Swimming in the Monsoon Sea-- Shyam Selvadurai

Swimming in the Monsoon Sea is billed as an LGBTQ book for young adults, but I think it's got something much more universal at its heart. This is very much a book about that dark, irrational place where we live at some point in our young lives. This particular book is about being 14, being alone, being a young man, having stuff in your life that needs figuring out, and not being totally in control of how you think and feel.

Amrith is adopted at the age of 6 by his mother's best friend when both his parents die in a freak accident. He loves his Aunty Bundle, Uncle Lucky, and adopted sisters, and it's clear that they love him too. But Amrith does not have anyone of his own-- no friends, no flesh-and-blood relations. He is estranged from his parents' families until his cousin Niresh shows up for a visit. Amrith's affection for Niresh is even stronger than he anticipates, and Amrith soon discovers depths of himself he didn't know existed--love, but also jealousy. (In an effective albeit not-so-subtle allusion, Amrith's drama society is performing a scene from Othello.) By the end of the book, Amrith has started to reconcile some of his complicated feelings about his past, his family, and his identity.

The metaphor of the monsoon sea is perfect for adolescence-- after a monsoon, the ocean becomes muddy and turbulent, with strong currents that can pull you under. Amrith is a good kid, but at times he is possessed by malice and anger, capable of hurting the people he loves the most.

The writing is simple but highly evocative. Selvadurai sets the scene in his childhood home-- Sri Lanka circa 1980-- complete with his fond memories of the place. Very low on plot action, which might be a deal-breaker for some, but the emotional side of this book is incredible.

Forgotten Fire-- Adam Bagdasarian

I think Holocaust literature is pretty compelling for a lot of young adults. It's mind-blowing to think of an event so terrible in such recent history. After reading The Diary of Anne Frank, it's terrifying to think that someone your same age, not so different from yourself, had to look death in the eye like that. We had Holocaust literature units all throughout school, and my elementary, middle, and high school libraries all had fiction and nonfiction titles on the subject. The problem is-- and this is embarrassing to admit-- it took me a very long time to realize that the Holocaust was not an isolated incident of genocide, and there were no books about comparable tragedies in those libraries of my youth.

Enter Forgotten Fire, Adam Bagdasarian's account of his great-uncle's survival of the Armenian genocide. In 1915, Vahan Kendarian is 12 years old and living a life of privilege in the Armenian village of Biltis. Things begin to fall apart, however, when his politically powerful father is led away by Turkish gendarmes. Over the following months, Vahan's family members are summarily killed or otherwise lost to him. His survival repeatedly turns on making split-second decisions-- whether to hide or run, to conceal or reveal his identity, say nothing or speak out. Time and again, he meets someone who he grows to love and trust, only for them to be brutalized or otherwise touched by tragedy. We know Vashan escapes and eventually comes to the United States, where many years later his great-nephew will write about his journey, but at so many points in the story escape seems impossible.

I almost stopped breathing when his friend's mother takes Vashan to his old home to work as a stable boy for Talaat Bey, the Turkish governor who has taken up residence there. Bey was known as the "Horseshoer of Baskale," having nailed horseshoes to the feet of his victims. In the story, Bey speaks kindly to Vashan and tell him how much he respected Vashan's father. The whole thing sent uneasy chills down my spine.

The backstory to Forgotten Fire has its own power. Vashan recorded his memoirs on tape when he was dying, and eventually they were given by his son to Bagdasarian. It took Bagdasarian ten years to write the book, which he describes as a highly emotional and self-defining experience:

During the writing of this book, I realized what had happened to the Kenderian family, my grandmother, and my great-uncles and great-aunts had somehow been inside of me my whole life, that the trauma of those events through the seed from one from one generation of Armenians to another. Writing the book freed me of that, in a way. That said, I think of this story, aside from being specifically about the genocide, as being a metaphor for life. The book is about loss and adversity of any kind, and who we become as a result of that.

Recommended for 9th grade and up on account of some seriously heavy content.

American Born Chinese-- Gene Luen Yang

I intended to post this book in honor of lunar new year. Oops. Happy Year of the Tiger!

American Born Chinese is one of my few re-reads planned for this year, but frankly it's so amazing that I can't keep quiet about it. At first, Yang's graphic novel appears to be three separate stories, influenced respectively by Chinese folk tales, memoir, and stereotypical sitcom. These individuals stories were enjoyable enough, but when they started to converge into a single story, that was it-- no one could have pried this book out of my hands. Some parts had me laughing; at other times, I felt like I'd been socked in the stomach.

An incredible book about coming to terms with identity.

Also, I had the opportunity to check out some of Yang's original drawings on a visit to this fantastic museum-- highly recommended for visitors to and (residents of) the Great Northwest!

P.S. It occurred to me later that the stereotypes in the "sitcom" narrative were familiar to me at this age, but I am not sure if I would have understood them when I was younger and I am not sure how dated these references are. I would be interested to know what young readers take away from that part of the book.

Third Year at Malory Towers-- Enid Blyton

This book was loaned to me by the wonderful D, an Enid Blyton fan from a tender age. She has fond memories of the Malory Towers series, though she handed this book to me with the caveat, “You know, it’s kind of weird. And British.”

This book is definitely amusing. It would be wrong to evaluate it in the same way I have for other books here—it’s old-school, and yes… very British. I love the way people talk, and say things like “harem-scarem” and “don’t let us.” And they call their sleeping quarters “dormies.” It’s a good thing I didn’t read these books when I was young and impressionable, or I would definitely have talked like this and suffered ridicule.

The characterizations are also awesome. First is the classroom teacher, Miss Peters, who the students describe as “hearty”—like it’s a bad thing. That is, when the author is not not describing her as straight-up “mannish.” I think those are the only two words to describe Miss Peters, actually. Then we have new student Wilhelmina, who goes by “Bill,” and she is a tomboy who loves horses. Even before she shows up, it comes to the students’ attention that she has seven brothers, and one girl remarks, “well, she must be half-boy herself.” Awesome! The other new student is Zerelda, who is American. (Who named a kid Zerelda, I do not know.) Anyway, Zerelda prances around fancying herself a future film star and, in a twist of irony for American readers, the students make fun of her accent. Awesome again! Oh yes, and Zerelda is demoted a grade because the American school system failed her and she is not used to having to work hard. Can I get a third awesome?

The other students are caricatures—they each have a quality and a talent, as well as a designated friend they pal around with. Apparently the main character, Darrell Rivers, has a temper, but I didn’t really see much of that in this book. Everyone seems to be pretty happy all the time.

There is something remarkably soothing about this book. It’s pleasant and well-paced, and it’s comforting to know that nothing truly bad will ever happen to these girls at Malory Towers (D, correct me if I am wrong and the school burns down in the last book or something). It’s safe, predictable, engaging, and—frankly—a nice change from some of the rather intense stuff I’ve been reading lately. I could totally see myself getting really into the series as a kid and wishing my parents would send me to boarding school in Cornwall.

Behind the Attic Wall - Sylvia Cassedy

Behind the Attic Wall has been one of my favorite books since I was a kid. There is just something so compelling and delicious about the slightly sad, slightly creepy story, with the mostly happy ending that I keep coming back to it 25 years after first reading it. Oh my gosh, that makes me sound old....

Maggie is not a very nice little girl, and at first it's a little hard to feel sympathetic about her hard life (not that she needs your sympathy, no sir!). She's an orphan, and has been kicked out of every boarding school she's ever been in. Finally she is taken in by her great-aunts at their now defunct Academy for Girls. When she starts hearing voices, she's more curious than afraid; especially when she finds out where the voices are coming from.

Definitely a must-read for anyone (especially girls) ages 8-15.

Because of Winn-Dixie - Kate DiCamillo

One word: awwwwww! It only took about a hour to read this, but what a sweet hour it was. Definitely a mood booster!

Opal is new in town, and having trouble making friends. Until she goes to the grocery store one afternoon, and finds a scruffy dog tearing up the produce section. She adopts the dog, and through him meets and befriends many people in her new town.

There's not much for me to say about this book, except that it's seriously better than Prozac.

It's a pretty easy read; probably most appropriate for 1st through 6th graders.

So You Want to Be a Wizard - Diane Duane

Hoo boy, this is a wild ride. Deliciously scary, funny and a little sad, this is one humdinger of a story; a bit of a cross between Harry Potter and A Wrinkle in Time. It's a fascinating mixture of magic and science. I mean, how many books feature a white hole as a main character?

The core elements of the story are pretty ubiquitous for young adult fiction. You know, making friends, standing up for yourself, facing your fears, saving the world: the usual. The twist in Wizard is that the kids pretty much take care of things without adult intervention. Unless you count the 10,000-year-old white hole an adult.

This book is a shoe-in for my recommendation list. Ages 10 and up. I think even some adults will like it.

The Wanderer - Sharon Creech

If you're not a big fan of the ocean, this might not be the book for you. The Wanderer is the story of Sophie, who crosses the Atlantic ocean with her uncles and cousins, to England, where her grandfather lives. And yikes! Days of bad weather and rough seas nearly kill the entire crew, and bring them closer together at the same time.

By part II, the reader begins to get a hint that something is not quite right with Sophie. There is a back story there, and Sophie seems to be the only one aware of it. The mystery is expertly woven through the rest of the story.

A Newberry Honor Book, The Wanderer is a good book for 3rd through 8th graders.

Climbing the Stairs-- Padma Venkatraman

I love a strong female protagonist. Have you noticed, however, that many of them are the same? Your typical independent-minded, tomboyish heroine seems to be a convenient vessel to transport modern feminist attitudes into settings where these traits are actually discouraged in women. Think about all the books you’ve read where the character’s mother is like, “oh, you are so stubborn!” or “that’s not ladylike!” or “why can’t you take up sewing and cooking instead of playing outside/ reading books/ having a mind of your own?” These books are so formulaic: the spunky daughter is generally the apple of her father’s eye and so is permitted her independent spirit, she is then placed in some difficult circumstances where her un-feminine traits are somehow an asset to her. So unfortunate.

Vidya, the main character of Climbing the Stairs, almost goes there but not quite. While she is as non-conforming as we expect, there is something real and sincere about her. Vidya’s primary objective is to continue her education, even after her family falls apart and nothing is certain for the future. I like this girl.

Climbing the Stairs is set in India in the 1940s, where Vidya lives a relatively comfortable life until her family can no longer escape the colonial regime and approaching war. A tragedy forces Vidya and her family to move into her grandfather’s traditional household, ruled over by her oppressive aunt and uncle. Separated from her loving brother and without support from her cruelly-treated mother, Vidya’s only solace comes from her grandfather’s library and a friend she meets there. Her uncertain future mirrors the movement for independence in India, with political and spiritual threads woven throughout the story.

This book is beautiful, but also felt very genuine. In the author’s notes, Padma Venkatraman reveals that the characters and some of the events in the book were inspired by people in her family. Vidya, in particular, is inspired by Venkatraman’s mother, a lawyer and legal scholar who was encouraged by her father to pursue her love of learning. That pretty much sealed the deal for me-- there’s a heroine we can truly admire.

Venkatraman has an excellent website for this book for those who are interested in reading more about Indian history, religion, and society—visit it here.

The Mysterious Benedict Society - Trenton Lee Stewart

I didn't really like this book that much. It was mildly entertaining, and the brainteasers were kind of fun, but I still felt like I had to force myself to get through it. It was also kind of creepy and discomfiting in parts.

But, it was recommended to me by kids and adults alike, and everyone but me seems to like it, so I decided to add it here. If you like books about kids who are alone in the world, and are required to deal with grown up situations and defeat adults who are trying to take over the world, then this book is for you. It's very Harry Potter, or The Witches. Except I didn't like it.

A good book for 3rd to 8th grades.

Skullduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy

OK, I'm going to be honest here, guys. I've read several books in the couple, but haven't reviewed any of them. They've just been sitting in a pile waiting for me to do something about it. I could offer a host of excuses, but that's dumb. Mostly, I'm a big procrastinator. One of the consequences of this procrastination is that I don't always remember much about a book, beyond the impressions I've been left with. This book falls into that category.

I had a lot of fun reading this book, and it felt very like a Neil Gaiman story. The characters were engaging, but nothing really special. It was a standard learn who you are, and learn to love whatever it is you find in yourself type of story. But again, very fun to read.

I'd put this in the 3rd to 8th grade category.

The Tiger Rising - Kate DiCamillo

What would you do if you found a tiger in a cage out in the woods? Would you leave it alone? Or would you let it go, knowing it would probably die?

The Tiger Rising is a bittersweet book about loss, love and learning to let go. DiCamillo is becoming one of my favorite young adult authors. I've read two more of her books, which I'll hopefully review soon (when I get off my bottom and start working my way through by backlog of reviews). Because this lady? She can write.

The characters in this book are so real, so sad, and ultimately so filled with hope that you can't help but love them.

This is definitely a book for the younger set, 1st through 6th grades.

Wild Ginger-- Anchee Min

The Cultural Revolution is an interesting subject for young adult fiction, given the important role of young people in the Red Guard. I hadn’t really thought about that until I read Wild Ginger, which is set in Shanghai in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In addition to making this era more real in the minds of readers, the setting offers thought-provoking themes, including political education and the role of youth in social movements.

History plays a large role in Wild Ginger, but it’s got a little something for everyone—a self-made hero, a loyal friendship, and a smoldering (if slightly disturbing) love story. The elements are relatively simple but the combination is effective, and the book is solid and well-paced. Readers will identify with Maple, whose love and loyalty are repeatedly tested.

On account of her non-proletarian background, Maple is a target for the Red Guard at her elementary school. She thinks she is alone until Wild Ginger comes to her class—a new student with light-colored eyes. Wild Ginger and Maple form a pact to stand up for each other, but Wild Ginger is determined to join the political system that has oppressed her family. When Maple and Wild Ginger fall in love with the same man, each of them makes a choice with haunting consequences.

My main criticism of Wild Ginger is that falls into the same trap as many historical books: the “villain” in the story is conveniently on what we view, with contemporary eyes, as the “wrong” side of history. It’s so formulaic for the enemy to be a loyalist, slave-owner, opponent of women’s suffrage/ school desegregation/ etc. Equating the likability of characters with a hindsight view of their political choices is far too easy, and makes no sense considering that our dogmatic view of the world is tempered as we grow older (and to make sense of this book, readers must be at least that mature). We are not surprised that the baddie in this book is the school’s Red Guard leader, Hot Pepper. It is, however, an interesting variation on a theme when Hot Pepper is supplanted by Wild Ginger herself, although the latter embraces her role and political ideology with very different intentions.

The details about the regime and revolution are pretty tame here, but the love story not so much—just a heads-up for anyone recommending this book to a student. Wild Ginger was written primarily for adults, but I think the characters would speak more to high school readers.

Ask Me No Questions-- Marina Budhos

Ask Me No Questions deals with so many of the things I care about: the aftermath of 9/11, the day-to-day lives of undocumented youth, and the realities of first-generation immigrants. I am a fan of Marina Budhos, who also cares about these things, particularly the experiences of young people. My close proximity to some of these subjects, as well as my high expectations for Budhos work, made it difficult for me to admit it, but here we are: I was very disappointed in this book.

The protagonist of Ask Me No Questions is 14 year-old Nadira Hossain, who came to the U.S. from Bangladesh when she was very young. Her family's visas have long since expired, and Nadira and her older sister Aisha grow up concealing the fact that they are undocumented. After the rollout of post-9/11 special registration and arrest policies, the family goes to the Canadian border to apply for asylum, but they are turned away and their father is placed in detention. Their mother decides to stay in the border town in a shelter, sending Nadira and Aisha back alone to live with family friends and await their uncertain future. Nadira has always felt inadequate compared to her older sister, but when Aisha succumbs to the pressure of keeping their secret, Nadira realizes it is up to her to see the family through this crisis.

The power of Ask Me No Questions comes from its basis in fact—there were Muslims who sought asylum in Canada after 9/11, immigrant detention remains a common law enforcement practice, and immigration enforcement practices are still haphazard as the court proceedings described in the book. Plenty of this story rings true to me, but without context I can see how the characters and their situation may not be believable. The family’s religious and cultural identities are not explored, and Nadira is the only well-developed character. Furthermore, young readers may not fully remember the radical nature of security policies enacted in the wake of 9/11; without that context, the story would seem like Kafkaesque fiction.

I was willing to overlook those shortcomings, but Ask Me No Questions was ruined for me by something else. To explain, I will have to tell you something about me: sometimes it’s possible to suspend my disbelief, but I am one of those people for whom illusions are easily shattered by technical error. (My own family can attest to this, having suffered through many a loud objection during critical movie scenes.)

It will therefore not surprise you that my belief instantly evaporated when the lawyer and judge talked seriously about the family’s adjustment of status application though, as a matter of law, the family was not eligible for legal permanent residence. Budhos ends the story on a hopeful note, but not one—frankly—that has any basis in reality.

Although a young reader wouldn’t necessarily know that, when combined with the lack of character development, the error gave the whole book a hastily-written and poorly-researched feel. There are people who live like Nadia and Aisha, and I wanted Ask Me No Questions to respect the inherent truth of their stories and do them justice. However, the political message is what drives this book, not the experience of people— bitterly disappointing.

When You Reach Me-- Rebecca Stead

I knew something was up when two staff at my favorite book store listed When You Reach Me (a young adult novel!) as one of their Top 5 books for the year, and every single review I saw was favorable. I ordered it and by the time it uh, reached me, it had won the 2009 Newbery Medal. I don't have many award-winners on my reading list, for reasons previously mentioned, but I was so intrigued by the reviews-- purposely vague, but enticing-- I didn't think twice about picking up this book.

There is so much going on in When You Reach Me I can’t describe it, and it’s done so flawlessly that I won’t do the book the disservice of trying. It’s a mystery involving a sudden attack on a friend, a missing housekey, a series of unsigned notes, and the growing feeling that something terrible is about to happen. It’s suspenseful and deeply, surprisingly emotional at the same time. It also alludes heavily to my mom’s favorite book ever; it freaked me out a little bit because I felt the book was written especially for me, but I think other readers will feel the same way.

The best thing, the absolute best thing about this book, is that it totally made me feel like my childhood self. Reading it was electric and effortless. I think when I was younger all books seemed like that to me, but it’s been a long time since I’ve finished a book in the course of a single weekday. I structured that day around reading time. I positively tingled with anticipation during my non-reading hours. I stayed up late at night to finish it, and when I finished it I got scared when I turned off the light. It made me feel uncertain about reality in a way that I thought could only happen when your mind is inexperienced and malleable.

You'll have to experience it for yourself.

What are you waiting for?

Da Word-- Lee Tonouchi

“Who can tell the class what is wrong with Barry’s writing?”

“Oh Barry, he da kine. He stay abundantly writing in one freestyle kine manner using, I mean utilizing, large quantities of neologisms, ah?” Mits attempted trying fo’ incorporate as many of da new coconut-kine vocabulary words as he could remembah into dat one response.

“The problem is that both Barry AND Mits use too many colloquialisms,” Laurie volunteered, dis time without raising her hand.

“Try like, dat not wot I sed?” Mits whispered into my ear.

I want to call Lee Tonouchi an author, but he’s more than that. Tonouchi is also a language advocate, a promoter of the literary power of Hawai’ian Pidgin (aka Hybolics). When I prepared to read his collection of short stories, Da Word, I was a little concerned that the writing would feel gimmicky. Tonouchi’s common usage of Pidgin in mainstream and academic outlets—graduate school papers (including his Masters thesis); book reviews, letters to the editor, features, and columns; his resume (and interview) for the Ford “Emerging Pacific American Leaders in the Arts Convening”— is not without cultural statement. He calls himself “Da Pidgin Guerrilla,” not shrinking from his role as a linguistic and cultural activist. That said, I needn’t have feared Da Word— Tonouchi is a master of narrative voice.

There are many deep, conceptual things at work in Da Word, both linguistic and literary, and one could easily go there in a classroom setting. On the other hand, the stories are just plain entertaining and, for the most part, humorous.* I could see it being very relatable for young male readers. Beyond the language itself, Da Word is full of observations about Hawai’ian culture and the islands' relationship with Mainland. Overall, very insightful and broadening, but also a lot of fun.

*There is one story in particular (“Black Leather Hot”) with mature content—not graphic, but troubling. For this reason, I recommend Da Word for 8th grade and up.