Posts on books

Show of hands: who's over vampires? Put down your hands. Okay, now, who's over zombies?

I still hear people asking, "What's going to be the next big trend?" After vampires, they mean. And I wonder where they've been. How have they possibly missed the outbreak of zombie titles published in just the last two years, including the following:

• Brains for Lunch: A Zombie Novel in Haiku?!, by K. A. Holt
• The Enemy, by Charles Higson
• The Forest of Hands and Teeth (and sequels), by Carrie Ryan
• Generation Dead (and sequels), by Daniel
• I Kissed a Zombie, and I Liked It, by Adam Selzer
• The Midnight Curse, by L. M. Falcone
• Nathan Abercrombie series, by David Lubar
• Never Slow Dance with a Zombie, by Ehrich Van Lowe
• Tales from the Crypt, No. 8: Diary of a Stinky Dead Kid
• Xombies series, by Walter Greatshell
• You Are So Undead to Me (and sequels), by Stacey Jay
• The Zombie Chasers, by John Kloepfer
• Zombie Queen of Newbury High, by Amanda Ashby
• Zombiekins, by Kevin Bolger

And that's just some of the children's and YA books. Go older and there's more, and not just horror stories, either. Mysteries, romances, parodies, thrillers, science fiction... seriously, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies popping up on the New York Times Bestseller List didn't clue you in?

I'll admit it: zombie books gross me out. Dead things gross me out in general, and zombies are, well, dead. Disgustingly so. Rotting. Stinky. And, somehow, slobbery. So while I can appreciate that zombies make good fodder for a horror story, I have trouble fathoming the books in which zombies are the good guys. Even worse when they're the romantic interests. Um, ewwwww?

Anyway, this is me raising my hand to say that, yes, I am over zombie lit. That's why I was so tickled when my friend L. just shared this hilarious article, "Seven Scientific Reasons a Zombie Outbreak Would Fail (Quickly)." Whether it's due to putrefaction, inefficient spread of disease, or America's crap-load of guns, suddenly the zombies are seeming a lot less menacing. Now if we could just stem the flood in publishing.

What's after zombies, you ask? Well, paranormal lit will continue to be a dominating force for a while, I imagine. There are still plenty of ghost stories coming out, plenty of urban fantasies with mean, nasty fairies. And there are dystopian novels coming out of our ears. I have the same problem with literary fads as I do with a large order of mozzarella cheese sticks: one minute you've got a delicious, savory treat, the next you've got indigestion.

Hmm, I wonder: do zombies ever get indigestion?

Joe pointed me to this fun article in the Morning News. The writers interviewed their kids about their summer reading—what books they're reading, what they learned, how much the author gets paid—whence comes the article's title, "The Seven-Cent Advance." The results are amusing. Also, I'm so happy that the going rate for trade fiction seems to be much higher nowadays.

A young patron just alerted us to what may be the most awesome horror series ever: Michigan Chillers, by Jonathan Rand. And I base this judgment on titles alone.

Poltergeists of Petoskey! Aliens Attack Alpena! Gargoyles of Gaylord! And let us not forget Kreepy Klowns of Kalamazoo!

Of course, it probably helps to have grown up in Michigan. The thought of extraterrestrials bothering with li'l ole Alpena (population 11,000), home of a tomato patch I ran over with a four-wheeler when I was thirteen years old, makes me giggle. But what do I know? Maybe the aliens want to ago deer hunting.

I also love the tag line for AuSable Alligators: "Terror on a famous Michigan trout stream!" The most threatening thing you're apt to see on the Au Sable is cranky canoeists.

All right, so I'm having a bit of a laugh—but hats off to Mr. Rand. I'm sure he writes these books with a sense of humor. And he has at least one very dedicated fan here in Wilmette.

My one complaint? I wish that book about the Christmas snow monster were set in Frankenmuth.

In celebration of National Poetry Month back in April, sixth graders at St. Mary's International School in Japan created "book spine haiku." Pretty simple idea—stack up three books so that, together, their titles say something—and a whole lot of fun, it turns out.

One of my personal favorites is "When Elephants Fight / Under the Blood-Red Sun / Stand Your Ground." Words to live by! But I must also give mad props to the deliciously gruesome "A Wizard of Earthsea / Skinned / Black Beauty." Yikes!

Anyway, on a slow afternoon my coworker Janet and I decided to try some book spine haiku ourselves. These are some of our better efforts. (I think it's fair to say this exercise has taken my obsession with book spines to a whole new level.)

I hear mockingbirds are also fond of roosting where the red fern grows. Speaking of which...

They may itch.

I like to think they're working side by side in America's Test Kitchen.

That was our shortest "haiku" (full credit to Janet), but it delivers!

A few more:

What "haiku" is hiding on your book shelves?

Those of you who read Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree as the story of an abusive, codependent relationship should appreciate today's Brewster Rockit:

(Thanks to my boss for sending this along!)

When I skimmed the jacket flap of Tempo Change, by Barbara Hall (Delacorte, 2009), about the teen whose “father is an indie rock icon,” two thoughts occurred to me. The first was Beige, by Cecil Castelluci (Candlewick, 2007). The second was Born to Rock, by Gordon Korman (Hyperion, 2006). Fortunately, I read past the flap and was rewarded with a story all its own—and one that really spoke to me.

This is exactly the sort of novel you would expect from Hall, who created the Emmy-nominated series Joan of Arcadia, about a modern teen who starts receiving messages from God. The dialogue is smart and snappy. The protagonist of Tempo Change is, like Joan, a snarky teen who doesn’t quite meld with her peers. But the core similarity is the shared theme of spiritual exploration—executed without a hint of preaching.

Blanche Kelly is, as I mentioned, the daughter of an indie rock icon. Duncan Kelly, however, left years ago to rekindle his muse in the South Pacific. Blanche’s only contact with him is through email, though at school she faithfully follows his advice: “Don’t be a joiner.” She’s succeeded in staying at the fringes, preferring to observe than to participate. She loves music but is hesitant to pursue it; after all, art hasn’t exactly done wonders for her family.

Then Blanche’s mother brings home a new boyfriend: Ed, not a musician but (yawn) a guitar salesman. At the same time, Blanche finds a stellar singer and drummer among her school mates. While she’s not, like her coworker and maybe-possibly crush Jeff, about to call it “a sign,” it’s enough to make Blanche do a 180. If her new band, the Fringers, makes it all the way to the big Coachella music festival, surely it will be enough to roust Duncan Kelly from his Pacific hideaway at last!

Of course, getting to Coachella isn’t quite that easy. And once the Fringers—and, yes, Duncan Kelly—actually make it there, it doesn’t go anything like Blanche planned.

Hall’s characterization stands out. All characters—both teens and adults—are three-dimensional, none wholly good or bad. Blanche’s mother has struggled with depression, alcoholism, and finances, but she’s a loving, invested parent active in her recovery program. Duncan is by turns the kindly, helpful father and the selfish, obsessed artist. Blanche is realistically naïve and critical of her mother, unable to understand how she could prefer owning a women’s clothing shop “for women who [are] tired of wearing clothes” and dating Guitar Guy Ed to the presumably glamorous life of a rocker’s wife.

What I really love about Tempo Change, though, and what keeps it from being the formulaic pop-culture-centric story you might expect, is Blanche’s relentless (though sometimes reluctant) questioning of the fuzzier aspects of existence. How do we find our path in life? Where does artistic drive come from? Is there such a thing as divine intervention, or is life just a series of very human choices?

Hall provides no concrete answers but plenty of entry points for discussion. Joan’s mother surrenders the things she can’t control to a higher power in her twelve-step program. The Fringers’ singer sees an apparently divine vision while stranded in a snow storm. The prayers Blanche and her band mates idly tossed into the box at the New Age shop seem to be coming true. Even Blanche, ever a skeptic, makes a key decision based only on a dream.

Ultimately, this thoughtful novel of spiritual exploration has more in common with Kimberly Brubaker Bradley’s Leap of Faith (Dial 2007) or Pat Schmatz’s Circle the Truth (Carolrhoda 2007) than with the books conjured by the jacket flap. It will appeal to many readers of contemporary realistic fiction, especially those with a philosophical and/or artistic bent. Highly recommended for grades 6 and up.

At this point, I've been to enough professional conferences to have a preferred method of navigating the exhibition hall. As I mentioned in my last post, I find exhibition halls as bad as shopping malls. And considering how much I hate shopping malls (there is no faster way for me to get blood-shot eyes and a headache than to step into one), that says a lot.

So, this year I made some commandments for myself:

1. Thou shalt not pick up any more tote bags, even if they are free. Instead, I carried my usual shoulder bag with a pocket-size (when stuffed) reusable bag for overflow.*
2. Thou shalt not pick up any cheap schwag. No keychains, no pencils, nada. Don't need it, don't want to carry it.
3. Thou shalt not swipe thy exhibit card, even if it will enter thou into a really cool raffle. More likely it will only get you promotional emails and snail mail for the rest of your life.
4. Thou shalt peruse only the publisher side of the hall. I don't make decisions about automation software or carpeting for my library, so why should I spend time looking at it on the trade floor?
5. Thou shalt not pick up any publisher catalogs. This is because my library orders trade originals almost exclusively based on journal reviews. Catalogs would be useful for ordering paperback reprints, but I'd personally be better off with a brief list of what's coming out this fall/winter.
6. If thou cravest ARCs, thou shalt ask publishers if any ARCs are available, even if they are not lying in plain sight. Especially as the conference draws to a close, many publishers have just a few remaining ARCs hiding under their tables. You won't know they're available unless you ask.
7. However, thou shalt only pick up ARCs that look like things thou wouldst want to read personally.
8. Thou shalt not stand in line for a signed copy unless thou really feels like it at that moment in time, no matter how cool the author is.

It worked pretty well. I didn't end up with more than I could carry. I didn't end up with anything I didn't want. And yet I still ended up with a goodly stack of goodies to read and, I hope, enjoy.

• ARC of The Monster Variations, by Daniel Kraus (Delacorte, August 2009). I'm very excited about this one, not only because Dan is a friend of mine but also because I heard him read a chapter at the conference. It is beautifully written, and I have the feeling people are going to be talking about it.
• Signed ARC of Ash, by Malinda Lo (Little, Brown, September 2009). Ash has been getting a fair amount of buzz and is pitched as a lesbian retelling of Cinderella.
• ARC of Solace of the Road, by Siobhan Dowd (Random House, October 2009). I have to imagine everyone who has read Siobhan Dowd's previous books (among them The London Eye Mystery and Bog Child) is heartbroken that she won't be writing wonderful books for the rest of our lives. Fortunately, here's at least one more.
• ARCs of Taken, by Norah McClintock (Orca, October 2009), Running on the Cracks, by Julia Donaldson (Henry Holt, September 2009), and David Inside Out, by Lee Bantle (Henry Holt, May 2009).
• Signed copy of Leaving Paradise, by Simone Elkeles (Flux, 2007), with the snazzy new cover. This was a gift from Flux; thank you!
• Signed copy of The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, by E. Lockhart (Hyperion, 2008), which was one of my favorite books of 2008.
• Copies of Inferno, by Robin Stevenson (Orca, 2009), and Gravity, by Leanne Lieberman (Orca, 2008). Is it just me, or does Orca manage to publish more lesbian teen fiction than all US publishers combined?
• Copy of Frequently Asked Questions: An Unshelved Collection, by Bill Barnes and Gene Ambaum (2008). I bought a cute "read to me" Unshelved T-shirt, too! I was able to meet Bill—nice guy!

Now I just need some time to read all these books... but that's nothing new!
 

*My small reusable bag is something like this, but I got it at Whole Foods for about $3. I carry it in my shoulder bag. When unstuffed, it's about the size of a plastic grocery bag. In the two weeks since I bought it, I've used it at least half a dozen times. Highly recommended!

My post last week about Diantha McBride’s open letter to children’s publishers prompted some interesting discussion in the comments. Responding to the issue of gendered readers’ advisory, Mr Chompchomp from GuysLitWire pledged to write about books with guy appeal that happen to star female characters. He came through this week, naming four of my all-time favorite fantasy series—for my own enjoyment and for booktalking to kids—in the process.

While the topic’s fresh in my mind, here are some more novels and series with female protagonists that have strong multi-gender appeal:

• Book of Ember, by Jeanne DuPrau
• Damar Chronicles, by Robin McKinley
• Flora Segunda and sequels, by Ysabeau Wilce
• Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins
• Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke
• Maximum Ride, by James Patterson
• Skulduggery Pleasant, by Derek Landry
• Young Wizards, by Diane Duane
• Just about anything by Tamora Pierce (particularly the Alanna, Keladry, and Beka Cooper series)

I followed Mr Chompchomp’s lead and stuck to speculative fiction here, but what other books or series—of any genre—would you add?

One final point of discussion (for today): In thinking about my own tendency toward gendered readers' advisory, I realized that when I'm booktalking a "girl book" (a book starring a girl) to a male reader—or said male reader's guardian—I tend to say things like, "But it's full of action! But she's tough and kicks butt!"

But, but, but. I become an apologist for girl-centric fiction. It's like I'm saying, "I'm sorry this book is about a girl, but actually it's quite exciting, if you'd only look past the disappointing fact that it's about a girl." Do I use these kinds of qualifications when I'm booktalking a "boy book" to a girl? No. I hate that.

I even had trouble writing this post! That sentence above, "Here are some more novels and series with female protagonists that have strong multi-gender appeal"? The "that" was originally a "but."

Sexism runs so very deep in our culture, in ourselves. Even when I'm actively trying to kick it to the curb, it's still there. Ugh!

ETA, 7/13/09:
Over at Booklights, Jen Robinson has posted her own list of recommended adventurous books starring girls. More great suggestions -- check 'em out!

For the record, I am not one of those librarians who believes children need to be "protected" from the realities so gently and naturally portrayed in such books as And Tango Makes Three and In Our Mothers' House. There are different kinds of families out there. Some of them have two moms or two dads. The end. It's not nearly as hard as some people make it out to be.

So when I say I have a problem with the new picture book Dottie the Sock: How I Found My Match, by Christine Gayle (self-published, 2009), it's not a moral one. No, it's a problem keeping a straight face. I'm sorry, but I cannot read, speak, or even think the words "lesbian sock" without dissolving into laughter.

I'll even ignore, for the moment, that clothing has no innate sex or gender, much less desire. I'm a fantasy reader. I can suspend my disbelief. But consider this: most socks are worn in matched pairs. I guess I've always thought of socks as identical twins rather than romantic couples, but assuming the latter, wouldn't it be the norm for socks to be (to borrow a coworker's expression) homosoxual? Heterosoxuals would be the odds ones out.

Or maybe, just maybe, that's point. I'll have to suspend further judgment until I meet Dottie for myself.

(Via AfterEllen.)

Overheard in the chapter book area...

Child: Oh NO!!! Ricky Ricotta's robot won AGAIN!!! I HATE that!!! Why does Ricky's robot ALWAYS win??? These books are STUPID!!! I'm NEVER going to read another one again!!! I mean, SOMETIMES I want Ricky's robot to win... but not ALWAYS!!!

[And so on for several minutes...]

Mother: You're taking this awfully hard, dear. Why don't you pick out some other books instead?