Warriors Don't Cry-- Melba Pattillo Beals

Better late than never! This is a nonfiction classic that I wish had been required reading for me in school.

Certainly, in any sort of study the civil rights movement or 1950s history, you've seen the famous pictures of the Little Rock Nine: standing in front of the doors in Central High School, one student clasps his or her books, smiling nervously, surrounded by federal troops. The image is familiar, but doesn't tell the whole story.

Melba Pattillo Beals' account about her year at Central High School is remarkable. I did not realize, for example, that the nine students were actually unable to enter the building for the first several weeks of school. Upon finally being admitted, they were hardly able to finish out the school day due to armed mobs invading the schoolyard or roaming the halls of the building. When federal troops were eventually stationed at Central High, students were actually transported from the premises via helicopter. The pictures I had seen were not from the first day of school, nor did they reflect the daily struggles of the students.

I deeply appreciated the tone of Beals' narrative-- I have never read anything about this historical period written with such love. She writes affectionately of the other eight students and of the support from her family, and compassionately about the friends from her old school and the neighbors who distanced themselves from her. I was also struck by the forgiveness she shows to herself at that young age-- forgiveness for her moments of weakness, of resignation, and of misjudgment.

Highly recommended. This is our history.

Long Season of Rain-- Helen Kim

The Long Season of Rain starts out rather in a rather unassuming fashion. A young boy is orphaned when a mudslide buries his home and family. Junehee's grandmother brings him to their house until they can find a home for him. The family's dynamics unfold for the reader with a powerful subtlety until it's clear that this book is not about the orphan at all.

Based on the reviews, it seems that younger readers responded very well to the depiction of life in Korea in the 1960s. There is certainly a richness of detail that, in fact, dominates the early narrative. But as an adult, this book struck me as an incredible testimony to the struggles women and female children face in their own homes. The mother is depicted indirectly through her daughter's observations, and yet she becomes the book's most compelling figure.

Though the narrator, Junehee, is 11 years old, I would recommend this book in a heartbeat to older readers.

Tales from Outer Suburbia-- Shaun Tan

Tales from Outer Suburbia is for a younger audience than the other books I have reviewed here, but I think this is a book older kids and adults can appreciate. These ultra-short, illustrated stories are all surreal, spanning from fantastical to eerie. One critic compared it to Chris Van Allburg's The Mysteries of Harris Burdick (my 5th grade obsession!), and I would have to agree-- while these stories are complete, they produce the same weird, unsettled feeling.

Most enjoyable: Eric. The final picture won my heart.

Creepiest: Stick Figures. Chilling!

Most thought-provoking: The Nameless Holiday.

To explain this further would be a great disservice to all.

Enjoy.

Marcelo in the Real World-- Francisco X. Stork

What happened, amiright?

I admit that I have sadly neglected this blog (and my reading habits) for several weeks now. I would blame work or the weather, but it seems that I have also been in a bit of a reading rut. I discovered my local library does not have most of the older books some of you have recommended to me (which is really not shocking, as our library is only two small rooms). In addition, I have encountered a sad spot of reading burnout--there are so many gems out there, but the market is also flooded with things I have no interest in reading.

I needed something solid to get me back in the reading habit. The library, in spite of its small size, delivered with this-- Marcelo in the Real World. I found this book compelling and interesting, despite the use of some familiar story elements.

Marcelo is a 17 year old with a form of autism that resembles Asperger's Syndrome. He has been in a special school since he was young, and is happy to be in a safe environment. Marcelo's father, however, wants him to attend public school for his senior year. They make a deal: Marcelo can choose for himself, so long as he works in his father's law firm mailroom for the summer.

In a matter of weeks, Marcelo's black-and-white, objective world becomes more nuanced and difficult to understand in a matter of weeks. Central to this plotline are his mysterious supervisor, the arrogant son of his father's law partner, and a picture of a young girl with half her face missing.

The story, through the narrator, touches on religion and spirituality, adult relationships, difficult decisions, and choosing a life path.

I cannot speak to Marcelo's narrative tone and whether it accurately depicts AS. I did appreciate, however, the careful breaking down of life situations for someone who is a moral absolutist. I don't know how this would have resonated with me as a kid, but as an adult I thought it was interesting. I can certainly speak to the depiction of corporate law firm culture-- yes, folks, it can be this bad.

Though it's easy to see where this book was headed, I appreciate it for its broaching of difficult subjects, compelling readability, and exploration of what exactly it means to live in the "real world." Recommended for older readers (high school) on account of some adult themes.

Shine, Coconut Moon-- Neesha Meminger

This is one of those books I wanted to like, probably had too high of expectations for, and was subsequently disappointed by.

After 9/11, Samar's uncle Sandeep shows up on her doorstep with a desire to reconnect. Samar was raised by her mother, who has not spoken to her family for years. What follows is an identity-fest: Samar wants to know her family, her Sikh roots, and who her friends really are. It's also got all the post-9/11 themes: hate crimes and discrimination, special registration and other policies, and acting as an ambassador for your religion/ nationality/ ethnicity. At the same time, we have token treatment of how parents raise their kids differently, teen dating violence, and personal identity.

In subject matter, I think it takes on a lot of weighty themes but can't quite carry them all. That said, the book takes an approach on a few things that I really respect: discussing proximity to hate crime, linking the targeting of Sikhs and Muslims, and exploring latent racism.

I wouldn't describe the book as "literary." It's a quick, chatty read with little distinction in its narration, dialogue, or characters. It strikes me as easily dated, as it mentionins specific websites, songs, and movies-- readers who may have appreciated those references are perhaps a little old now to be reading this book. I'm still looking for the perfect post-9/11 book, but perhaps this will do it for some young readers.

A Banquet for Hungry Ghosts-- Ying Chang Compestine

I succumbed to A Banquet for Hungry Ghosts for its unique exploration of historical and contemporary China and eerie supernatural theme. It seems sort of wrongly creepy to also have recipes in the book, but at the same time a fitting tribute to the traditional Chinese means of feeding of those who return from the afterlife.

From Compestine's interview in the San Francisco Gate:

"When I was growing up during the Cultural Revolution, I would fantasize that ghosts would eat up all the kids who picked on me at school and the people who put my father in jail," she recalls. "I wished a ghost would take revenge on them, that there was this invisible power that could come and help me. Then one night last year, I read a story about mistreated mental patients in China, and I thought, who would help them? Then I thought: the ghosts, naturally."

The stories are brief with unexpected developments (and this coming from someone who was OBSESSED with traditional ghost stories as a kid), touching on everything from the building of the Great Wall and the politics of powerful families, to organ donation and corruption in monasteries.

The endnotes at the end of each story give a nice context, adding a bit of substance to what is otherwise just ghosty fun. I won't lie, the recipes make for a weird fusion (e.g. one of the tofu recipes comes a story about a lobotomizing surgeon eating live monkey brains), but it's a great way to present these themes to reluctant readers in small, ahem... bites.

(Also, the pictures are very scary!)

Voices-- Ursula K. Le Guin

People, this blog project is so cool in that it's inspired so many conversations with friends (old and new), and resulted in so many interesting recommendations. About 20 minutes after meeting K, who does a stint at this neat place, we had an animated conversation about young adult novels and she sent me home with some books and a list. K, you are awesome!

Voices represents my first project foray into fantasy. I have never been much of a fantasy reader, but Le Guin is much-heralded in the literary field and in my homeland (the beautiful Pacific Northwest), so it was a fitting choice. The work is interwoven with the politics of oppression, the preservation of culture, and the power of storytelling-- all very compelling.

The second book in the Annals of the Western Shore series is narrated by Memer, a "siege brat" and orphan who grows up in the care and tutelage of the Waylord. Under Ald occupation, a monotheistic religion is imposed in the city of Ansul and all written literature ordered destroyed, but the Waylord's house has tended alters and a secret library where people have brought their books for safekeeping. Memer struggles with her rage against the occupiers and her destiny as a reader; things come to a head with the arrival of storyteller Orrec and the rebirth of a collective consciousness among the people of Ansul.

I tend to struggle with fantasy, mixing up the fictional names of people and places, and missing important details in magical concepts. Before I realized it, I was in the thick of the plot in Voices-- not fully understanding it, but fully wrapped up in the action. Reviews indicate that it is not necessary to read Gifts (the first book in the series) to appreciate Voices, but perhaps I will in order to deepen my appreciation for the universe Le Guin has created.