omphaloskepsis

{book} grounded

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 16:02:51 +0000

Sometimes it pays to misbehave. Or does it? Daralynn is grounded the day her daddy goes up in his air-o-plane with her older brother and younger sister. Now after their deaths, she is still left behind with her motion-sick mother and the small community of Digginsville in the Missouri Ozarks (of the 1970s). As Daralynn sorts out the differences between Before the Crash (BC) and After the Deaths (AD), she learns what it means to be grounded in every aspect of the word.

After her brother, sister, and father die in a plane crash, Daralynn Oakland receives 237 dolls from well-wishers, resulting in her nickname: Dolly. But dolls are little comfort to a twelve-year-old girl whose world is rocked by the dramatic changes in her life, including her angry, grieving mothers new job as a hairstylist at the local funeral home.

Dolly gets a job, too, where she accidentally invents a fashionable new haircut. But her real work begins when a crematorium comes to town, and someone has to save a dying business, solve a burning mystery, and resuscitate the broken hearts in Digginsville, Missouri, population 402. ~Publisher’s Comment.

Grounded, as a novel surrounding a significant loss, has a charm all its own. I say this and I am going to reference Because of Winn Dixie by Kate DiCamillo in a minute. Kate Klise has drawn colorful characters that aren’t so outlandish as to be unrecognizable. It took a while for post-Vietnam and 70′s fashion to click in, and even still the story and its characters felt (and continue to feel) contemporary. Klise also brings to life the angry grieving widow, which is so beautifully convincing. But it is her first person protagonist that makes the story smile and tear-up.

I couldn’t help but think about DiCamillo’s India Opal Buloni when meeting Daralynn Oakland. She is a bit tom-boyish, too. And independent, inventive, and curious, and set adrift on her own. Except neither are really alone as the community comes to life about them in all its quirky wonder.

“Why did people think giving me dead dolls would make me feel better about my dead family? It didn’t make sense. All the strange things people did and said when other people died: None of it made sense.” (127).

Klise doesn’t try to make complete sense of why people respond to death the way they do. She does offer some contextual insight, enough to make responses seem more plausible (like the mother’s), but little more than that. The presence of another provides the anchor, not hard-won band-aid explanations. Kate Klise summarizes, “In my mind it’s always, always about the search for someone to keep us grounded in love.”*She creates a persuasive argument with Grounded.

Little makes sense, but that doesn’t stop Daralynn from wondering about why that is. And in some situations, when things don’t add up, they deserve a second or third look. Like the things that happen after the crematorium man comes to town. Daralynn (and the Reader) are rewarded for being observant, for questioning why things are the way they are.

Nothing feels more real than the weirdness of human behavior; which complicates the story considerably and creates mysteries that are natural in effect. Who is being true to themselves, and what happens when they are or are not? How do we survive our own grief, let alone someone else’s? Are the two even separable? and What will become of that disastrous haircut?

Klise writes a good story. Her voice is so smooth, so effortless. I thought to read a short bit before bed and had to force myself to set the book down. It isn’t a really long read, and all the ribbons slide into a quietly pretty little bow. Using a writerly narrator who is telling the story from some point in the future is used subtly (after the least subtle signal on page 37) and intentionally, allowing metaphors and early observations their continual relevance, and allowing for a very tidy, well-crafted story.

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recommendations: 9-13; boys and girls; those who like: humor, southern charm, (non-fantasy) Kate DiCamillo, wordplay, a bit of peril and mystery, who struggle with grief, who like non-message-y/non-therapy-driven books.

of note: I am rarely one to pitch a story for filming, but I would love to see this one adapted to screen.

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*Kate Klise posts “Grounded in Real Life” (Nov 2010) for Macmillan Children’s Publishing “MacKids” blog about the inspiration behind writing Grounded. do read it.

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Grounded by Kate Klise

Feiwel and Friends, 2010. Hardcover, 193 pages.

[borrowed from the Library]

{book} old man’s war

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 14:55:20 +0000

When Carl V. (of Stainless Steel Droppings) highly recommends a book*, read it—you’ll be grateful. John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War is incredibly fun; a wonderfully rendered sci-fi adventure with a very sweet love story. I read very few space Sci-Fi stories (I watch exponentially more). I read even fewer novels where the protagonists are in their later years. If you have similar avoidances, overcome them for Old Man’s War. Yes, when I highly recommend a read, you might should seriously consider it, too.

John Perry did two things on his 75th birthday. First he visited his wife’s grave. Then he joined the army.

The good news is that humanity finally made it into interstellar space. The bad news is that planets fit to live on are scarce — and alien races willing to fight us for them are common. So: we fight. To defend Earth, and to stake our own claim to planetary real estate. Far from Earth, the war has been going on for decades: brutal, bloody, unyielding.

Earth itself is a backwater. The bulk of humanity’s resources are in the hands of the Colonial Defense Force. Everybody knows that when you reach retirement age, you can join the CDF. They don’t want young people; they want people who carry the knowledge and skills of decades of living. You’ll be taken off Earth and never allowed to return. You’ll serve two years at the front. And if you survive, you’ll be given a generous homestead stake of your own, on one of our hard-won colony planets.

John Perry is taking that deal. He has only the vaguest idea what to expect. Because the actual fight, light-years from home, is far, far harder than he can imagine — and what he will become is far stranger.~publisher’s comments (back cover)

Congratulations John Perry, you are now among my favorite characters of all time. Why? He is just flat-out charming. As our first person narrator, Perry deftly navigates the emotional, technical, political, and comedic. Dialog captures diverse perspectives—and diverse personalities—so the narrative doesn’t feel too narrow or skewed. For those who want to use 3^rd person benefits in a 1^st person narrative (ahem, Young Adult fiction) Scalzi examples a successful way of doing this.

The sense of humor had me drawing out the read and savoring it. Someone could easily devour the book in a long sitting as it is quick-paced and engrossing. If you’ve been in a slump or inundated with non-fiction assignments at school, Old Man’s War is a comfort food. The rest of the time it is dessert.

I love the imagination in the fiction, especially in its coupling with comedic timing. The planets and aliens are marvelous inventions. I couldn’t get enough of them. And Scalzi’s capture of earthly familiarity (in particular, the military)is amusing and horrifying in their perfection.

It might have been because of the Covandu themselves who in many respects were clones of the human race itself: bipedal, mammalian, extraordinarily gifted in artistic matters, particularly poetry and drama, fast breeding and unusually aggressive when it come o the universe and their place in it. Humans and the Covandu frequently found themselves fighting for the same undeveloped real estate. Cova Banda, in fact, had been a human colony before it had been a Covandu one, abandoned after a native virus had caused the settlers to grow unsightly additional limbs and homicidal additional personalities. The virus didn’t give the Covandu even a headache; they moved right in. Sixty-three years later, the Colonials finally developed a vaccine and wanted the planet back. Unfortunately, the Covandu, again all too much like humans, weren’t very much into the whole sharing thing. So in we went, to do battle against the Covandu.

The Tallest of whom was no more than one inch tall. (186-7)**

Old Man’s War isn’t just a fluff read. It not only explores the concerns and benefits of age, but imperialism, sexism, sexuality, humanity, religious fervor… Perry is a sensitive observer, naturally flawed enough to be believable, he is personable and reflective. Important to me: he isn’t misogynistic or macho. If anything he is cautious in his own opinions, except when it comes to his love of his late wife.

I was impressed with the transitions from earth to space, age to youth, base desires to intellectual discourse, death to resurrection and back round again; the explorations throughout and the interconnectedness of them all. They follow and encircle the progression of the story, of John Perry’s life. Placing interrogative conversations with regards to our greatest institutions in the venue of future and space allows us engage in criticism more freely. John Perry is affable. His is witty and he is loyal, and he is old. He is a brilliant choice as narrator/guide.

Scalzi proves himself to be a talented writer, but more importantly—a gifted storyteller. His pacing, his timing, his balance of dialog, illustration, explanation, and action is remarkable. The novel is immersive. You don’t even think about it as a book one in a series until the last part of the book as it introduces a potential continuation. Even then, the book ends with thoughts of its beginning. Scalzi has whetted enough of an appetite for a series, but the novel is sensitive to the creation of its own entity. It has done what it has promised to do: to follow John Perry on this new adventure, to give him back his “youth,” to give him a new beginning, a fresh start—and to do all this without loss of memory or purpose.

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recommendation: sci-fi and non-sci-fi reader, any sex, “big kids” (due to sexual content and language), fans of Heinlein.

of note: yes! finally one for The Sci-Fi Experience–deep sigh. check out the reviews site, here.

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*Carl V. at Stainless Steel Droppings reviews and rereads Old Man’s War.

** I adore Scalzi’s use of “whom” to identify personhood over referencing an object. Note the criticism of the human in the quick matter-of-fact listing of attributes, and setting/explanation for the present situation. John Perry rarely uses confrontational tones.

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Old Man’s War by John Scalzi

Tor, 2005; tradepaper, 313 pages.

[borrowed from Library, should really own.]

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“Though a lot of SF writers are more or less efficiently continuing the tradition of Robert A. Heinlein, Scalzi’s astonishingly proficient first novel reads like an original work by the late grand master. […] The story obviously resembles such novels as Starship Troopers and Time Enough for Love, but Scalzi is not just recycling classic Heinlein. He’s working out new twists, variations that startle even as they satisfy. The novel’s tone is right on target, too — sentimentality balanced by hardheaded calculation, know-it-all smugness moderated by innocent wonder. This virtuoso debut pays tribute to SF’s past while showing that well-worn tropes still can have real zip when they’re approached with ingenuity.” Publishers Weekly

{book} liesel & po

Thu, 26 Jan 2012 15:04:31 +0000

It was the synopsis that caught me, and a recommendation of a friend that had me interrupting my already scheduled reading. Maybe I should have listened to the audio-version, as she had. As it was, I did find Liesl & Po cute, if not downright pleasant. What I wasn’t was charmed, and I think that was one of this juvenile fiction’s intentions.

Liesl lives in a tiny attic bedroom, locked away by her cruel stepmother. Her only friends are the shadows and the mice — until one night a ghost appears from the darkness. It is Po, who comes from the Other Side. Both Liesl and Po are lonely, but together they are less alone.
That same night, an alchemist’s apprentice, Will, bungles an important delivery. He accidentally switches a box containing the most powerful magic in the world with one containing something decidedly less remarkable.
Will’s mistake has tremendous consequences for Liesl and Po, and it draws the three of them together on an extraordinary journey.
From New York Times bestselling author Lauren Oliver comes a luminous and magnificent novel that glows with rare magic, ghostly wonders, and a true friendship that lights even the darkest of places. ~publisher’s comments

Except for a few grammatical errors and a pronoun slip (p92), Liesl & Po was a well-crafted piece. As far as pacing and character and setting, it was nicely executed. I was encouraged by the poetics, the metaphors engaged in talking about The Otherside, from whence Po has come and Liesl’s father has gone, but such was all the novel’s daring. It doesn’t follow with emotional depth. Perhaps that is due more to the subject of inexplicable adoration–Liesl. Is it because she is pretty, can draw, is a damsel, or that she is a dutiful daughter? Or is that she can function on so little food?

The androgynous Po isn’t the only spoken of in spectral terms. Liesl herself is a bit ghostly; as is Will, for that matter. Mo, another character warranting attention, is haunted by a ghost, and isn’t all there himself. The whole of the world in which they live is cast in shadows, having forgotten the sun–it’s been absent that long. The journey Liesl and Po and others must take is one that restores the life they’ve each lost. Perhaps at the same time, they can lay other things to rest.

Liesl and Po thrives on intersections. You know the fun of the film Hoodwinked! (2005) and the way the stories overlap, the connections that ultimately effect each other’s paths? It becomes a game to look out for those connections. Liesl and Po does much the same, tracing each characters progress, noting where they intersect in fun and clever ways that is sure to entertain the reader.

The narrative is 3rd person and the narrator a storyteller of sorts. The narrator is most certainly omniscient and moves effortlessly from one character to another when it is their turn. The shifts keep the characters interesting and keeps the story moving forward. My only complaint is the asides, the parenthetical. I (a lover of the parenthetical) wish the story had gone without. And then we launch into the happy ending. You knew it would all work out, no spoiler there.
>>but here is a spoiler.<<
Who else was not surprised Po’s living name was Peter. Didn’t he seem marvelously Pan-like?
>>back again.<<

It was the settling of accounts that seemed tearless, and I was sad to have not felt sad. It was as if the story was intent on avoiding a good cry. Parting was not sweet sorrow, which is still possible even when the reader can see it coming. The story rang hollow, and not in the right way. It lacked a melancholia. It lacked anguish.

Liesel and Po had so much of the darkness of a fairytale story to begin, and so much of the light of an Americanized version to end it. Liesel and Po was a fantastic idea, an adventure where grieving and courage and compassion featured heavily–as well as ridiculously well-drawn cast-members… I think most should absolutely adore it. As is, I feel mostly isolated in my cool response to it.

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recommendation: boys and girls alike, 7-12, adventures and ghosts and fairy tale references and drawing and an early-1900s feel. The 3 parts are nice 100-page jaunts, great for goal-making with the less-avid reader.

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of note: I really do not understand the inclusion of the illustrations. They are not horrendous or anything like that (as you’ve noticed), just–seemingly unnecessary. I suppose if you want to make a classic children’s book, they are necessary (?). The difficulty I found was: 1-Lauren Oliver is very adept at transporting the reader, 2-an instance: Mo’s room/apt. is described and a sense is generated, not to mention details. The illustration gives the opposite sense and doesn’t mind the details; the condition of Mo’s room looks more homey and prosperous than we have read. Is it to provide visual breaks?

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Liesl & Po by Lauren Oliver
w/ Illustrations by Kei Acedera
HarperCollins, 2011; hardcover, 307 pages

[images: via book's site and created by Kei Acedra.]

{tv} Sherlock: S2

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 14:08:47 +0000

I had pretty much given up hope that there would be another season Sherlock after Watson signed on to be a Hobbit, some character by the name of Bilbo–really, what was Martin Freeman thinking?! And finally there was: another series of three: “A Scandal in Belgravia,” “The Hounds of Baskerville,” & “The Reichenbach Fall.”

It is hard to be satisfied with knowing there will be only three 90-minute episode per series, but if the time goes into craft, I will take the trade every time. Series 1 (2010) was marvelous; I mentioned that here. Those rumors that Series 2 had surpassed the first? They are completely true. Everything we adored in the first followed into the second–except for those sexy transitions, I loved those. The blocking, the focus: deep or overlay, the colors, the costuming, the sets! it was so very very lovely.

The stories were more daring. As you may or may not know, this Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss created television series places Sherlock and Watson in modern day, interpreted by and translated into present contexts. They use Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories of the Detective and the Doctor as a basis for the characterizations and the mysteries. Any skepticism about the modern take was trimmed away with this second season.

————–”A Scandal in Belgravia” directed by Paul McGuigan, written by Steven Moffat.

In episode one: ”A Scandal in Belgravia,” we meet Irene Adler. In Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes films, our most recent reference to Ms Adler, we are introduced to a deceptively demure con-artist cloaked in the trappings of the female society. Writer Stephen Moffat’s Adler survives at the edge of polite society as well–as a dominatrix who uses information learned and pictures taken to insure her own welfare. A provocative translation; and one that works very well.

The show already jokes about the sexual nature of Sherlock and Watson’s relationship, despite Watson’s serial dating. Part of the issue is that Sherlock is hard to read. He is solitary and very much a mystery, add the fact he functions on a different level most of the time. How much is he able to emotionally tie himself to another, let alone physically respond to another?

“A Scandal in Belgravia” is deliciously wicked and beautifully complicated. Lara Pulver does a lovely job as Irene Adler, sharp and yet vulnerable, ever deceptive; sounds a bit like Sherlock, doesn’t she?

———–”The Hounds of Baskerville” directed by Paul McGuigan, written by Mark Gatiss.

Plenty have found “The Hounds of Baskerville” the weakest of the three, but “weakest” hardly means sub-par. Mark Gatiss had a challenge writing a story based upon one of Doyle’s best known mysteries. He managed to make it scary, weird, and –well, mysterious. Who knows what is actually going on. Is there really a demon-hound? Thematically, it is very well done: >>potential spoiler<<< To what ends will a supposed friend or loved one use another in their need to research, to know? >>okay<< What secrets are best kept hidden?

Where Sherlock excels is in the casting. They really are consistently good. Russell Tovey as Henry Knight created a believable character of torment and absolute uncertainty. And I loved the house they used. The sets were wonderful, not blatant in their horror (except the moors at night): a government experiment lab, a compound steeped in urban legend, a quaint village, a house strangers could see into to watch you, the wilds marked with caution signs and minefields–okay, the last is a fairly obvious horror.

————-”The Reichenbach Fall” directed by Toby Haynes, written by Steve Thompson.

The finale, “The Reichenbach Fall” was intense. James “Jim” Moriarty hasn’t left the show’s consciousness, but he takes center stage in the 3rd episode. He is out to destroy Sherlock–and not just his reputation.

Andrew Scott as Moriarty is absolute insanity. He is so creepy with that voice. And he is so cold. The character is terrifying in how clever he is. While we’d like to think that he couldn’t outwit Sherlock, the show would suggest otherwise and persuade you very quickly to its point-of-view.

Where is the truth and which are the lies is another pre-occupation and the greatest source of the tension. The episode relies on what we know to be true, and what we think could be true. It also relies on a very definite ending, and some creepy story-telling of the Grimm-sort. There are puzzles, but the overlying question is: how can Sherlock possibly survive–let alone win?

Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock has surpassed himself, and Martin Freeman as Watson is our perfectly suited avatar. Not only has Watson’s perspective been key, we rely on it so ever much more this series and Freeman is capable of the task.

If you have yet to see BBC’s Sherlock, I highly recommend it. The show generates great mysteries, interesting camera-work and effects, and a drama involving wonderful character dynamics of the the humorous, melancholic, and disturbing kind.

{book} divergent

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 14:03:04 +0000

Too bad the title does not necessary imply divergence from present popular Young Adult formulations. Work-shopped from an outline and a list of ingredients came to mind as I grit my way through this one. Is the imaginative twist on post-apocalyptic dystopian construction of society enough to forgive the seams? Likely. More, its saving grace may be in the way it does actually diverge from present YA expectations. That and the understanding that Veronica Roth does have an aptitude for writing.

There is a degree of pleasure in reading with an expectation of formula. We even seek it out. Our comfort zones, they are sometimes called. Still, while I know I am reading something along familiar lines, I don’t want it brought to conscious attention. This was my experience with Veronica Roth’s Divergent. It was as if its own self-consciousness had alerted mine.

In Beatrice Prior’s dystopian Chicago, society is divided into five factions, each dedicated to the cultivation of a particular virtue — Candor (the honest), Abnegation (the selfless), Dauntless (the brave), Amity (the peaceful), and Erudite (the intelligent). On an appointed day of every year, all sixteen-year-olds must select the faction to which they will devote the rest of their lives. For Beatrice, the decision is between staying with her family and being who she really is — she can’t have both. So she makes a choice that surprises everyone, including herself.

During the highly competitive initiation that follows, Beatrice renames herself Tris and struggles to determine who her friends really are — and where, exactly, a romance with a sometimes fascinating, sometimes infuriating boy fits into the life she’s chosen. But Tris also has a secret, one she’s kept hidden from everyone because she’s been warned it can mean death. And as she discovers a growing conflict that threatens to unravel her seemingly perfect society, she also learns that her secret might help her save those she loves…or it might destroy her. ~

Debut author Veronica Roth bursts onto the literary scene with the first book in the Divergent series — dystopian thrillers filled with electrifying decisions, heartbreaking betrayals, stunning consequences, and unexpected romance. ~publisher’s synopsis

publisher’s synopsis

The forming of 5 factions based on personality was imaginative and is well-executed. Within the emergence of dystopic themes, the only thing lacking is that haunting quality a good dystopian story has–possibility. Still, said ingredient isn’t necessary to the resulting enjoyment of the read. Roth shows her excellent writing talent in her world-building which unfolds beautifully and clearly as we follow her unusual protagonist via 1st person.

Hero and Narrator: Beatrice/Tris, though blonde, is unusual in that she is petite. An odd observance, but I couldn’t help but note it. Part of being short and thin is that she is often underestimated. Another “divergence” is that she is somewhat denied her sexuality (even at 16) which I think should be noted: “You sure you’re sixteen, Stiff? Doesn’t feel like you’re more than twelve”(279). “Can he tell that I’m still built like a child?” (324). Still, someone finds her attractive (2 actually do)–is it for her quick wit, her bravery, her aptitude for adjusting to perilous situations? “I like how you look. You’re deadly smart. You’re brave.” (337-8). And the young man who says this is the one to swoon over well before page 337. “Unexpected romance,” really synopsis?

Even if Tris is slow on the uptake, the Reader should guess pretty quickly who Four actually is. They will also likely wonder why his being two years older is such a scandal (337). “Isn’t he a little old for you, Tris?” (364). Nowadays, sure, but this is future and we are sending our 16 year olds off to become adults with hard life-decisions and jobs.
I also didn’t get Four as ever being tough or unkind. I kind of figured he was supposed to be (you know, somewhat Heathcliff-like*), but Tris just looks stupid in her oblivion to Four’s reactions to her. I wish the 1st person was more limited than it was, because the observances Tris makes for the benefit of the Reader (as a 3rd person narrator might) only serve to make her exasperating. She reads the observation one way, but we all know it as an other way. Misinterpretation is real, and so is a false modesty; which is Tris for the last 3/4ths of the story. Of course, a novel with tight reins on its sexuality, can’t allow things to go too fast. After all, the innocence of both Tris and Four are part of its appeal and its difference, isn’t it? Additionally, the novel isn’t all about the romance. Tris is coming of age,** coming into her Self. And then there is that nefarious plot by the bad guys. duh duh duhhh.

Divergent is a book one of a trilogy. Crumbs are left as we are carried through Tris’ initiation process and we collect them into an action-packed ending. This ending puts some things into play in order to sustain the storyline into the next book. I think it would have done well readjusted into a singular tome. Could be I am exhausted by sagas. Roth creates a fun world to play in, dangerous and full of potential story. Fan-fiction writers will have a lot of fun. If book two reads more like a companion than a direct sequel, I could get behind that. Roth’s development as a writer is worth catching book 2 as well.

What I did find interesting in the read was the question of : what it means to be Brave and Selfless, which is a large preoccupation within the book. Christian readers will appreciate the positive way a life of service can be viewed, and that the protagonist comes from a home that believes in God and isn’t self-righteous about it. Roth’s restraint with depicting violence, to the possible detriment of one scene should be a draw for those tired of the gritty nature of many an action/adventure dystopian. As far as current YA fiction is concerned, Divergent is rated G.

Roth is fair in showing up- and down-sides to each of the factions, though perhaps least with Candor and Erudite. Regardless the perspectives she present are intriguing enough, very age appropriate, light yet thought-provoking. The book isn’t so intense as to be inaccessible. She knows her audience. In the end, I find that I am just too old for this book–and its antics–let’s just call me a curmudgeon and get on with it, eh?

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recommendations: is enough that it was on most “best of 2011″ lists by avid readers of young adult fiction? likely. The action is exciting, there’s tattoos, and sweet sweet romance.

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*Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.

** Or is female coming-of-age stories about the initiation into relationship with their “destined” mate”? I’m beginning to wonder. Roth seems to be trying to avoid it here, if it is, which I appreciate. The realization of sexuality/sensuality, I can see as coming-of-age.

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Divergent by Veronica Roth
Katherine Tegen Books, 2011; Hardcover, 487 pages.

{sunday} 01.22.12

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 01:30:16 +0000

Aires de Primaveras

Outside my window: Sean huddled into short sleeves chatting on the phone. the best cell reception and disruptive forum? the front yard or back porch.

I am listening to: before Sean paused his film, explosions. N is in her room with her music up.

I am reading: Textbooks and nothing else now–yet. Sociology or Feminism, anyone? Sean is reading 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami, and N is inhaling my Italo Calvino books.

I am thinking: I am tired of classes already and week one has just finished: not good.

Favorite things of the week: Sean got a job on Thursday; he starts tomorrow: back into Arch and w/ a firm he has respected for a long time. The Spring-like weather.

the presentation board minus a small ledge center bottom where a old pen will lie.

Around the House: Daughter has a “Living Museum” project presentation Thursday. She is and will be presenting Louisa May Alcott (and no, she’s yet to read Little Women). Spent the weekend as a family doing her presentation board. Oh, the benefit of having a family member who has done presentation boards half his life now; he brings lessons on the principles of design lay-out. ||Sean starts tomorrow, an hour commute with a service later in the week (trying to avoid purchase of a second car). Hope it isn’t too cold for bikes tomorrow. || First full week of classes for me.

Things I hope to accomplish…the reading and responses without too much expense of time, and something beside non-fiction.

Music this week: Goat Rodeo Sessions by Stuart Duncan; Chris Thile; Edgar Meyer; & Yo-Yo Ma. Saw them perform/promote the album on The Colbert Report some weeks back. This album has kept me sane this week. One of my favorites is “Less is Moi.” However, here is “Here and Heaven” and “Quarter Chicken Dark.”

Screen Talk: Saw the last installment of Season 2 Sherlock. OH MY! will review the season soon. Let’s just say, all that was brilliant last Season was taken up a notch and elevated by further brilliance. Not much else. I was glad to see Castle, and Bones, and caught up on the first two episodes of Finders–really ready for it to hit a stride, get passed introductions and back story. Nothing film-wise.

Links:

–A very moving piece by “Coffee w/ an Architect,” “Important Places“: a gorgeous reflection on the important places the author has been. really, a must read.

–from Neil Gaiman’s Journal, “An Open Letter to Washington from Artists and Creators,” Jan. 18, 2012 w/ regards to SOPA/PIPA.

–”Starbuck’s Got A Gun (and A Cigar): Gender in Battlestar Galactica” by Emily Asher-Perrin via Tor.com; link via Sean who actually watched the series and I would periodically catch snippets. Still, he knew I would find this interesting.

{book} Amulet series, 1-4

Fri, 20 Jan 2012 14:52:22 +0000

How many heroines in juvenile fiction have lost their mother early on? Now how many have brought their mothers along on their adventures? Thanking the daughter for lending me her copies of Amulet to re-read up to the latest: (book 4) The Last Council, we started listing all the things we love about the series. We both smiled over the mom being a mom while both her children have and continue to become the heroes. “I like the idea of the mom getting to stay,” to which Natalya replies with a pat on my arm and a humoring smile. I’m pretty sure she would have made me go home.I can’t believe I have not reviewed one Amulet book here, I’m pretty sure I go on and on about them, certainly about Kazu Kibuishi anyway. Well, here we go–an in general, spoiler-free (as I can get talking through bk 4) “review:”

I felt sure, at some point, I related the incredible opening to Amulet: The Stonekeeper where we are introduced to the tragic loss of the father that leaves its audience breathless. Fast forward two years and still mourning, Emily, her mother (Karen), and her younger brother Navin are moving into (maternal) Great-Grandfather Silas’ house. In the first days, Emily finds the amulet and the mother is eaten by a creature that then carries her off through a door and into another world. Emily and Navin follow, determined to save their mother.

The amulet, we’ll soon learn, is a stone she inherits from her Great-Grandfather, it speaks to Emily, advising her as to what to do. It also functions as a weapon. She inherits his robots and mobile home as well. And as the story continues, she has inherited so much more. In The Stonekeeper’s Curse (book 2), the rescue mission transforms into something more, and Emily can’t go home–not until something is done about the evil Elf King.

Little brother Navin is often underestimated, but he has skills as well as an prophecy of his own. His is the voice that challenges and questions, fleshing out Emily’s struggles to find her way. The amulet would take full control if Emily would let it, and at times it would so much easier. But there are reasons why she should resist, and their revelation ups the tension even as it further develops the history and its characters. Further along, certainly by book 3 :The Cloud Searchers, you cannot deny that Kibuishi is crafting a finely turned adventure.

Between cliff-hanger endings that draw you into the next volume and perfect pacing, Kibuishi provides a brilliant balance of humor and peril and emotional conflict, of characterization and mystery. Who and what do Navin and Emily trust? And might there be times when they shouldn’t do as expected–or as someone in “authority” says?

Kibuishi notes Star Wars and Hayao Miyazaki as inspirations. Learning this, I was not surprised–and not because the results are hokey. If anything, it is noticeable how hard Amulet avoids recalling Star Wars directly when talking about life-forces or harnessing skill and destiny, and resisting darkly lit temptations. As for Miyazaki: you know those gorgeous vistas? that is only the beginning. And yet, Amulet is undeniably its own creature.

Amulet progesses into greater complexity, and thrives in the unexpected turn. Most adventures should, if they want to be good, but Kibuishi is clever. I mentioned inspirations. In book 4 The Last Council we find a Utopia tainted. Ah yes, a dystopian novel published in 2011, shocking! And while N admits to anticipating a Hunger Games-like turn, she was pleasantly surprised to the contrary. I was fooled, too. There are a few reasons why, but primary is that Kibuishi has it in mind to do his own thing here. I have no idea how it will possibly go. True, he is consistent with characters, but what choices will they ultimately make in the face of what possible confrontation that awaits them. Also, he moves quickly through some plot-points and lingers in others. He introduces a character with information that changes everything (believably).

I am so very eager for the continuation of this series–and that is just the story.

The artwork. I mentioned beautifully rendered backdrops, this has as much to do with lighting and color and composition as the details. I just like to look at the pictures, honestly. The characters are accessible and expressive, another inspired take on Miyazaki, though unmistakably more Western. I love the palette. I adore the formatting, which is important to the visual expression of the atmosphere (setting). In The Cloud Searchers, we are introduced to dream sequences, black pages with fluid framed panels. There are the uniform sequences that become broken with skewed non-orthogonal frames in reflection of the change in circumstance.

I can register the composition of the page, of the sequence, or even a singular image, intellectually; however, I am registering it first on a more visceral level. Kibuishi understands his craft. And he minds his audience as well. The sequences are not hard to follow, frames are not indecipherable. Text and images take their turn in simultaneity.

Kibuishi is able to encode a great deal in a short amount of time, the pages turn and the action and humor draw the reader ever further. The story (via text/image) is intelligent, puzzling, and does not underestimate.

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recommendation: this comic series is fail-safe. It is beautiful and adventurous and funny. It is accessible for the younger set, but smart enough for the older. Even the more recalcitrant (toward comics) adult could be charmed. For those who love Fantasy, steampunk, Miyazaki, Star Wars, epic adventures ala Tolkien.

Amulet series by Kazu Kibuishi

(Please read the “acknowledgements” for the collaborators he lists in each.)

Book 1: The Stonekeeper (Graphix, 2008) tradepaper, 192 pages.

Book 2: The Stonekeeper’s Curse (Graphix, 2009) tradepaper, 224 pages.

Book 3: The Cloud Searchers (Graphix, 2010) tradepaper, 208 pages.

Book 4: The Last Council (Graphix, 2011) tradepaper, 224 pages.

my review of Copper (Graphix, 2010) also by Kibuishi

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{images (& video): via Bolt City Productions(Kazu Kibuishi’s site. 1- from The Cloud Searchers; 2- covers 1-4; 3- from The Stonekeeper, p31; 4-The Fueling Station in The Cloud Searchers, p126-7; 5-partial of p8 from The Last Council)

{life} 3 updates & something random

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 23:49:54 +0000

1–Thank you those of you who have been keeping our family in your thoughts and prayers. Sean went today to sign paperwork, get introduced around, and will begin Monday morning at his new job. We will not have move (immediately if at all) and Sean will return to doing Architecture, rather than remain the Revit Specialist (a building information modeling authoring tool). While he is very much skilled in the software, supporting it, creating useful tools, and training on it, Hooray! back to Arch side of things. So thank you for your encouragement during this relatively brief stint of unemployment.

2–My Fin Aid covered tuition. Waiting on a check to cover books. But I am back in School! Wow, never wait last minute, or switch degrees (however necessary). Anyway, I figured I should tell you because you will likely be hearing about it. Also, I may be posting less. We’ll see. I may just be that much more interesting.

So I am doing the Distance Learning at Texas Woman’s Univ. I have to take a General Studies Program, because they do not do English in undergrad. bleh. But I do get to take English as a “concentration” as well as Sociology or Women’s Studies (or both, which it looks like). Here is what I am taking this Semester,* the classes I could get into because I shouldn’t have been so last minute.

Too, to be less last minute: taking recommendations for Grad Schools in Library/Information Sciences.

*U.S. History 1492-1865 (I have to take History x2, Government x2, and a Math course–yikes!); Sociology: Principles of Sociology, I’m rusty if not completely inept with APA. I only had to use it once before; Women’s Studies: Gender and Social Change, people are just more interesting in these courses. I look forward to learning from them, even more than the textbook. Women’s Studies: Dance, Gender, & Culture, marvelous, huh?

3–Suey at “It’s All About Books” inadvertently reminded me that I have been disconnected of late. The YA Author/Blogger/Goodreads brouhaha: a familiar conflict. You can catch up here via this very helpful blog post by Michelle Witte, who also encourages all those interested and involved to try to actually engage in more constructive dialog. She links Maggie Steifvater’s response wherein Steifvater notes The Guardian writer Julie Bertagna was a bit more excited than necessary in this article.

This is fairly suck timing because I have two books in the wings that did not fare well for me. One is a beloved YA and the other is Juvenile but written by a known YA author. Now I feel the need to construct a current disclaimer; even if I do try to articulate why the less-than-glowing response.

I am going to do the posts, I had already done my internal debates on whether I would or not. I believe my integrity demands it. Frankly, I do not trust someone who only writes raving reviews and/or skirts obvious issues. The chances of an avid reader having a great experience with every book is highly improbable if not all-out impossible. I also agree with authors in that really harsh commentary should be supported by evidence or be well-articulated in their reasoning, unless (and maybe even if) the word “opinion” in some form is clearly delineated. “Opinion” cannot be assumed on Goodreads, or similar venues; and honestly, it pulls everyone who is trying to be helpful or constructive down. Save the cute for elsewhere, or take the criticism spat back at you with a shut mouth and a wide-open gaze.

4–Sean came across this video by Abandoned Pools for their song “Mercy Kiss”. Watch for Sweets, I mean John Francis Daley, whenever he is on-screen. He is brilliant.

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[images: update icon from Icon Finder; spilled ink via GettyImages (?) tineye failed me there; avatar thanks to too much fun on Scott Pilgrim's film site]

{book} I Am Half-Sick of Shadows

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 15:19:35 +0000

There are a lot of 11-year-old girl heroes with pluck and wit, but Alan Bradley’s Flavia de Luce stands out. While she is superlative in many ways, her vulnerabilities are of as much value to the plot, and none of it feels contrived; which is key, isn’t it? Even if Flavia survives the latest murder-mystery, she might not emotionally. And that is what a Flavia de Luce novel is about: her character, not just the corpse she inevitably stumbles upon.

Was my life always to be like this? I wondered. Was it going to go, forever, in an instant, from sunshine to shadow? From pandemonium to loneliness? From fierce anger to a fiercer kind of love? (292)

I Am Half-Sick of Shadows is book 4 in this delectable series about a young girl in 1950 England with a gift for chemistry, and poisons in particular. Since book one, she has discovered an interest in sleuthing as well. Like all the previous books, murder comes to Bishop’s Lacey even as Flavia’s familial dramas continue their own shadowy descent.

It’s Christmastime, and the precocious Flavia de Luce—an eleven-year-old sleuth with a passion for chemistry and a penchant for crime-solving—is tucked away in her laboratory, whipping up a concoction to ensnare Saint Nick. But she is soon distracted when a film crew arrives at Buckshaw, the de Luces’ decaying English estate, to shoot a movie starring the famed Phyllis Wyvern. Amid a raging blizzard, the entire village of Bishop’s Lacey gathers at Buckshaw to watch Wyvern perform, yet nobody is prepared for the evening’s shocking conclusion: a body found, past midnight, strangled to death with a length of film. But who among the assembled guests would stage such a chilling scene? As the storm worsens and the list of suspects grows, Flavia must use every ounce of sly wit at her disposal to ferret out a killer hidden in plain sight. ~publisher’s comments.

[Yes, Agatha Christie's name surfaces within the pages and not just the mind.] The part not to be lost in the above synopsis is Flavia’s dastardly plan to ensnare Father Christmas. It isn’t just a cute aside, because really, it is one remnant of childhood she really needs.

Would chemistry put paid to Christmas? Or would I, tomorrow morning, find a fat, infuriated elf caught fast and cursing among the chimney pots?
I must admit that part of me was hoping for the legend.
There were times when I felt as if I were standing astride a cold ocean–one foot in the New World and one foot in the Old. As they drifted relentlessly apart, I was in danger of being torn up the middle. (163)

Bradley is keen on placing Flavia in that tenuous spot between childhood and greater sophistication. He chose a perfect age. Flavia is both capable of both absolute genius and absolute ignorance. Those walls that come up in trying to decipher adult dynamics (read sexual relationships) are ever amusing. What is less amusing is how deft she is at a crime scene and in a laboratory while yet still remaining such a vulnerable figure. She hasn’t a mother, and her father is always just out of reach. Her two older sisters are a source of torment–really, it is painful. I am glad she has Dogger, the servant and friend of her father’s, because she really does need some adult to care for her, and for whom she could show care in return. And not only because she is 11 and human, but because she is becoming worn.

[After placing dry paper too close to the bulb for better light, and after catching her shoes on fire stomping out flames in the cupboard beneath the stairs:]
I was pulling on my singed sweater and scraping the toes of my smoking shoes on the floorboards when the kitchen door opened and Dogger appeared.
He looked at me closely without saying a word.
“Unforeseen chemical reaction,” I said. (228)

Dogger rarely says a word. And he has remained a bit of a mystery. We learn more in book 4; that is, more clues come to light. The relationships between many a person are given greater lighting–and in turn, greater shadow. Mysteries abide. Just who is Dogger, really? How is it the Vicar and the Colonel are friends? A key one: Why do Flavia’s sister’s hater her so vehemently, and how far with their warfare extend?

Bradley proves consistent in using the title and murder-mystery to facilitate the complexities of the greater series plot arcs. How do people actually know each other– what is the basis for their relationship? Where will adoration and/or covetousness get you? How much danger lurks in the not-knowing? While I enjoy trying to detect alongside Flavia, I am completely captured by the heroine’s personal drama: which involves all the above questions as well as the chemistry behind her plot to nail down a legend.

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recommendations: most of these Bradley/de Luce posts will be fan-girl-ish as they continue. I recommend starting with the first book: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, and while I think you could pick up any one and enjoy it, the best effect is in its primary arc, Flavia and the development of the characters. The series is a good Historical read, it features great twists and homage to classic mysteries, and the use of language…There is also a dry humor, so do take part if wit is your thing. Young audiences could and should enjoy this series, though I think adults will appreciate them more fully.

of note: I must audibly sigh over the Dogger/Flavia dynamics as well as Flavia/Inspector Hewitt. The very particular word choices that relay Flavia’s sense of the macabre continually delight. And her geeking out over chemistry?–so lovely. Her struggle with her father and her sisters also continues to wound. I really, really love what Bradley does in his Flavia books.

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I Am Half-Sick of Shadows (bk4) A Flavia de Luce Novel by Alan Bradley. Delacorte Press, 2011. hardcover, 297 pages.

my reviews for: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (bk 1); The Weed that Strings the Hangman’s Bag (bk 2); A Red Herring without Mustard (bk 3).

Carl V. at “Stainless Steel Droppings” has excellent reviews of books 1-3, and will have 4, not doubt. Use the “search” box, and go ahead and use a “subscribe” prompt while you are at it.

a sweet, very brief interview via Book Page

STOP SOPA/PIPA

Wed, 18 Jan 2012 14:12:51 +0000