Author: booknutgirls

booknutgirls http://thebooknutdotcom.wordpress.com I read. I blog. I sell books. I chauffeur my kids. What more do you need to know?

The Cross Gardener

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by Jason F. Wright
ages: adult
First sentence: “I was born on the side of a two-lane Virginia highway at 1:21 a.m. on February 1, 1983.”
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Perhaps it’s best if I’m up front with this one: I didn’t like it. I thought it was sappy, manipulative, blatant and poorly written. I felt like a rat being run through the maze, being prodded which way to turn. And the ending? Unpredictable and kind of, well, lame.

Basic plot: John Bevan, who has suffered lots of loss in his life (first his mom died in a car accident which resulted in his birth; then his grandfather, whom he never met; then his father), loses (why is it always loss and loses for death? We don’t misplace anyone when they die, do we?) his True Love (ugh) and unborn child in a freak car accident. He suffers grief and pain and basically ceases to function until he meets The Cross Gardener, who helps him find The Way Back.

Before I get too snarky, I should admit something: aside from a couple of early-term miscarriages (I didn’t even make it to a D and C) and the deaths of my grandparents at generally advanced ages (my grandmother died when she was 64, but I was only 9, so it didn’t really impact me), I have not had much experience with death. No infant deaths, no spouse deaths, no parent deaths, no sibling deaths. So, I admit, readily, that I had no frame of reference in which to connect with this book. Perhaps if I had experienced some sort of tragic event, some grand loss in my life, I would be better equipped to actually connect with this book.

That said, if it were a better written book, I wouldn’t have had to have shared experience in order to connect with the characters and their experience with grief.

Knucklehead

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Tall Tales and Mostly True Stores About Growing Up Scieszka

by Jon Scieska

ages: 9+

First sentence: “I grew up in Flint, Michigan, with my five brothers — Jim, Tom, Gregg, Brian, and What’s-His-Name.”

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Although I have stories from when I was growing up, some which are quite funny, I have long since envied my husband’s stories. They’re so much more entertaining, rambunctious, and plain laugh-out-loud funny.

The reason? There were seven boys. I am convinced that while I adore my daughters, they will just never have the stories to tell that their father did. There is just something hilarious (in the long run; I’ve always felt sorry for my mother-in-law and what she had to deal with) about a heavily-male family.

Which means that this book is flat-out hilarious. With all the love he can muster, Jon Scieszka spins tales about his childhood. They’re short and sweet: no psychological analysis here, which makes them all the more funny. He covers everything from chores to peeing to school and road trips. He talks about his relationship with his older brother, Jim, and his parents. He touches on the differences found in big families, how the older set of siblings get treated differently than the younger set. It’s a sweet book, full of humor and affection.

I’m not sure what kids would be drawn to it; M only picked it up after she heard me laughing (and snorting) over it. And the fact that I made her read a couple of the stories because they were just too funny. But I’m not sure that C would ever read it. I do think boys would like it; it’s very much a boy story. The people who would appreciate it most, however, I think would be parents of boys. Shaking their heads at all the knuckleheaded things their sons do and have done, they can smile with love at their idiocy.

Hey, something good has to come out of raising boys. Right?

Fallen Grace

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by Mary Hooper

ages: 14+

First sentence: “Grace, holding on tightly to her precious burden, found the station entrance without much difficulty.”

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15-year-old Grace is in dire straights. She and her 16-year-old mentally disabled sister, Lily, have been struggling to get by since their mother died several years ago. First they lived in an orphanage, which was fine; but a year before, they were transferred to an “instruction” house, in which they were going to be trained as ladies maids and teachers. Except they were both raped in the night, and Grace became pregnant as a result.

That’s where the book begins. From there, we get evil undertakers, horrible working conditions, poverty, schemes, and heiresses, not to mention a cameo from Charles Dickens. Which is appropriate, considering how Dickensian this book is.

That last statement will get many people’s hearts a-fluttering, but for me, I just found this to be a bit flat. And a bit much. As far as suspense and mystery goes, I called the ending about halfway through the book. (I don’t like doing that, actually. It makes me annoyed when I can see the ending coming.) I wondered if the book didn’t try to bite off more than it could chew: if there were actually less going on in the plot, maybe it would have been a tighter book. As it was, it seemed disjointed and messy, even if everything did come together in the end. And while I liked Grace, I never really connected with her, or felt like she had much of a chance to grow, develop, or do much of anything. She was mostly a pawn in the larger plot; the only action she took was to defend and take care of her sister. Which is admirable, but simplistic considering everything else that was going on.

That said, Hooper did do her research: as far as history goes, this one feels spot-on.

My Side of the Mountain

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by Jean Craighead George

ages: 10+

First sentence: “I am on my mountain in a tree home that people have passed without ever knowing I am here.”

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I’ve seen this book around for years, and known that I should read it. I didn’t really know what it was about, just that it was on lists of books by people I respect. That, and I’ve enjoyed George’s other stuff.

I’m quite glad I read it, though.

The basic plot for those of you (like me) hiding under a rock: teenage Sam Gribly is incredibly happy living in New York City. And so one day he decides to up and run away to the Catskills mountains to live on a piece of land that has been in the family (but unused) for decades. No one believes he can do it, and yet he not only does, he flourishes. He makes a house out of a tree, learns to trap animals and hunt and skin deer (using every bit of the animal). He raises and trains a falcon. He learns to live with silence and learn the language of the forest.

It’s a simple book, in so many ways. There’s not much going on plot-wise; it’s essentially a wildlife handbook of how Sam managed to make it work in the wilderness. And it’s a simple life he leads: he gets up, he forages for food, he stores for the winter, he swims and fishes, he walks and explores. There’s no rush, there’s no stress, there’s no rat-race. It’s a wonderfully idyllic life.

The thing that I found most interesting, however, was how much Sam learned from books. He kept saying things like, “I read in a book somewhere that” and “the book I read said that”. They really are useful things, books. It also made me quite sad that no one could up and do what Sam did today. It’s not just that there are no places to run to (or that anyone would actually let a teenage boy run away to the wild without calling the authorities), but that a lot of the knowledge in the book is lost. For some reason — and I find this strange, considering that I’m basically a city girl — I find this sad.

Thankfully we have books like these to remind us of simpler times and places.

Fly Trap

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by Frances Hardinge

ages: 10+

First sentence: “‘Read the paper for you, sir?'”

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Ah where to begin with the loveliness that is Frances Hardinge’s writing? I’ve compared it to a boulder. I’ve waxed eloquent on the way she handles words. And all of that is still true. This book, a sequel of sorts to her first book, Fly By Night, is huge (592 pages), slow to start and get into, but an absolute delight to read.

We meet up with our plucky heroine, Mosca Mye; her homicidal goose, Saracen; and her con man friend, Eponymous Clent a few months after they caused a revolution in the town of Medalion. They’re basically on the run, and due to some interesting and somewhat unforeseen circumstances, they end up in the unique (to say the least) town of Toll.

One of the most interesting things about Hardinge’s books are the way she invents and plays with religion. In this one, it’s the Beloved: icons, gods and goddesses that govern every hour of the day, every day of the year. Our dear Mosca was born under Palpatittle, the lord of the flies, and her name reflects that. An interesting side note: in this world where Mosca lives, you are not allowed to lie about your name, because that would offend the Beloved. She had found that while she sometimes comes under suspicion because of her name it usually doesn’t hamper her in any way. Not so in Toll.

Toll, for many reasons, has been divided into two towns: Toll-by-Day, in which the “respectable” people born under “respectable” Beloved; and Toll-by-Night, for everyone else. And, to add additional suspense, Toll-by-Night is run by the Locksmiths, an organization that operates on fear and isolation: when a town gets taken over by the Locksmiths, no one hears from them again. Sounds ominous, doesn’t it?

It’s a complex story, one in which you don’t necessarily need to read the first book (though why wouldn’t you?) to enjoy. You would think that, being so large, there would be wasted plot points. Not so: everything in the book is there for a reason, all of which will be shown by the end. It’s like a big jigsaw puzzle: you may not know how all the pieces fit together, but when they do, the big picture is amazing.

It’s not a book for reluctant readers, though. Or even one for those who are kind of half-hearted about their reading. It’s for those who want a challenge, who don’t mind wading through the words, putting together the pieces (I’m mixing my metaphors, aren’t I), and who want to work for the end result, which, like all things you work for, is very much worth it.

Sunday Salon: Texas Book Festivals and Reading Slumps

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I don’t know if y’all have noticed (why is it that I still say y’all even though I haven’t lived in the south for 6 years? Some habits are hard to break, I guess) but I’ve been in a bit of a slump this summer. Sure, I’m still reading and writing reviews, but my heart just isn’t into it. I haven’t had anything wow me. Even if it was wow-able, I’m not sure I could be wowed right now. I just feel… ugh.

I figure a lot of that is due to the heat here this summer, but I’ve been wondering: how do you get through reading slumps? I usually keep plowing through, hoping that something will click, but I’m wondering if that’s not the wrong way to go about things. Any suggestions?

On a completely unrelated note: I’ve wanted to go to a book festival for a long time now. And, considering that I only get one flying trip a year, and that I choose KidLitCon for that (last day for reduced registration! Have you registered??), it means I need to find a book festival that I can drive to. Enter the great state of Texas.

There are two choices this year: The Austin Teen Book Festival on October 1; and the Texas Book Festival on October 22. Right now I’m leaning toward attending the former (they have a published list of attendees, including many YA authors that I love; it’s inside), but a lot of that depends on you. I was talking to Amanda on FB the other night, and she threw out the idea that any festival would be a LOT more fun if we could get other bloggers together. So, what say you? Anyone out there willing to come to Austin sometime in October and hang at a book fest?

Beowulf: A New Verse Translation

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by Anonymous

translated by Seamus Heaney

ages: adult

First sentence: “So. The Spear-Danes gone by adn the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.”

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I’ve been intimidated by this for years. Somehow, I managed to miss reading this in college (sometimes the Journalism major was a good thing…) and I’ve avoided it for years. It’s just so… old. And huge. And intimidating.

Enter Seamus Heaney and my on-line book group. (This is why I love this group: they’re always pushing my reading comfort zone!) We decided on Beowulf for this month’s read, and a good portion of us picked this translation for it’s ease.

And in the end? I liked it. I’m not sure how much I “got,” though. I did get an overall image: of a huge group of hairy men (and women) gathered around a fire, listening to a storyteller spinning tales about the heroic Beowulf. I’m sure it’s stereotypical, but I figure since I’m half Danish, I’m allowed. But as for the plot? Not sure I got most of it. Sure, I understood that Beowulf dealt Grendel a fatal blow (but it really wasn’t all that exciting), had to go kill Grendel’s mom (more exciting in my book), and then 50 years later killed a dragon (did it remind anyone else of Smaug, or was it just me?). But the rest of it? Just a bunch of words.

However, I am glad I read it, if only to say that I have. And I am looking forward to the discussion with the group. Maybe afterwords, I’ll understand a bit more.

Thomas the Rhymer

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by Ellen Kushner

ages: adult

First sentence: “I’m not a teller of tales, not like the Rhymer.”

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I know very little about the Thomas the Rhymer tale; just the basic brief outline of the plot. What I got from Ellen Kushner was a lyrical tale, not like anything I expected.

Thomas is a talented harper, but also a bit cocky. He’s in at court, making his living wooing women with his fine words and lies. Something happens and he has to leave court; he finds his way to a farming community, and takes up with an elderly couple. There he meets Elspeth, a country girl with spirit. She falls for him first, but he’s too caught up in himself to notice much. Then, one day, the beautiful Queen of Faeries comes to him, offers him herself in exchange for seven years service. Of course he takes it. She takes him away, without saying goodbye; he serves his time, and returns with one caveat: he can no longer tell a lie.

It’s a very earthy novel, one that’s filled with homespun images of hearth and home. Weaving plays a role, as does bread-making and feasting. The things that Thomas misses most when he’s with the faerie are the work of home. The things that endear Thomas to Elspeth in the end are the things of the mortal world: she’s not as beautiful as the Queen, but she’s more real, more earthy, for lack of a better word.

I liked this book, but it wasn’t quite I was expecting. I think I was expecting more about his time in faerie, or a something more grand or significant when it came to the consequences of his choice to go to faerie. It was a subtle book, almost too subtle. That’s not to say it wasn’t enjoyable; it was incredibly well-written, and Kushner knows how to spin a tale. But it lacks excitement, and while there’s sex (though not graphic), there’s no romance. I enjoyed the tale, but I never really connected with it.

And I missed that.

Boys, Girls, and Other Hazardous Materials

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by Rosalind Wiseman
ages: 13+
First sentence: “Here’s the deal.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Review copy provided by the publisher.

Sure, this book was written by the author whose book inspired Mean Girls. Sure, it’s got a quote from Tina Fey (whom I find to be incredibly funny) on the cover. Sure, it’s got a fun title.

But…. Meh.

Charlotte (otherwise known as Charley) Healey is excited to start a new High School, getting away from her mean girl frenemies of 8th grade. It’s a fresh start, away from all the crap of middle school. Of course, high school isn’t that easy: of course she makes new friends (who are “true friends”, of course), puts some of her past to rest, but also deals with some crap with the guys.

What really bothered me was that it felt so… preachy. And goody-goody. It felt like Wiseman was trying too hard to hit all the “issues” that “teens face” — from back-biting friends, to trust, to teen drinking, to hazing on sports teams — and as a result didn’t do any of them justice. The characters were cardboard, the dialogue stilted. And while it wasn’t bad enough for me to toss across the room, it wasn’t great either. There are better teen issue books out there. Ones where you connect with the character and don’t feel like the author is trying really hard to get across a message to those poor, disturbed, confused teens.

*sigh*

Unwind

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by Neal Shusterman
ages: 14+
First sentence: “‘There are places you can go,’ Ariana tells him, ‘and a guys as smart as you has a decent chance of surviving to eighteen.'”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

This is, up front, a disturbing — if a bit unrealistic — premise for a book. Shusterman imagines a world in which unwanted (for whatever reason) children and teens are harvested for their body parts (no part is left to go to waste; it’s the law). All their parents or guardians have to do is sign an unwind order, and the child is carted off to a “harvest camp” to… die.

Except: are they really dead if their body parts are scattered all over the country?

Obviously, it’s not something that the kids do willingly, and some even have the wits to escape. The story follows three: Connor, whose parents signed the order because he couldn’t control his temper; Risa, who was a ward of the state and subject to budget cutbacks; and Levi (and his is the creepiest), who was raised as a “tithe”, in a religion where they believe that giving a human up for unwinding is an act of religious devotion.

It’s horrifying.

It’s also highly implausible; supposedly this all came about because the Pro-Life and Pro-Choice factions stopped trying to negotiate and went to war against each other. The unwind law (with it’s companion, the storking law — enabling unwanted babies to be left on doorsteps, giving legal rights to the people who find them) being introduced as a “compromise” that “satisfied” all sides. It’s a miserable world that Shusterman created, one in which human life is devalued to such a great degree it’s sickening.

I think that was the point. (And at one point, I did get physically ill; it was near the end when he actually described the harvesting process. It gave me nightmares.) To make people think about life, existence and souls, and the meaning of all three. I’m not sure how effective it was; in many ways, it was preaching “LIFE IS GOOD, ANY SORT OF KILLING IS BAD” quite obviously, but it would make a good jumping point for discussion about life and choice.

And any sort of discussion (reasonable, with respect) is a good thing these days.