it's that gripping. HOUSE OF STAIRS is my reminder that

YA isn't about the biggest concept or the most ostentatious plot; a young adult novel is discovering more of your world, and that can be as big as the universe or as small as a single room with nothing but endless staircases.

DOING TIME: NOTES FROM THE UNDERGRAD by Rob Thomas

Like most librarians and publishing people on the internet, apparently, I saw Veronica Mars when it aired, fell in love, and immediately tracked down Rob Thomas's YA novels. But I wasn't just a quitter who stopped at RATS SAW GOD, or even SLAVE DAY. Oh no. I tracked down all of them. And while I understand why RSG was everyone's favorite, there will always be a special place in my heart for DOING TIME.

DOING TIME: NOTES FROM THE UNDERGRAD is not technically a short story collection, but it feels like it; after the introductory chapter, each story is a first-person account from the perspective of a different kid completing their school's mandatory volunteer hours. Nothing about this should work, but somehow it all fits together. When you hear the summary RATS SAW GOD, you say "Yes, this sounds fascinating and it definitely should work." When you hear the summary of DOING TIME, you say "what the fuck? Are you at all familiar with the young adult market?" But the miracle of this book is that each story is successful, on its own and as a part of a larger whole.

Objectively (or as objectively as anyone can when talking about literature), this isn't Rob Thomas's best book. It's self-consciously edgy, and some pieces feel like they're just present for the sake of controversy. While every story in the collection works, some are much more successful than others, and the stories aren't long enough to make me believe every character. DOING TIME isn't a book I can get lost in. But it is a reminder that in the right hands, even the craziest concepts can work.

EMPRESS OF THE WORLD by Sara Ryan

There are queer novels that function primarily as Queer Novels. They are fundamentally about gayness; they are important in our canon because rather than shying away from queer relationships they dive into them headfirst. These novels are important; they pave the way. But they pave the way for books which have queer themes and queer characters but aren't fundamentally ABOUT queerness, books that are primarily about characters discovering who they are, and if part of that is their sexuality, that isn't the whole. EMPRESS OF THE WORLD was the first queer novel I read that wasn't a Queer Novel, and I fell in love with it.

I can't pretend I wasn't predisposed to liking this. EMPRESS is about a group of teens at a summer camp for gifted students, and two of them- both girls- fall for each other. This is basically a checklist of things that would make me fall in love with a story. But EMPRESS uses all of these elements as a starting point, rather than the goal. There are both straight and queer romances in this novel, and obviously those are the focus, but what grabs me is the group's immediate deep friendship, the kind that you only develop at summer camp. I knew enough of the concept to expect, going in, that we'd see characters explore their sexualities, but what struck me even more the first time I read it was that this book had non-white and non-Christian characters, just as a matter of course.

Sexuality, race, and religion are all just factors in the greater task of exploring who these characters are as human beings, and no one part of their identities exists in a vacuum.

EMPRESS OF THE WORLD is the story that reminds me a novel is only as strong as the relationships that form its foundation, and world building is only as strong as the people inhabiting that space.

[Note that may or may not be necessary: I'm using "queer" here as a catch-all term for QUILTBAG- queer, uncertain, intersex, lesbian, trans*, bisexual, asexual, gay.]

THE ABSOLUTELY TRUE STORY OF A PART-TIME INDIAN by Sherman Alexie

This is not a book I would recommend if you're interested in young adult literature. This is a book I'd recommend if you live in the world.

A lot of these books I have a single explanation for, a specific thing that makes it special. The closest I can come with this book is that, while Junior is clearly the protagonist and we are definitely rooting for him, there isn't anyone I'd identify as straight-up villain. There are antagonists, but everyone is complex and human, and characters who do awful things also show complexity when you least expect it. This is a universe filled with people who behave like people, and through all the plot twists and turns, the novel never loses sight of how the root of every action is in real humans beings.

One of my golden rules for exceptional novels is that you should genuinely believe that, outside of the protagonist's point of view, every single character has a full life and is living out their own complex thematic arc that occasionally happens to intersect with the main character's. For me, this novel is the gold standard in that.

AFTER TUPAC AND D. FOSTER by Jacqueline Woodson

Jacqueline Woodson's novels tend to exist in the space between middle grade and young adult, and judging by the Newbery honor it got, I know that most people would classify this one as middle grade. The characters are only twelve, and while I'm sure some parts of the plot could be seen as "edgy," the three girls in this story are constantly aware of the dangers of the world without ever succumbing to them.

What makes this novel YA for me, though, is how much the story exists on a precipice. Neeka, D, and the narrator (she's never named) see all around them what growing up means- both becoming a teen and becoming an adult- and they're simultaneously desperate to make that jump and determined to stay where they are. What makes AFTER TUPAC AND D FOSTER exceptional, for me, is that it manages this without ever being nostalgic. The text doesn't romanticize adulthood, childhood, or adolescence. And that choice makes the emotional impact more, rather than less, because every development feels achingly real.

I've known for a while that young adult literature shouldn't be nostalgic, but this novel is what I look toward when I think about how that doesn't mean it can't remember the beautiful moments and the terrible moments that you don't always notice when you're in the middle of them.

NORTH OF BEAUTIFUL by Justina Chen

Mixed-media is my favorite style of art. I'm constantly amazed at what can be done with collage, using several different materials to create something that's more than the sum of its parts. But I'm always suspicious of art in literature. Too often, it's just there because the writer and much of the target audience (I include myself in this!) views a creative outlet as a necessary part of existing. Art needs to be used deftly, I think, to capture the idea that the act of creating isn't just a source of joy. It's also frightening, and that's part of what makes it so valuable.

The protagonist of NORTH OF BEAUTIFUL, Terra, loves working on collages even as she denies being an artist. Throughout the novel, she evaluates her circumstances in the context of her art. Her father doesn't support her art, and she doesn't have much faith in it herself, but at the same time, it shapes her world view. Terra is self-conscious about the birthmark on her face, and she uses her art to discover her own definition of beauty. She slowly learns to view each piece of her life as one item in a larger collage, and at the same time, to view her collages as things worthy of being seen and appreciated by others. Throughout this, though, the novel admirably refrains from hitting the reader over the head with the symbolism of collage. Terra is allowed to slowly discover how her art and her worldview are related, while rarely explicitly spelling it out.

NORTH OF BEAUTIFUL is about a lot of things. It's about geocaching; it's about living up to expectations; it's about unrealistic standards of beauty. All of those are probably more central to the plot than the motif of artwork. But none are more important to me. When I think about this novel, I think about the excitement and terror of destroying things to make new and better things, and how expertly that's woven into the text- one of many pieces that contributes to the novel being more than the sum of its parts. It's really difficult to integrate symbolism in a way that feels honest to the reader and realistic in the text, and it's to this book's credit that it pulls it off so well.

BLEEDING VIOLET by Dia Reeves

I love and hate books about mental illness in equal measure. I love them because I think, done right, they're some of the most brutally honest reflections on what it means to be a person. I hate them because, so often, a character is reduced to a stereotype of a disorder, and that stereotype is the plot of the story as well as the whole of what passes for personality.

Hanna identifies as bipolar. But that isn't all she is. Even though she's clearly unbalanced, far beyond bipolarity- within the first chapter we learn she talks to her father's ghost and she's probably killed someone- she's learned to allow herself to live a life that works for her, sometimes in ways that are incredibly detrimental but often in ways that show how people are fundamentally resilient. It isn't normal, but it's how she's learned to cope. So when she finds herself in the town of Portero, a town which is dangerously supernatural in ways no paranormal romance could prepare you for, she doesn't get frightened and leave. Her abrupt mood shifts and her tenuous grip on reality, which have hurt her in so many other places, help her adjust to a town where things change on a dime and the surreal is a fact of life. As a reader familiar with unreliable narrators, it's easy to place Hanna into that box, but that's as unwise as trusting Hanna completely. She's crazy, but she's also often right.

This is a bleak book. If you're squeamish, you don't want to read this. (And you especially don't want to read Dia Reeves's other book; compared to that, this is tame.) It's also a very disquieting reading experience. Much of the enjoyment in the book seems to stem from how much you believe Hanna, and how much you're willing to go along with her for the ride. I don't see this as a flaw with the writing, but rather a consequence of how successful the writing is. Hanna's psyche is dangerous, and getting tangled up in her mindset is unsettling. But that discomfort lends to the atmosphere of the book, and when I think about books with such strong character and voice that they can take me anywhere, BLEEDING VIOLET is the first that comes to mind.

HOUSE OF THE SCORPION by Nancy Farmer

In the same year, HOUSE OF THE SCORPION got a Printz honor, a Newbery honor, and the National Book Award medal. The year it won, my writing prof told me I'd get a lot out of reading it. I saw how long the novel was, saw the family tree at the beginning that told me how complex the story would be, and decided to ignore her advice. I didn't think any novel could be worth that much work. I was so, so wrong.

There are plenty of books for children and young adults about drugs, but very few are this nuanced. This isn't about the dangers of opium, or even of the drug trade; this is a novel about power and identity, and it uses contemporary issues to create a dangerous science-fiction world that feels terrifyingly plausible. From the first pages, we know Matt is the clone of a powerful dictator, who rules over a strip of land between the United States and what was once Mexico. Over the course of the novel, although the story goes deep, we are aware we're barely scratch the surface of what that means. We learn just enough to realize how many other layers lie just beneath.

Despite being blatant and even over-the-top about how terrible the world can be (there are multiple dystopias within the same universe, and the very idea of a place of safety is an illusion), HOUSE OF THE SCORPION is often quite subtle. It can achieve this because the novel is told from Matt's point of view. The novel can be terrifying, but while occasionally it's graphic, most of the true horror exists in the space between what Matt understands and what the reader does. When I want to remember how much authors can trust their audience to fill in the blanks, this is the text I return to.

WELCOME TO THE ARK by Stephanie S. Tolan

This book is a cheat to include on the list. I can't tell you what about it makes it good, or even that it really is good. What I know is that the first time I read this book I couldn't put it down, and that while the cover on my copy has fallen off, I refuse to replace it. This book is, for me, a marker in time and place; when and where I read it are as ingrained in me as the plot and the characters.

WELCOME TO THE ARK is ostensibly the first book of a trilogy (the third book still hasn't come out, and it's over ten years later), about two children and two teenagers who meet at an experimental group home within a mental institution. All four of them are extraordinarily gifted in different ways, and while alone each of them is isolated, they find themselves are able to connect with each other- and through that with the world- in ways which defy explanation. It's a mostly-realistic story that has fantasy elements; it is wish fulfillment for every kid who feels like there's no one in the world who sees the world as they do.

This is the book that reminds me that at the end of the day, the book that we need to read- whether or not we know why we need it, or even that we do- is a hell of a lot more important than any other standard we can place on the literature we read.

Links of Note, 5/18/13

2013-05-18T00:00:00.001-05:00

I'm currently loving this series of "Things that remind me of" on this tumblr, and the image above is for the "Things that remind me of" for Malinda Lo's Ash. Spend a little time checking out all of the awesome posts here -- talk about a neat idea for visually thinking about books. I might have to try it.

This week's edition of Links of Note is short -- we've been collecting so many links for "30 Days of Awesome" and for the read and blog along to The Chocolate War. If you haven't spent time on either of those, you should.

If there's something I missed from the last couple of weeks worth knowing about, let me know.

Andrea Pinkney talks about diverse covers over at the CBC Diversity blog and calls for a love fest of favorite covers featuring the full faces or bodies of people of color.

At School Library Journal, there's a nice post about YA books you might have overlooked in the last couple of years. Interesting to me is the book that just came out being listed, only because it just came out. How could it already be overlooked? Either way, it's a good list.

Flavorwire has a fun post featuring the handwritten book outlines from well-known authors, including JK Rowling and Sylvia Plath.

Is it weird to include a post I helped write in the roundup? I'm going to anyway. Author Kathleen Peacock and I cowrote a piece about how piracy hurts libraries, authors, and readers. I talked specifically about how you can get books you want into your own library (and how piracy doesn't help that happen).

Hilary T. Smith, author of Wild Awake (which I have a review of coming in a couple weeks) has an interview with the designer of her book cover. This is a neat read!

A panel of authors on the question of likability. This is worth reading.

"Where are all of the funny YA books?" is a question I hate hearing. Sure, there's not necessarily a YA humor section but there are plenty of funny YA books. Lawrence Public Library in Lawrence, Kansas even made this awesome flowchart to funny YA.

This post is from earlier in May, but it resonated with me: what is the fate of the book blogger?

I have yet to finish reading this piece, so part of why I'm sharing is because I want to remember to finish it and because it made the rounds of a few blogs I read. It's long form journalism and super interesting -- the lack of the female road narrative and why that matters.

I think this is one of the best blog posts I've read in a long time. EM Kokie talks about how in YA, sexuality tends to be shied away from when it relates to females and female body parts. Why is this? I think I could write an entire post about this very topic because it's one I think about quite a bit.

So it's interesting no one has talked about the fact that this New York Times Book Review of Andrew Smith's Winger coins the term "Green Lit," as though John Green is the gold standard for realistic fiction. In my mind, this piece said more about THAT than it ever did in terms of reviewing the book.

Pam, of Mother Reader, isn't hosting this year's annual 48 Hour Book Challenge, but it will be happening. Check out her post for all the details on the new hosts and how it'll play out. I plan on participating -- are you?

Inspired by -- and Read Alikes to -- The Chocolate War

2013-05-18T00:00:00.000-05:00

Now you've read The Chocolate War. What do you read next? Here's a short list with some suggestions for further reading. Some of these titles cover aspects of bullying. Some are about portraying the truth in the most honest and painful way possible. Some of them are about social dynamics and social truths. Some of them are all of the above.

Part of why I wanted to put together this short list is because a number of books that more recent YA readers have come to know were inspired by Cormier's classic, whether or not they were aware of it. In many ways, this book opened up a dialog about peer pressure, about conformity, and about the dynamics of relationships in high school in teen fiction and in teen lives.

All descriptions come from WorldCat. I'd love to know of other books you see as strong read alikes to The Chocolate War, and I'd also love to hear about books that were definitely inspired by Cormier's classic. Leave your thoughts in the comments!

Permanent Record by Leslie Stella: Being yourself can be such a bad idea. For sixteen-year-old Badi Hessamizadeh, life is a series of humiliations. After withdrawing from public school under mysterious circumstances, Badi enters Magnificat Academy. To make things "easier," his dad has even given him a new name: Bud Hess. Grappling with his Iranian-American identity, clinical depression, bullying, and a barely bottled rage, Bud is an outcast who copes by resorting to small revenges and covert acts of defiance, but the pressures of his home life, plummeting grades, and the unrequited affection of his new friend, Nikki, prime him for a more dangerous revolution. Strange letters to the editor begin to appear in Magnificat's newspaper, hinting that some tragedy will befall the school. Suspicion falls on Bud, and he and Nikki struggle to uncover the real culprit and clear Bud's name. Permanent Record explodes with dark humor, emotional depth, and a powerful look at the ways the bullied fight back.

What was most interesting to me in my read of Permanent Record was how many allusions to Cormier's classic were made. One of the teachers in Badi's new school wanted to use The Chocolate War as a classroom read, but in the end, decided not to. And rather than fight administration about using it, the teacher decided to forget about it all together. Which an interesting message to compare to what happened in Cormier's book. There's also Badi, who refuses to sell chocolates to raise money for student organizations at his new school. Though his resistance and reluctance is much more in-your-face than Jerry's ever was. There are some really fascinating aspects about identity in Stella's book, too. Badi has to take on a new name when he enters a new school, thus hiding his ethnicity. Jerry, in Cormier's novel, doesn't hide who he is in the least. These two books would make for an interesting discussion for how much they are similar -- but even more because of how much Badi and Jerry differ in their approaches to disturbing the universe.

The List by Siobhan Vivian: Every year at Mount Washington High School somebody posts a list of the prettiest and ugliest girls from each grade--this is the story of eight girls, freshman to senior, and how they are affected by the list.

Why The List as a read alike? Well, it sure seems inspired by Cormier's book in terms of bucking against school traditions. This book challenges the beauty myth and the tradition in Mt Washington High School which posts a list of the best looking and ugliest girls each year. This year's nominees each have an opportunity to give their views of the issue and readers get to experience what happens over the course of this week to the girls and to their peers. Does the list disappear? Do people learn about what beauty is and is not? If The Chocolate War were recast with all females, I think this one gets it pretty close. It's much less brutal, though, and much more internally and psychologically driven.

The Buffalo Tree by Adam Rapp: While serving a six-month sentence at a juvenile detention center, thirteen-year-old Sura struggles to survive the experience with his spirit intact.

I have to admit upfront I haven't read this book. But it came up for me as a strong read alike because it's a title that forces a main character to survive with his own sense of self and dignity while spending time in a place rapt with authority, power, and control. Knowing Rapp's writing style, I am confident it is unflinchingly honest. Anyone read this one? I think I'm going to pick it up sooner, rather than later.

The Mockingbirds by Daisy Whitney: When Alex, a junior at an elite preparatory school, realizes that she may have been the victim of date rape, she confides in her roommates and sister who convince her to seek help from a secret society, the Mockingbirds.

Why The Mockingbirds? Well, we have a boarding school setting with authority that's less interested in the best interests of the students and instead invested in the best face of the school and themselves. There's vigilante justice here, too, though in Alex's case, things pan out . . . a little bit better than they do for Jerry.

Twisted by Laurie Halse Anderson: After finally getting noticed by someone other than school bullies and his ever-angry father, seventeen-year-old Tyler enjoys his tough new reputation and the attentions of a popular girl, but when life starts to go bad again, he must choose between transforming himself or giving in to his destructive thoughts.

It's been a few years since I read Twisted, but what I remember noting is how it's a story about what it means to be a male. What the power struggles are and what the challenges of defining yourself as masculine are. These themes are definitely huge in The Chocolate War and Anderson's writing is, of course, not afraid to tackle the tough stuff.

Some Girls Are by Courtney Summers: Regina, a high school senior in the popular--and feared--crowd, suddenly falls out of favor and becomes the object of the same sort of vicious bullying that she used to inflict on others, until she finds solace with one of her former victims.

It's hard not to see the parallels between what happens in Summers's book about bullying and what happens in Cormier's. Except, this time it's about the power struggles among girls, rather than boys. It's brutal and honest, and there's not a hopeful ending or solid closure. Which is part of the honesty and part of Cormier's book, too. Summers also does a good job of showing both sides of how girls are nasty with one another -- the physical and the psychological.

The Tragedy Paper by Elizabeth LaBan: While preparing for the most dreaded assignment at the prestigious Irving School, the Tragedy Paper, Duncan gets wrapped up in the tragic tale of Tim Macbeth, a former student who had a clandestine relationship with the wrong girl, and his own ill-fated romance with Daisy.

Like the Rapp title, this isn't one I've had the chance to read yet. But by all reviews I've spent time reading, it sounds like the tight community within the school and the social tensions/politics would make this a strong read alike. Not to mention the history of tradition.

Sticks and Stones: Defeating the Culture of Bullying and Rediscovering the Power of Character and Empathy by Emily Bazelon: Bazelon defines what bullying is and, just as important, what it is not; explores when intervention is essential and when kids should be given the freedom to fend for themselves; dispels persistent myths about bullying; and takes her readers into schools that have succeeded in reducing bullying and examines their successful strategies.

I read this one but can't talk too much about it except to say it's one of the stronger non-fiction titles exploring teen bullying and brutality I've read. It's adult non-fiction but definitely has teen appeal, as it begins with three case studies of teens dealing with bullying in very different -- very painful and real -- ways.

I could add many more bullying books, but I'm not because I don't think that all bullying books are good read alikes to one another, nor are they all good read alikes to The Chocolate War. I am curious to hear, though, what you might think makes for a strong Cormier read alike or what books were clearly inspired by the classic.

The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier

2013-05-17T00:00:00.000-05:00

Archie always believed in doing the smart thing. Not the thing that you ached to do, not the impulsive act, but the thing that would pay off later.

How did I feel about Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War five years after reading it for the first time?

Much, much differently.

But I say that as a matter of my only real opinion last time was that this book wasn't as controversial as I'd once suspected and that I didn't like the way the boys in the book thought about girls. And now, with a few years of reading YA under my belt and a few years of actually working with teens, I think I went in with different expectations. I also got to leave the book with different reactions, too.

When Jerry is tapped to become part of The Vigils, a secret/not-so-secret society of sorts on the campus of his all-boys private school, he's given the initiation challenge of refusing to take part in the annual fundraising chocolate sale. He has ten days to say no when his name is called and he's expected to talk about how many boxes he has sold.

But when day eleven and twelve roll around, Jerry continues to say no. He continues to not participate.

Not only does this get everyone in his class riled up -- it's an act of defiance for the long-held Trinity tradition -- but Jerry's refusal to take part in the sale also defies the Vigils. He shouldn't be messing with the school and his peers, let alone the Vigils.

But Archie, who isn't president of the Vigils but who takes the lead in figuring out who to recruit and what it is the recruits will have to do to prove they're worthy of the group, handles this calmly. Even though he's agreed to have the Vigils make this the best sale year ever (it's a favor to Brother Leon, who asks for the favor), Archie isn't going to act immediately. Yes, Jerry needs to do his part in the chocolate sale. It's important. It reflects on the Vigils. But for Archie, the easy way out would be for him to beat on Jerry. The easy way out would be to corner Jerry, intimidate him, and make him follow the rules.

Archie waits. And plots.

Jerry, meanwhile, becomes the target of bullying. Yes, he's beat up, but the real torment comes in less physically-aggressive means. He's laughed at. He's prank called over and over. These are little things, and while Jerry continues to stand up for not wanting to take part in the chocolate sale, they do start to get to him mentally. It comes out in little ways -- he feels bad that his father, for example, knows about the phone calls. When he summons the energy to call the one girl he's been eyeing, he doesn't have the strength to actually talk to her for fear of what she might say. It comes out, too, through Goober, who decides that he's going to take a stand with Jerry. And even though Goober is much more open about his feelings, and he's tried to convince Jerry to get on board selling, he still supports Jerry's decision making. Jerry's impacted because he feels weird. He doesn't feel sad about not participating. He doesn't feel guilty for it nor guilty for how Goober's reacting. He just feels weird.

Maybe that weirdness is empowerment. It's taking the stand for what it is he does and does not want to do.

So now we have Archie, who is plotting to do something big to get back at Jerry, and we have Jerry, who continues to say no to selling the chocolate. We also have a handful of other male characters but for me, they weren't as interesting as these two. And I think what made these two so interesting to me was not just the power dynamics -- they both want to prove themselves -- but how representative they were of the school as a whole. So Brother Leon wants to have the most outstanding chocolate sale this year because he wants to prove his own leadership capabilities. He's second in command at Trinity, but with the head of the school unable to participate, this is Leon's chance to prove his worth. Which is precisely Archie's position, too. He's second in command of the Vigils. If he can pull of the chocolate war and bring a good image to the Vigils, he can prove his worth too.

Except unlike Leon, who is a begger and wants things done quickly, Archie is a much more precise and deliberate thinker. Their methods of wielding the power they have and reaching for the control they want are so different.

Archie's plans to take the chocolate sales to the next level comes through in his initially-stated philosophy: he'd do the thing that paid off most, rather than the thing that he ached to do. Jerry did the thing he ached to do. He disturbed the universe by not selling the chocolate and by defying his test by the Vigils. He wanted to be his own person and act according to his own wants and desires. Archie, on the other hand, may have wanted to skip out on selling chocolate or helping Brother Leon. He may have wanted to slug Jerry and have that immediate gratification. But he knew the true pay off would come through making a smart choice, rather than the one he really wanted to make.

That smart choice was putting Jerry in a physical battle with Janza, another member of the Vigils who is trying to prove himself. Who had been part of the crew trying to take down Jerry in the first place as a means of proving the power of the Vigils as a whole. And while Archie tricks Jerry into showing up to the fight, Archie also knows Jerry won't back down from it because that's just the kind of person Jerry is. He's going to see things through to the end. Janza was a no brainer, though, as a boy who wanted to prove himself and as someone who would love nothing more than to annihilate Jerry. And through selling chocolate bars and the opportunity to call the shots to be made by each of the boys in the ring, Archie made the money for the sales.

He also set up the entire event so that it'd be broken up by authority and he'd be in good with the Brothers still.

What captured my attention in The Chocolate War this time was less the plot and much more the characters and what their goals were. I wanted to know what the stakes were. I wanted to see what drove them to behave how they did. The ultimate take away is bleak -- even if you stand up for what you believe in, even if it's something that hurts no one else, like Jerry did, you will face the consequences of authority and the establishment. We get this early in the story with the role playing scenario in Brother Leon's class with Bailey, and we get it in the end with Jerry being bruised and broken following the fight.

Jerry doesn't walk away a hero in the story. If there's a hero at all to this story -- and let's take "hero" as a stretch here, defined as someone who got what they were going for the whole time -- it's Archie. He learned his opponents' weaknesses, then he took advantage of them to further himself. And even if Brother Leon is considered a hero too -- he did manage to make the highest grossing, most successful chocolate sale in the history of Trinity -- he's still overshadowed by Archie and the Vigils. It's Archie himself who says at the very beginning of the novel what might be one of the biggest truths of the book: "Most grown-ups, most adults: they were vulnerable, running scared, open to invasion."

Archie found that vulnerability in Leon and ran with it.

Even if Jerry learns the hard truth that standing up for what you believe in leaves you open to invasion, to attack, to unrelenting scrutiny, it is hard as a reader not to love him for what he does. And I think because he's strong in his convictions and a target because of this, it makes the messages and truths he learns even more difficult to take. How come a nice guy, one who is harming no one ends up the victim?

I loved how uncomfortable this book made me this time around.

Is it controversial? Maybe. Thinking about my initial reactions and thinking about the experiences I've had in the last five years through reading YA and working with teens, I think my perceptions of controversy have changed. I think my initial reading was about the things which could trigger heated debate, rather than my reading now, which considered the controversial elements of the story to be those very hard to digest truths about character, about power, about motivation, and about being true to yourself in a world which wants you to crumble and conform. Those are huge ideas. Those are not easy things to think about or read about. Part of it is because in the context of the book, those who are hurt hardest are the characters who are doing the least harm. But I think a bigger part of it is that these are the things we deal with every single day as living, breathing, working, thinking people. The systems we fight against do hold us down and do force us to conform. It's not necessarily with fists and kicks, though. It's much more subtle and much more psychologically debilitating than we want to give it credit for. Not to mention it's also about peer pressure.

I'm still not a fan of how women were represented in the book. But it makes sense, too. This is an all-boys school, so of course there aren't many females around. And it makes sense that the boys in this story would think about girls in very sexualized ways -- they're stuck in an all-male system, and it's through their imagination that they can find some way to get rid of that frustration. Plus, they are teen boys and they are hormonal. I give Cormier huge kudos for being open about this and for putting his characters in those positions, especially when they're compromising. Part of why Janza relents to Archie is his fear that Archie has a photo of him in a precarious position. And what's interesting is that it's Janza earlier on who says this: "People had a fear of being embarrassed or humiliated, of being singled out for special attention." And here, that's exactly why he's willing to bow to Archie's power.

But back to the women in the book -- we have a dead mom and we have the girls near the bus stop. Jerry tries calling one of them, but that's all we have of ladies in the book. Jerry, in fact, considers his crush's body as an object of desire when masturbating, too. And yes, the line about one of the boys raping the girls with his eyes still bothers me a lot, but taking it in the context of the story, in context of male hormones and testosterone flowing, I get it.

Considering this book published in 1974, I applaud Cormier's honesty in not just his big messages, but in his ability to be open about sex, about masturbation, and about the ways that teen boys think about women and girls. It's not always pretty. But more than that, I think this book stands out among even recent titles in terms of being unflinching in honesty about these topics. We all like to think that teen boys are saints without urges and inappropriate thoughts but it's also important to remember they're teen boys.

I could say a lot more about this book in the context of bullying, too, but the important parts to me were that the bullying here was at times physical -- which is how we associate boys and bullying -- but so much more was psychological and subtle -- which is how we associate girls and bullying. Cormier makes it clear that being nasty doesn't have a gendered approach.

I'm unable to get to the movie or the sequel to The Chocolate War before this week is up, but I'm almost glad. This reading experience was really worthwhile and opened my eyes a lot not only in terms of the book, but it opened my mind up to seeing and understanding how much I have grown as a reader. It'll be fascinating to revisit this book in another five years and see what stands out, too.

Reviewed from a purchased copy.

The Chocolate War: A Cover Retrospective, Foreign Editions

2013-05-16T00:00:00.000-05:00

Ready to check out what foreign publishers have done cover-wise for Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War? Some of these are head scratchers and others are pretty darn good. As I mentioned in my prior cover retrospective post, it's worth noting that researching the covers is a little challenging, so any errors are mine and mine alone. It's especially tricky with foreign covers, but I've spent less time worrying about publication dates of these covers and instead think it's more interesting to look at the designs themselves. Some of these might not be definitive foreign editions, and some of them might be older, rather than the most current version.

If you know of any other foreign editions or know of any further information on any of these covers, I'd love to know in the comments.

Let's start with what might be my favorite vision of The Chocolate War cover.

This cover comes from China. I love the light blue background, but much more than that, I love how this plays into the fact Jerry is a football player. This cover model doesn't look prep school, but he looks like an everyday kind of teen boy. But maybe what I love most is the look in his eyes. The boy looks determined but he doesn't look like he's out for any ill will, which is precisely how I read Jerry. Even though the cover itself feels light and looks light, I don't read it as being a lighthearted book. I think it's the look on the boy's face and the fact he's in his gear. I'm also digging on the way the author's name and the title fill out the right-hand side of the cover. Since I don't read Chinese, I have no idea what the tag line says on the left-hand side, but I like that it's in red because it does stand out.

I would not mind having this book on my shelf. Even if I cannot read a word of it.

Here's another light cover, though it certainly doesn't read as light hearted. This edition is from Italy, and I kind of dig how it's illustrated. We have the chocolate on the cover, though the chocolates are of the mixed variety, rather than the chocolate bar variety. The body lying down pretty well sums up the end of the book, and I think it's interesting that he's given pants and socks, but no shirt. Unless his shirt is white, but I think he has a belly button there.

I like the handwriting font used for the title, and I like how Cormier's name looks. It's a small thing, but it's visually appealing.

Apologies for the pixilated cover, but it's the best one I could find. This is the Greek edition of The Chocolate War and it sure has quite a bit going on for it. Or against it. We have the chocolate in the top left-hand corner, followed by a boy who sure looks dejected or frustrated -- I can't completely tell. And I don't think he's wearing a shirt. Then on the bottom, we get a boy engaged in a mean game of fisticuffs by himself. There's also the black and white effect in part of the cover, then we have the gold taking up the majority of the image. I find the entire cover to be visually jarring. Actually, it looks almost more like a cover for a movie or a movie poster than a book cover.

When we get to the French cover, we're back to looking at boys who appear very young for high school. Or I should say a single boy who looks way too young to be in high school, even as a freshman. But what is with that window in the background? Talk about a little foreboding. I think the most interesting element of the French cover though is how stark and simple it is. It's almost entirely white. Is it me or does the boy look a little defiant, too? I like that. But this is not my Jerry.

Here are two German versions of The Chocolate War, and I think I like both of them, but for very different reasons. The cover on the left I like because I like the boys. They're shadowy but they're distinguishable. They also look a little sketchy and like they're up to some trouble. Which totally fits the story. And even though it could look weird, I think the green hue on the cover works, as it contrasts nicely with the cream background.

Maybe someone who speaks German can enlighten me a little bit, since I don't and don't know, but the title for the cover on the right is a little different than the one on the left. Are they the same book or is one the sequel? I include it either way because I love the shadowy, chocolate-colored figure here. I love how big the image is, and I also like how there is still a shadow here. The second boy in the back has a shadow extending from his feet, but from the way the cover looks, it could be the shadow of the boy in front (depending on the angle of the light, of course). The cover looks a little scary and intimidating, which I think suits the book very well.

This is yet another German edition and yet another German edition that pleases me. I think it looks less prep school and more typical high school, but I love the motion of the image. In many ways, I feel the motion and blurred effect here mirrors much of the content of the book -- what are the lines of being good and bad? What is right and wrong? Where do you stand up and where do you conform? I like that we can't make out the boy's face, but I do like that he appears to be of the right age, rather than so young like many of the other cover boys. The colors in this cover work for me too. I like the dark blue lockers and the red shirt, and the way both play against the greenish-creamy hues through the rest of the image. And what about the red, enlarged font for Cormier there?

The final two covers are Spanish editions.

On the left, we have so many interesting things going on. I love that it's almost entirely black, but in the top corner, we see one of the Brothers. My guess is that it's Brother Leon, but that's up for debate. Then there's the boy in the baseball cap in what looks like a picture torn out of a yearbook. But who is it? Also, who wears baseball caps in prep school like that? I would think it's supposed to be representative of Archie, since he's the rebellious one. Then there's the logo and repetition of "Vigils" beside the image. Aside from the fact it's a clear element of the story, what's interesting in its use is that it's in English. In translations, I know that proper names can often stay the same (since there's not always a clear translation), but there is in Spanish. I'd be curious if it's changed in text because it's not on the cover. This cover is almost kind of cartoonish to me, though I do think it reads as a teen book.

Okay.

I saved the best cover to be the last one because I want you to look at it and think about it for a good long minute.

Why is there a girl on it? What boy in The Chocolate War spends any time with a girl? There's a phone call, but that is the closest to a girl getting page time that there is. Certainly, no boy is walking with a girl like that in the story. So that it's representative of the book on the cover is bizarre and noteworthy because it doesn't even happen in the book. But aside from that strange choice in image, I love the illustrated effect. Except, doesn't it make the book look like it's almost a happy story? It certainly doesn't have a darkness or a shadow lingering over it. The design definitely nails the prep school look but this cover doesn't have anything to do with the book. Dare I say it looks almost like a romance?

Any other foreign editions worth knowing about? Have any favorites in this group or thoughts on any of these covers? I'd love to hear them!

Guest Post: Why The Chocolate War Matters by Angie Manfredi

2013-05-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today as part of our Chocolate War read and blog along, we have a guest post from librarian and blogger Angie Manfredi about why this book matters to her and to YA lit more broadly.

Michelangelo Antonioni and Ingmar Bergman, two of cinema’s greatest directors, died on the same day. A few weeks later, The New York Times simultaneously published appreciations of their work by two more of cinema’s greatest directors. Martin Scorsese wrote a piece about Antonioni entitled The Man Who Set Film Free and Woody Allen wrote a piece about Bergman entitled The Man Who Asked Hard Questions. The cinephile in me fluttered with joy at this but, more than that, the book lover in me saw those two titles and thought instantly of one writer: the young adult author, Robert Cormier.

To me, no one is a better fit for these two monikers. Cormier was the man who set young adult literature free and, perhaps more than anything, he was a man who asked hard questions.

In none of his books is this more evident than in the classic The Chocolate War. Published in 1974, it’s sometimes referred to as the first young adult novel, but if I were making judgments about that, I’d give the honor to S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders which appeared in 1967. But there is a real case to be made for The Chocolate War as the beginning of young adult literature as we know it today and it’s not just “this book was different than children’s books because it was still for juvenile readers but it had teen characters and dealt with ‘mature’ topics!” No, The Chocolate War is the book that asks hard questions simply because it doesn’t claim to have any answers.

I will spare you the standard recap, you probably know it already. But let’s pretend you don’t: Jerry goes to a private Catholic boy’s school. Jerry dares disturb the universe and resists the mandate from the ruling clique at his school that he must sell chocolates to fundraise for their cronyism.

You know what happens next, don’t you?

Jerry collects a band of fellow misfits and begins to truly question the power structures inherent not just at his school but in the world. Jerry and his misfits rise up, against great odds and with much at stake, to expose the injustice.

Of course!

And you know what happens next, don’t you?

Jerry and friends are victorious! Slowly but surely the rest of the school rallies around them inspired by their courage to also speak out, there’s a empathic adult there to lend insight and support at just the right time (possibly Jerry’s father, who has roused himself from the depression he’s been in for most of the book to really be there and connect with his son) and Jerry who stood up for what he knew what was right ... Jerry’s so glad he disturbed the universe.

Ah, wait.

That is, of course, not at all the way The Chocolate War ends. No, The Chocolate War ends with the status quo safely in place, the adults in the story more than just blindly looking the other way, but actively shielding and defending the teens who have committed criminal acts. And the bullies? Their power is not just intact, nay, it has been strengthened by this show of ultimate force. We leave Jerry literally beaten to a pulp, muttering to his single ally that trying to disturb the universe won’t work and, in fact, isn’t worth it.

And it is this ending, completely devoid of even a shred of hope or light, that is the brutal crowning grace of The Chocolate War and, moreover, this is the moment young adult literature is really and truly set free from the constraints and conventions of children’s literature. Nothing before this moment has achieved the same severing of young adult literature from children’s literature. Yes, there’s an actual death in The Outsiders, but we leave Pony Boy with a pen in his hand, the hope for words and healing. There is none of that in The Chocolate War - the powerful stay powerful, corruption runs deeper than we could have guessed, and our hero is hauled out on a stretcher.

To me, Cormier’s greatest legacy is the clear definition between children’s and young adult literature. There was no mistaking it - this was not a book for children. It was a book for older readers, those ready to tackle big, hard questions and moral grey areas, readers who didn’t demand or need everything all wrapped up with a big bow. Yet even with that, it still wasn’t for adults. No - this was a book just for teens. All these years later, it still is.

When Kelly and Liz announced this project, I decided I wanted to participate. I re-read it for what was about the fifth time in preparation for writing and the one thing that stood out to me was how current, how immediate, it still feels. Reading about the way adults not only refuse to get involved but often support the bullies? I couldn’t help but think of places like Steubenville, Ohio. The powerlessness Jerry feels? Cormier builds that tension with an intense, almost claustrophobic mastery - you are entirely wrapped up in this insular and sharply dangerous world. That’s a reality so many teens still live with. Adult readers may feel unsettled by The Chocolate War but I think teen readers, still, will find much to relate to in it.

With The Chocolate War, Cormier asked hard questions about morality and justice that young adult literature is still trying to answer. It’s this reason, after all this time, he’s still the writer that set us free.

***

Angie Manfredi is the Head of Youth Services for Los Alamos County Libraries. She blogs at www.fatgirlreading.com and tweets incessantly @misskubelik. Her most recently finished book was Sidekicked by John David Anderson.

Odd Duck by Cecil Castellucci and Sara Varon

2013-05-14T00:00:00.001-05:00

What happens when two favorite authors team up and make a graphic novel? You get Odd Duck and it is everything you'd hope it could be -- and maybe even a little more!

What I love about Sara Varon's work is how she tells stories of friendship that aren't sappy and that are real in their imperfections. Cecil Castellucci does the same thing in her stories -- the friendships are flawed and yet, wholly real in those flaws.

In Odd Duck, we meet Theodora, who is perfect. She loves her life, including the fact she's the only duck who buys mango salsa and the only duck who checks out certain books in the library (the librarian has to even dust those titles since they've been shelf sitters for so long). She doesn't want anything to change because she is happy with who she is. Things are calm, peaceful, and serene.

But then Chad moves in next door. Chad colors his feathers, lives in a house that's boarded up and messy, and he's anything but coordinated nor quiet. He frustrates Theodora's quiet and peaceful life. Why does he have to be there and ruin everything she has going for her? Theodora is not happy.

When the two of them finally talk, bonding over their shared love and appreciation for the night sky, they discover they have a lot more in common than appears on the surface. But when they're going for a walk one afternoon and overhear the other ducks whispering about the "Odd Duck," each accuses the other of being the weird one. Neither of them wants to admit to being the "odd duck." Because neither of them are, of course -- Theodora is perfectly normal in her quiet ways and Chad is perfectly normal in his more colorful life. But when called out, it appears both Chad and Theodora think of each other as odd, even if they never wanted to admit it.

Suddenly, the two of them find themselves fighting. Now everything Chad does irritates Theodora and vice versa.

But of course, they find themselves lonely. They miss each other's odd habits, and they miss spending time together. It's not too long before they decide to make amends and choose to be friendly with one another again.

Maybe it was each other's embracing of their own oddness that made them so companionable after all.

This is charming read without being saccharine, and it's wildly funny. It's perfectly appropriate for very young readers. There's nothing to blush at here -- it's the kind of book that will work for elementary readers through your older adult readers who appreciate a fun, lighthearted read about the power of friendship and embracing your eccentricities.

The art, as one would expect from Varon, is fantastic, vibrant, and equally as funny as the writing itself. The design of this book is super appealing, too: it's a hard cover, and the boards are done in the many portraits of Theodora and Chad. Odd Duck is the kind of book you read more than once. You first read it for the story, then you go back again and again to pick up on all of the subtleties in the illustrations. There's a keen attention to detail that distinguishes Theodora from Chad. I love the panels on the right -- Theodora is prim and proper, even wearing gloves as she's checking out old books from the library. Max, the librarian, is a good duck -- though I would argue he could use some help weeding his collection a little better.

I give bonus points to Castellucci and Varon for how easy it is to see Theodora is an introvert and completely happy with her introverted lifestyle and yet, she's still able to develop a worthwhile and valuable friendship with someone so opposite herself. It's a smaller detail, but it's one I really appreciated.

Odd Duck is clever and fun and a book that earns a worthy spot right next to other graphic novels like Robot Dreams and Bake Sale as ones worth visiting again and again.

Review copy received from the publisher. Odd Duck is available now.

The Chocolate War: A Cover Retrospective, English Editions

2013-05-14T00:00:00.000-05:00

Here's a little fun. How many different looks does Cormier's The Chocolate War have, anyway? The book first published in 1974, and it's remained in print since then, with a number of different cover designs. Let's talk a walk down cover memory lane.

Before I dive in, I want to note that it is really hard to research the covers of this book. There are many of them, and finding dates for when the cover first appeared wasn't easy. So if there are big inaccuracies (and I am hoping there aren't) or you know of additional covers, I'd love to know in the comments. Some of the dates I'm going to throw out are best guesses, too, based on the research I could tease out.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Here's our 1974 cover.

You might note that this is the same image that was used in the 30th anniversary edition of The Chocolate War, too. What's interesting is how there's really not too much about the cover: it's dark, and there's the ominous shadow of the boy on the cover. I do love how huge and almost foreboding the shadow looks, too. The boy himself appears young, too. But otherwise, this cover doesn't tell the reader a whole lot about the book. It fits with what was in vogue in YA covers for the 70s (of what I've seen anyway) and it looks like the kind of book that could have a wide appeal to it.

On the left is a cover from the late 1970s, and it sure tells a different story than the original. First, the tagline is pretty great: "A compelling combination of The Lord of the Flies and A Separate Peace." There's also a blurb from The New York Times that calls the book "Masterfully structured and rich in theme." And here we have boys with faces, all wearing some nice suit jackets, and they're standing in front of what I assume is Trinity. All of the boys look high school age here, maybe even older. I can't tell too well because of the cover's size, but I could see the guy standing in the middle being an adult, even. He's dressed a little more professionally. Perhaps one of the Brothers?

The cover on the right is one of the -- if not the -- original UK covers. I really dig the look on this because I feel like it conveys the story quite well. The boy's dressed as though he's going to a fancy prep school, and yet he's disheveled like he's scared or nervous or worried. Or all three. His back is against the wall too, which I think gets to the heart of the book without being too obvious or too symbolic. I think the boy looks kind of young for high school but I almost like that because it heightens those thoughts and feelings he's portraying physically.

The 1985 UK edition of The Chocolate War offers up a boy who is giving the reader one of the fiercest looks I've seen on a cover. And that is in no way how I imagine Jerry looking, either. The cover model is a little too exaggerated for what image I have in my mind. But boy do I love that green jacket and pink notebook look going on here. Not to mention the very fitted jeans -- I think it's with what the style was at the time of publication.

Here's where I wonder about my research on the covers. The one on the right is the cover I got with my ebook and which I know I had a few years ago in print. From what I researched, this was the 1985 cover, too. But there have been, as you'll see in a bit, some additional cover choices between 1985 and today. Either way, this is probably my favorite of the cover renditions because I think it captures the feelings of the book perfectly. You get the prep school in the back, and it's not a friendly-looking place (the cloudy background definitely amplifies that). Then you have Jerry on the left, with his button down and tie look, which is definitely prep school. This is how I picture Jerry in my mind, too: he looks like your average teen boy. He has the short, buzzed cut. He's your everyday looking high school boy. Who is the shadowy figure on the right though? That's where I like this cover a lot: it could be so many people. And it's ominous and dark and just looming over Jerry. Plus, there's the use of shadow and light, of black and white. It's smart, simple, and gets to the point. Also, I think it's pretty memorable.

The cover on the left is a 1988 edition. Talk about a very . . . representative cover. There's Jerry (I'm assuming) buried beneath the weight of boxes of chocolate, while three boys make threatening and ridiculous faces and gestures in the background. I don't know what's going on with the guy on the far left because it looks like he's got it out for the guy in the middle. I could make some guesses on who is who here, but it's almost more enjoyable to take the image in as a whole. This book came with a tag line, too: "Can one small boy defeat the might of the vigils?" What's maybe most interesting to me in this cover is that I don't recall Jerry every being physically buried under the weight of the literal boxes of chocolate. I mean, it's up to his chin!

In 1986, we had our first cover which alludes to the fact Jerry plays football in the story. Doesn't he ever look sad in this one? He's standing, surrounded by clouds, and there's a school far in the background. While this is far from my favorite cover for the book, what I do like is that the shadow is there again. I like the play of the black and white and the shadow and light.

Here's a 1991 edition from Britain, and all I can say is that it certainly dates itself. Why are the chocolates so many fancy shapes surrounding Jerry's face? What's going on in the background with his face, is it a really big shoulder (presumably shoulder pads with his football uniform) or is there just a chunk of white coloring beneath a chunk of dark blue coloring?

On the right, a 2001 paperback edition of The Chocolate War offers us something technicolored and out of the early 1990s. Why is the guy green here? And why does he have really long hair and look like he's wearing something that would never fly in a prep school? I guess I'm glad we see the first, as if there really is a war to be fought. The chocolate-colored background is a nice touch.

The cover on the left is for one of the bindup editions out in the 2000s, so it includes both The Chocolate War and Beyond the Chocolate War. It's pretty non-memorable and not noteworthy, though I like that it uses chocolate coloring, I guess.

But check out this cover for one of the Recorded Books editions of the book. Talk about prep school. Look at this proper young boys. None of them would ever be bad. None of them would ever do nasty things. They all look so, so innocent. And so YOUNG. No way those are high schoolers! But I do have my eye on the curly haired red head in the back on the right. He looks like trouble. I should note that none of these books looks a thing like what I imagined anyone in the book to look like.

I could find nothing about this cover, and I would love to know more. When I first ran across it, it didn't make a lot of sense to me. Why a phone? Why is there a boy hiding in the background. But, after I read the book, this cover actually made perfect sense. The prank calling. The emotions expressed in the veiny arm itself. The way the phone looks like it's being slammed down. Then the boy in the background, he looks a little scared or intimidated. But he's not cowering. He's not entered into complete fear yet. The color scheme on the cover makes me think this is an early edition -- 1970s or 1980s -- but I can't find anything to tell me a definitive date.

Of all the covers, I think my favorite is the one that's still around in print today, noted above. It seems most representative and most appealing to me. It has a timeless quality to it.

Do you have any preferences? Know of any other English (US, UK, or Australian) editions or have any dating information on these covers? I'd love to know.

And you better believe I have a post coming later this week with some of the amazing foreign editions of The Chocolate War that aren't in English. There are some stark differences in what images are representative of the story elsewhere -- some which are good and some which are all together misleading.

So You Want to Read YA?: Guest Post from Author Cecil Castellucci

2013-05-13T00:00:00.001-05:00

This week's contribution to "So You Want to Read YA?" comes from author Cecil Castellucci. She's straight to the point, too!

Cecil Castellucci is the author of books and graphic novels for young adults including Boy Proof, The Plain Janes, First Day on Earth, The Year of the Beasts and Odd Duck. Her picture book, Grandma’s Gloves, won the California Book Award Gold Medal. Her short stories have been published in Strange Horizons, YARN, Tor.com, and various anthologies including, Teeth, After and Interfictions 2. She is the YA editor of the Los Angeles Review of Books, Children’s Correspondence Coordinator for The Rumpus and a two time Macdowell Fellow. She lives in Los Angeles. She can be found on Twitter @misscecil and at http://www.misscecil.com.

We all know why we’re here.

As a lady who moves fluidly between the young adult world, comic book world and the adult literary scene everyone always tells me how much they love YA. But they haven’t actually read that much of it. They’ve mostly read the few standards that everyone reads and says they’ve read to keep up with the Jones’s and sound cool at cocktail parties: Twilight, Harry Potter, The Golden Compass, The Hunger Games and The Fault in our Stars. And while we all agree those books are good to have a toe dipped into our fabulous pool, I really feel that we need to get some other YA books into adult land heavy rotation.

So what to suggest to people as a place to go to after they’ve whet your appetite with the regular books that everyone’s already heard of? In my list I’m sticking to older classics that have stood the test of time by being out already for a few years.

1) Feed by MT Anderson

2) Ash by Malinda Lo

3) The Chaos Walking trilogy by Patrick Ness

4) Swallow Me Whole by Nate Powell (*he also drew my book The Year of the Beasts which is adult friendly)

5) Little Brother by Cory Doctorow

6) Flygirl by Sherri L Smith

7) The Ruby in Smoke by Phillip Pullman

8) Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

9) When you Reach Me by Rebecca Stead

10) I am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

The Chocolate War: First Impressions

2013-05-13T00:00:00.000-05:00

I've read The Chocolate War before.

It was one of the first YA books I read in the YA Lit class I took in graduate school. Which means it's a book Kimberly's read, too -- for those of you just tuning in, she and I met when we took that class.

Let me tell you a little bit about myself, circa September 2008: I had yet to actually work in a library with teenagers. I'd worked with teenagers before, but it was in a classroom setting for one summer. These were a very narrow group of teens. And this is nothing against them because they were wonderful to work with, but they all came from privilege, were all gifted, and they were all selected to participate in this series of advanced-level summer classes.

In other words, I'd yet to see the extremes of teens. I saw a pretty homogenous group with similar backgrounds.

My reading and reflection upon books and their audience very much was telling in my own experiences. (Isn't it neat to see that in yourself, though? That's one huge benefit of keeping track of your thoughts on books -- you see your own growth and development as a reader and thinker and professional.)

To be fair, I don't think I liked any of the books I read in the class I took. We read only a handful of classics, and the book that was most updated in our reading was The Geography Club. I did record all of my reactions to the books in Goodreads, so naturally, I have a nice review of The Chocolate War to share:

Not as controversial as I hoped, though I was disgusted by the characters discussing how they raped attractive girls with their eyes.

That's all I had to say about Cormier's book on my first read. I suspect my second read might merit a few more words, and I'm dying to know whether either of these statements still hold true. What did I want in terms of controversy in 2008? Will I see gender issues still? I'm actually pretty surprised to see that pop up in my review because when I thought about my reading of the book back then, gender wasn't something I remembered at all. But it was apparently noteworthy!

Now, I should note that I did a couple of significant projects on banned and challenged books before I went to library school. My threshold for what I controversial, well. Let me say The Chocolate War may have been the most gritty (if that's even the word I want) book I read to date at that point. So my perspective was not necessarily what it is today now that I've discovered dark contemporary books are totally my thing.

I've read so much more since 2008. I've also learned about reading and about the history of YA. I bring a lot more to the book and to the history of it now. Will this context and experience change my reading experience?

I guess we'll find out at the end of the week.

The Chocolate War Read & Blog Along: Starting Line

2013-05-12T00:00:00.000-05:00

This is the week! Liz Burns, Leila Roy, and myself will be reading and blogging about our experiences and thoughts about Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War. Anyone is welcome to join in during the week, by either blogging about the book or contributing a piece to STACKED. Just leave a note and I can hook you up. I've got a few posts planned throughout the week tackling everything from first impressions to a formal review and more things I don't want to lay out quite yet.

If you're joining in and posting on your own blog, please drop a link for each post you write in the comments. We'll try share it across our social networks, and we'll do a roundup of selected posts at the end of the week to highlight everyone else's thoughts and posts. And please feel free to steal our image above and use it for your posts!

Let's get real with one of the most well-known YA, not to mention one of the foundational, realistic titles.

Secret Historical Societies of Teenage Girls: A Brief List

2013-05-10T00:00:00.000-05:00

I don't know if I can fairly call this a mini-trend, since it seems like something that's been ongoing since I was a teen, but it's one I love: historical girls who join all-female secret groups or societies to carry out dangerous but important activities. Usually the secret group has an innocent, innocuous, and thoroughly gender-appropriate cover - it's a finishing school or a nunnery; the girls learn to be lady's maids or governesses. In reality, though, the girls learn how to spy, how to kill, how to be physically and intellectually powerful in a world where otherwise they would have had almost no agency of their own.

Women and girls in the time periods highlighted in these books generally would have had very little power in any of the traditional roles, and I think this is a fun way to subvert that. Y. S. Lee, who writes the excellent Agency series, states as much in her author's note, which I return to again and again:

Women's choices were grim in those days, even for the clever. If a top secret women's detective agency existed in Victorian England, it left no evidence - just as well, since that would cast serious doubt on its competence. The Agency is a totally unrealistic, completely fictitious antidote to the fate that would otherwise swallow a girl like Mary Quinn.

The title of her series is a nod to this as well, I think.

Complicating these stories is the fact that in many of them, the girls are forced against their will into these secret societies. What does that say about the power they have - or don't have - within the group compared to the world at large?

I have always been drawn to these sorts of stories. As a girl, it was a way for me to have my cake and eat it too: I could escape to another time while also not encounter all the strictures of that historical period most girls would have endured. A lot of what I read as a teenager was a way for me to read about girls with power (magical and otherwise), since I felt I had so very little of it myself. I think this is a major reason these stories continue to be popular today.

I've collected just a smattering of recent titles that explore this concept below. Each book is the start of a series, and all descriptions come from Worldcat. I've linked each title to either Goodreads or my review.

Maid of Secrets by Jennifer McGowan

In 1559 England, Meg, an orphaned thief, is pressed into service and trained as a member of the Maids of Honor, Queen Elizabeth I's secret all-female guard, but her loyalty is tested when she falls in love with a Spanish courtier who may be a threat.

Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers

In the fifteenth-century kingdom of Brittany, seventeen-year-old Ismae escapes from the brutality of an arranged marriage into the sanctuary of the convent of St. Mortain, where she learns that the god of Death has blessed her with dangerous gifts--and a violent destiny.

Etiquette and Espionage by Gail Carriger
Sophronia, a fourteen-year-old tomboy, has been enrolled in a finishing school to improve her manners. But the school is not quite what her mother was expecting -- here young girls learn to finish...everything. As well as the finer arts of dress, dance and etiquette, they also learn how to deal out death, diversion and espionage.

The Agency by Y. S. Lee
Rescued from the gallows in 1850s London, young orphan and thief Mary Quinn is offered a place at Miss Scrimshaw's Academy for Girls where she is trained to be part of an all-female investigative unit called The Agency and, at age seventeen, she infiltrates a rich merchant's home in hopes of tracing his missing cargo ships.

Have I missed any biggies published for teens within the past few years? I'm looking specifically for historical titles, so stories about girls training at a secret school to be spies in modern times aren't the target (though I do love those sorts of books, they are not quite the same). Do you read and love these books as much as I do?

On Cover Flipping

2013-05-09T14:23:00.000-05:00

I love a good conversation about book covers, so when Maureen Johnson stepped up and called for discussion and commentary on gendered covers, I started thinking. First, go read post which contains some of the redesigned covers created by readers. The long and short of the post is that female-authored books tend to have covers with a feminine slant, while male-authored books tend to have more literary covers to them (or more masculinely slanted covers).

This is actually not a new discussion at all. It's something Kiersten White brought up a few months ago on Twitter, in relation to John Green's The Fault in Our Stars. Would the cover look different if it were Jennifer Green instead? That's not a knock on the book nor on the quality. It's a good question about what we assume of books penned by male authors, as opposed to female.

Maureen's post set off a number of really interesting reactions, some of which I saw stemming from her post and some which took a part of her post and went in a different direction. Justina Ireland wrote about feminism and about how she can like girly covers. Amanda Hocking wrote about how she's complex, and how she like both those things which are girly and those which typically aren't. Trish Doller wrote about her own cover and how books with similar themes as her own have different covers than hers (which is much more romantic in nature than the book itself).

I could write at length about any or all of these topics, but what has been sticking out in my mind is that of the male voice in YA. More specifically, the male voice as written by a female.

The male voice as written by a female whose names appear on covers like this:

All of these male-voices YA titles are written by women whose names are initials on the cover. More specifically, all of these first YA novels featuring male voices have initialized author names on the cover, degendering their names. Note that Marissa Marr and Kelly Armstrong's first middle grade collaboration, which is a male-voiced novel, uses this technique too.

Obviously plenty of females use initials for their names. Many of the authors listed above likely do just that. But what's interesting to me is that this trend doesn't happen much the other way around. And maybe it's that there are fewer male writers whose first books are written in a female voice.

I can think of one first YA novel written by a male with a lead female where his name is initialed.

Maybe what's as interesting to me as the initial use is that all of the covers above are either images that are gender neutral or they feature a male on the cover. These books appeal to both male and female readers in equal measure for both those reasons.

Does using an initial or two in place of an author's full first name, though, impact reader perceptions of the book or the voice within it? In other words, had S. D. Crockett's After the Snow had her first name on it -- Sophie -- would readers see the book differently? Would they not believe the male voice?

I have a lot more I want to say on covers like C. Desir's Fault Line, but since it doesn't come out until the fall, I'm saving my comments until then. I've had a lot of pause for thought lately, and I think that Maureen's bringing up this topic of gendered covers is an important one. I think about it from the point of view of a librarian who works with teens and who adamantly believes that there is no such thing as gender in a book. Sure, covers can tap into the visually appealing elements that are socially associated with females and those which are socially associated with males. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with a cover that has a couple kissing on it -- if that's what the book is about, then it's going to find its audience pretty well.

So then I wonder: are names and the way they appear on YA covers a marketing technique, too? Is using one's initials to "degender" a name a means of reaching that elusive male readership if the book features a male voice? Would boy readers not believe the authenticity of any of the books above or others if the name on the cover was Emily or Erin or Sarah or Stephanie or Christina?

There's a lot to chew on, and I'd be curious if anyone can think of examples either way: where the male-led novel written by a female has her initials as her author name or where a female-led novel written by a male has his initials as his author name. As I said before, this is a trend I've noticed in first YA novels, but it's possible there are instances where pseudonyms are used. Lay them on me!

Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong -- Faith Erin Hicks on the collaborative effort

2013-05-09T00:00:00.000-05:00

We have a really fun guest post today about Prudence Shen and Faith Erin Hicks's graphic novel Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong (reviewed yesterday). I was curious what the collaborative process was like -- how do you take a story idea in words and make it into a graphic novel and do so without sacrificing the art or story? Lucky for me, Faith was happy to answer, and I find this totally fascinating. I hope you do, too.

As a bonus, we have a copy of Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong up for grabs, too, to one reader in the US. Just fill out the painless form and I'll pick a winner in a couple of weeks.

Hi, I'm Faith Erin Hicks, and I write and draw comics for a living. I took a very funny, very sweet prose novel called Voted Most Likely by Prudence Shen, and turned it into a graphic novel now called Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong, which is being published by First Second Books this week.

Let me set the stage for you: it is 2010, and it is the hottest week I've ever experienced in the five years I've lived in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Temperatures reached at least 30 degrees Celsius. I had recently finished work on my graphic novel Friends With Boys (also published by First Second Books), and was casting around for my next project. Cartoonists are a lot like sharks: we are constantly hungry and consume everything in our path, and if we don't keep moving (that is to say, working), we die.

My editor at First Second books emailed me with a proposal: she had a prose novel, one she assured me was very funny and very cool, that she wanted turned into a comic. Was I interested? I printed out a copy of Prudence's novel, and headed to a nearby air-conditioned coffee-shop to read and beat the heat. I spent most of the next four days there, reading Prudence's novel and nursing a lemonade.

I liked Voted Most Likely. It had comedy, it had heart, and most importantly, I thought it would be a lot of fun to draw, and would translate well to the medium of comic books.

The trickiest thing about turning something that's one artistic thing (a prose novel) into another thing (a graphic novel) is you have to be sure to honour the original of the story, but the final product must still be something wholly different from it. I couldn't just take Prudence's original novel, strip out the dialogue and slap some pictures down on the page. I had to transform her story, taking the subtlety of the characters' interactions, their inner thoughts and development, and make it visual art. It's tough!

I started with an outline. I read through Voted Most Likely several times, picked out the parts I thought were the most important, and wrote an outline. That outline I passed to my editor and Prudence, and once they approved it, I went forward with writing a script. I did a lot of cutting of Prudence's story. Nate's long suffering family, including his sister? Cut. Charlie's school basketball team making a run at serious competition? Cut. The details of the election sabotage? Cut cut cut. Some of the cuts I felt bad about, but I knew unless I wanted to spend the next ten yeas drawing a 1,000 page graphic novel, they were necessary.

When I script, I thumbnail at the same time. I get a thick lined notebook and fill it full of tiny stick people drawings and lay out the entire graphic novel, inserting dialogue in where it needs to be. This allows me to pay attention to the pacing of the comic while I'm writing the script. This is my personal choice to work this way (other cartoonists work differently), but I like it. Comics are a symbiosis of art and writing; in the best comics, I think, one does not take precedence over the other. Doing thumbnails and the script for a comic at the same time allows me to develop them both in tandem.

After I finished my rough handwritten script (and thumbnails), I typed the script up and sent it to my editor and Prudence. I stuck close to Prudence's original story, except for a few things at the end: I felt for a satisfying arc, the Science Club needed to face down a nemesis at the Robot Rumble, something that was lacking in the original story, and the ending would need to be a little different, as much of Charlie's basketball-related story had been cut. Prudence agreed, and we worked on the revamped scenes together.

For the most part, we worked separately, me slaving away at my drawing desk for a year and a half, Prudence ... I believe she was in the UK for at least some of the time I was working on Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong. Maybe she is secretly James Bond. Finally I emerged from my cartooning hole in the ground with the finished comic, flush with the success of completion, and craving breakfast food. And soon you will be able to read it! I hope you enjoy Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong. It is especially nice when read in an air conditioned coffee-shop during a heat wave.

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Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong by Prudence Shen & Faith Erin Hicks

2013-05-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

I have two descriptions that sum up what Prudence Shen and Faith Erin Hicks's graphic novel Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong is about: robots and high school politics.

Charlie is captain of the basketball team and the boyfriend of superhot popular cheerleader Holly. Nate is Charlie's unlikely best friend, president of the robotics team. The story begins when Charlie's been dumped by his girlfriend and Nate drops the news that the student activities funding, which will decide whether to spend their money on a national robotics event for the robotics team or on new uniforms for the cheerleaders, is being left to the student council.

Nate decides he's running for student council president so he can delegate the money to the cause he thinks deserves it more: his own.

The hitch in the plan is that Holly now wants to use Charlie to further her own cause for the cheerleaders. Yeah, they're broken up now, but Holly could bring Charlie's popularity down faster than anything if he doesn't listen to her. And her plan is simple, too: Charlie's going to run against Nate for student council president.

Enter a funny political battle. Except as funny as it is, it's also painful for Charlie and Nate, as their long-standing friendship is tested.

But when the principal gets wind of the backstabbing and the shenanigans going on in the election (because of course there is plenty of that -- we're talking social politics here of geeks vs. cool kids, of cheerleaders vs. robotics team members), he decides that the funding won't be left to the student council. Now both Charlie and Nate scramble to figure out what to do next.

That's where this story turns to robots! When there's a robotics competition with a grand prize of $10,000 -- enough money to cover both the new cheerleading outfits and the robotics event -- the two sides pitch in to build the strongest, baddest robot in order to win. But do they even have a chance on such a national level?

Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong was a fast-paced, fun story and both Nate and Charlie are well-developed. Charlie has a nice backstory going on with his family that didn't feel tacked on. Even though he's posited as the "popular" boy, there's a lot more to him than that; his parents aren't talking, and they haven't in a long time. His mom hasn't been in his life in a long time, and now she's sprung a new marriage on him. He's struggling with that and being the "nice guy" who has been strung along with Holly's plans and quest for popularity and superiority on the cheerleading squad. Nate, who on the surface looks like a quintessential geek, is more than that, too. It makes sense why these two are friends, and there are little moments in the illustrations that highlight it so well -- like when both boys are under Charlie's bed during a party-gone-wild at Charlie's parentless home. Even though this could tread the easy territory of also being a story about how cheerleaders are bad, Shen and Hicks avoid that stereotype, too, as is seen when they join in for the robotics competition and maybe even enjoy themselves while they're at it.

Shen's story is relatable for teen readers, and it's fun. The robot competition is a blast to watch unfold, and I love the subtle gender threads sprinkled through the story -- girls can kick ass in the science and robotics world, even if it's stereotypically boy-land. Hick's illustrations are appealing and enhance the story, rather than detract from it. The balance of story and paneling is done well: there's enough to pick up in both when they stand alone or when they're paired. The attention to details such as offering a diverse cast of characters was great, too. It's clear that Shen and Hicks worked well together.

Readers who enjoyed Raina Telgemeier's books and who are ready to read something at a little bit of a higher level will love this. It's a contemporary story with male friendship at the core. Also, did I mention there are robots? Because there are robots.

Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong is available now.

Review copy received from the publisher. Stop back tomorrow for a guest post about the collaborative process from Shen and Hicks themselves.

Twitterview: Sara Zarr

2013-05-07T00:00:00.000-05:00

I can't even tell you how excited we are to have Sara Zarr here as part of our Twitterview series. I adored The Lucy Variations, which is out today, and I loved being able to pick her brain about the book, as well as her prior books, about her podcast "This Creative Life" and much, much more. Since I had her, I asked her as much as I could!

I'm also giving away a copy of The Lucy Variations.

Without further ado, Sara:

Pitch The Lucy Variations in 140 characters.

16-year-old retired concert pianist reclaims her life & love of music with the help of her little brother’s cute (married) piano teacher

What inspired The Lucy Variations?

My midlife crisis & my own creative crisis, which is handily disguised in life of teen girl. Also by my experiences mentoring/being mentored

The Lucy Variations is your first novel in third-person. What made you choose that direction?

Limited 3rd allowed me to do some different things w/story than I could in 1st, while keeping close connection to character

This book tackles passion and the desire one feels to create. Did writing this feel like looking into a mirror at times?

Absolutely! It’s very much about my relationship w/ writing & writing career & how they’re 2 different things that can feel in conflict

Music plays a large role in The Lucy Variations. What music inspired you while writing it?

Junip and Jose Gonzalez were on heavy rotation in drafting, also the Shins

If Lucy's story had a soundtrack, what would be the first, middle, and last tracks?

1. The Shins: The Rifle’s Spiral 2. Junip: In Every Direction 3. Vivaldi’s Winter from The Four Seasons

What, if anything, should readers walk away with from The Lucy Variations?

I’m always happy if they walk away with a great reading experience! Beyond that, it’s such an individual thing.

Talk a bit about the change in title and cover direction for your novel Once Was Lost, now What We Lost.

I blogged about this in some detail, but basically it’s about finding as many readers for the book as possible.

What character do you most relate to from your novels? Why?

Right now, Lucy, because her struggle to protect the love of her creative work from external demands has been mine.

If you can't answer that definitively, what character do you think about and revisit the most? Why?

Deanna from Story of a Girl is still so real to me. I picture her out there, living her life. I feel like I could run into her on the street

You've developed a podcast over the last year, "This Creative Life." What inspired its creation?

The love of talking about what it feels like to be inside the creative process, and the sense it would be valuable to others, too

What has been some of the most valuable insight you've gained through your Podcast guests?

That we’re not alone, that there’s no one right way to do this thing, that it’s worth doing even when it’s hard

Who is your dream guest for "This Creative Life?"

They are all my dream guests! I wish I could resurrect Robert Cormier and have him on.

What gets you jazzed to write?

Reading, walking, staring into space, and mostly not wanting to hate myself at the end of the day!

Who or what do you write for?

I write for the sense that it’s my vocation & if I don’t do it I’m rejecting something fundamental about who I am & the life I’ve been given

What scares you the most about writing or the writing process?

I’m always scared that what’s coming out onto the page isn’t good, and I won’t know how to make it good. I want it to be perfect.

Is there something you've always wanted to explore in your writing but have been too fearful to do yet?

I’d like to explore the experiences of adulthood and not disguise them in lives of teen girls. That feels more self-exposing.

What's been the most satisfying part of your career to date?

Hard to choose, but the friendships & peer connections I’ve had the opportunity to form because of being a writer mean so much to me

You've purposefully chosen to change your writing routine in the last year. Can you talk about that decision?

The main thing was that I took a break from signing contracts. I just needed a pause to gather myself & be thoughtful about what to do next

Now that you're developing new routines, what, if anything, do you remind yourself of? What compels you to keep going?

Like Lucy, I want to stay connected both to myself & to audience. But it has to come from sense of calling, not fear of letting others down

Who are your top three writing influences?

I could list authors, but I think the real writing influences are more the people who’ve mentored & befriended me along the way.

What was your most influential read as a teenager?

The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier made me want to be a writer. Madeleine L’Engle’s House Like a Lotus stirred me up the most.

Who do you believe is breaking ground in YA right now?

I love what Matthew Quick is doing, and more people need to be reading Steve Brezenoff. Of course I’m a bit biased toward contemp realism

What's the best writing advice you ever received?

“More poetry!” (Friend/writer Nicole Stansbury told me this & made me attentive to thinking about beauty in the midst of storytelling.)

What's your best writing advice to give?

If you’ve never finished anything: finish. If you’ve finished: learn to be a great self-editor. This is accomplished by reading a lot.

What's next for you?

A book I wrote with Tara Altebrando, Roomies, will be out at the end of the year. After that, who knows?

Favorite ice cream?

If I could tolerate sugar and dairy, some unholy trinity of Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, Peanut Butter Cup, and Cookie Dough.

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So You Want to Read YA?: Guest Post from Author Bryan Bliss

2013-05-06T00:00:00.000-05:00

This week's guest post comes to us from soon-to-be-published author Bryan Bliss.

Bryan Bliss is a young adult author. HarperCollins will publish his first novel, MEET ME HERE, next year. He lives in Oregon with a wife, children, and student loan payments. You can find him on Twitter @brainbliss and at www.boysdontread.com.

I came home from a weekend away to find my wife reading Twilight. Actually, it was the third book in the series. The other two were thoughtlessly stacked on the end table. She didn’t even say hello to me.

This is how young adult literature entered my life.

I have never read Twilight—this is neither a badge of honor or a loaded statement. I just didn’t pick it up and, now, can’t find a reason to work it into my already towering TBR pile. And in those early days, when young adult literature was new and exciting and every trip to the bookstore was a revelation, I was a slavering mess.

Because young adult literature changed my life.

Okay, maybe not my life. But my writing and reading were changed forever, and suddenly I was the creepy thirty-something guy in the bookstore gushing to shocked teenagers and suspicious moms about everything I was reading. Everything I thought they should read. And while I got my share of awkward looks, I like to think of myself as something of a young adult literature evangelist, standing on the street corner and barking out to anyone who will listen: These are the books you need to read.

These teenagers—their mothers—were not captive audiences. But you. Well, let’s just say I’m happy to be here.

The following four books are ones that I love dearly. So forgive the way I’ve creeped up next to you amongst the shelves. Excuse this goofy smile. Because these books. I really think they could change your life.

17 & Gone by Nova Ren Suma

I don’t do scary. I’m still mentally broken over a childhood viewing of A Nightmare on Elm Street. So when I heard people describing this book as creepy, I was worried. First, because I’m a Nova Ren Suma fan (Imaginary Girls easily could’ve made this list). But I also like my sleep, my sanity. Like I said: conflicted. However, my desire to read more Nova books eventually won out and thank goodness for that. Let me just say it: I don’t know if I’ve read a more compelling young adult book in the past few years. This book was creepy, but the flawless writing and compelling story push it into a space few books achieve. Yes, I’m being vague, but only because I’d hate for you to not experience this book fresh. Let me simply say this: when you figure out what’s happening, it’s kind of like Boom. Mind, blown.

Brooklyn, Burning by Steve Brezenoff

I grew up playing in bands that practiced in basements and barns, none of which were as serious as we wanted them to be. So I’m a bit of a sucker for music books. And while music plays a huge part in Brooklyn, Burning, it’s not what the book is about. If I had to boil it down to one word, I’d say this is a book about love. Love of music. Love of Brooklyn. Love that isn’t contained to pronouns or biological parts.

Like his first book, The Absolute Value of -1, this one will make think about young adult literature in a different way, and that alone makes it a must read.

Hold Still by Nina LaCour

So, this book. I read it in a day and at the end, when I finally exhaled, it was like, I feel like I just died. But in a good way. There are a multitude of books that deal with suicide, but few do it with such care and attention to avoid the slip into sentimentality. You will feel Caitlin’s loss. The treat, however, is the beauty and poignancy with which it is written. Like the other books I’ve chosen, it’s just a damn good writer at work. Hold Still is a beautiful story of what it means to heal after tragedy—whether that’s the death of a friend, or the daily tragedies none of us can ever seem to escape.

Insignia by S.J. Kincaid

So there’s a book about video games and futuristic war and it’s hilarious and all the boy characters are spot on? Well, sign me up. Now, I’m a contemporary realistic fiction sort of guy, and I don’t stray very often. However, sometimes a piece of speculative fiction finds its way into my hands. And when the gods are smiling, when one of those books keeps me up all night reading, I remember how amazing it is to be transported to a new world. I don’t want to go all Reading Rainbow on you, but this is that sort of read. I literally couldn’t stop turning the pages. And like all great books, Insignia is about more than video games and the future of warfare. It reminds us what it’s like to be young and have friends and finally realize that you can do wonderful and miraculous things.

Links of Note: May 4, 2013

2013-05-04T00:00:00.000-05:00

Via Flavorwire, the caption for this image is the best part: a librarian helps a young hooligan.

I don't know about anyone else, but I am so glad to say it finally feels like spring here in Wisconsin. We had snow even through last week, so a string of warm days -- with sunshine -- has been beyond welcome. But rather than write an essay about how glad I am to see spring, I'll instead share some of the best and most interesting things from around the internet the last couple of weeks. As always, if there's something I may have missed worth reading, leave a link for me to check out.

We talk a lot about YA covers here, but have you thought about what kids themselves think about cover trends or what covers might be saying about the books meant for them? The Bank Street Center for Children's Lit posed this very question to 6th graders set loose on a bookstore chain. The results are fascinating. Of course, go back and read Part I and Part II of this discussion of covers and representation, too.

Roger Sutton wrote an editorial in this month's The Horn Book Magazine that is well-worth the read. He's questioning age ranges and whether teens have become outsiders in the literature that's meant for them. There is a LOT to this little piece to chew on.

It's been a year since Tor went DRM free on their ebooks. What have the results been?

I'm purposefully posting this piece from The Daily Mail rather than some of the other sources I've seen. But did you know that a number of original American Girls dolls have been archived and new dolls are being sold? I think it's interesting the response this has gotten, as the dolls are less about history and more about what's in vogue right now (see the organic gardener).

Here's your sentimental piece for the roundup: memories of bedtime book club.

For some fun, how about six modern horror movies repackaged as 80s teen books.

Ever wonder how publishers figure out when they're going to publish their books? How do they make the schedules? First Second has a nice post about how they create theirs.

I've blogged before about the differences between contemporary YA and historical YA fiction. Michael Cart delves into this very topic himself, too, and it's well worth reading. Also, for anyone who has any interest in the development or history of YA needs to read Cart's books because they are foundational.

"And then she was pretty. The end." I'm not sure I agree with everything in this post, but the conversation about beauty and appearance in YA fiction is well-worth reading and thinking about.

I still don't think it's true that "new adult" is here to stay. I'm still firmly in the camp these are crossover titles. That's all they need to be.

What should we call girl pain? This is a really interesting discussion about Hollywood and the problems that many of the females who grew up with fame are now dealing with. I remember this article VIVIDLY and reading it in high school (it came out when I was a senior). And now seeing the careers and personal traumas these girls have had -- it's eye-opening. I like the wider angle of what do we do about this or call it brought up by the original poster.

The Lucy Variations by Sara Zarr

2013-05-03T00:00:00.000-05:00

Anyone who has ever created something or pursued a passion knows that sometimes you hit that flow and nothing else in the world exists. What you're doing is the best thing there is and it fills you with everything you need.

Anyone who has ever created something or pursued a passion also knows that it can be the MOST SOUL CRUSHING THING IN THE WORLD. That you're never good enough, that you'll never be good enough, that it's all just a fleeting sort of thing that you get lucky at doing well once in a while. You struggle with being true and honest to yourself, while you're putting something out there to be consumed by others in some capacity.

Zarr's novel The Lucy Variations is about that.

Lucy is a champion pianist and has been her entire life. It runs in her family's blood. She's talented, she's made the rounds of the world performing, and people know who she is. Her grandpa and her mother have given her every single opportunity to pursue this talent and they helped groom her so that she has a world-class reputation.

Up until eight months ago, she went along with the game. She was happy -- or at least thought she was. But when she's in Prague on a big stage and she learns that her family has been keeping her sick grandmother's condition from her, she leaves. She gets up, doesn't perform, and walks onto the streets of Prague. Her grandmother, who had given her the kind of unconditional love and confidence she needed, was dying and her family kept this from her because to them, her performance was more important. It's then that her grandfather, the patriarch of the family and of the performance gene all together, says she's done. That Lucy can never perform again.

She'd disgraced the entire family by failing to perform, and she could not come back.

Lucy accepts this fate until the long-time piano teacher she and her brother Gus shared dies in their home. Lucy tried to save her, but the teacher was gone before she could. When grandpa and mother come back to their home to a dead teacher, it's no big deal. They have her body taken away and immediately look for a new teacher for Gus, so that he can continue on his track to be the next big performer himself. The death of the long-time teacher can't get in the way of him being at his best. Will enters their lives and while he's a good teacher to Gus, he's really interested in helping Lucy come back around to playing. He doesn't pressure her, but he simply asks if she'd ever consider playing again. It's that simple question of whether or not she'd consider playing again -- whether or not LUCY would consider playing again -- that sets the entire story into motion.

This is a question Lucy never considers for herself. Because she was told she couldn't. Her grandfather said it was over for her and there was no going back. But Lucy does consider it, and she decides she does want to play again. Except rather than play for an audience and rather than play for the praise and glory that she did in the past, Lucy wants to play for herself. She wants to relearn what it's like to love the thing she does and the thing that she has mad talent for. As simple as it sounds to reignite that passion, it is anything but. Will's question forces Lucy to realize that playing should be something SHE chooses to do, a passion to which she dedicates HER time because it matters to HER.

For her life up until then, she never realized the power of ownership of talent, of skill, and how she can chose the course of the future for herself. Her grandpa and her mother had been owning it for her.

Complicating this are Lucy's feelings toward other people. Whereas it's easy to see how much she dislikes and even fears both her mother and her grandfather, what's less clear is why she's attached and attracted to Lit teacher and then Will. As the story progresses though, and we start to understand the complicated feelings Lucy has toward performance, we understand her feelings toward these two older men are simply projection of her desire to love and believe her art for herself in the way that these two mentors have done for her. Both have offered her the sort of support and confidence to go in the direction of her own interests and passions and desires in a way that no one else ever has. It's not that easy to understand though because Will's belief in Lucy is too much for her to take. He's pulled strings, and he's broken her trust when she opens up to him about wanting to play again. Will used his own connections in the industry to make sure that Lucy's interest in piano again can be accommodated. That she can jump right back in where she left off. This is, she realizes, the last thing in the world she wants. She doesn't want to be someone's prodigy or someone else's creation or prize. She wants to perform and play because she loves to do it. Because it brings her joy. Not because someone else simply believes she has the ability to go far with it.

Zarr excels at making her characters dynamic, and I appreciate how unashamed she is in making it clear that Lucy comes from privilege. Because rather than make it a way for the reader to dislike and resent Lucy, her inability to fully trust and love her own skills and talents at their own level makes her very relatable. No amount of money or resources can change how human the creative struggle is. This balances well with the grandfather, who is unlikable and sees art as nothing but a way to get ahead and make a name for oneself. It's, of course, how his family came to have their reputation. Zarr furthers this through what seem like much tinier plot points, including Lucy's regular lateness to class, which causes her Lit teacher to treat her not as a special snowflake, but as a student who is being disruptive and, well, privileged. And when Lucy has to confront this because she's copied bits and pieces of her own teacher's scholarship on Alice Munro for her class project, she has a huge awakening and ah ha moment about how MUCH privilege she really has had. No one just gets what they get; they have to work for it. Of course, that working for it is precisely the struggle and the purpose of the story.

The structure of The Lucy Variations is brilliant. It's not entirely linear, but rather, it's built like a symphony. It's layered and complex, building to a high, then drawing back to a scene from the past. It mimics not just the way a song sounds and the way a song plays, but it precisely mimics the creative process and the struggle therein. It's good when it's good, and it's ugly when it is ugly. This book is also written in third person, which removes the reader from the characters. But rather than be distancing, this choice is the right one. It makes the reader better understand Lucy's struggle because it's being explored almost objectively. And, of course, since creativity is anything BUT objective, it hits even harder. It's up and down. It's good and it's bad. There is nothing objective about feelings and passions and desires. They're dynamic.

The hardest thing to learn is to pursue something because you love it and not because someone else tells you that you're good at it. And even during those times you know you're good at it and you know you like it, there are periods when you question why and whether or not it's all simply luck. Zarr nails these ups and downs and these challenges and rewards through Lucy. The Lucy Variations is a book I don't think I'll be forgetting any time soon because it spoke to my own heart. I think it'll speak to the heart of anyone who has ever questioned why they're doing something. Is it for yourself or is it for an audience? When do you push forward and when do you step back and say it's time to move on.

Even though nothing particularly sad happens in the story -- despite there being some sad moments -- I welled up a couple of times because of how raw and tender the emotional and mental honesty is. What Lucy struggles with is something that never goes away, but it's something you come to accept and honor as part of creating and living. Zarr cuts to the core of what it means to BE.

The Lucy Variations is DAMN good. This book will resonate with fans of strong contemporary novels that explore the arts and family relationships. Sarah Ockler fans and fans of Siobhan Vivian will find much to enjoy in Zarr's latest, as will Zarr's already-devoted readership.

Review copy received from the publisher. The Lucy Variations will be available May 7, and we'll have an interview with Sara Zarr next week.

Get Genrefied: Verse Novels

2013-05-02T00:00:00.000-05:00

Angela's genre this month for her reader's advisory challenge is one of my favorites, even though it's not technically a genre. It's the verse novel. Like graphic novels -- which we will talk about later this year -- verse novels are a format. They're also a style of telling a story. Rather than making use of traditional prose, verse novels are narrative poetry. There's not one specific means or style of writing the verse either; it can range from free verse (with no guidelines for construction of words) to verse written in a strict style with specific stanza limitations. Sometimes, the verse rhymes but most of the time it does not.

Verse novels can take on a very visual aspect to them, depending upon the author and how he or she chooses to build and construct the verse. Anyone who has opened one of Ellen Hopkins's novels, for example, can see she purposefully builds her verse to have a visual layer on top of the language itself (Identical is a strong example of how she does this).

Since novels written in verse are constructed with a format and style in mind, rather than a genre, they can range from contemporary stories to historical, and they can include mysteries, fantasy, science fiction, and more. Non-fiction can be written in verse, as well, and Margarita Engle is one author who has published a number of YA non-fiction books in verse.

Despite being written in poetry, verse novels can be quite appealing to more reluctant readers because they're less intimidating to look at visually and because -- for the most part -- they read fairly quickly. There are exceptions to this, of course, but the format is one which has wide appeal across a spectrum of readers.

Below are recent -- and not-so-recent -- YA novels in verse. These showcase the range of voices and genres where readers may experience the verse format. All descriptions are from WorldCat, and this list is not exhaustive, so we welcome your comments with additional titles, particularly books which might be coming out later this year. I've included just a single title per author, but I have noted where the author has additional verse titles.

Karma by Cathy Ostlere: In 1984, following her mother's suicide, 15-year-old Maya and her Sikh father travel to New Delhi from Canada to place her mother's ashes in their final resting place. On the night of their arrival, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi is assassinated, Maya and her father are separated when the city erupts in chaos, and Maya must rely on Sandeep, a boy she has just met, for survival.

Shakespeare Makes the Playoffs by Ron Koertge: Fourteen-year-old Kevin Boland, poet and first baseman, is torn between his cute girlfriend Mira and Amy, who is funny, plays Chopin on the piano, and is also a poet. Shakespeare Bats Cleanup is the first book in this two-book series, and it's also written in verse (and you don't have to read them both to get the story).

The Day Before by Lisa Schroeder: Sixteen-year-old Amber, hoping to spend one perfect day alone at the beach before her world is turned upside down, meets and feels a strong connection to Cade, who is looking for his own escape, for a very different reason. As of this writing, Schroeder has written all of the rest of her titles in verse, as well, except for Falling For You.

Make Lemonade by Virginia Euwer Wolff: In order to earn money for college, fourteen-year-old LaVaughn babysits for a teenage mother. This is the first book in a trilogy.

Song of the Sparrow by Lisa Ann Sandell: In fifth-century Britain, nine years after the destruction of their home on the island of Shalott brings her to live with her father and brothers in the military encampments of Arthur's army, seventeen-year-old Elaine describes her changing perceptions of war and the people around her as she becomes increasingly involved in the bitter struggle against the invading Saxons.

The Watch That Ends the Night by Allan Wolf: Recreates the 1912 sinking of the Titanic as observed by millionaire John Jacob Astor, a beautiful young Lebanese refugee finding first love, "Unsinkable" Molly Brown, Captain Smith, and others including the iceberg itself.

The Geography of Girlhood by Kirsten Smith: Novel in poetry about a girl navigating the unknown, the difficult limbo between youth and adulthood. A novel written in verse follows Penny Morrow in her transition from middle school to high school as her father remarries, she acquires a new stepbrother, and she experiences her first dance, first kiss, and other hazards of growing up. Smith's recent novel, Tricks, features the voice of a character written in verse, as well.

Tricks by Ellen Hopkins: Five troubled teenagers fall into prostitution as they search for freedom, safety, community, family, and love. As of this writing, all of Hopkins's books are written in verse.

What My Mother Doesn't Know by Sonya Sones: Fourteen-year-old Robin Murphy is so unpopular at high school that his name is slang for "loser," and so when he begins dating the beautiful and popular Sophie her reputation plummets, but he finds acceptance as a student in a drawing class at Harvard. This is the first book in a series of two, the second titled What My Girlfriend Doesn't Know. Sones also wrote One of Those Hideous Books Where The Mother Dies, which is also written in verse. Later in 2013, Sonya Sones will release a new novel-in-verse titled To Be Perfectly Honest.

All the Broken Pieces by Ann Burg: Two years after being airlifted out of Vietnam in 1975, Matt Pin is haunted by the terrible secret he left behind and, now, in a loving adoptive home in the United States, a series of profound events forces him to confront his past.

Because I Am Furniture by Thalia Chaltas: The youngest of three siblings, fourteen-year-old Anke feels both relieved and neglected that her father abuses her brother and sister but ignores her, but when she catches him with one of her friends, she finally becomes angry enough to take action. Displacement, Chaltas's other novel, is also written in verse.

Sold by Patricia McCormick: Thirteen-year-old Lakshmi leaves her poor mountain home in Nepal thinking that she is to work in the city as a maid only to find that she has been sold into the sex slave trade in India and that there is no hope of escape.

Love & Leftovers by Sarah Tregay: When her father starts dating a man, fifteen-year-old Marcie's depressed mother takes her to New Hampshire but just as Marcie starts falling for a great guy her father brings her back to Iowa, where all of her relationships have become strained.

Wicked Girls by Stephanie Hemphill: A fictionalized account, told in verse, of the Salem witch trials, told from the perspective of three of the real young women living in Salem in 1692--Mercy Lewis, Margaret Walcott, and Ann Putnam, Jr. Hemphill's prior titles, Your Own, Sylvia and Things Left Unsaid are also written in verse, as is her more recent title, Sisters of Glass.

Psyche in a Dress by Francesca Lia Block: A young woman, Psyche, searches for her lost love and questions her true self in a modern retelling of Greek myths.

Glimpse by Carol Lynch Williams: Living with their mother who earns money as a prostitute, two sisters take care of each other and when the older one attempts suicide, the younger one tries to uncover the reason. Williams's Waiting is also written in verse.

Hidden by Helen Frost: When fourteen-year-olds Wren and Darra meet at a Michigan summer camp, both are overwhelmed by memories from six years earlier when Darra's father stole a car, unaware that Wren was hiding in the back. Frost's other books, including Crossing Stones, The Braid, and Diamond Willow are written in verse.

Three Rivers Rising by Jame Richards: Sixteen-year-old Celestia spends every summer with her family at a resort at Lake Conemaugh, an Allegheny Mountain reservoir held in place by a 70-foot dam. Tired of the society crowd, Celestia much prefers to swim and fish with Peter, the hotel's hired boy. It's a friendship she must keep secret from her parents, and when companionship turns to romance, it's a love that could get Celestia disowned. These affairs of the heart become all the more wrenching on a single, tragic day in May of 1889.

Audition by Stasia Ward Kehoe: When sixteen-year-old Sara, from a small Vermont town, wins a scholarship to study ballet in New Jersey, her ambivalence about her future increases even as her dancing improves.

Exposed by Kimberly Marcus: High school senior Liz, a gifted photographer, can no longer see things clearly after her best friend accuses Liz's older brother of a terrible crime.

Family by Micol Ostow: In the 1960s, seventeen-year-old Melinda leaves an abusive home for San Francisco, meets the charismatic Henry, and follows him to his desert commune where sex and drugs are free, but soon his "family" becomes violent against rich and powerful people and she is compelled to join in. Told in episodic verse, this is a fictionalized exploration of cult dynamics, loosely based on the Manson Family murders of 1969.

After the Kiss by Tera Elan McVoy: In alternating chapters, two high school senior girls in Atlanta reveal their thoughts and frustrations as they go through their final semester of high school.

Shark Girl by Kelly Bingham: After a shark attack causes the amputation of her right arm, fifteen-year-old Jane, an aspiring artist, struggles to come to terms with her loss and the changes it imposes on her day-to-day life and her plans for the future. Bingham wrote a companion novel to this one, titled Formerly Shark Girl.

You Are Not Here by Samantha Schutz: Annaleah's grief over the tragic death of seventeen-year-old Brian is compounded by the fact that her friends did not like him, while his friends and both of their families knew nothing of their intimate relationship.

Becoming Billie Holiday by Carole Boston Weatherford: Jazz vocalist Billie Holiday looks back on her early years in this fictional memoir written in verse.

My Book of Life by Angel by Martine Leavitt: 16-year-old Angel struggles to free herself from the trap of prostitution in which she is caught.

Under the Mesquite by Guadalupe Garcia McCall: Throughout her high school years, as her mother battles cancer, Lupita takes on more responsibility for her house and seven younger siblings, while finding refuge in acting and writing poetry. Includes glossary of Spanish terms.

Want some more reading about verse novels? Then check out the following:

Lisa Schroeder has written about why it is she writes in verse.

Last month, at Horn Book, there was a spotlight on notable children's books written in verse in the past year (it includes younger than YA titles, as well as YA titles).

The bloggers over at Clear Eyes, Full Shelves have done an entire week-long series honoring the verse novel, including book lists, reviews, and guest posts.

Also, keep the blog and web resource Verse Novels on your radar. We're taking part today in their year-long Thursday feature that aims to have verse novels highlighted throughout the blogging world.

Show Me the Awesome: 30 Days of Self Promotion

2013-05-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

design by John LeMasney via lemasney.com

Remember our call for posts about self-promotion and librarianship a few weeks ago? This is the official starting line, and for every post we receive on the topic, we'll link it up here for easy, ready access. We'll update this post as close to daily as possible.

While we have a lineup of official people taking part in the series, anyone is welcome to blog on the topic of self promotion. You can talk about a program you did and loved. You can talk about how you perform strong reader's advisory with teens. You can talk about the grander idea of self promotion itself. There's nothing off limits, as long as you're talking about libraries and self promotion or librarianship and self promotion in some capacity.

If you do post something and want it shared, leave a link and we'll spread the word. All are welcome to use the graphic above with a post, as long as credit as listed above is given.

A huge thank you goes out to Sophie Brookover for coordinating this huge project, to John LeMasney for the graphic, and an advanced thank you to everyone who decided to take on the pitch and write about this very important, very timely, and very relevant topic.

Here's to 30 Days of Awesome through the month of May. Show us what you've got.

The Illustrated Librarian talks about exhibiting awesome outreach

Rachel tells us all about how and why she rocks out at report writing

Katie tells us about how she grew her story time attendance by 61% . . . and how you can too! She follows this up with a Part 2 and she talks in part 3 about how to keep it fresh.

Marcus Ladd at Miami University tells us how to find your voice as a newbie, both in the workplace and in social media.

Carol talks about the ways to have a successful first year in a library in ten easy steps.

Amy talks about finding the awesome within her -- this is such a great post, especially for anyone who ever feels down on themselves about anything in life.

Wendy Stephens talks about the awesome ways in which she serves teen moms who use her library. This post is a must-read for anyone who works with teens.

Steve Thomas talks about how he used Kickstarter to help fund his Circulating Ideas podcast and did so swiftly and successfully.

Tibby Wroten blogs about taking a gap year and how that impacted her career.

Jenna talks about throwing herself in head first in a library job, in two parts!

Beth Saxton talks about how she's staying awesome and in the game while she's on a career hiatus.

Marge Loch-Wouters talks about one of her most proud accomplishments in her career, which is building strong school partnerships.

Anna talks about all of her duties as a librarian and how she manages them. Because we all joke about "other duties as assigned."

Charlies talks being awesome on the radio.

Abby gives us five tips for promoting your programming.

Shannon Robinson talks about her awesome Egypt-based research project.

Matt Finch tells us about the value immersive play has in the 21st century library.

Erin talks about the value of self-promotion and why we need to do it.

Angie Manfredi posts about how to talk about self-promotion when you hate the idea of self-promotion. Remember WHY you're talking about the things you love to do.

Mark talks about how he shares his passion for librarianship and beer with his community.

Leigh Woznick talks about continually expanding one's knowledge and skills.

Curious about libraries in other parts of the world? Justine has a great post about her visit to African libraries and what she learned.

Professor Nana tells us about unexpected outcomes of her job.

My contribution for this series is about how I use my platform -- this blog -- positively.

Angela talks about working with difficult patrons and what the outcomes could be if you're level headed and in charge of the situation at hand.

Check out this amazing programming idea -- StoryWalk.

Anne Clark talks all about how she found her voice -- for story time.

Betsy Bird's talking about how when you have a background in youth services, you can do anything.

Three Cybils Reviews: The Clunkers

2013-04-30T00:00:00.000-05:00

I really enjoyed being on Round 2 of the graphic novels category for the Cybils this past year, and part of what made it so nice is that I had nearly double the number of books to read (not a hardship for graphic novels). With ten books, you get a nice variety of topics, targeted age groups, and artistic styles. With ten books, there are also bound to be a few clunkers. These three titles didn't impress me for various reasons - sometimes it boiled down to my own personal reading tastes, sometimes not.

Nathan Hale's Hazardous Tales: Big Bad Ironclad! by Nathan Hale

Big Bad Ironclad is about the ironclad steam warships that both the North and South used in the Civil War, and the pioneering men who designed, used, and fought in them. I like history and historical fiction a lot - when it's about certain topics. The Civil War? Fascinating! The naval history of the Civil War? Not so much. The story is told in a jocular style, with some people represented as animals and a few (obvious) liberties taken with the facts for laughs. It's clearly meant to be funny, but the humor fell mostly flat for me.

I also quickly tired of the Nathan Hale gimmick (Nathan Hale is both the name of the author/illustrator and the name of an American spy who was hanged during the Revolutionary War. Spy Nathan Hale tells this story to his would-be executioners - though it hasn't happened yet in his timeline - as a way to put off his execution, much like Scheherazade). For kids interested in naval history (and I know there are many), this should fit the bill, and I know the humor will be a good fit for other readers, but this just isn't for me.

Marathon by Boaz Yakin and Joe Infurnari

This story of Eucles, the Athenian man who ran the first "marathon" from Sparta to Athens in 490 BC, has such high appeal, but the art prevents it from really succeeding. The book's main focus is Eucles' run, but it also relates a lot of his childhood as well as necessary context for the fighting between the Greeks and the Persians. It skips around in time and place a lot and multiple characters are introduced. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but the art is so sketchy that it's impossible to understand what is going on. Characters cannot be distinguished from one another and there's no real sense of place or time. The art may be stylistically very good, but it doesn't work as a vehicle for storytelling. The only reason I was able to understand some of what went on is because I knew some of the story already.

Ichiro by Ryan Inzana

Ichiro's American father was a soldier who died overseas many years ago in the Iraq war, and his father's father has cultivated in Ichiro a love of war and a distrust and even hate for anything non-American. (Ichiro has a shirt he is rather fond of that reads "Kill 'em all and let God sort them out.") Then Ichiro's Japanese mother takes him to live with her father in Japan, and it is there that Ichiro first starts to explore his Japanese heritage and reject some of the ideas his American grandfather has inculcated in him. His adventure truly begins, however, when he falls through a hole in the ground into a fantasy realm of warring gods...and this is where the story lost me.

Inzana uses these mythological elements to explore the complex ways that race, war, and heritage impact our lives, but it doesn't quite work for me. I found these sections a bit jumbled, though the message is earnest and important. (Some may say the book is a little too message-heavy.) I did enjoy the art, with its bold colors and clean lines (always the kind of art I like best). I think there's a lot to unpack here, which may be better appreciated with multiple readings. Still, it was not a favorite.

So You Want to Read YA?: Guest Post by Kate Testerman, Literary Agent

2013-04-29T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today's contribution to our series comes from an entirely different side of the book world: the agent side. And it's our first -- but not our last -- agent who is contributing to the series this time. Welcome Kate Testerman!

Kate Schafer Testerman moved to Colorado and formed kt literary in early 2008, where she concentrates on middle grade and young adult fiction. Bringing to bear the experience of working with a large agency, she enjoys concentrating on all aspects of working with her authors, offering hands-on experience, personal service, and a surfeit of optimism. Her clients include Maureen Johnson, Ellen Booraem, Stephanie Perkins, Trish Doller, Thomas E. Sniegoski, Amy Spalding, and Matthew Cody, among other exciting and acclaimed authors. Kate is a graduate of the University of Delaware’s Honors Program, a former cast member of the New York Renaissance Faire, and an avid collector of shoes. Her interests cover a broad range including teen chick lit, urban fantasy and magical realism, adventure stories, and romantic comedies. She is an active member of the SCBWI and AAR.

Before I represented YA (and MG), I devoured it like some sort of book dinosaur. Every week found teenage me in either my local library, or, when that got too small for me, in the county library, diligently pouring over the shelves and carousels for new books to read. I was voracious, but was I discerning? Not exactly.

I read dozens of Sweet Valley High novels, every Nancy Drew I could find, anything with horses on the cover or promised inside, and piles of titles by Paula Danzinger before I started dipping in to the adult books, skipping from Judy Blume straight to Judith Krantz.

As a freshman in college, when other students were knuckling under the pressure of organic chemistry and engineering classes, I lucked into what remains my favorite college class I ever took – “Popular Fiction and its Literary Antecendents.” In it, we looked at some of the top genre titles of the time, and traced them back to their forebearers – from Heinlein and LeGuin back to Mary Shelley, and from Sandra Brown to Charlotte Bronte.

In looking at today’s Young Adult field, so much wider than the meager shelves that contained what was considered YA when I was a teen, I want to pay homage to that English professor at the University of Delaware back in 1991, and pick a few old and new classics to get you on your way.

So you want to read YA? Awesome! Start here:

Contemporary classics

Those Paula Danzinger and Judy Blume titles I read as an awkward teen? Still fab. Their literary heirs today include E. Lockhart (The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks and the Ruby Oliver series, starting with The Boyfriend List), Maureen Johnson (start with 13 Little Blue Envelopes), and Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss and Lola and the Boy Next Door). And of course, John Green’s entire oeuvre, especially Will Grayson, Will Grayson, co-written with David Levithan, which takes awkwardness and coincidences to a new level.

Wish fulfillment

Heir to Frances Hodgson Burnett’s A Little Princess, Meg Cabot’s Princess Diaries brought the princess in every girl to modern San Francisco, and turned her into a Greenpeace activist who still found time to crush on her best friend’s brother. Princesses not your thing? Maybe you’d like to be a god instead? Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson & The Olympians starts as MG, but takes our half-blood hero up to age 16. Or how about a spy? Try I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have To Kill You by Ally Carter.

Fairies/faeries/fae

If you were more interested in Tinker Bell than Peter Pan in J.M. Barrie’s classic, today’s urban fantasy puts the spotlight directly on fairykind, with all their quirks, odd habits, and continuing interest in us regular folks. I still push Tithe by Holly Black into the hands of everyone I know who likes reading about humans and the fae, and if all you know of Laini Taylor is her international Daughter of Smoke and Bone, you’re in for a treat with her Fairies of Dreamdark books.

Otherworldy adventures

If you haven’t stepped through a portal into another world since that wardrobe opened into Narnia, ring a bell and step into Garth Nix’s The Old Kingdom in Sabriel, Lirael, and Abhorsen, or visit Katsa’s Seven Kingdoms in Graceling, Fire, and Bitterblue.

Historical

Even if Esther Forbes’ Johnny Tremain wasn’t your cup of tea (dumped in Boston Harbour), historical novels kept being assigned, and every once in a while, if you were lucky, one of them would turn out to be The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare or Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell. Scratch that historical itch with Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein, The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing by M.T.Anderson, or Chains by Laurie Halse Anderson. And if you want a dose of magic in your historical fiction, dive into Libba Bray’s A Great and Terrible Beauty series.

Classic retellings

The final entry on our list takes the classics and retells them directly, adding a modern spin on a treasured story. I love Diana Peterfreund’s For Darkness Shows The Stars, a retelling of Persuasion by Jane Austen, and can’t wait for her new one – Across a Star-Swept Sea, a retelling of The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy.

Enjoy reading!

Stacked

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