Jacob Have I Loved-- Katherine Paterson

I didn't read this book in fourth grade. I think just about everyone else did.

I clearly wasn't listening to my classmates' book reports, because I thought it was about something else. It was only recently that I discovered this widely-read novel is about a place I have come to love: the Chesapeake Bay. More specifically, about what the waterman community was like there 50 years ago.

Sara Louise Bradshaw lives on Rass Island, descended from generations of Bradshaws who have been watermen there for the last 200 years. It's a small community, perhaps too small for how Sara Louise wants to live her life-- doing a man's work on a boat, harvesting crabs and oysters. Instead, her identity is reduced to being the twin of the lovely Caroline, whose singing voice is the pride of their small community. When Caroline begins to monopolize Sara Louise's friendships as well as the their parents' affection, Sara Louise resigns herself to incidental status rather than succumb to guilt over hating her own sister. Years go by before Sara Louise finally realizes that if she wants something of her own, she has to make it herself.

This book could easily be written for adults. Though the plot and characters are streamlined, there are many parts of this that will resonate with older readers-- changing relationships within families and with God, and the transition from childhood aspirations to grown-up ones. The most interesting family dynamics portrayed here are not necessarily the obvious ones; we see the grandmother slowly losing her grip in old age, the twins' mother explaining her life's choices to Sara Louise, and Sara Louise herself finally understanding her parents. I was intrigued by Patterson's choice to follow Sara Louise into adulthood, a place where young adult novels seldom go.

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!)