Victoria Reviews: Otherbound by Corinne Duyvis

When I first picked up this book and started to read, I did not expect to find myself sucked into the story just as fully as Nolan, one of the book’s main characters, gets sucked into the world of Amara, the other main character, when he closes his eyes. The book was fascinating and kept me on the edge of my seat throughout.

Otherbound follows Nolan who inhabits another world every single time he closes his eyes (even if he blinks). Each time he closes his eyes, he is suddenly in the mind and body of Amara, a servant in a different world. Amara protects a cursed and exiled princess in the Dunelands as a healing mage, and Nolan can only observe her life without every interfering. Nolan has been diagnosed with epilepsy in his own world, since the best explanation for what happens when he gets sucked into Amara's world is a seizure. But what happens when he starts learning how to take over and control Amara? 

Both Amara and Nolan are wonderful characters. Despite much of their shared experiences, they are two very separate people, and their individuality is a large part of what helps drive the story. There’s never any point where it’s unclear whether it’s Amara or Nolan is thinking or feeling something, even if they are both experiencing the same things. Amara is a servant whose tongue has been cut out – all servants have their tongues removed – and she bears the mark of a servant on the back of her neck in the form of a tattoo. She uses sign language to communicate, another mark of a servant in the Dunelands, and her job is to help protect the princess Cilla at all costs. Cilla has been cursed, and shedding even the smallest drop of her blood will activate the curse, leading to her almost immediate death. Amara is servile in all ways. The duties and expectations of a servant are constantly in the back of her mind, and she almost always does her best to observe them. Even in situations where she could (or needs to) take power, Amara is uncomfortable. Being an abused and watchful servant is all she knows of life, and she isn’t quite sure what to do in situations where she needs to take charge. She doesn’t know how to treat Cilla, who is both her better and possibly a friend. Her uncertainty along with her hatred of feeling this way pervades the book. Though Amara may dream of freedom, she is aware that she might not be able to accept it comfortably.

Nolan has been seeing Amara’s world through Amara’s eyes since he was a child. He’s been in several comas, and he lost his foot in an accident once when sucked unexpectedly into Amara’s painful world. His parents, teachers, and doctors all keep a careful watch on him, often to Nolan’s frustration. He puts up a front to them all, giving out “teacher-smiles” and constant refrains of “I’m okay” to everyone expressing concern. Nolan knows that he doesn’t have epilepsy, and he knows the medications don’t work; however, he can’t tell anyone about Amara’s world, because he knows they wouldn’t believe him. So he simply lives with the pain of existing between two worlds: with his eyes closed he enters Amara’s world only to observe and feel her pain, and with eyes open he must attempt to live out some semblance of a normal life with people who can’t possibly understand him.

There’s a lot of depth to these characters. Even as the book progresses and the characters develop, they still stay themselves – the unity that Duyvis maintains in characterization is quite impressive. Amara acts only in ways that it is believable for Amara to act based on who she is, and the same goes for Nolan. Even by the end of the book, they are still not entirely okay, all of their problems and flaws not magically solved along with the conflict. This makes the book that much more real and convincing – you can almost believe that the Dunelands do in fact exist, if only you could forge your own mind link to see it.

The story itself was fascinating, and the plot twists were completely unexpected. Instead of just pulling twists out of nothing, however, Duyvis manages to make them flow naturally from the story. Once the twist happens, suddenly everything else you know about the story shifts, and you see how that made perfect sense; you can’t believe you didn’t figure it out yourself.

Duyvis’ worldbuilding was excellent; the Dunelands were detailed yet understandable. The details of this world came naturally throughout the story. I never once felt like something had happened or someone had spoken simply so the reader could learn information. One thing I found very interesting was the concept of language and communication in the Dunelands. Different races or nationalities speak different languages, and the mute servants use sign language to communicate, often having to spell out unfamiliar words. Though all languages used in the book are written out in English (even the sign language), it was interesting to see the character stumble a bit in trying to translate certain words, especially English words.

Overall, this book was excellent. It was a fantasy story taken to the next level by its combination with our world. Though it’s a standalone novel, I’d gladly read a sequel or anything else taking place in Amara’s world, if Duyvis ever chose to write such a thing. I loved the characters, and I’m sad to let them go. I’d recommend this book to anyone who likes YA fantasy (especially fans of Catherine Fisher’s Incarceron series or Half Bad by Sally Green) or anyone who is simply interested in a compelling story.

Michelle Reviews: Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay

Much like Roxane Gay, I too am a Bad Feminist. I alternate between simpering and cowering away from the supposedly militant term to donning my angry feminist coat and seeking to squash the patriarchy. (This coat is merely metaphorical, though sometimes I wish it were real. A Power Coat. Maybe it would be made of puppies a la Cruella DeVille. Here’s a question; was Cruella a feminist? Did she Lean In? Have we been misreading 101 Dalmatians this whole time?!) I’m a Bad Feminist, but I think you can enjoy this collection regardless of how you self-categorize.

The first line that really struck me in this book was in the very first essay: “The notion that I should be fine with the status quo even if I am not wholly affected by the status quo is repulsive.” That is the summation of my indignation with society, with our culture at large, despite my overwhelming privilege. From there I knew I could follow Gay throughout her collection (to be fair I kinda knew this already because I have been following her online for quite some time); we are simpatico.

So here’s the thing…this collection of essays will not always make you comfortable. In plain fact some of these essays will make you uncomfortable. And that is just beautiful. Gay’s interests here span the dissection of race, gender, culture, and competitive Scrabble. She writes about her love of The Hunger Games and Law and Order: SVU alongside stories of rape, oppression, and the damage done by our modern fairy tales. Gay balances her frustration and anger with moments levity and pure openness. At times she seems fearlessly honest. You will probably agree with her, fervently. You will probably disagree with her, fervently. She leaves plenty of room for both. Gay states her opinions, she owns them, grounds them in fact and rationality, but she also admits to being human, being messy and making mistakes. There is a grace to that that few other cultural critics ever achieve.

If being a Bad Feminist means acknowledging the ways in which I am flawed, the ways in which feminism is flawed and yet still recognizing both the importance of the ideology and my own autonomy then I am quite frankly proud to be a Bad Feminist. I urge my fellow Bad Feminists as well as Good Feminists, Misogynists, Misandrists, and just regular folk to read this collection. Engage with it, challenge it, let it challenge you. I assure you, you will learn something. Roxane Gay is someone who is thinking critically about our world and it is a better place for it. She admits that she doesn't always get things right, that she lets herself down - that's the glory in being a Bad Feminist, you don't have to be perfect which is lucky because no one is.

Omar Reviews: Seconds by Bryan Lee O'Malley

It has been four years since Bryan Lee O’Malley released the sixth and final volume of his Scott Pilgrim series, Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour. It has been well over two years since his new book, Seconds, was announced. And it was three weeks after the release of the book that I was able to sit down and read it. It was worth the wait.

Seconds is the story of Katie, a 29 year old chef at a popular restaurant called Lucky’s. Her dream is to own her own restaurant, a dream she is working toward achieving. Katie lives above Lucky’s. One night, she discovers a box in her apartment. Inside the box is a notebook, a single mushroom, and a notecard offering the opportunity for a second chance. All she has to do is write down her biggest mistake, ingest the mushroom, and go to sleep. When she wakes up, the mistake will not have happened. But you’re only allowed one chance, and the mistake must have occurred in Lucky's. What would you do with that power? Would you change one large mistake from your past and be satisfied? Or, would you find a way to change all of your mistakes, attempting to create your perfect life? That is the dilemma facing Katie once she finds the source of the magic. Like all great fantasy, things are not as simple as they appear.

Seconds is one part science fiction, one part fantasy, and one part reality. It is, first and foremost, a character driven book. Most of the story revolves around Katie’s emotional development. Bryan Lee O’Malley is a master of blending the fantastical and the mundane. The fantastical elements of the story serve to highlight the more realistic elements of Katie’s journey, a journey I was happy to take with her. I found myself identifying with Katie more and more throughout the book, as someone who wants to own my own business, as someone who wishes they could change their mistakes, and as a person who has learned from their mistakes. I wanted things to end well for her; I felt that if things ended well for her, they could end well for me as well.

O’Malley’s stylized artwork comes to life in this book. Seconds is some of his best artwork to date. His cartoon-inspired style serves to beautifully mix the elements of reality and fantasy. Like Scott Pilgrim, many settings in Seconds are based on real places which helps the book seem more real. I always love that O’Malley draws characters that look sort of the same, yet entirely different. They look like they all belong in the same book together and the same world, but you never get characters confused for other characters. Too many graphic novels run into the problem of characters looking too similar; Seconds doesn't have that problem at all.

Seconds is aptly titled. As soon as I was done reading it, I wanted to read it again. I was skeptical that Bryan Lee O'Malley would ever be able to churn out something as fun, poignant, and enjoyable as Scott Pilgrim. Not because he's untalented, but simply because Scott Pilgrim was incredible. Then he released Seconds, and I remembered why it's worth it to wait four years for his work. O’Malley never fails to impress.

If you have never read a graphic novel, Seconds would be a great choice for your first.

P.S. – Fans of Scott Pilgrim, keep an eye out. You may recognize a few of the characters in the background.

Omar Reviews: Lost at Sea by Bryan Lee O'Malley

Prior to reading it for this review, Lost at Sea by Bryan Lee O’Malley sat near the top of my "Must Read" list for years. Though O’Malley has been one of my favorite comic creators for a while, I never quite brought myself to read Lost at Sea. I’m not sure if it was because I never had access to it, or if it was never the right time. But now, I have read it. And I am glad I did.

This is O’Malley’s first original work. He wrote and released it while working on what eventually became the first Scott Pilgrim book, Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life. Lost at Sea is the story of four 18-year-olds traveling from California back to their homes in Canada. We experience the story from the perspective of Raleigh, a sullen young woman who claims to have no soul. As the four travel through California, enjoying their travels, Raleigh remains quiet and introspective. This isn't an adventure book; it’s a quiet book about a girl just trying to understand herself.

Lost at Sea reads very much like an 18-year-old’s journal. Normally, that would be enough to stop me from ever reading this book. When I first started, I thought I was going to have to force myself through it. Luckily, that wasn't the case. As I read, I wanted to read more (I consider this an achievement, since I won’t even read my journals from that age, much less anyone else’s journals). The sadness at times is palpable. The narration (Raleigh’s inner monologue) does a great job of making you feel the sadness that Raleigh is feeling. At times, though, I found myself wanting to shake Raleigh and tell her that her problems are childish (I wouldn't do that). But no matter what, I wanted to keep reading.

O’Malley’s writing in Lost at Sea is solid, though not what I had come to expect based on his later works. He knows how to tell a coherent story about characters that are easy to love. Lost at Sea feels much more stream of consciousness than typical graphic novels. While it works for Lost at Sea, a story very much about Raleigh’s thoughts and feelings, I’m glad that it’s a style that O’Malley veered away from in his later works. His art, however, is just as wonderful here as it is later in his career. Simplistic, yet incredibly emotive. Lost at Sea is not as action packed as the Scott Pilgrim series, but O’Malley makes great use of the panels and the pages.

The blurb on the back of the book says “If you've ever been eighteen, or confused, or both, maybe you should read this book.” That’s a fairly accurate assessment. There are a lot of people who just would not get this book. The feeling of just laying back and basking in your sadness is foreign to many people. Those of us who understand what it means to be inconsolably sad, and those that know that sometimes in order to get through sadness one must dive further into it, will grasp the full weight of Lost at Sea. Even if you can’t identify with Raleigh’s story, it’s easy to identify with her feelings.

It sounds like this is an endlessly sad book, and in many ways it can be. But not all sadness is completely sad. And sad stories such as Lost at Sea are worth the price.

Victoria Reviews: The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon

I first picked up The Bone Season because my favorite vlogger (video blogger, for those who don’t know) Carrie Hope Fletcher sang the book’s praises in one of her videos on her YouTube channel (ItsWayPastMyBedtime). Seeing someone whose opinions I trust go crazy over an amazing book she was reading piqued my curiosity, and I eventually snagged a copy of the book for myself as well as some time to sit and read it.

The Bone Season is the first in a seven book series, and it follows Paige Mahoney, a clairvoyant (or “voyant,” as they refer to themselves) working in an underworld crime syndicate in Scion London, where clairvoyance is illegal and persecuted. Paige is a dreamwalker, and she has the power to penetrate the dreamscapes (“the interior of the mind, where memories are stored”) of other voyants. She uses this power to recruit powerful voyants for her sector's crime lord. But when she's captured and sent to a camp where she’s enslaved by otherworldly creatures, Paige must discover the truth about clairvoyance as well as her own powers, because the world is much more dangerous than she ever dreamed.

This book drew me in from the start. Shannon’s world of clairvoyant London is fascinating and complex. She’s created an intricate classification of voyants and abilities that lends authenticity and believability to an already captivating story. The book even features a glossary at the end to help readers keep up with all the Scion slang and terminology. There’s no question that Shannon’s world-building skills are enviable. The story, made all the more interesting by the setting, kept me hooked. I found it impossible to guess what would happen next, and even if I managed to figure out one thing, there was always a big part of it that I never would have guessed. The story is daring and personal, filled with an excellent mixture of dangerous exploits along with character and relationship development. You really get to know and care for several of the characters, which makes the moments of action and danger all the more heart-pounding.

Shannon sets up the start of her series nicely, giving readers a good introduction to the kinds of people, creatures, and society the books will follow. There’s so much depth and possibility in what she’s created that, though I was a little dubious when I heard that it’s a septology, I quickly saw that Shannon has more than enough imagination and material to craft into seven books.

Author Samantha Shannon

Paige is a lovely and well-rounded character. She’s tough and intelligent – she has to be to survive as a voyant – but her fears and insecurities feel real and believable. She lives in a dangerous world, and she’s developed a hard exterior to protect herself, and as a reader, it was a joy to not only see beneath the shell but also to watch Paige learn how to open herself to new experiences and relationships. She’s clever and witty; she says what she thinks, and she’s very fluent in sarcasm. Her witty banter with other characters – friends and foes alike (as well as with friends who might be foes or foes who might be friends) – was really funny and helped make the book an enjoyable read. One of my favorite things about Paige is that she’s not worried about being likeable, she’s worried about surviving and being herself. Whether or not everyone else personally likes her as a person isn’t really the most important thing to her. This attitude, however, doesn’t stop her from being kind and trying to be the best person she can be. Paige is constantly looking out for others and doing everything she can to help those who need it. Despite the world’s cruelties, she refuses to give up completely on the world.

The Bone Season now sits firmly on my favorite’s shelf. I recommend it to just about everyone I know. I’d especially recommend this book to fans of Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Divergent, and all the really popular dystopian series. It’s an adventure in a new world, and I’m excited to be a part of it from the beginning.

Book two in the series, The Mime Order, is set to be released on October 21st!

Victoria Reviews: Breakfast Served Anytime by Sarah Combs

I stumbled upon a description of Sarah Combs’ Breakfast Served Anytime while looking for some recommendations to get me through my post-Rainbow Rowell whirlwind.  I’d finished Fangirl and Eleanor and Park a month or so before, and nothing I picked up afterwards filled the void those two books left behind.  The description for Breakfast Served Anytime was unassuming, but one thing stuck out to me: the main character, Gloria, was headed for a camp for gifted students.

In high school, I took all the AP, honors, gifted, you-name-it classes I was offered.  I made my best friends and had the best times in those classes, and they represent a lot of what I loved about high school.  Understandably, most YA books about high schoolers focus on the hardships and drama of high school rather than the highlights; for a good number of kids, high school is one of the hardest times of their lives, and those kids need stories that tell them they aren’t alone.  Because of this, it is always a pleasant surprise for me to come across the odd story that echoes my own experience of high school life, which is what this book did for me.

It’s the summer before Gloria Bishop’s senior year of high school, and she’s headed to Geek Camp to study Secrets of the Written Word with the mysterious Professor X.  She gets to stay on a college campus - along with countless other Geek Campers - for four weeks.  At the end of camp, they will all be offered a scholarship that Gloria is determined not to accept to their home state’s flagship university: The University of Kentucky.

Gloria’s Geek Camp experience is riddled with meeting new people and making new friends.  Her roommate, Jessica, and down-the-hall-mate, Sonya, provide interesting contrast to Gloria’s more introspective yet optimistic personality.  Jessica and Sonya are take-charge kind of girls, and Gloria, to her own surprise, gets along with them easily.  Her comrades in Secrets of the Written Word are quite a different story: there’s the shy genius with unexpected depth, Calvin; no-nonsense go-getter and individualistic Chloe; and the egotistical, attention-hog, Mason, whom Gloria designates as the Mad Hatter.  The four of them meet up and spend most of their time in the Egg Drop Café, featuring the promise of “breakfast served anytime,” while uncovering X’s Secrets of the Written Word.

I loved reading about Gloria and her thoughts and perceptions of the world around her.  She reminds me so much of myself.  Her thoughts, feelings, and even her flaws felt so familiar and believable to me.  She loves literature, is addicted to a soda called Ale-8, and she loves the feeling of anticipation before something she’s excited about.  One of my favorite things about her is that she makes playlists on her iPod for certain moments or feelings in her life.  She has a Thoughtful Playlist that she listens to throughout the novel.  Gloria has all the quirks and flaws of a real person, and she’s beautifully portrayed.

Overall, this book reminded me of all the good times I had in high school.  It reminded me of the silly things I worried about, the simple crushes and crises of the times, and especially of the deep and lasting friendships I made there.  Overflowing with witty kids and literary references, this book made me laugh and smile more often than not.  I found myself reading quotes to whoever was sitting around me, and they always earned an appreciative chuckle.  It’s a lovely book that anyone that looks back on their teenage years with fondness (or who just likes a good literary joke) can appreciate.

Victoria Reviews: Dorothy Must Die by Danielle Paige

Dorothy Must Die is one of those books that turned me into a very irresponsible person.  No matter what else I was supposed to be doing, I could hardly put the book down.  What started as “Well, let’s read a chapter just to see what this book is like before I start my homework” turned into four hours and fifty pages of procrastination before I even realized what was happening.  Coupled with a cliffhanger ending that left me with a raging book hangover, reading this book felt like having a house dropped on you, though in a good way, if that’s at all possible.

The book draws you into the world of Oz, though it’s not as wonderful as you might think.  Amy Gumm, a bullied and rough-around-the-edges Kansas girl, is dropped smack into Oz one day after a tornado hits her house and carries her away.  Sound a bit familiar?  But instead of being greeted with a magical land of munchkins and good witches, Amy Gumm finds Oz a place of waste and ruin.  It seems that the story didn’t end after The Wizard of Oz – Dorothy came back, and she isn’t nearly as sweet and innocent anymore.  Forced to band together with a ragtag group of Wicked Witches, Amy is tasked with the assassination with the now power-hungry Dorothy.  But Amy questions her own power and ability. Can she get close enough to Dorothy without being caught and executed?  Does she have it in her to actually kill someone?

Paige paints a vivid picture of Dorothy’s Oz.  Her descriptions are beautiful and terrible all in one as she tears down the magic and beauty of the Oz that fans of Baum’s books or the Judy Garland film have come to know and cherish.  As a fan of both, being able to really picture the destruction of Oz was quite personal, and it made me all the more sympathetic to Amy’s mission.  Dorothy herself is in ruin as well, though you wouldn’t know it from the perfection of her hair, outfit, and nails.  Paige’s Dorothy brings to mind every pretty, smiling face that ever hid mean and evil intentions.  Dorothy’s smiling cruelty is almost too easy to hate; I found myself agreeing with the book’s title almost immediately after meeting her.  But Dorothy’s evilness makes Amy’s continued hesitancy to kill her all the more admirable.  Despite all the terrible things Dorothy does, Amy is still able to have some small bit of faith that some goodness must still exist in her.  At the same time, Amy must face the fear that she herself could easily become just as corrupt as Dorothy.  Her worries and emotions feel real and relatable.  Everyone who has ever had to face down a bully will be able to see a bit of themselves in Amy.  She may be tough, but her insecurities are very real and evident.

I wish I could say something about the book’s ending, but of course, I don’t want to spoil anything.  Let’s just say that I didn’t even realize that the book was the beginning of a series until I turned the last page and found a blank one after it.  The story builds and builds straight through the ending, and it left me feeling less like I’d finished the first book in a series and more like I was missing the second half of this book.  I ended the book with a fierce craving for more.

Overall, despite my book hangover, I enjoyed the book.  It’s definitely a page-turner, and I found myself quickly lost in Paige’s Oz.  Fans of A.G. Howard’s Splintered series especially might enjoy this twisted take on another beloved classic.

Michelle Reviews: Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere by Julie T. Lamana

The story of Hurricane Katrina captivated the entire world. Captivated not only because the horrors of the situation demanded attention but because New Orleans is a city that enchants; the pain, the undoing of this great city reminded everyone of its beauty and its failings. While in Florence, Italy in 2008 (three years after Katrina's blast through the city) John and I saw a "RENEW NEW ORLEANS" sticker plastered on the register in a tiny restaurant. New Orleans is a city that captivates, and while this storm certainly used all of its might to diminish the city it only served to draw more attention to it.

I have read quite a few novels and memoirs of Katrina and its aftermath. This has become a genre to itself; a way for people to heal through story (both for writers and readers). The stories we tell draw us closer, educate us, and remind us of home. It is my hope that the books written about Hurricane Katrina will serve us in another way as well...they will remind us of the colossal mismanagement of this disaster and keep it from happening ever again.

Julie Lamana's Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere is a novel of Hurricane Katrina. Lamana guides us through that fateful week in August of 2005 by telling the story through the eyes of Armani Curtis, a young girl from the Ninth Ward. Armani is precocious and as a reader I enjoyed being in her head in the early parts of the novel as she fusses about her siblings and prepares for her tenth birthday party. There is a great sense of family within this novel. What may be the greatest trouble with historical novels (or possibly their greatest triumph) is that it is difficult to read about likable characters knowing what will soon come to pass. At times, I wanted to crawl inside the novel and warn everyone of what was coming, but I know I would have been seen as nothing more than a crazy Cassandra.

One of the many reasons this novel is an important one is just that; people were warned that this may be “the big one” and some people did get out of the city in time. Many of the characters had lived (and stayed in the city) through both Betsy and Camille. We’ve all heard that “this is the big one” and we always manage. It’s the southern way – hurricane parties and so forth. This storm was different though, and the fear of it was electric. Lamana writes of the failed evacuation and those that flocked to the Superdome, but the Curtis family waits the storm out in their home as they always have before.

The scenes of the storm raging ring true. Julie Lamana is from Greenwell Springs; she witnessed the storm first hand, and while it was not quite as horrific for those of us here in Baton Rouge (especially after the break in the levees) it was definitely still a frightfully dangerous storm. Armani describes her family’s fears saying, “Even with Memaw and the kids all up in the bedroom, I could hear them crying and screaming and begging Mama to make it stop…More lightning and more thunder. The constant sound of rain dumping down in buckets so hard it sounded like we might as well’ve been standing up under a waterfall…Daddy looked straight up at the ceiling, and squeezed his eyes shut. In a whisper-cry he said, ‘Protect us, sweet Jesus.’ A tree branch crashed through the big window and knocked Daddy to the floor.” And shortly thereafter the water comes.

Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere is a horror story, and while it is written for a middle grade audience Lamana does not pull any punches. There is pain and loss in abundance, but a novel about Hurricane Katrina without pain and loss would be entirely dishonest. This novel aims to expose its young readers to many truths about not only this catastrophic event but this moment in time. Within its pages young readers are exposed to different types of families and many people often ignored by society. Time and again Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere manages to be more than just a novel about a certain time and place but also a novel about poverty, race, and family. Readers learn both with and through Armani about empathy and opening up to trust one another. They learn about growing up (in this and so many instances way too fast). Ultimately, readers of Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere learn about hope. Hope doesn’t die in tragedy; that’s when if flourishes.

Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere is probably best for an audience of 10 and older and I would love to see it read it middle and high schools across the country. There is so much to be gleaned from discussion of this novel, and that includes adult book clubs as well. While the main character may only be ten years old, Lamana has endowed her with a depth of feeling that will resonate with readers of all ages. This is a novel that will offer different gifts to each of its readers; it is not easy to read but you will come away from it happy with what you have discovered.

I feel like it is important for me to note that I know Julie Lamana, and I think she is lovely. However, that has little bearing on what I felt about her book beyond the fact that I am proud to know the author of such a fine work.

World Book Night: The Third Batch

Five more down, another eighteen to go! Let's get on with the show.

Katherine Paterson's Bridge to Terabithia was a reread for me, but I haven't read it since the fifth grade so it felt pretty new. I absolutely hated this book as an elementary schooler; for the life of me, I cannot remember why. Adult me really enjoyed it. I was thisclose to crying by the end, which is really saying something when you consider my frozen, icy heart.


The Lighthouse Road by Peter Geye feels like the literary pick thus far. I feel like every year the committee picks a literary novel that has a strong sense of place (somewhere in America) and each year I've been a little bored by them. This book isn't bad at all and it was a quick, entertaining read - it just felt a little meh...


I am so happy that the WBN choosers chose a graphic novel this year! Make this a thing that happens every year! I hearts and flowers love literary graphic novel especially autobiographical (or semi-autobiographical) ones and Same Difference by Derek Kirk Kim is no different (ugh, sorry). Great novel about being young and stupid and how we learn and grow.

Another thing I hope World Book Night includes every year - poetry collections! Philip Smith edited this year's collection of the 100 Best-Loved Poems. You can't go wrong with a best-loved edition; even if it is missing some of my favorites like Poe's "The Bells" (my all time favorite poem). A memory for you: my mom used to read that poem to us as kids. It was pure perfection and I wish I had a recording to imbed here. I just remember thinking how cool the poem was and how awesome my mom was. So, I don't really hold it against Smith for not including this poem, but he should meet my mom.
 

I didn't really love Pride and Prejudice so it is no surprise that I didn't love Sharon Lathan's Miss Darcy Falls in Love. It's a good regency romance, just not my thing (and holy copy editing errors, Batman!). The plot revolves around Mr. Darcy's younger sister, Georgiana, and her love triangle. And there's music...and sex. I did not need to read about Georgiana Darcy having sex. But that's just me. However, there was a slow burn to this romance that was fun to read considering so many romance stories revolve around characters who have just met but will now die without each other. This love is based in a great friendship and partnership - and that's awesome.

World Book Night: The Second Batch

I am all sorts of behind on my World Book Night reading this year. I fear Victoria may have jinxed me by sharing my progress with our mailing list along with the words “will she finish in time?”

The Zookeeper’s Wife by Diane Ackerman is definitely one of those cases of the truth being even more riveting than fiction. Ackerman writes the story of Antonina Zabinski the wife of a Polish zookeeper during World War II. The Zabinskis spent the war years hiding Jews in their villa and helping the underground in Warsaw. The book is often devastating and the sheer absurdity of the war and the actions of the Nazis are laid bare, but what triumphs over all of that is the survivor spirit of the Zabinskis and the Poles described throughout the book. Ackerman writes of interviews given by Jan Zabinski wherein he expresses that he and his wife were not heroes. They merely "did it because it was the right thing to do." Jan said "I only did my duty." To know both such courage and conviction...I can only imagine.

I was so looking forward to Eleanor Brown's The Weird Sisters. I love books about readers, and a book about three sisters raised by a Shakespearian scholar seemed right in my wheelhouse. Alas, it was not meant to be. I grew weary of this book because the sisters were so frustrating. Each of them is unhappy in a life of their own making and while the book is about them finding their way back to each other and to happiness I just sort of lost patience with them. However, the first person plural narration was a stoke of genius on Brown's part and truly gets to the root of what siblings are.

My favorite book on the list so far must be Where'd You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple. I did not really expect too much from this book; I don't typically go in for comic novels. But Semple has written this truly funny work of satire that just blew me away. I remember the hype machine working really hard for this book when it was initially released and I am so sorry I ignored it for so long. Not only is this book wildly entertaining, but Maria Semple has an understanding of depression and failed promise that very few people do. I highly recommend this book!

Terry McMillan's Waiting to Exhale is said to be a book that defined a generation, so I was excited to read it and get a glimpse into a life that is different from my own. This book is unflinchingly honest; for all of the internet ink that goes into dissecting Lena Dunham's HBO series Girls here is McMillan's Waiting to Exhale, written 22 years ago and just as uncompromising and often unlikeable as this so-called trailblazing show. The biggest thing I took away from this novel was the reality McMillan described - these are four fully formed women. They are weak, they are strong, they are endlessly frustrating, they are lovable, but mostly they are real. The fact that I wanted to punch both Robin and Bernadine in the face is a testament to just how invested I was in their lives.

I have somehow made it to my advanced age having never read a mystery by Agatha Christie. So, thank you World Book Night for filling yet another glaring omission in my reading life. After the Funeral is the 29th Hercule Poirot mystery and it's a great whodunnit - each time I felt like I had decided which of the characters was the murderer Christie and her master detective spun my ideas on their head and had me pointing the finger at another possible perp. In the end, I was surprised and excited to hear Poirot explain just how he solved the case. The classist ideology and xenophobia were a bit hard to swallow at times, but such is as it is in classic novels.

Michelle Reviews: Madam by Cari Lynn and Kellie Martin

All of the most famous cities in the world have a personality. We are drawn to them in the same way we are drawn to each other. New Orleans is alluring. It bristles with life, music, culture, and most importantly history.

The most fascinating period within the history of New Orleans has to be the sex-crazed, gin-soaked, debauched Storyville era at the turn of the century. Unfortunately, many records of Storyville have been destroyed, and the history of this famous red-light district has always been somewhat underground. Luckily for us though, authors Cari Lynn and Kellie Martin have seen to filling some of that void. Lynn and Martin have written Madam: A Novel of New Orleans. The book is a captivating romp through Storyville’s rise beginning in 1897.

Madam tells the story of Mary Deubler, the woman who would become the famous Miss Josie Arlington. Mary’s life lacked the auspicious beginning a figure of such and enduring legacy typically enjoys. We are told that she was born the child of a prostitute thus practically ensuring a life along the same path for the young girl. Mary moves through life existing and subsisting but never really living. She is so beaten down by her uncle (who has functioned as her pimp since the age of fourteen), her johns (who use and degrade her), and her position (outside of Venus Alley “whores” like Mary are viewed as practically subhuman) that she sees no way out even with her intelligence and beauty intact.

Only when her brother’s wife becomes pregnant does Mary begin to look for a way out. She cannot suffer another generation of her family to be debased in the way that she and her mother before her had been. Lynn and Martin do a great job describing the anxiety that permeates this section of the novel. Mary’s place in the world is so tenuous, her position so unsure, that each new experience could prove disastrous, and the authors are at their best when describing this fear. However, Mary is very intelligent and while wise enough not to be fearless she is very brave in stepping out to better her situation. With the help of Tom Anderson, the unofficial mayor of Storyville, Mary does rise from the dregs of society into wealth and infamy to become Josie Arlington, one of the most powerful and feared madams of the district. 

We hear very little of Mary’s life once she becomes Josie, though the authors do posit that it is not a happy one. We do however hear from Mary’s niece, and everything Mary hoped for her seems to have come true. She is affluent and well educated; the world is open to her. The novel ends with Mary’s niece Anna working through her own history and trying to accept the truth of her Aunt Mary’s life as a prostitute and madam.

Madam succeeds at what I love best about historical fiction – it leaves the reader wanting more. The authors note in their preface that they have maintained “as accurate a sense of history as possible” and their attention to the facts and meticulous research show. Upon finishing the book, I found myself seeking out books and articles about Storyville…separating the truth of Madam from the flushed out fiction. While reading through historical documents and especially Al Rose’s Storyville, New Orleans I was impressed by just how much of the time the authors were able to fit into the novel. From famous quotes to tongue-in-check cameos; it’s all there from the birth of jazz to the rise of the railroads. Madam is great read, and one I would definitely recommend to fans of historical fiction in general and southern history in particular.

I would be remiss to leave this post without also noting another recent release. One of the historical documents featured in Madam is the Blue Book; a pamphlet used to advertise the ladies, houses, and entertainments offered within Storyville. The Blue Book is a rare historical document for many reasons: not only was much of Storyville’s history burned but the Blue Book was meant to be used as a guide and then discarded. Luckily, a few copies do still survive and even more serendipitous one copy ended up in the hands of Judith Lafitte, owner of Octavia Books in New Orleans. Judith oversaw the reproduction and publication of her copy of the Blue Book, which is now available in print. The reproduction is an exact replica of the pamphlet and it is a thrill to look through. There are, of course, things to shake your head at while being happy about how far we have come, but on the whole this historical document charms me with just how little our basest natures have or ever will change.

Victoria Reviews: Half Bad by Sally Green

Sally Green's Half Bad is the kind of book you stay up all night to finish.  The book follows Nathan, the son of a White witch and the world's most powerful Black witch, in a world where only White witches are truly accepted.  Trapped and regulated by the council of White witches, Nathan is persecuted and mistreated in the name of White witch safety and well-being.  On every witch's seventeenth birthday, they must receive three gifts from a blood relation in order to come into their full power.  Nathan, as a potential threat to White witches, is forbidden from receiving his gifts without council approval, even though legend says that without three gifts, a Black witch will die.  Nathan must therefore escape the council's control, find the elusive father who abandoned him, and convince his father to perform the Giving ceremony, all before his seventeenth birthday.

Nathan is a great character.  He feels real; his motivations and thoughts are easily understood.  That's what makes the actions of the White witch council so hard to bear; the reader knows that Nathan is a good guy who is just trying to figure out where he belongs in life, but the council cannot see him as anything more than the son of a Black witch.  We are forced to watch this unjust persecution of an innocent, and Green really makes you feel for Nathan.

The witch society in Half Bad is well-crafted and interesting.  The corruption and bias are evident throughout the story, and though you know the council is wrong in what they are doing, it only makes them more threatening.  Prejudice against Black witches and against Nathan in particular is found outside of the council as well.  Nathan must deal with both child and adult White witch bullies whose word will always be trusted over his own.  Even in his own home, Nathan sometimes has to deal with White witch prejudice and cruelty at the hands of his sister.  It's a fate that many can relate to.

Green surrounds Nathan with a wonderful cast of characters, from his loveable half brother to his indomitable yet strangely kind jailer.  Nathan is a naturally trusting person, but due to his circumstances, he must deal with certain trust issues and the idea that trusting the wrong person could lead to his death.  He is forced into constant vigilance and suspicion, which leaves him lonely and isolated.  Green beautifully shows how this isolation affects Nathan, who, after all, is only seventeen years old.  Having no one to turn to in hard times takes it toll on anyone, and Nathan is no exception.

Overall, the story is engaging and wonderfully told.  The book his hard to put down, and you'll find yourself rooting for Nathan from the start.  It really makes you think about how our preconceived notions of people inform the way we look at their words and actions.  Nathan is shoved into a stereotype for Black witches, and no matter what he does to change this impression, he cannot change it.  The council judges him based on their perceptions of his intentions rather than what his intentions actually are, and it reminds us that sometimes we have to examine our own biases and give people the benefit of the doubt.  I'd recommend it to fans of Divergent, The Hunger Games, The Maze Runner, or similar series, as it contains similar action and storylines, but with a sprinkling of magic thrown in.   
Half Bad is newly released on Tuesday, March 4th!

Michelle Reviews: The Good Luck of Right Now by Matthew Quick

I can say with an extremely secure sense of confidence that most reviews of Matthew Quick’s new novel, The Good Luck of Right Now, will include two things: an early mention of The Silver Linings Playbook and the word quirky. It is a hard trap to step out of. I’m sure that the mention of Silver Linings will boost interest, but I’m a bit leery of the word quirky. Quirk is niche and this book deserves more than that.

The Good Luck of Right Now is the story of Bartholomew Neil told entirely in letters to his mother’s favorite actor, Richard Gere. Bartholomew is approaching forty, grappling with the recent death of his mother, and his fear of what most of us would call a normal life. He’s never had friends, never had a girlfriend, never really had any relationships outside the shelter created by his mother. This isn’t an issue of overbearing parenting; Bartholomew is decidedly odd. He doesn’t understand many of the thoughts and emotions of others. He can’t read social cues and is often mistaken for “retarded.” Bartholomew’s life never really thrived, but when his mother was alive it wasn’t lacking either. Her death, and his self-imposed guru Richard Gere, awoke in Bartholomew a sense of possibility.

Father McNamee was Bartholomew and his mother’s priest. He has a true connection to God; unfortunately, when Bartholomew’s mother dies God stops speaking to him. That’s when Father McNamee decides to recant his vows to the church and move in with Bartholomew. He believes that helping Bartholomew is his way back into the good graces of the Lord. Father McNamee also has bipolar disorder; he ceased taking his medication and is spiraling into a dark void fueled by alcohol. McNamee is the first in Bartholomew’s new flock. By the end of the novel after an emotionally fraught road trip and a visit to Cat Parliament Bartholomew is well on his way to a new life with a different version of family.

Matthew Quick knows how to write about mental illness. It is a topic that he seemingly has a deep understanding, passion, and no limit of compassion for. Here he tackles a wide array of mental issues, but what is most impressive about it…why his novels about mental illness work when so many fail is that he writes characters not disorders. Bartholomew is odd; reading his words will probably lead you to believe that he has Autism or Asperger’s syndrome, but it really doesn’t matter. Bartholomew isn’t a person with a disorder. He is a person. He’s confused, damaged, lonely, and deeply kind. A label may not make readers feel differently about Bartholomew, but it would put him in a box. All of his issues would seem stem from that box. Quick would rather allow his character tell his story than have a diagnosis do that for him. 

I was hesitant to write a review of this novel. Matthew Quick’s books have come to mean a great deal to me. His style is simple and straightforward but peopled with such unique characters. In both The Good Luck of Right Now and The Silver Linings Playbook we are asked to look at the type of individuals society typically ignores, and when Quick has us look into their lives what we find is an amazing depth of feeling. Sure, there is quirk and there are misfits in abundance, but don’t think for a second that they detract from the ultimate goal of the novel. The Good Luck of Right Now is full of fear and fragility but they serve to affirm the power of self-acceptance, friendship, and love.

There is so much that I could say about this novel. Let it suffice to say that The Good Luck of Right Now will move you. It will make you think about the people on the edges of society not with sadness or pity but with a respect for what they can overcome and the kindness that exists in the world. 

Michelle Reviews: The Freedom Maze by Delia Sherman

Delia Sherman’s The Freedom Maze is a high middle grade speculative fiction novel that is simply fantastic. Basically, this novel tells the story of a privileged young white girl in 1960 Louisiana who is transported to 1860 where her ancestors mistake her for a slave. I sometimes make blanket statements about my reading habits, such as “I don’t really like sci-fi.” And then a totally awesome book comes along and welcomes me into the genre. Apparently, I need more speculative fiction in my life. I haven’t read very far into this subgenre, but when you have books like this one as well as Octavia Butler’s Kindred or Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go leading you in it is hard to resist. I so value works that pull me out of my typical reading zone. 

Sophie is thirteen years old in 1960 when she is pulled away from her home in New Orleans after the divorce of her parents. With her father in New York City with his new wife and her mother in school, Sophie is brought to spend the summer with her maiden aunt and bedridden grandmother on their sprawling estate. Sophie is not the idea of the genteel southern lady that her mother and grandmother believe she should be. She is almost constantly chastised for spending too much time in the sun. Being outdoors, climbing trees, and reading fairy tales are not proper activities for a young lady, but Sophie cannot resist the lure of the maze that runs through her grandmother’s back yard. Once she reaches the center of the maze a mysterious creature greets her, she makes a hasty wish for adventure, and finds herself in the year 1860 back when her family’s estate was a thriving plantation. Upon seeing her deeply tanned skin, curly hair, and disorderly clothing her ancestors assume she is a slave sent from a neighboring plantation.

Sophie’s reaction to being labelled “colored” is immediately met with more question than fear. “In 1960 white people were white people and colored people were colored and nobody had any trouble telling them apart.” The beauty of Sherman’s novel lies in this sentiment. The Freedom Maze is a novel about the complexity of heritage and race. And it is written on a middle grade level. What Sherman has done here is amazing. Writing about Sophie and her family in 1960 she creates an atmosphere of subtle and even casual racism (that will be familiar to today’s readers because it still very much exists). Then she has that juxtaposed brilliantly against the utter cruelty of Sophie’s family in 1860 and the new family that creates itself around her.

Growing up in a racist white household in the 1960s was rather idyllic. One could revel in the Old South while drinking sweet tea and reading Gone with the Wind. Sophie didn’t worry about the plight of “colored” people. She never had to; she never had to confront her assumptions about the lives of those different from her or her own privilege. Spending six months in 1860 exposes Sophie not only to the realities of racism in the slavery era south but to those that have lingered on 100 years later into her own time. Living among the slaves, seeing the truth of their lives, the depths of their feeling, and all the ways in which she absolutely related to them exposed her for the first time to just how similar she was not just to these individuals of a different race but even of a different time. The revelations about the truth of her heritage (not to divulge too many plots points, but Sophie’s dark skin and curly hair stem from somewhere) and her modern family’s willful blindness awaken in Sophie both a coming of age and a coming to compassion.

The Freedom Maze is a deeply layered and complex story, and it reads so easily and hits perfectly at the level for its intended audience. I am frankly amazed by Sherman’s abilities and cannot wait to read more of her work. I strongly urge you to read this important and wonderful book and share it with your kids/students/friends/the neighbors’ kids. Kids notice race, they notice difference, and they notice what is ‘other.’ It is so important for them to see stories that unite us in a common history that admits we are flawed but we are human and we are equal. We are the same in our difference.

Michelle Reviews: The Impossible Knife of Memory by Laurie Halse Anderson

When I received a copy of Laurie Halse Anderson’s newest novel, The Impossible Knife of Memory, I also received a letter from her about just how personal this novel was. A new novel by Anderson will always be cause for excitement but reading this letter raised my anticipation of TIKOM to eleven. The novel is about a young girl dealing with the fallout of her father’s sufferings with PTSD, and, as Anderson explains, she suffered in the same way. The horrors her father witnessed at Dachua have haunted him and the rest of their family since 1945. In her letter Anderson writes “while this book is in many ways more personal for me, I believe it is universal in that it is for anyone who had to grow up too fast, or who found the adult world utterly baffling.”

Our narrator, Hayley Kincaid, opens the novel by showing us exactly how disconnected she is from her world. She is in detention (reading Slaughterhouse-Five, probably the most famous book about PTSD) and railing against everything. Life, authority, all of it. She has created for herself a black and white world of freaks and zombies; freaks are the dangerous ones who feel life and thus sadness. Zombies turn off feeling to fit in…to be happy. Here’s the thing about Laurie Halse Anderson…this part of the novel that doesn’t really seem integral to the plot explains so much about Hayley and teenagers as a whole and turns out to be the major message of the novel. Hayley, like all the sad, lonely kids, has created a dichotomy that she can understand. She can’t be happy because she won’t be plastic (to appropriate a term from Mean Girls); she won’t be zombiefied. It takes the bulk of the novel for the real lesson to sink in; we all have problems and it takes sticking together to work through them. There are no freaks and there are no zombies; we’re all just pitiful, pitiable humans.

Hayley has established herself as a hardened individual, but we quickly see just how afraid she is. The consequences of Hayley’s father’s PTSD (everything from substance abuse, impulsive anger, deep depression, and on) have been affecting her since the death of her grandmother (Hayley’s mother died when she was young. Her life is a tumult of loses). As Hayley nears her high school graduation the disruptive manner of their life together comes to a head.

The novel focuses on Hayley and her father, but it is a novel about letting people in and Anderson has peopled with characters capable of giving love to Hayley and those who need her love as well. She watches as the perfect life of Gracie, her only friend, falls apart. She sees the effects of substance abuse on the family of Finn and new friend and possible love interest. She witnesses the return of her stepmother. At first Hayley refuses to acknowledge the pain of the people in her life. Not through any selfish means but by lack of understanding. Their pain is their own fault, or something they can control or ignore. The pain Hayley’s father (and in turn Hayley) carries around cannot be ignored. He carries the pain of everyone who died in combat. When Hayley opens herself up to the depth of the pain in the lives of others she can finally let them in.

At the end of the novel after Hayley and her father have danced with death, she is able to look at Finn and see the possibilities of life. Of creating something new instead of living in constant fear of the past. The novel ends with Finn telling Hayley, “when we get scared or lonely or confused, we’ll pull out these memories and wrap them around us and they’ll make us feel safe … and strong.” Finally, Hayley is able to create new memories that allow her to grow.

The Impossible Knife of Memory is a sad novel but it is full of the hope that we can place in each other. Like Anderson’s groundbreaking Speak, TIKOM tells a story that we don’t really want to hear. It tells a story that we need to hear. And Anderson tells it wonderfully.  

Review: The Bone Lady by Mary Manhein

The first ever Livingston Parish Book Festival is due to be held on Saturday, November 16^th. Tons of local authors will be in attendance and there will be presentations by Julie Cantrell, Cyril Vetter, and Mary Manhein. I am so excited about this event. The folks behind the scenes at the Livingston Parish library are working to build the literary presence throughout the parish and we couldn’t be happier about that here at CHB.

One thing that I may be almost as excited about though is the opportunity to meet Mary Manhein. I first heard of Manhein and her FACES lab when they helped the Louisiana Art and Science Museum to uncover the mysteries surrounding the museum’s mummy (AKA my favorite thing ever). I have always been drawn to this mummy. Indeed, as morbid as it sounds, I think death and the dead are our most prominent connection to history. Viewing this mummy that has been an unchanging presence for my entire life has become something close to a religious experience for me, so the opportunity to meet one of the people responsible for the recent anthropological study of my mummy is beyond thrilling.

I decided to pick up Mary Manhein’s 1999 book, The Bone Lady: Life as a ForensicAnthropologist in preparation of meeting her. I am so glad that I did. Manhein’s book is a great read for those with an interest forensic anthology. For those who do not yet have that interest, I will explain that forensic anthropology is essentially the study and analysis of human remains to be used (typically) in the legal setting. Basically, Manhein’s job is to help solve crimes in which the body of the deceased has reached a great state of decay. As I stated earlier, I believe that there is a lot to the shell we leave behind after death so the life of someone who makes a study of that is definitely one I would be interested in.

Each chapter of The Bone Lady is the story of one of the cases Manhein has worked. There is very little glamour here. The first case she describes is that of a hunt for a body that had been unceremoniously buried on the banks of the Mississippi River. Amongst the mud, reptiles, and bugs Manhein and co. do eventually find the body…then the real work begins as the FACES lab (Forensic Anthropology and Computer Enhancement Services) attempts to discover the identity of the deceased. Over the course of her book Manhein explains many of the techniques used in order to identify the bodies that come into FACES. She ends the book by her passion project, a database of missing people created by the FACES lab. Profiles and dental records are loaded into the database in the hopes that they can solve the mystery of “those who wait.”

The Bone Lady was written with a lay audience in mind. The reader never feels that they are being spoken down to and the jargon is always very clearly explained. The main focus of the book is on individual human history. Manhein interest and enthusiasm in her cases translates exceptionally well to the reader, especially when she rounds her stories of strangers out with those from her own life. Manhein’s book is about forensic anthropology and hard science, but it is also about human connection. It is just what I was hoping for and I cannot wait to hear her speak about her writings and work on the 16^th.

Review: The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova

I rarely read “scary books.” I did enough flashlight under the covers reading as a young teen to maintain my paranoia and neurosis for life. Yet every October the feeling to read something spooky strikes. This year I finally delved into a book that has been on my TBR list for almost a decade – Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian. This book was huge when it was released in 2005, and it has been in my mind since then. This story of a multigenerational search for Dracula throughout Eastern Europe seemed to have just the right creep factor for this year’s Halloween pick.

The Historian is rather a difficult novel to pin down. It is about Dracula, so it’s a horror story. But it is about Vlad Tepes, or Vlad the Impaler, the actual historical figure upon whom Count Dracula is based, so it’s a historical novel. And it is about good and evil and how religion plays into that so it’s a philosophical novel. And it’s about family, how we are connected and disconnected from our own history and each other so it’s a multigenerational family saga. Basically, this novel is a postmodern, epistolary mish mash of adventure, mystery, family, history, tragedy, and philosophy. And it’s great.

The novel hinges on a young woman, daughter of a historian, finding an old book that kicks off a series of adventures in various libraries throughout Europe. She eventually discovers that her father, Paul, has been searching for the tomb of Dracula since his college mentor and fellow historian went missing decades prior. Paul’s mentor, Professor Rossi, had also been searching for the tomb for years before his disappearance. Kostova delivers her history in an epistolary form that allows for great amounts of detail. The atmosphere created within the novel is dark and exciting. The salacious side of history is always more interesting than the sunshine and light stories of the past. 

This aspect of evil in history is a large part of what Kostova seems to be grappling with in this novel. The whole of humanity is stained by a dark past of which Vlad Dracula is a king. Dracula has come to stand for everything that is seductive about evil. We are drawn to the darkness in our history as we are in our own lives. Kostova writes about the historical figure of Vlad Tepes in a way that questions our willingness to surrender to great evil. She draws comparisons from Tepes to Stalin as well historical figures before and beyond.

The Historian is a thriller of dark rooms and dusty libraries. It is also a novel that questions convention. This is not life changing literature, but it is a lot of fun. The story of Dracula plays out with a surprising lack of the supernatural and a welcome lack of cliché. The suspense and overall eerie feeling of the novel are perfect for this time of year. The right book at exactly the right time.

Review: The House on Coliseum Street by Shirley Ann Grau

In conjunction with the Louisiana Book Festival the state library has created a “One Festival, One Read” program. I was very pleased to see that they had chosen Shirley Ann Grau’s 1961 novel The House on Coliseum Street. I had previously read and loved Grau’s Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Keepers of the House. I have long described it as the most visceral reading experience of my life; this selection pointed me back in Grau’s direction and I was happy to oblige.

The House on Coliseum Street is a deeply internal novel. Grau tells the story of Joan Mitchell, a young girl tied to the house and the life she has inherited as well as her overbearing mother. Joan wonders through her world waiting for life to happen to her. Her boredom and overwhelming sense of ennui provide a sullen base to this slim novel. The novel begins with Joan’s mother and steady boyfriend retrieving her from an aunt’s house, bringing her back to the house of Coliseum Street.

The house itself is a character within the novel; serving its purpose as the setting but also standing to explain the emotional lives of the characters to the reader. The house is well maintained, fashionably decorated but cold. The house is never a warm home in the way that Joan’s family are never a warm support network. Both function on their most basic levels, as a dwelling and a collection of relatives.

The crux of the novel occurs when Joan begins seeing a professor from the local university (an old boyfriend of her younger sister’s). Michael uses his classroom as a dating service; Joan can see him for what he is, but being so starved for attention and excitement she accepts his invitations. The aftermath of this affair is devastating. Joan slips into a deep depression; forgoing all aspects of life and disappearing into her house, her library, and the nighttime streets of New Orleans.

Grau’s writing here is amazing. It is so spare yet deeply felt and beautiful. As a reader, to connect with someone so disconnected is rare and I cannot think of another novel that expresses this sense of turning away from the world so strongly and with such feeling (besides Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak). When factoring in the time that this novel was written Joan’s anger at her status and place in the world becomes even more meaningful – a young women in the 1950s had few options, especially coming from a family like Joan’s. The struggle for identity and the basic repression from all sides leave Joan hollow, and Grau does a wonderful job of showing her readers the repercussions of that emptiness. This is a great novel, not a happy story by any means, but one to think on and discuss.

Shirley Ann Grau will be speaking at the Louisiana Book Festival on Saturday. We’ll definitely be there and we hope to see you as well!