Review (Podcast): Impossible

Werlin, Nancy. (2008). Impossible. New York: Dial Books. 9780803730021.

Nancy Werlin has created a masterful young adult novel that reads more like realistic fiction than fantasy, which, of course, makes the tale that much more believable and enjoyable. Impossible is equal parts adventure, mystery, and love story; the fantastical element never dominates the book, but never entirely leaves the book, either. Instead, Werlin has managed to balance fantasy with realism to allow all of the elements of the novel to develop fully on their own: the characters are fleshed out, the plot is suspenseful, and the setting is integral to the story.

In Impossible, Lucy Scarborough deals with the problems of any typical teenager: she struggles to find her place in high school with her peers, with her newly discovered next-door-neighbor boyfriend, and within her foster family. But, she has additional, significantly more complicated, issues as well. Lucy is haunted by a curse that has plagued her family for generations. When she becomes pregnant at the age of 17, she must fulfill three seemingly impossible tasks or risk the fate of her past ancestors—madness immediately after the birth of her baby. Since each task is in the form of a riddle, it is not clear exactly what is required of Lucy. In a constantly unfolding mystery, the reader accompanies Lucy as she must discover the tasks, interpret the requirements and struggle to complete them.

In addition to the literal tasks that must be accomplished, Lucy is physically and emotionally haunted by the Elfin Knight, who appears throughout the book in both fantasy and human form. She constantly questions her current sanity as she decides whether to attempt the tasks that are required to maintain her future sanity. In order to fulfill these requirements, Lucy must work with her family and trusted friends to untangle the riddles that make up the tasks. All of this continues throughout her pregnancy as she fights against evil—for herself, her daughters, and her ancestors—up to the last possible moment. Likewise, the reader is immersed in the mystery of not knowing how, or if, Lucy will succeed in her fight against the Elfin Knight. Werlin perfectly balances this suspense with the simultaneous first-love story, overall family dynamics, and the element of fantasy. Nothing is overdone, yet nothing is ignored.

Impossible is a chilling tale of true love and the lengths all beings, real or fantastical, will travel to attain that love. It is a thrilling lesson of what it means to be in love as well as how to give and receive that love. Well written and constantly intriguing, Impossible is a fantastical adventure that turns even the most wary readers into believers.

Annotations

 

Xiong, Blia & Spagnoli, Cathy. (1989). Nine-in-One, Grr! Grr! San Francisco: Children’s Book Press. 0892390484.

In a clever Hmong folk tale, this simply illustrated picture book offers an explanation for why there are not many tigers inhabiting the Earth. Utilizing a character named Bird, this tale exemplifies the trickster character common in folk tales across the world. As Tiger tries to remember a chant, which promises her nine cubs each year, Bird purposely distracts her and makes her forget her song. Instead, Bird saves his own species from too many tigers by “reminding” Tiger of a different rhyme, stating she will have only one tiger every nine years, thus keeping the tiger population down.

Cofer, Judith Ortiz. (2004). Call Me Maria. New York: Scholastic Inc. 0439385784.

A novel written in a mix of prose and poetry, Call Me Maria beautifully captures the difficulty of a teenage girl caught between worlds. The obvious tension develops early in the novel, as Maria must choose to live with either her father or mother. When she decides to join her father in his native New York barrio and leave her mother’s Puerto Rican island life, she must reconcile her own island past with her new American present, all while trying to negotiate the world of an adolescent caught between being a child and an adult. Ortiz Cofer brilliantly explores the challenges of living between two worlds in each of these instances.

Hautman, Pete. (2007). Rash. New York: Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division. 97800689869045.

Set in 2076 in the United Safer States of America, Rash explores the limitations of a world where citizens are literally forced to be careful. Following the story of 16-year-old Bo Marsten, a teenager who first gets in trouble for calling names and is later incarcerated for hitting another student, this novel questions what would happen if society becomes too “safe” for its own good. Hautman charms his readers with a dichotomy of old-fashioned, grandmotherly over-protectiveness and futuristic, technological invasiveness. Through this dichotomy, Bo must maneuver between his family’s natural tendency to rebel and his own experiences with the outcasts of society. This novel adeptly questions a future where safety has become more important than freedom and focuses attention on one brave teenager who must make his own choices.

Vaughan, Brian. K. (2006). Pride of Baghdad. Ill: Niko Henrichon. New York: DC Comics. 9781401203146.

This insightfully illustrated graphic novel, at times beautiful and at times haunting, explores the complicated concepts of freedom, loyalty and survival in times of war. Based on the actual escape of four lions from the Baghdad Zoo during the 2003 American invasion of Iraq, Vaughan and Henrichon utilize a family of feline characters to examine very human issues.  An intriguing, engaging plot grips the reader’s attention while stunning illustrations and an amazing use of color reinforce the emotion involved in the chaos of war. A perfect example of the additional depth illustrations can bring to a story, Pride of Baghdad is a graphic novel complex enough for serious discussions. among both teen and adult readers.

American Born Chinese

American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang
 

I read American Born Chinese at some point last year and remember thinking it was interesting, but didn’t really understand what all the excitement was about. I knew it had received all kinds of awards and the author was garnering a lot of praise, but the greatness of the book seemed to be lost on me. I don’t know if I was just in a different mood when I read it this time, or if I was familiar enough with the format that the Monkey King storyline didn’t throw me off as much as it did during the first reading, but I feel like I really got much more out of the book this time than last time.

I felt the message of the book – to learn to accept yourself for who you are and what you can do – was delightfully communicated in each of the three stories, and then came together at the end of the novel in a way that really connected all three. While the message is not a new one for a young adult novel, the characters, the style of the graphic novel itself, and the three intertwined stories really gave this theme a new twist through such a unique and interesting medium.

I have had a couple students read this novel as a choice book in class, and they have really enjoyed it as well. However, (and I haven’t heard this reaction from anyone yet) I did wonder if high school students would feel uncomfortable with the overly stereotyped Chin Kee character. I know that when I found myself reading such a blatant racial stereotype, I felt uncomfortable. I think the Chin Kee character was a necessary part of the book, and I completely understand the author’s intention of using him to highlight everything that Danny was hiding from, but reading anything so stereotypical makes me squirm in my seat a little bit. In this case, it makes me wonder if students would be thrown off, as well. I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing that the stereotyping was part of my problem when I remember not enjoying this book so much the first time I read it.

From a critical standpoint, I think Yang does a brilliant job with character development in a medium that can often lack in this area. Because a graphic novel, by its nature, does not allow room for a lot of background character description or insightful paragraphs about what a character is thinking, it can be difficult to fully develop a character’s persona. However, Yang succeeds in creating full, complex characters who grow and change through the course of the novel. More interestingly, he shows the commonality between three very different characters, constantly reiterating the theme of acceptance.

Beginning with the Monkey King, we are introduced to a character who desires acceptance from everyone, not just his own people/monkeys. When he is not allowed into the heavenly party of the gods because he is a monkey and has no shoes, he is hurt beyond his imagination. He is told, “You may be a king—you may even be a diety—but you are still a monkey” (p.15). As the Monkey King tries to change who he is, to become stronger and more powerful, we are cleverly introduced to two other characters attempting the same feat.

Jin Wang experiences everyday racism typical of a homogenous American school. He is called by the wrong name, introduced as being from another country, and shunned by most of his peers. He even initially avoids the only other Asian in the school, denying his own identity in this way. Once he does make friends with two Asian students, he still tries to deny his own culture by curling his hair and changing his appearance in an attempt to impress one of the white girls in his class.

Lastly, there is Danny—a white, athletic, popular student. We soon find he is hiding his identity when his cousin Chin Kee comes to visit. Chin Kee is the most offensively stereotypical character in the book, yet he is the only one who refuses to shy away from his true self. Of course, Danny is overly embarrassed by his cousin’s annual visit, which ties him to a culture he is ashamed of.

As each of these stories develops, Yang keeps the theme in tact through the three main characters. Each character, human or monkey, is shown to have the same issue: they want to fit in. No one wants to be the outcast, and no one wants to be discriminated against—for any reason. But, we are left with the question of the legitimacies of avoidance and denial in the face of prejudice.

By the end of the novel, each story comes together to show the reader the value in accepting himself, whether others do or not. This theme, while well established in works of literature the world over, is given credence in this book through the complete development of the characters. If we didn’t care about these characters or simply dismissed them as bratty kids, we would not be able to understand their predicaments. Instead, we are able to relate to their feelings of exclusion and empathize with their desires to change. Through this process, we come to understand the real meaning of acceptance—self-acceptance—and respect the characters for the journeys they have travelled.

Persepolis

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

I read this book on a gray winter day in December, but I don’t think it was the weather that made me so cold. The story behind Persepolis gave me chills that wouldn’t go away. I was saddened to the point that I couldn’t even cry; I was simply exhausted.

This book had a typical effect on me in regard to my upbringing. Whenever I read about war or poverty or any type of hardship that entire peoples have to endure, I feel embarrassed by the spoiled white American that I am. While there is incredible, frightening, even debilitating injustice in our country, I don’t think we have any sense of the painful realities in much of the world. I am not belittling those of us who serve in our military and expose themselves to the worst of conditions, or those of us who live in poverty or deal with abusive families. Of course, there are many difficult, tragic, or painful issues Americans deal with on a daily basis. But, when reading a book like Persepolis, many problems we deal with here in America seem to pale in comparison to the lack of freedom or lack of power in other parts of the world.

After reading this book, I went to see if the movie would be interesting to watch and found a few trailers on youtube.com. Interestingly, one of the trailers included a small clip that helped clarify my reaction of feeling so completely out of touch with reality in other parts of the world. In the movie, it appears there is a group of students sitting around talking to Marji and they seem amazed that she has actually witnessed a revolution and a war:

One of the students reacts to her experience: “Wow, that’s wild!” This little scene really helped me clarify what I was feeling, and I was happy to know the author had that intention in some way (or I assume it would not have made it into the movie). Because of its ability to open the readers’ eyes to different, very real experiences, I think the book does a wonderful job appealing to many types of readers, especially teens whose worlds typically revolve very much around themselves.

Since I am not up to speed on Iranian/Persian history, I appreciated the simplicity of the way Persepolis was told. I felt I was given enough background – the preface was extremely helpful – to understand enough of the story and even get me interested in learning more about the history and current environment of this country. Yet, the book was not overly focused on historical content. Satrapi strikes a good balance between the historical element of this book – you could even put it in the historical fiction category – and the storytelling element. Neither element is compromised by the other; on the contrary, both the historical piece and the characters grow through their being so intertwined.

Given that this is a graphic novel, the illustrations are obviously important. I found Satrapi’s black and white style not only appropriate for the story, but also quite meaningful. The simple style of the illustrations helped illuminate the simplicity of the story itself. While this story may seem anything but simple, I think the way it is told through a child’s eyes forces us to remember that any human story actually is quite simple when it comes down to the major themes we see repeated in literature of all eras and all nationalities: love, peace, power, death, war (to name only a few). This story is no different in its ultimate simplicity: all people want to be happy; all parents want to protect their children; all children want to understand the adult world; all people want to be heard.

The black and white illustrations also serve a more subtle, and possibly more important, purpose. In a world full of gray areas, a world where there is seldom a right or wrong solution to a problem, the monotone illustrations expose two other ways of thinking: the simpler workings of a child’s mind and the right/wrong viewpoints of fundamentalists. As we read the story, we might knowingly smirk at the way young Marji fully embraces, then fully rejects, what she is taught. For example, she first explains to her parents, “I love the king. He was chosen by God” (p. 19). Upon further examination, however, she decides she absolutely must join the protests against the king. A similar childlike response is exhibited when Marji decides to attack Ramin because his father “killed a million people,” but then was easily convinced that she must forgive him (pp. 45-46). As readers, we can see how her all-or-nothing viewpoints make the complications of real life quite difficult for her to understand, and the illustrations further exemplify this type of thinking.

Likewise, we see this right/wrong approach, again illustrated through the stark simplicity of the monotone illustrations, in the decrees of the Islamic regime. There are now rules on everything from wearing the hijab to closing the universities until the government can gain control over what is being taught. There is now a right way to do things and a wrong way to do things – not much different than the childlike views of Marji.

Finally, the cartoon-style of the illustrations seems to lend a sense of lightness to a subject that is anything but light. They add to the child’s narrative voice and keeps a sense of curiosity for the reader. This seems a brilliant way to get a history lesson, as well as a life lesson on the fragility of family and the weariness of war.

 

Review: Chains

Anderson, Laurie Halse. (2008). Chains. New York: Scholastic Inc. 9780545208116.

 

A strong female protagonist, an admirable male rebel, and a country at war with both its enemy and itself prove a fascinating combination in this young adult historical novel. Set during the American Revolutionary War, Chains provides a unique perspective of a war for freedom as seen through the eyes of a young, Black slave girl.

The setting plays a remarkable role in this historical novel, as Isabel fights for the freedom she was promised amid the backdrop of America’s fighting for its own freedom. Laurie Halse Anderson, author of Fever 1793, writes with impeccable attention to detail to bring the reader back in time as we join Isabel on her coming of age journey. The irony of a country wanting its freedom while holding onto its slave tradition is certainly not lost in this book; rather, Isabel echoes this complexity as she weighs the never-ending offers to spy. She chooses sides not by what will be best for slavery or for the country, but instead by what will advance her toward her personal goal of freedom. In this way, readers get a taste of how self-centered survival can be and how it influences such monstrous events like conflict and war.

Additionally, Anderson masterfully handles an engaging and suspenseful plot, daring the reader to put the book down for even a minute. While reading, it feels as if the story will certainly continue without you, and you won’t want to miss a minute. There are many times when you will feel the plot has reached its climax—that things could not possibly get worse—but you will be mistaken. The novel’s twists and turns mirror both the confusion inherent in the multiple perspectives regarding the war as well as the tumult Isabel finds herself immersed in over and over again.

A fascinating book for both young readers and adult readers, Chains balances the setting and plot with a strong and admirable main character. Given her circumstances, Isabel must continually gauge what is best for her personally versus what is best for those around her, while never losing sight of what’s important: her family and her freedom. Isabel’s determination and strength create a young adult character worth any reader’s discovery and understanding.

Shipwreck at the Bottom of the World

As I read Shipwreck at the Bottom of the World, I was once again pleasantly surprised by the pure enjoyment of discovering a book—or even an entire genre—that I didn’t think I would have any interest in. As I’ve mentioned in previous papers, I have only ever been interested in history when reading historical fiction, so it was a complete surprise to find myself truly enjoying a nonfiction book, especially about a historical event.

Of course, the key to this book was the amazing narrative quality. I found myself completely immersed in the adventure and mystery of what would happen next, even forgetting at times that the story I was reading was nonfiction. Even though we learn in the  the very first chapter that everyone in Shackleton’s expedition survived, the story is so compelling that we read on, still expecting something horrible to happen, still wondering how the explorers will have the strength to continue. It is this element of suspense that makes the book so moving and engaging.

I thought the book embraced the idea that certain stories and pieces of history are worth studying in more depth because there is so much to learn from them. In particular, I felt Shipwreck at the Bottom of the World was a wonderful lesson about leadership and teamwork. In addition to the incredible talents each crew member brought with him, and the ingenuity shown with each new invention or system created by the group as a whole, I was constantly impressed by Shackleton’s ability to lead his group as a team. I thought the way each dilemma was presented, including the start of mutiny, led credibility to Shackleton’s strength. His resolute determination to bring home every man on his team provided an encouraging and inspiring tale of both mental and physical strength that any reader would be forced to admire.

Reading the book as nonfiction, I occasionally questioned whether the author, Jennifer Armstrong, was embellishing the respect the men had for Shackleton. As a writer of a subject you have researched so thoroughly, it would be easy to unwittingly further a personal agenda and create a hero out of a man you had personally grown to respect; however, Armstrong’s consistent use of notes and diaries allows us to believe Shackleton’s extraordinary leadership role. Armstrong manages to show Shackleton’s weaknesses along with his strengths, and his caring along with his pragmatism, which lends credibility to his decisions and, ultimately, to the story as a whole.

One way that Armstrong excels in building Shackleton’s credibility is through the well-placed diary entries throughout the book. While Shackleton must consistently create an aura of confidence with his men, Armstrong gives the reader insight into his doubt and worry about the difficult decisions he must make. In regard to Shackleton’s mental weakness, we are privy to his horrifying nightmares and obsession with solutions to possible crises (pp. 69-70), but his men know nothing of this. Additionally, we hear the fear of failure teamed with the resolute determination in his mind as he decides to lead the rescue mission for the men he must leave behind at Elephant Island: “Skipper, we shall have to make that boat journey, however risky it is…I’m not going to let my men starve” (p. 92). The constant reminders that “Shackleton and his most trusted advisers frequently debated their options” (p. 60) and even took “days” (p. 67) to consider the most difficult decisions allow the reader to further respect and believe in Shackleton’s ability to lead.

The second most important way Armstrong tells Shackleton’s story is through the perfectly placed photographs. The fact that such photographs exist is amazing in and of itself, but to be able to see the photos complete the narrative picture developing in our heads as we read truly makes the book not only readable, but also thoroughly credible.

What I found most interesting about Armstrong’s use of available photography was the lack of focus on Shackleton. It seemed the pictures reflected life during the ordeal – not any particular person. There were multiple photos of the ship, the crew, and the surroundings, but never a visual image of Shackleton in charge of everything. I think this balance between the preparedness, leadership, and heroism of Shackleton as an individual and the community aspect of the photographs greatly complement the story and help the reader make sense of a truly incredible story.

Going Bovine, by Libba Bray

In my last response, I made the mistake of thinking that the genre of fantasy had changed significantly since I was a child. I thought space travel and time warps had gone out of style. After reading Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book, I was actually starting to think that I might like fantasy. I guess I was wrong. Honestly, I don’t know that I’ve ever enjoyed a book less than Going Bovine. I found it to be unbelievable, immature, and simply ridiculous, all in one very long and laborious novel.

I don’t think I would have had a hard time with any of the premises put forward in the book if they hadn’t all seemed so cliché, especially when put together into a complete package. Let’s take a quick look back: mad cow disease, a dwarf best friend, a talking gnome, a beautiful angel girlfriend, virginity lost to a gorgeous cheerleader, time travel, evil geniuses, wormholes, parallel universes, fire giants, reality television, dead musicians come back to life, and ray guns that turn people into snow globes. (My apologies to Libba Bray for the many moments in the book I have failed to mention.) It’s as if Bray took every idea she ever had — every glimpse of a dream, every glimmer of a story, every tidbit of a thought — and put them all together in one book. And, in my opinion, it simply didn’t work.

Furthermore, Bray doesn’t leave us with a message of any substance. 480 pages read, and all I’m left with is another cliché: life is worth living. Maybe if I hadn’t just wasted hours of my life reading a book with such a simple and obvious theme, I would think so. Either that, or I completely missed the real message, in which case I consider the book a failure as well.

The only redeeming element of this book is the tone of voice of the main character, Cameron. I thoroughly enjoyed his sarcasm and wit, and especially his intelligence. I do think his voice lends itself to a much higher-level reader than the students at my school, but I could see it being a very desirable voice for an advanced high school reader. Bray has managed to capture the tone of a typical adolescent, but not dumbed him down enough to bore an intelligent reader.

The most effective use of Cameron’s voice comes in the form of the title chapters, which provide a window into his personality. For example, Bray loads sardonic wit into advanced vocabulary to create “Chapter Two: Wherein the Cruelties of High School are Recounted and the Stoner Dudes of the Fourth-Floor Bathroom Offer Me Subpar Weed and a Physics Lesson” (p. 6).  She could have easily titled this chapter ‘High School Sucks and the Stoners Give me Bad Weed,’ but she instead uses more complex language to clarify that Cameron is not your typical pothead. We understand from the very beginning of the book that Cameron is smarter than most of those around him, which makes us respect him as he begins his journey.

Furthermore, just as Bray creates an intelligent main character, she also treats the reader as intelligent enough to understand Cameron. Often, in young adult fiction, authors use simplified language to make the book appeal to a larger audience; however, Bray does not fall victim to this. While I didn’t appreciate her plot choices, I did admire the fact that she kept the story at a level of complexity that truly taxed the reader to keep up.