The Book Review Club - I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter

I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter
Erika L. Sánchez
YA

Do not judge a book by its cover - this is a recurring theme in this story. Guiltily, I admit, the cover was part of its initial appeal for me. I grew up near Chicago so the lake to the right and Sears Tower there to the left--or whatever it's called these days--grabbed me. Even more so, the title. It entices with so much. Conflict, for one. Then, for some, a new culture. For others, resonance. And for others still, all, none, and/or something entirely different. Which all adds up to: I was hooked before I ever opened the book.

Basic premise: Julia is the black sheep of her family. When her older sister, and perfect Mexican daughter to their parents, Olga, dies in an accident, this becomes even more apparent, and, ultimately, unbearable. Julia spirals down into a depression she has already long suffered from, until she attempts suicide. No spoilers. That's just the first half of the book. The second half is Julia's journey of self-discovery, while also discovering who her seemingly perfect older sister really was, and how that reshapes how she sees herself.

The story moves from Julia's home and school in Chicago, to a mental clinic, to Mexico, to, ultimately, New York. It is packed with new characters and new settings. I have rarely seen an author pack so many "sets" into a book. It works, but it's not one of those books you read slowly. The faster you get through, the easier it is to juggle the cast.

Also, the easier it is to grapple with the first half of the book. Julia is depressed. Her sister is dead. Family expectations get heaped on her. It's too much, especially for a teenager. And while her character and the way she acts are very real, she is, ultimately, a hard character to like.

One of the things I talk with kids about when I do author visits is what kinds of stories we want to read vs. how we want our lives to go. Arguably, we want to live "happy all the time". We want to have all the clocks in the world stop at night and everybody gets to accidentally sleep in but without any consequences, ace the math test, have pizza every day for lunch (almost anyway).  BUT, we do not want to read "happy all of the time". It's, well, boring. We want bad things to happen to characters in stories.

After having read this piece, I'd add, but we still want to like those characters. We don't want them to be too much like us, or, for too long anyway. Julia is rough on the world. She spreads a lot of unhappiness and hate. She is biting, sarcastic, angry. She's very real. Her personality very much fits her circumstances. It would be nearly impossible not to be that way given her depression, environment, and the devastating loss of a sibling. At the same time, reading her experiences of the world is abrasive, it's hard, it put me off at times. I'm not proud to admit that, but it was my emotional reaction. This may be because the world right now feels too abrasive, harsh, and indifferent at best already. Literature tends to be where I go to take a break. This was no break. This was a harsh reality.

Nevertheless, it's an important story, an important view into the world of depression that so many suffer from, a way to begin to understand by getting inside a fictional character's thoughts for just a little while and realize how overwhelming psychosis is. It's the kind of book that would do really well in a classroom, fostering discussion, being shared, rather than read alone and leaving the reader to process alone. But however read, one thing remains certain, this story will move a reader. It will stick with them. It may even change them. Sánchez has created a masterful story, from the very first word of the title itself.

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Maggot Moon
Sally Gardner
YA

I used to say I was a closet case trekkie, but this is my second post about a story with a scifi bent in less than a year. I think I've trekked out of the closet...in a Dr. Who sort of way. But that's another story.

Maggot Moon, truth be told, is less science fiction than alternate reality (along the lines of Vaterland). Basic premise - England (or something very near it) has been taken over by an fascist authoritarian regime that wants to put a man on the moon to prove its prowess to the rest of the world. Snag - the moon is too radioactive. Any possible human visitors would fry in orbit. It's a minor technicality for the Motherland. One easily solved with good old-fashioned smoke, mirrors, and Egyptian brutality. However, they don't count on Standish Treadwell (oh, the symbolism in that name!) to stand in their way.

I enjoyed Gardner's mash of alternate reality, conspiracy theories that the United States' moon landing was a hoax, and flawed, painfully human main character. She does an excellent job of building foreboding, of making sure the reader knows this cannot end well without, however, knowing how the story will end. Writing genius.

The chapters were also amazingly short, reminiscent of Kevin Henke's Olive's Ocean. The effect was, for me, choppy. However, both author and main character are dyslexic, and that much white space can be a godsend to a struggling reader. So, my discomfort may actually be a struggling reader's greatest comfort.

The additional illustrations throughout the book of the rat and fly give visual reinforcement to the decadence inherent in the world in which Standish is caught.

The issue that's kept me mulling is Standish's character and his development. I like Standish. He's real. He has real problems. He doesn't seem to have any real personality flaws, however. Yes, Standish has all of these problems - parents have disappeared, dyslexia, different eye colors, outcast of society, grandfather who's been reeducated, evil, brutish teachers - but they aren't personality flaws per se. He struggles with them because the world around him sees them as issues that make him less of a person.  He is basically the good guy fascist systems destroy, not the conflicted protagonist whose personality shortcomings lead to destruction and, out of that, growth, such as Sara Louise in Paterson's Jacob I Have Loved. 

Ah, characters. They come in all shapes and sizes!

For a cornucopia of fall delights, check out Barrie Summy's website.  

The Book Review Club - Code Name Verity

Code Name Verity
Elizabeth Wein
YA

I have the very distinct impression I may be coming a little late to the Code Name Verity fan club, it's that good. Nonetheless, I can't not write about this story either. It's that riveting. It's historical fiction solidly based in history. It's storyline is so genuine, the reader is left wondering, "did it really happen"? Yet its characters are so relatable to today's young adults, there is no disconnect due to time period. Plus, the author put together an amazing author's note that explains what's real and what's not.

Basic plot line - two young British women, one a pilot, the other nobility, become friends while working in the British war effort. Queenie, the Scottish noble, becomes a spy whom Maddie, the pilot, flies her - as well as broken and repaired planes, other spies, soldiers, etc - around England and ultimately, over the Channel to France, where Queenie is caught and interrogated - first half of the book. The second half is about how Maddie, who had to crash land in France, tries to escape back to England.

The book is brimming over with fast-paced plotting and harrowing, edge of your seat, reading. 

The format is interesting in that it is essentially a journal novel written from Queenie's and Maddie's POV. By alternating POV, the reader gets a more well-rounded, yet intimate viewpoint of what is going on both behind enemy lines and allied ones.

One of the aspects of the writing that most appealed to me is that Wein made each character human. That is, each has wants and desires, both abominable and universal. It's an interesting aspect to this particular novel. It wasn't easy to hate anyone flat out, except one secondary, but high-ranking Nazi official. Wein did a great job of character development, and in so doing, in bringing to life the intricacies of war and how enemy and ally aren't as one-dimensional as the history books of my young adult years painted them. The effect is something akin to that of The Reader, remaining long after the story itself is finished and begging for further discussion.

For other great Fall diversions, stop by Barrie Summy's website!

The Book Review Club - Twisted

Twisted
Laurie Halse Anderson
young adult

It's not brand-spanking new like Wintergirls, but Twisted is definitely worth a read. First, it is not a girl book. I'm very into boy books these days since I'm working on one. Go figure! And it's a real gem to find a boy book that deals with boy emotions from a boy perspective BUT is written by a woman.

A woman's approach to a male character and the result is all way in the forefront of my conscious writing after listening to Mike Sullivan speak at a conference I was speaking at last weekend. He drove home the point that we "girls" like connection and peaceful resolutions to problems. We're internally driven. Boys need to make connection. They need to experience tactile-y how something feels, works, and affects them. That's why they drive their bikes off of cliffs and that kind of extreme sports stuff. Sure, there are girls who do it too, and Sullivan says that both boy and girl readers who are reluctant readers share this hands-on approach to life. They need to experience.

Having said that, as a woman, I felt like Anderson did a great job with bringing her boy character home. Granted in this story of the dweeb turned bad boy, there is the Anderson element of darkness. Tyler does ultimately consider suicide. He also considers blowing up his school. Hurting his peers. Shooting his father. Yet, in the end, he decides to make a turn. To man up and face up to his dad. To win respect with guts rather than guns.

In all that, I can't help wondering if that's a woman's take or a man' reality. Trouble male teens don't all blow up schools or shoot themselves or hurt others. But, is the journey to manning up grittier and more experiential than even Anderson gives us? Compare her work to Walter Dean Myers' Monster. Myer's novel is rawer. It made me feel physically ill with worry as the character told his story. The emotion I came away with from Myers' work was uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. Unfemale.

Can we women portray Myers' type of gritty male? Absolutely. If we're willing to understand it. Which may or may not take actually experiencing it like a man might choose to.

What do you think? I'd really love some input on this. I'm trying to understand the male mojo. Not an easy feat. But doable, right?

For more great reads, hop over to Barrie Summy's site. You're sure to Spring into something fun!