The Smell of Other People’s Houses – Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock

The Smell of Other People's Houses - Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock

Can you picture flowers in a whisky bottle? I can; Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock did and this conjuring permeates the pages of this novel beautifully. It's her debut and my goodness....

Kindred - Octavia E Butler

Kindred by Octavia E Butler

Adult Fiction Review by M

Counted towards Classics Club challenge

 

 

I don’t read much science fiction but am definitely one who likes the ideas more than the details or adventure that fill the plots (that probably applies to any book from any genre that I read, if I’m being honest). So, Kindred’s mix of science fiction and African American literature as a premise was irresistible for me. I’d never read Butler before, but I was definitely aware of her, most recently through Aarti’s Diversiverse blog tours which explore speculative fiction by writers ‘of color’.

 

Kindred delighted, surprised, informed, moved and disappointed me, all in one. In 1976, Dana, a black American New Yorker, finds herself back in the southern heartland of nineteenth century slavery, a dangerous place for any black person. The novel takes Dana back and forth over the course of these years. While these travel episodes seem connected to Rufus, a slave owner’s son, Dana finds that her ‘quest’ is a very long-sighted survival that will last for generations.

 

For all its enormous subject matter (north American slavery in the 1800s and time travel) – and particularly given the context of 1970s USA when it was written and published – Kindred is quietly unassuming in its exploration of love, mixed race, gender relationships and enslaved bondage. Yes, there’s the time travel aspect to the novel but this is much more a device, which presents both the writer/narrator, the characters and the reader opportunities to grapple with these psycho-social themes.

 

What the time travel element also enables is the idea of the ‘one woman’ that Rufus creates in his mind for Dana and Alice. Also interesting, to me, is how the characters of Kevin, Rufus and Tom Waylin contrast white men. I would have liked to have seen further developments in Kevin’s story but that at least shows that there is substance to the individual characters independent of the novel’s story.

 

I also liked the way Butler highlights that the pain and suffering during slavery were (and are) experienced by everyone in some form or another, and across different times and space. Of course, she highlights too how there are different levels to this experience and how some are more affecting, unequal, unacceptable and abhorrent than others. But, again, she peruses whether or not this too alters in perception across time and space. She presents no easy answers or solutions to either racial identities or historical guilt.

 

For shelving Kindred, I’d definitely put it in among the Toni Morrisons and Alice Walkers. But, for a completely different yet parallel reading experience, it would sit equally comfortably, for me, alongside Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife. Love and time travel provide the similarities, but Kindred offers less of sweet romance and much more grounded depth. I’d recommend them both for quite different yet similar reasons.

 

Classics club verdict: It definitely makes me want to go back and read Toni Morrison's Beloved again.

 

 

Some notes for my future lack of memory (small SPOILER ALERT):

 

 

 

SPOILERS BEGIN:

 

The characters: Alice is a black slave whom Rufus loves. Kevin is Dana’s husband, Rufus is the boy she connects with, and Tom is his father. Where Dana and Alice might be seen by Rufus to embody the one woman (who is also black), the three white men might be analysed in a similar way too (Perhaps? I have not explored this)?

 

 

 

SPOILERS END

 

 

 

 

 

Publication details: Headline, March 2014, London, paperback (originally published 1979)

This copy: review copy from the publisher

 

 

The Wall - William Sutcliffe

The Wall by William Sutcliffe

 

Review by M

The Wall has been nominated and longlisted for the Carnegie medal 2014.

The Wall is a compelling story about a young teenage boy who follows his curiosity, stumbles into something he can’t control and then tries to do ‘the right thing’, which heartbreakingly sets in motion a train of events that go catastrophically wrong.

Based on experiences of Israeli settlements of the occupied West Bank and written as a modern fable, The Wall is clearly intended to be a profound and important novel. Exploring the good and the ugly of moral decision making, it is one of those ought-to-read novels with a heartbreakingly poignant story and an overall call to action.

But, for all of its heavy and heartfelt subject matter, ironically this novel has a quiet and gentle tone.  The writing is often descriptive and the pace is often quite slow even though it is punctuated by a variety of chases and action. I occasionally found myself skipping bits because I wanted to know what happened. Saying that, the prose is eloquent so if you choose to linger, you’ll be in a good place. For me, Joshua's family problems and small romantic developments weakened the plot and distracted from the story.

There is violence in the novel but it is not graphic and would be suitable for younger readers. The back of the book recommends further reading for readers who are interested in discovering more about the conflicts between Israel and Palestine.

Highly recommended for anyone interested in how we live now and how we could live tomorrow. Also recommended for any teen who’s wondering about how to find their way in the world.

Publication details: Bloomsbury, 2013, London, hardback

This copy: review copy from the publisher

Leopold Blue - Rosie Rowell

Leopold Blue by Rosie Rowell

Review by M

 

Leopold is a small (fictional) town set in the Cederberg valley in South Africa, near Cape Town. There, the sky is blue and playing chicken in the main street on a Sunday is not as daring as it sounds. Fifteen year old Meg lives here with her sister and her parents. Life seems simple and monotonous although Meg’s mother, the return of Simon, and the arrival of Xanthe threaten to upset all sorts of applecarts.

Set in the early 1990s in the lead up to South Africa’s first democratic elections in 1994, Leopold Blue presents a charming and thoughtful slice of life from a rural, white, English-speaking, teenage girl’s point-of-view. The novel shows how every one of those little adjectives made a difference to Meg’s life.

 A tumultuous time in South Africa’s history when it wasn't sure whether is was still in or out of apartheid, Leopold Blue captures the pregnant mood of a nation and of individual people very well: the hopes and the fears, the celebrations and the dangers, the deceits, and the getting on with life. The novel is a very level-headed representation with a tone that is as warm as the bright sun you’d find in a Leopold blue sky but with a hint of grit just below the surface dust.

Early on, and more than once in the novel, characters present perspectives that overlook glaring issues about foreign interventions which I expected the author to highlight for a UK audience. Further on, Rowell does this, and she does it well and believably. Of all the characters, Simon was a jarring one and whether that is Rowel’s intention or not is curious. The novel definitely focuses most on the character of Meg and the small interiority of her world and how it starts to open up. I enjoyed it for doing that.

Footnotes are provided for the South African words and local slang so there’s a flow of understanding that’s not interrupted by turning to a glossary at the back.

For UK teenagers, Leopold Blue is a refreshingly alternative coming-of-age read with glimpses into a culture that is at once familiar yet also very different. Anyone else curious about that period of history will probably enjoy it. It will probably appeal to fans of Friday Brown (Vikki Wakefield) or Raspberries on the Yangtze (Karen Wallace).

Leopold Blue is a story that is very close to my own childhood so I was either going to love it or hate it. I read it quickly and let my thoughts rest for a few days before I wrote this review. I loved Leopold Blue and I’ll be highly recommending it.

  

Publication details: January 2013, Hot Key Books, London, paperback

This copy: uncorrected proof for review from the publisher

All the Truth That's in Me - Julie Berry

All the Truth That’s in Me by Julie Berry

Review by M

 

All the Truth That’s in Me has been nominated for the CILIP Carnegie Medal 2014.

All the Truth That’s in Me had me from the first page. I loved it very much. That has as much to do with the story as it does with the writing.

Judith went missing when she was a young teenager. She returns a few years later, mute, to her community in Roswell Station. Nobody knows where she has been or why and she can’t tell them. Set back when the United States of America was still in its formative years and western ways of life were quite different from today’s, there is no loving welcome for her and she is treated with suspicion as a cursed outcast by her community. While this is bad enough, Judith has no time for wallowing in self pity and is treacherously defiant about the loss of the love of her whole life.  All the Truth That’s in Me reads like a eulogising ode: To Lucas, from Judith.

At face value, this is an unrequited love story, smouldering and intense. It’s mournful and yearning, in the way of odes, elegies and praise poetry. But, through its praising and its questioning, Judith’s narrative is also suspenseful and the whole story turns on a couple of whodunit questions.

 

A girl has been murdered and Homelander invaders threaten. Rumours taken as truth for answers abound.  As the story progresses, many readers will fill in the story’s gaps correctly. For me, these came as light relief from what was otherwise a very intense and absorbing read.

All the Truth That’s in Me is a short novel (perhaps even novella?) and the reading experience is similar to last year’s Carnegie shortlisted, The Weight of Water. While The Weight of Water was written as poetry and was a light-but-substantial read,  All the Truth That’s in Me is not a poem and it is darkly, deeply intense.

The overwhelming feeling that this novel is a poetic ode or eulogy, to Lucas, is further enhanced by this ‘verselike-diary entry’ structure. Again, this also gives it the quality of a testament, which narratively it is, in more ways than one.  The chapter structure feels like verses from the Bible and is thematically very fitting as Judith’s community is deeply and often rigidly religious. With references to Greek myths, I also can’t stop thinking of Keat’s Ode on a Grecian Urn. I love it when a novel sends me off on a search.

This is a little book but it is quite as long as it should be. I dare any of you not to fall head over heels for Lucas (and that’s something I may never have said on this blog before!?). Judith’s ode does its work and I loved it. It was enormously satisfying. Far and away, All the Truth That’s in Me has been one of the most captivating books I’ve read all year.

This novel has adult themes suited to the ages of its characters who, at times, are about eighteen and twenty-something. But, these issues are treated in a way that makes this novel easily suitable for secondary school shadowing groups. Visions of things that might not have happened in the story may fill the mind of the reader in much the same way that they did the judging minds of Roswell Station’s community.

 

This novel may also prompt some readers to find out more about Joan of Arc.

Publication details: 2013, Templar, Surrey, hardback

This copy: review copy from the publisher

 

That Burning Summer - Lydia Syson

That Burning Summer by Lydia Syson

 

M's review

Once again, Lydia Syson's teen fiction marries the thought-provoking nitty gritties of wartime with a tone that is celebratory in its joie de vivre. That Burning Summer is a quick and enjoyable read that complements her debut novel, A World Between Us.

That Burning Summer shares some similarities with Syson’s first novel, A World Between Us: war, moral conflicts and courage, deceptions, first love and an underlying playful humour that adds a light touch to otherwise heavy subject matter. But there are significant differences too.

That Burning Summer is set in England and weaves Poland in, and whereas A World Between Us looked at principled reasons for engaging in war battle, That Burning Summer grapples with reasons for not fighting. And of course, refusing to fight in the war was a punishable offence......

This time, the action is set on English home ground down in Romney Marsh, Kent in the summer of 1940, the year of the Battle of Britain. At this point, most of the children in that area of England have been evacuated but Peggy (16) and Ernest (11 nearly 12) have not. They’re living in and helping out on a farm with their mother and their aunt’s family. Their father is away...well, somewhere?

The novel is organised around the different rules and advice the government set out in a leaflet on what to do when Britain is invaded:

• How do you spot an invader and what should you do in that situation?
• And if it’s by parachute?
• And they’re foreign, with a name like Hendryk?

It is interesting to see how this propaganda leaflet affects the behaviour of the novel’s different characters, especially young Ernest who is most perturbed and alarmed by this document.

The novel is filled with tension as you wonder what individual characters will do when they’re faced with potential and life-threatening deceptions or revealing secrets. And where is the children’s father? Is Hendryk as innocent as he claims? What will happen in the end? Like a mystery thriller, the plot is interspersed with clues as to the answers.

For me, the most compelling narrative is Ernest’s story: his fixation with doing the right thing at his age is endearing. The heroine, Peggy, is a headstrong and wilful character. Ernest is too, but in his own much quieter and reflective way. June their cousin, is an interesting character and brings to mind the portrayal of Trixie in the Call the Midwife television series. And pilot Hendryk's story and dilemma is truly heartbreaking.

Two of my favourite scenes include a funny one (borderline farcical when something slowly appears round a corner) and a passionately truthful one (everything some of you already knew about dancing very closely!). The developing romance was my least favourite part of the story because I thought Peggy would have been more afraid and confused about what to do. But, I suppose especially in times of war, there's no accounting for what people might do....

Younger readers especially will likely appreciate Ernest’s confusions and actions, and enjoy the historical explanations that are woven through the novel. Older readers are likely to sympathise with Peggy. Syson also creates a really strong sense of place – I could see Romney Marsh in my mind even though I’ve never been there.

 

Although there is a thrilling romantic thread in this novel, rather than an historical war romance I would describe That Burning Summer as an historical war mystery/thriller which, in terms of interests and age, may appeal to a broader readership than A World Between Us.

Publication details: Hot Key Books, 3 October 2013, London, paperback

This copy: received for review from the publisher

Ghost Hawk - Susan Cooper

Ghost Hawk by Susan Cooper

Review by M

Ghost Hawk is an unusual, inspiring and sad story about two friends, a clash of cultures and ghosts. I loved it.

Little Hawk is a Pokanoket Indian. John is a British immigrant in America. They live different lives in different, and sometimes conflicting, cultures. A couple of chance encounters mark their friendship and seal both their fates. Coincidentally, at age eleven, they both go on different journeys. John’s journey becomes a story that he must keep secret or risk being branded a witch. The narrative combines both John and Little Hawk’s stories but is told just from Little Hawk’s point of view.

The friendship between Little Hawk and John is so vivid and beguiling, you can almost touch it. It is a fictional friendship that I will remember for a long time: in some ways, it gives the poignancy of Code Name Verity’s Maddie and Queenie’s relationship a run for its money.

A fantastical story about an unlikely and tricky friendship, Ghost Hawk is also a story about early British settlement in North America and how something as simple as living together – be you beast, human, or earth - can be so complicated and devastating. The novel is set in the mid 1650s around the time when the first British people started to settle in North America. It draws on a large amount of historical research and some of the subsidiary characters’ names are taken direct from history.

The first two sections of the novel are its strongest and my favourite. The first section is good and exciting and interesting and then – shockingly! - it changes. An anticipation for what is to come falls beautifully into place for the reader and the story starts to weave many strong threads together. The last few sections draw the stories to their necessary and neat closes.

Themes in the novel include the way we treat the earth: as a resource or as its own living entity; cultural clashes; colonialism; religion and beliefs; and friendship. There were plenty of lines in the novel that made me stop and think. Things like the need to extend warmth to those who live beyond the family. But, above all that, Ghost Hawk is glorious storytelling.

The tone of the novel is gentle and reminiscent of ThingsFall Apart. In many ways, it reads like a Things Fall Apart tale for current day children and pre-colonial America. The intertwined histories will also likely appeal to many fans of Nick Lake’s In Darkness. There is death and a few violent scenes (though not gratuitous or entertainingly enhanced) in Ghost Hawk but the graphic violence is not as vivid nor as sustained as In Darkness, making it more suitable for a younger audience too.

I added a ‘you should read this’ tag when I highly recommended this novel to Little M. It’s one of the best stories I’ve read for a long while. Whether you like history, epic adventure, great characters or light fantasy, this is an enthralling story whichever way you look at it.

 

Publication details: Bodley Head, 29 August 2013, London, hardback
This copy: received for review from the publisher

Bookclubbing and A World Between Us

We had our first proper sit-down-together-in-real-life-and-discuss-a book meeting!

When we first started this blog, Little M hoped it would be about sharing and discussion and a bit ‘bookclubby’. That’s much more difficult than we thought it would be – but we’re getting there. We seem to do more of that offline with real life events. We've tried a small book group with Angel Dust by Sarah Mussi, we shadowed the CILIP Carnegie 2013, and we discussed Wonder by RJ Palacio.

Recently, The Reading Agency supplied us with reading group copies of A World Between Us by Lydia Syson and we have become a little more organised (only a little !). The books came with some author and novel background notes as well as discussion prompts, and feedback forms.  It worked so well that we’re carrying on with book groups (though expect the 'form' each one takes to be somewhat different)!

Our next planned reading group discussion is Ketchup Clouds by Annabel Pitcher, again supported by The Reading Agency (Reading Groups for Everyone). If you’re interested in joining in with us online, more information on that will follow.

 

Here’s what we sat down together and thought about A World Between Us:

 

Four of us got together – it was quite difficult to find a time that suited everyone, especially with after-school activities and exams/school tests. Other than me (M), the rest of the group were 13 and 14 year olds. They all really enjoyed the novel. Please note, some of you may consider what follows to contain small spoilers – but there’s nothing major that would spoil your own first reading.

The group enjoyed the history/war/romance mix and were pleased that it wasn't a soppy romance. Even though terrible things happened in the novel, most of them saw it as a hopeful novel. They felt there were lots of surprises in the novel and they enjoyed that. The Dolores question (what she did and what happened to her) raised a lot of discussion. Felix was the favourite character. George was their least favourite character and they couldn't quite see his point in the novel other than being a plot device (getting Felix to Paris). On the otherhand, George was my favourite character! They all liked the writing style.

One of the readers hadn't quite finished the book yet (time constraints) and it was quite interesting to talk about what she thought might happen, what she wanted to happen and what would leave her in despair. The general feeling was that everyone would have been distraught if the novel had ended differently.

Towards the end, we used the discussion points that were sent to us. They weren't the sorts of topics that we would voluntarily have picked up in the novel to talk about. However, the questions led to some interesting discussions that weren't directly about the novel. There was some very deep discussion about making spontaneous decisions with long-term consequences like Felix does; considering whether killing in war is murder and what books people would/might not take to a war zone/battlefield. On the question of whether politics can be romantic, I thought that it could, but only one other agreed with me. The notion of romanticising ideological commitment wasn't felt by the others (equal split then!). We chatted for over an hour, the cake was finished, and that was that.

This was the first time a group of us had sat down to discuss a single novel that we’d all read. They enjoyed it and want to do more. So we will.

 

***

A World Between Us was recently Highly Commended for the Branford Boase Award 2013. You can read M's review here, Little M's thoughts here, an interview with Lydia Syson here, and see the different design processes that went into the cover here.

If you’re interested in online book discussions here are some other ones to consider:

Nosy Crow and The Guardian run a superb reading group for adults to discuss children’s books. They run a real life meeting in London which simultaneously links up with participants on Twitter (use the hashtag #NCGKids) and The Guardian online. Their next reading group book is: A Boy and a Bear in a Boat by Dave Shelton, 8 August 2013.

 

We Sat Down's summer book club read:

 

Ketchup Clouds by Annabel Pitcher.

 

 

 

 

Half Lives - M's review

Half Lives by Sara Grant

 

Reviewed by M

 

I think my teen self would have devoured Half Lives.

Half Lives is an interweaved apocalyptic story moving between the present and the future. A terrorist virus threatens the world and teenaged Icie’s only hope of survival is an old nuclear-waste bunker in a desert mountain just outside Las Vegas. Skip many years forward and a new community, Forreal, find that their defensive, post-apocalyptic life is under threat.

Half Lives by Sara Grant

The chapters move from Icie’s first person narrative which is written in the present to third person accounts from Forreal, set in the future. Icie’s contemporary teen account reads at first like a ‘get down with the teens’ voice. Soz. But it is the third-person accounts about Forreal that take this even further.

The Forreal community lives on a mountain and worships The Great I AM.  They have a sacred space, rules and sacred texts. They are passive and believe in peace. They have a number of Just Sayings which remind me of the Gods Gardeners’ Hymns in Margaret Atwood’s The Year of the Flood.

At first, the social media references were slightly irritating for me. It sounds like it’s been crafted for a timebound teen audience who will delight in seeing themselves on the pages. But I stuck with it and I’m glad I did. I think it worked (although it would be interesting to re-read in a few years' time).

The lingo is really an essential ‘point’ of the book: how words, culture, symbols and other forms of communication travel across time and place. Have you ever played Chinese Whispers or Broken Telephone? It’s a bit like that. For me, this was the aspect of the novel that stood out most - and the bit that I enjoyed. While being a very serious novel, it also becomes an interesting and fun parody of contemporary teen behaviour and their reliance on social media (adults too, of course!).  At some points, the novel might well be asking whether there is any real depth to contemporary life? This is a question that the plot may raise for individual readers and one that the narrative leaves them free to work out for themselves. There is no right or wrong in this novel.

When I think of Sara Grant, I immediately think of human rights. She’s shared platforms with Amnesty International and her first novel, Dark Parties (which I have not read), has been endorsed by them.  She also helped to set up the Edge authors blog and so I expected that she would most likely be tackling big or controversial issues and that Half Lives would be gritty. Big issues yes. Gritty, in its issues and the plot – yes, but not in the way it is written.

The novel has many other themes which are prominent throughout the plot:

• Nuclear power and waste are central to the plot although it didn’t have as much impact on my thoughts as I thought it would/should.
• Faith, particularly a religious faith: where it comes from, what it does and why we hold on to it.
• How individuals respond to disasters: not natural disasters but human-made disasters. With whom do we bond in these times and against whom do we separate or even attack? How much do we know or understand before we make a decision? Should we act or not? It’s about human agency.
• Who and what are terrorists? Is it anyone who is 'not us'? Anyone who is ‘out there’?

 Characterwise, I didn’t feel any great connections to any of them. I should have because, of course, not everyone in an apocalyptic novel survives...!  Ironically, I sometimes found myself asking: “is this for real?” However, on the whole, the plot is highly believable (although  the possible love triangle storyline confused me and the situation Forreal finds itself in felt a bit too fabricated).

While Half Lives addresses some controversial topics, I finished the book with a warm smile on my face. Fans of Marcus Sedgwick’s Midwinterblood may enjoy this as the ways symbols and stories carry over time are central to both novels. Fans of Saci Lloyd might also enjoy Half Lives as Sara Grant adopts a stylised teen voice to take on very big topical and interesting issues about the world in which we currently live. I would happily recommend this to any teen reader. It is an issues book but it is also an easy and page-turning read combined with an exciting and thought-provoking plot.
  

Publication details: Indigo, May 2013, London, trade paperback

This copy: received for review from the publisher

 

Spoilerish reminders and thoughts:

• The origins of the Great I AM were wonderfully more substantial than my cynically flippant view of teenage selfhood had imagined!
• Have fun spotting the links between the present and the future. Especially name spotting: the names of the Forreal people are all taken from To Kill A Mockingbird – Harper, Finch, Atti, Cal, Dill, (May), and Waiting for Godot (Samuel Beckett).
• As characters, Greta and Atti seemed little more than plot devices – other readers, especially teens, may view this differently.

 

Monkey Wars - M's review

Monkey Wars by Richard Kurti

 

Reviewed by M

Monkey Wars was a refreshing read, quite different to many other novels that I’ve read recently.

At first glance, it is a story about monkey troops in Kolkata, India. When humans feel threatened by the mischievous Rhesus monkeys, they bring in the Langur monkeys to get rid of them. Or so the story goes....From here on, it becomes a territorial war between monkey troops. The story focuses on Mico, a young Langur monkey who is small and thinks a lot about what he sees and thinks is going on. And at some point, he has to decide which side he is on – and there are many sides.

At second glance, Monkey Wars is a fable and explores many questions about power, politics and moral decision-making. But it’s also an urban war story packed full of action, gore, military strategy, loyalties and loves, spying and insurgency.

Being a fable, monkeys and their behavioural characteristics (and ways of marking territory!) are part of the plot but they are also humanised for the sake of storytelling. At times, you recognise it’s a monkey (e.g. defecating to mark territory) but at other times, I easily imagined it was human characters. It took me a couple of chapters to get used to this idea but after that I was really into the story and it was quite page-turning. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself rooting for any particular monkey! Mico was one of my favourites, but also Papina and Hister.

Initially, the timescale of the novel seems to be a matter of days but then I realised that it became months and then most definitely years – at least a lot of monkey years (what’s that in human years?). In this sense, it’s a long story told over much of a lifetime.

The novel is divided into three parts. Part two was my favourite. The ending, for me, was slightly disappointing because it came together a bit too easily. However, it brought most threads together – and there were quite a few. The ending definitely leaves with you with a lot to think about where and how the characters who survive might end up. It might make you think about wars and situations that you know about in real life too.

Monkey Wars re-inspired me.  As much as it is a story about power, politics and war, it is also a story about how we create and use history – or rather, histories. How much of our history do we really know? Which parts have we not been told? Which parts have been colourfully embroidered or dulled? And of course, who did the telling? In Monkey Wars, the narrator is omniscient (third-person and all-knowing). I wonder if this was to give us the sense that the whole truth was being told and not just the truth from Mico or Papina or Tyrell’s point of view (author Richard Kurti tells me his reasons tomorrow)? And of course, was there anything important that the narrator may have left out?

Issues touched upon in the novel include power, politics, tyranny, strategy, genocide, war and refugees. I particularly liked the refugees aspect. I would highly recommend this novel to teens. It would likely appeal to anyone who wants to read about war, action, history, and/or ideas. And maybe monkeys. It is recommended for readers aged 11+ but I would say that younger, confident and mature readers would enjoy this novel too (note, there are some graphically violent scenes).

Monkey Wars made me (as an adult) think about:

• How many times and places this story could be about
• How the lives of animals (or even other groups of people) can go on around us/me and we don’t even notice. Or if we do, we don’t see them as part of a whole intricate life and social network.
• George Orwell’s Animal Farm

Publication details: 2 May 2013, Walker, London, paperback

This copy: uncorrected proof received for review from the publisher

 

****

Watch out for M's interview with Monkey Wars' author, Richard Kurti.

The Girl In the Mask - Kate's review

The Girl in the Mask by Marie-Louise Jensen

 

Guest reviewed by Kate (Year 9)

 

The Girl in the Mask was longlisted for the Carnegie 2013 medal.

 

The Girl in the Mask - Marie-Louise Jensen

It’s the summer of 1715 and Sophia’s odious father has returned from his four-year trip, much to her horror. He is determined to shape Sophia into a sophisticated lady suitable of her heritage and marry her off but Sophia isn’t so excited. She is not your typical Georgian lady; not a fan of dresses or make up, shoes or sewing, she prefers to spend time with her cousin Jack reading or shooting. However her father is determined to knock this streak out of her. When taken to Bath to ‘summer’, highwaymen rob her, giving Sophia a cunning idea to throw off her father’s tyrannous rule.

From the beginning I loved this book. The plot is well written and engaging, the characters have substance and are relatable and the description and setting are vivid. Sophia, the main character, is a headstrong and independent girl, both traits which can be quite hard to find in novels set in this period. However her tenacity and courage are very refreshing to read!

The slight difference between this book and others by Jensen is that while romance is a key factor in the plot, Sophia isn’t a girl that wants it. She is quite happy to be independent and does not want to get married, again a hard thing to find in historical novels. There are romantic interests for Sophia but they are not the key concept of the plot. In fact, quite the opposite. A lot of the plot is based around her independence and her determination to not be ruled by any men, a husband or her father.

The relationships that Sophia develops through the novel are believable, relatable and well told. They develop slowly but not at a pace that feels like they are dragging so you get the story and the relationship coming together.

Overall, I really liked The Girl in the Mask and couldn’t put it down. The pacing is excellent and I certainly didn’t feel like you got any irrelevant information. I would definitely recommend it to anyone who enjoys historical fiction, or even just strong female characters.

 

Publication details: Oxford University Press, 2012, Oxford, paperback

This copy: received from the publishers for shadowing the Carnegie 2013 longlist

Midwinterblood - M's review

Midwinterblood by Marcus Sedgwick

Midwinterblood has been shortlisted for the Carnegie Medal 2013.

Midwinterblood is the only title on this year’s Carnegie shortlist that I have read after its shortlisting was announced. This puts it at an unfair advantage or even disadvantage in the way I’m going to review it, especially since I reviewed some of the others before the longlist was even out.

The cover on my copy

So, Midwinterblood. I didn’t pick it to read from the longlist – mostly because of the cover. Also, from what I’d seen, Marcus Sedgwick was mostly a horror-fantasy author, genres I usually avoid now (although maybe not when I was a teen). If it is horror-fantasy that you’re after, Midwinterblood delivers. However, it offers up something much more than chills or gore (thankfully for me, the latter was not in undue abundance) and I was very pleasantly impressed.

Note the different covers: I think the newer cover (see below), not the one on my copy (see left), fits my interpretation of the novel better.

Midwinterblood is an unusual novel and quite different from anything I remember reading for teens (there is plenty that I have not read though). Quite simply, it tells the story of Eric Seven and Merle and how they know each other. But, it is much more exciting than that and it is also not quite as straightforward as that. Inspired by a real painting (which features in the novel), the story is divided up into eight parts and told in chronological reverse. Each part tells a separate story that can be read on its own. But together, the stories work to weave together what might be seen as something akin to a folkbook.

New cover; I prefer this one.

The novel’s blurb and other reviews have identified strong themes of love and sacrifice in the novel.  Of course yes, they’re there in many guises. After reading Part 1, I thought Midwinterblood might follow similar plotlines to Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler’s Wife – love that builds and endures against the odds against and through time. In some ways, it does, but in many ways it doesn’t and it certainly isn’t as romantic (in my view).

The themes and ideas that stood out for me most were personhood, permanence/longevity and roles. What is a person? If you change one thing, like their sex, are they the same person? The novel certainly delivers many discussion points.

Midwinterblood also defies some of the suggested criteria that we’ve been using for shadowing. This either marks the novels strengths or its weaknesses.

I think it is weak on narrative and feels more like a collection of stories that read like different interpretations of fairytales (or myths) over time and space, enveloped by the original frame story in Part 1 and Part 7. But, the Epilogue belies what I’ve said and indicates that there is a narrative (in my mind, only just a weak one). Although only chronologically reversed, the narrative development is still non-linear – I couldn’t spot real plot or character growth. Did I miss it? However (again!), the narrative and plot structure are also possibly the novel’s key strength.

(Careful: for some people there may be a very small SPOILER in the following paragraph: I don’t think it is but some might.)

Sedgwick’s writing style is sparse. He doesn’t overly describe anything, which I like. But I think this also contributed to weaker characterisation. I didn’t empathise with any of the characters. Perhaps too, this was the point of the novel: we are not just one individual, we are many people. This bit is interesting because the characters take on different relationships with each other throughout the novel and that in itself addresses many taboos about acceptable relationships. The change in narration is also interesting to consider in terms of how that might affect characterisation: the novel is written in the third person, other than Part 6.

(End of small SPOILER. You may proceed without fear.)

Midwinterblood is an allegorical novel. Its inspiration comes from a painting (which is featured in the novel – there’s a whole part centring on it) and there is plenty of symbolism and allegory in the novel that could point curious readers to ideas about philosophy and religion (like Nietzsche and eternal return) as well as literature. When I was reading, there was always a sense that the novel was following, considering, contemplating, pointing me to something else. I’d expect this novel to prompt further questioning and research enquiry by the most curious of readers.

I read Midwinterblood quickly and I wanted to read it. It wasn’t so much that I was absorbed into the story but rather that I was curious to see how it would all pan out. This novel has many talking points, not least of which are its form and readers’ expectations. In my mind, it scores many bonus points for doing that.

For suggested teens reads, Midwinterblood offers a wonderful thought-provoking alternative to Twilight. It is also a quick read. For educators, talk about a novel that is both popularly contemporary yet cuts easily and effortlessly across the curriculum.....history (Vikings, World Wars, cyclical/linear, architecture), art, geography, religion and philosophy, literature, science, citizenship: they’re all there.

 

It is probably more suitable for Year 7 plus although advanced (and interested) readers in Year 6 might enjoy it.

If you enjoy the interlinked his-stories of Midwinterblood, you may well like  Nick Lake's In Darkness (another Carnegie shortlisted title!) or Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell (an adult novel with mixed and much more dense writing styles).

 

Publication details: Indigo, 2011, London, paperback

This copy: given to us as a prize.

PS. You can win a copy of Midwinterblood with the new cover over here if you are in the UK and enter before 19 May 2013.

To Kill A Mockingbird - M's review

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

I first read To Kill A Mockingbird at school when I was sixteen. Like The Beadle, I noted on my Reading list that it was ‘OK’. But, again like The Beadle, I’ve always recalled enjoying them. I could never remember all the details but something about them had played around in my head. Now, I’ve just reread To Kill A Mockingbird for my Classics Club challenge. It’s my second reread for leisure ever (The Beadle was my first!). And I loved it.

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

For those readers who are not familiar with To Kill A Mockingbird, it’s a story about the events that led to a thirteen year old boy breaking his elbow. It’s set in a 1930s small town in Alabama, USA. The story is narrated by Scout (aka Jean Louise Finch), who is probably a grown woman when she recounts a story about a time when she was eight years old, living with her brother, Jem, and her father, Atticus, who is a lawyer about to defend a Negro who has been accused of a crime for which the punishment is death. Scout’s story is about growing up, perpetuating social prejudices and standing up to  them too.  She doesn’t hide anything in her story (as least I don’t think she does) but she realises that much was hidden from her.

Racial prejudice is an obvious and substantial theme in the novel and one that I remembered from my earlier reading. What I had forgotten (and possibly not even have understood that brilliantly!) were the other prejudices and social mores that the novel explores, criticises and humours. The children’s tormenting and embellishing stories about reclusive Boo Radley is an obvious one. Disabilities and social class are others. Gender and growing up as a girl in a society that expects you to turn into ‘a lady’ is another one, and as it is Scout who is narrating, this is probably more a central thread of this novel than racial prejudice (but, I also spot gender issues more - remember, this review is my narrative). All of these themes and sub-plots are woven together in a very charming yet slightly shivery way.

The majority of the characters in the novel are very likeable. Very. Apart from the few who are horrid (Atticus definitely loves more people than I do).  Jem is lovely. Scout is adorable and gives voice to frustrations that must plague many girls (and boys too) – like what you should wear, how you should behave, what you can and can’t do – just because you are a girl as opposed to a boy. Within this context, it’s hardly surprising then that rape features. While only lightly explored as an issue, this is not in a dismissive way. While all the characters are reluctant to speak about it, including Atticus, Atticus also makes it clear that it is a crime that concerns him and is bigger than what is being voiced. And Atticus of course, is the novel’s moral compass.

The novel is full of heroes. There’s Scout, in her many flawed guises. There’s the real, heartbreakingly tragic hero who we don’t learn too much about – but we learn enough. And of course, there’s Atticus Finch. Scout’s father embodies the real hero in this novel. He’s almost perfect (in my eyes, maybe he would be if he didn’t side with Aunt Alexandra a little too much: that’s the Scout in me lurching out!) but he’s not Superman. Throughout the novel, more than I’ve pointed out, there are lots of interesting bits that explore the concepts of cowardice and bravery.

While the lighthearted daily fun and games and mishaps that happen to adventurous eight and twelve year olds fill the pages to provide humour, the novel instils a sense of foreboding that traverses many of the sub or parallel plots in the story: what bad thing is going to happen at the Radley place, who’s going to get hurt or killed, will Tom get off, who is to blame? Once you’ve finished the novel, go back and read the first three paragraphs again. Scout and Jem are offering up different explanations and interpretations. Atticus of course, is the judge!

This sense of foreboding is partly heightened by the slow pace of the novel. The focus in this novel is definitely on the characters and themes. There is a lot of plot but it meanders lazily over a couple of summers. The novel is a bit like the hot, sleepy town that is its Maycomb setting.

To Kill A Mockingbird is one of those novels that some people would describe as a very quotable novel: Dill’s mixed up comment about joining the circus because people are laughable ; Scout’s view that there is only one type of people: everyone; Atticus on why we shouldn’t kill a mockingbird.

It is also a very sad novel. It passes commentary based on real events where sadness understates how terrible they were and it is also sad when you think about how we make judgements about people and things and act on these. Atticus would say that’s exactly what is wrong with circumstantial evidence.

I can see why it’s studied at school. There is so much packed into this shortish book that you could discuss it forever both as a literary work but especially for the themes that run through it. But, if you’re like me and find that reading a set text at school ruins the pleasure of reading a novel for you, then make sure you read this before it comes up at school – or reread it when you’re older, like I have. To Kill A Mockingbird has not only jumped from OK for me, it’s probably gone to one of my all time favourite novels. I’m a bit sad to have finished it. Harper Lee should have written a sequel.

For any teens who were interested in the death penalty debates raised in Annabel Pitcher’s Ketchup Clouds, To Kill A Mockingbird will be right up your street.

 

My Classics Club verdict: Not that anyone would believe me if I said otherwise but definitely it’s a classic. Wonderful in so many ways.

 

(Gosh; that was a bit long. It’s so I don’t forget why I liked it so much. Or what things it made play around in my head. For when I’m old and really grey – or just forgetful.)

Publication details: 2004, Vintage, London, paperback (first published 1960)

This copy: my own

The Quietness - M's review

The Quietness by Alison Rattle

The Quietness is an action-driven historical novel with the rights of women at its heart. In a Victorian setting, a story about unwanted pregnancies, babyfarming and belonging unfolds.

The Quietness by Alison Rattle

The Quietness is about fifteen year old Queenie and sixteen year old Ellen, two characters whose stories interweave to reveal a complex picture of what Victorian life for women and girls, both working and middle class, was like. Packed full of poverty, prostitution, pregnancy, abortion, rape, childbirth, adoption, death and body care, this story is shocking and sad (and worse, based on true events). This is not a rose-tinted novel but it is also a story full of hope. Above all, I think it tells an important historical story that is intended for a teen readership.

The idea for this novel came about after the author had done extensive research for a non-fiction title. While based on historical facts and events, the story is not packed with dull historical notes. It is an easy read with short chapters and quite a fast pace.

For me, some elements of the plot were plausible but a bit unlikely. Some other readers might love these aspects. The ending is very neatly drawn together.

I think this is a good teen read about an important story that’ll likely bring a tear to your eye. Written for the teen market, it’s still a bit of a shocker and doesn’t beat about the bush. It might make you want to ask questions. Publisher Sarah Odedina describes Rattle’s writing as being along the lines of Mary Hooper. I think she is right.

If you’ve ever read Malorie Blackman’s Noughts & Crosses or Ruta Sepetys’ Between Shades of Gray, or if you’ve ever watched Call the Midwife on television, you’re old enough and wise enough to read and enjoy The Quietness. More than anything, I’d like to see some boys reading this.

Historical notes and resource packs are available for this novel from the publisher.

Publication details: March 2013, Hot Key Books, London, paperback

This copy: review copy received from the publishers