Book Review: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I realize that The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins has been reviewed by nearly every single book blogger on Blogspot, but I felt the need to toss my hat into the ring anyway. Better late than never, right?

The reason why it took me so long to read it is because I'm a library patron these days. I can't remember the last time I bought a recent release. It's just not in my budget, unfortunately.

So I had to wait patiently while the sixty-three people in front of me in the hold list read the book.

I'm glad I did.

If you know the premise of the story, skip ahead, intrepid reader. For those not in the know, Katniss Everdeen is a young girl who lives in the Seam in post-apocalyptic North America. The United States has been transformed into Panem, a twelve-district colony that is ruled cruelly by the Capitol. Katniss' district happens to be the twelfth—the poorest, saddest district out of the dozen. She takes care of her mother and sister Prim by hunting and gathering in the forests.

Each year, the Capitol holds the Hunger Games, a battle royale between twenty-four tributes, a male and female from each district. Every child between the ages of 11 and 18 is eligible to be chosen through a lottery system called the reaping. This is Prim's first reaping and she is chosen.

Katniss volunteers in her place to save the child from certain death, even though it might mean her own death.

I love a good dystopic society story. I think it makes me feel better about living in my own society because, hey, at least they don't make children battle each other to the death in an arena while the rest of the nation watches anxiously through television. Plus, these sort of stories are challenges to the author because she essentially has to create a brand new world, without making it sound like it's a Brave New World, if you catch my drift.

Collins successfully constructs a world that I have not read of before. It's different than a lot of the other dystopic novels I've read in that it's a much more natural world. A lot of authors assume that if society is going to get worse, it's because everyone moves into the cities and plugs in, but Collins sets the society back by wiping the slate clean and creating a new colony, one she can virtually play with endlessly.

Given that this is Book 1, I'm eager to find out what happens next. I won't spoil the outcome of the novel for you, but it's definitely worth a read.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Book Review: The Beekeeper's Apprentice by Laurie R. King

I'll be honest, I had a hard time writing this review. Not because the book is bad. On the contrary, I found this book so wonderful, I passed it onto my mother. The reason I'm finding it hard to write a review is because it's so hard to for me to explain it. There's so much that I want to tell you about The Beekeeper's Apprentice by Laurie R. King!

To begin with, it's a mystery. Not just any mystery, though. It's a Sherlock Holmes mystery. On the other hand, it's not a Sherlock Holmes mystery because a) it's not written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and b) it's not about Sherlock Holmes.

The book is about Mary Russell, a brilliant young woman who one day stumbles upon the great detective while out on a stroll across the Sussex Downs. From that moment, her life changes completely.

Already graced with her own keen intellect, she is taken under Holmes's wing the summer before her first semester at Oxford. Under his tutelage, she learns the art of detection and disguise.

Yet there's more. Holmes and Russell are not just tutor and pupil. They're kindred spirits. A brilliant mind is hard to find, if you believe the serendipity in Laurie R. King's book, and their's is a partnership that seems to have been divined by the stars. Russell is hungry for knowledge and Holmes is more than happy to provide her with the foundations of a sound detective's mind, yet he recognizes her as an equal, not just an untouched block of clay.

The story begins with Russell's tutelage under Holmes in his Sussex cottage and quickly shifts to the first mystery of the novel. Holmes and Russell travel to Wales to find the kidnapped daughter of an American senator. Disguised as wandering gypsies, they rescue the girl from an unnamed villain by working together. This sets the stage for the main conflict of the story—someone is after Holmes and his close friends, including Russell.

I can't get over how well-written this book is. King is a master at writing well-crafted dialogue that sounds natural. And the narration provided by Mary Russell herself stirred me to read some passages aloud for the simple pleasure of having the words come out of my mouth. With such weighty characters as Holmes and Dr. Watson to work with, there's a danger in losing the true voice of the character, but King doesn't. Each character, both her own and any that she has borrowed, sounds genuine. Holmes in particular is a masterpiece. Compassionate, witty and brilliant, he is a Holmes that you can believe in.

When it comes down to it, though, I have to say that Russell is by far my favourite character, but I believe we're meant to root for her anyway. She holds her own against Holmes' scathing wit and has her fair share of well-crafted passages.

I'm excited for the next book in the series, and then the next, and then the next. I think Ms. King is a fantastic author and I plan on reading the entire Mary Russell series.

I was inspired to read The Beekeeper's Apprentice because of A Striped Armchair. Not only did A Striped Armchair write a great review on the book, but then the wonderful Laurie R. King came along and wrote a guest-post for her!

Rating: 5/5

Book Review: A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

I picked up this book from the library because I recognized the title, and an old boyfriend of mine raves about Philip K. Dick, so I thought I would give it a shot.

The plot is convoluted, but I'll do my best to explain it. In the near distant future, the United States is no closer to winning the 'War on Drugs' than it is today. In fact, it's even worse. Large pockets of communities have devolved into drug havens and little can be done to break people from their addictions. A new drug called Substance D is particularly addictive and popular. Those who are hooked eventually come to a point where they either must check into rehab and get clean, or they go crazy. Rehab is an unpleasant option though because it's difficult to kick the addiction and the system is cold, unfriendly and doesn't always work. Essentially it's a last resort before the habit kills the user.

Bob Arctor is an undercover cop who lives deep inside one of these drug pockets in L.A. He's trying to crack the supply chain and has been assigned to spy on the addicts who he has befriended. The only problem is, Arctor is heavily addicted to Substance D himself. Because of his addiction, his brain begins to separate—the left side stops communicating with the right side—and Arctor can no longer recognize himself. This is when he is assigned to spy on himself because his unit believes he is responsible for supplying his friends with large quantities of the drug.

A Scanner Darkly is the best known of Dick's work given that it was released as a film in 2006, starring Keanu Reeves, Robert Downey Jr., Winona Ryder and directed by Richard Linklater. The film is fantastic, and (from what the old boyfriend says) pretty true to the book. Unfortunately, I couldn't finish the book. I read a good two-thirds of the book before I decided I wasn't interested in reading any more descriptions of car mechanics, or how the brain works.

Dick loves his science, and he fills this book with people who love to talk about science. Given that my brain can neither picture mechanical functions nor does it really care, this was a bit of a snoozefest. The story is interesting though, and if you're willing to read through the parts that might bore you like they did me (who knows, maybe they won't bore you...I'm just not mechanically inclined!) you'll enjoy the book.

I like to call this book Dick Lit, because I think men would be more inclined to read Dick than a woman would. Other writers I would classify as Dick Lit would be Chuck Palahniuk and Chuck Klosterman.

I would say rent the movie and watch Robert Downey Jr. play one of the most interesting characters I've ever seen on screen. Hell, they all do a fantastic job in the movie, even Keanu Reeves. I'd say skip the book entirely and watch the movie if you're really interested, but I'm glad I gave Dick a shot. It was worth it, even if I didn't finish the book.

Rating: 2.5/5 (Unfinished)

Book Review: My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler

I've been meaning to review Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life for awhile, but I've been dragging my feet here at the ol' Punnery. My apologies. I'll strive to get back on track. The list of books that I need to review is starting to get long and unwieldy and I'm afraid I might just give up on some of them soon enough. But anyway! Onto the book review:

My Horizontal Life is a collection of memories from Chelsea Handler's life growing up as a young, hot sex-kitten and the sort of antics that I could only dream of experiencing, given that I was never a hot sex kitten, not even in my wildest dreams. So to say that My Horizontal Life is my way of living vicariously through the glory days of some blonde skinny chick is a pretty good sum up.

The best part about the book is that it's actually good. Handler's funny as hell in a way that only fearless women can be. Her good looks have allowed her to get away with essentially murder, and she knows it, and she rolls with it. She recounts some of her most embarrassing morning-afters (the ones that we've all had but are hesitant to admit to). Midgets, male strippers, black guys, rich guys, weirdos, Chels has done 'em all.

Plus, she's funny. You can't hate a girl who willingly admits she has a drinking problem and it's led to some incredibly awkward situations in bed. All you can do is laugh and thank God it wasn't you. Unfortunately, I don't think her brand of humour really translates well to TV (thus, I've never been able to get through an entire episode of the Chelsea Handler Show), but I'll keep reading her books if she's willing to keep embarrassing herself further.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Book Review: Aya of Yop City by Abouet & Oubreri

Aya of Yop City, written by Marguerite Abouet and drawn by Clement Oubrerie, is the sequel to Abouet and Oubrerie's 2007 graphic novel, Aya. It's about a teenage girl named Aya and her group of family and friends set in the 1970s, in the Ivory Coast. It paints a very different picture of life in Africa than we normally get.

Aya's friend Adjoua has just had a baby and she needs help to rear the child. The father—nicknamed the 'Skirtchaser'—is missing and she's set to be married to the lazy son of a wealthy brewery owner. When they discover who the real father is, the wedding is called off and life starts to resume a normal pace. Aya's busy helping Adjoua with the baby while their friend Bintou falls for a rich-looking Parisian.

Life is delightfully normal in Abouet and Oubrerie's Aya of Yop City. The drama in their lives is not unlike the drama we find in our own, and it's a refreshing take on African culture. I would recommend it anyone whose looking for a quick and light read.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Book Review: The Plot Against America by Philip Roth

I had to check to make sure The Plot Against America was fiction. Perhaps that makes me gullible. I think that makes it a really good novel.

There's a reason Philip Roth has won the Pulitzer. He’s a great story-teller, and everyone should read his books.

New York Times’ Paul Berman does a much better job extolling the wonder of this book, so I’ll leave the rest of the praise for him. What I can say is that this novel is terrific, but it’s a real struggle for me to finish it.

It's long-winded, sort of like your grandpa (my dziadek) is telling me a story about his life, except it’s much better because it’s a story—and you can't tell. You get lost in the words and, before you know it, night has come and you’re still reading.

Set at the beginning of the Second Great World War, it's the story about a Jewish family from a tiny suburb of Newark, New Jersey. There are a vast number of characters, and they do not all stay in the story. They come and go as transiently as the members of your own circle of family and friends. Yet the story is told in a singular voice, that of the youngest son.

Through his eyes, I watched Charles Lindbergh, the first pilot to complete a solo flight from New York City to Paris, France, become a politician. And as quickly as that, he becomes the president of the United States. But Lindy has an agenda—he is in league with Nazi Germany and it terrifies the Newark Jews.

Slowly, but surely, we watch the United States descend into a chaos that chills the bone, even though you know it’s not real. Roth uses his words to make you think it’s real; not just a story, he teaches you about the time period.

For instance, The Plot Against America introduced me to the historical meaning of a party line—having to be on a phone line with several people on it at the same time because you can't afford to have your own private line.

This book is chilling because it makes you wonder if it really happened (or could have happened). Berman says it best, “The novel is sinister, vivid, dreamlike, preposterous, and, at the same time, creepily plausible.”

This is one I’m recommending to everyone.

Book Review: The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier's Account of the War in Iraq by John Crawford

I broke my recent reading stalemate with The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier's Account of the War in Iraq by John Crawford (Riverhead Hardcover, 2005).

The name attracted me to it when I was in the library looking for Young Stalin. While I couldn't find the Stalin biography, I decided to take a chance with Crawford's tale. The title seemed interesting, and I liked the movie Jarhead, so I figured this was a good bet.

I promptly fell into my reading hiatus and forgot about it until last week. When I finally picked it up, I read it in one sitting.

The title says it all, frankly. This is a tale of an accidental soldier—a man who took advantage of the National Guard's free school tuition for the price of a weekend a month. He's deployed to Iraq where he spends three years as an infantryman patrolling the streets of occupied Baghdad and collecting his stories.

Crawford's writing is simple and straightforward, the prose of a man who isn't interested in crafting a beautiful tale. Yet, there are lines of real beauty in the book as well. The story is propelled by his words and how well they fit together.

Despite the title, I feel no pity for Crawford's situation. Yes, most soldiers sign up so they can go to school, but they make the decision to take the risk and Crawford is no different. His story happens to be well-crafted, though, and worth telling. No one can really explain to you what it's like to go to war, but you can get a small sense of it when you read accounts like Crawford's.

There are moments when you can almost feel the regret in his mind, especially in the final moments of the book as he recounts his final days in Iraq. After three years of patrolling a war-torn country as an American conqueror, he is suspicious of everyone, right down to the children. He makes no attempt to hide the fact that the Iraqi people considered the occupying forces as conquerors, not saviors. So you can understand his motivation when he spots a child holding a gun. It still chills you to the bone, though. You don't know whether or not he shoots the child in the end, but he does tell the reader that the gun was merely a shell with no chance of being a threat.

It's a sad story, but there are funny parts, despite the grim subject. If you liked Jarhead, you'll like The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell.

Rating: Four Stars

Book Review: American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang

Forgive me if this review is short; I made the mistake of reading this and then avoiding the review like it was made of plague until today. Part of the reason is because I’m lazy. Another part is because I sort of lost my drive and zeal for reading and have been overdosing on Dog, the Bounty Hunter.

But I’m back, baby!

So what can I tell you about American Born Chinese? Yang’s graphic novel is actually three stories in one. The first is a mythical folk tale about The Monkey King, who, despite being a powerful god, is laughed at by the other gods. The second tale is of Jin Wang, a Chinese-American boy who endures the pressures of being a minority in his new school. And finally, the third story follows the life of a white boy named Danny and his Chinese cousin Chin-Kee, who visits every year to wreck havoc on Danny’s life. Chin-Kee is the ultimate in Chinese stereotype—his dialogue is written phonetically, his clothing is stereotypically Chinese (right down to the conical hat); Yang is almost vicious in his depiction of Chin-Kee—the words of all Chinese stereotypes embody the character.

These three stories appear to run parrallel together, but at the end the characters begin to appear in each other’s stories.

I don’t know much about Chinese-American culture, but I can understand the pressures of wanting to be someone you are not. I think everyone has at some point in their life longed for something different, but it’s not possible to change who you are fundamentally.

Deep down, the story of American Born Chinese is that you should accept your heritage, and love your family and friends, no matter what their culture is. It may take a demi-god Monkey disguised as a Chinese stereotype to knock that into you, but ultimately you can’t run away from who you are.

It’s an old lesson, but it’s told in a unique way with lovely cartoon graphics, and a fun set of stories. I felt like I learned a bit more about what it’s like to be Chinese in America.

A good graphic novel, and I would even recommend it for children. The lesson is easy to grasp and the story moves quickly enough that you can share it with your kids.

Rating: Four stars

Book Review: I'm Not the New Me by Wendy McClure

I'm Not the New Me was recommended to me several years ago by a friend. It was on my original To Be Read challenge book list, therefore I consider this a win for that first challenge. Sure, I didn't read it two years ago, at the time of the challenge, but it's now off my pile, so there's something to be said about that, right?

She recommended this to me as a memoir of a fat girl. She failed to mention that Wendy McClure is a fat girl with a blog. I've never actually read a memoir by a fat girl with a blog. Being one myself, it was a little jarring at first. Kind of like looking into the window of a shop and seeing your outfit on a mannequin.

What did I see? A lot of self-loathing and introspection. Did I see myself in her, though? No, not really.

The thing about being a fat girl is that I tend to base my opinions of myself in relation to how different I am to someone else. Okay, my arms are thinner than hers, I don't have a double chin like she does, oh god she's got nicer legs than me, etc. etc.

The thing is, I don't think I overly obssess about my fatness. Essentially, Wendy and I are the same person. We both work in publishing, we're both big girls, and we both write blogs. That's where the similarities stop, though. This is where I begin formulating an opinion about myself through her. Her weight is a major issue in her life. It haunts her from her earliest childhood memories and carries through into her adult life like a scale attached to her ankle.

I found myself disliking Wendy in parts of the book. Part of it is because she's so consumed by her own low self-esteem, but mostly it's because she has this successful online presence, yet she seems taken aback and suspicious of the other women who reach out to her through her website.

I realize this book is written in 2005, and a lot has changed in the mean time. The nature of the weblog itself has changed drastically and I'm sure Wendy's opinion of the community that grew around her is not nearly as negative as it once was.

But I still can't help but feel like she's really just a bit of a whiner.

Rating: Two Stars

Book Review: The Fountain by Darren Aranofsky and Kent Williams

Darren Aranofsky’s The Fountain (published by Vertigo Comics in 2005) is a visually interesting over-sized graphic novel based on the movie of the same name. Published a year before the film was released, Aranofsky’s intentions were to preserve a part of his project just in case Hollywood “f**ks him over.” A prudent notion, considering his film was met with mixed (and confused) reactions.

Having never watched the film, I borrowed The Fountain from the library thinking I could read this instead and get pretty much the same thing, albeit with ninety percent less Hugh Jackman. The film runs at about an hour and a half; in today’s world of thirty hour Lord of the Ring marathons, this is a fairly quick watch. But at 176 big pages full of cool drawings, the graphic novel wins. I think I read this in under an hour.

As can be imagined, the story is similar to the film. It revolves around the same couple in three different time periods—1535 Spain and Central America, present day, and “the future” wherein we will all be riding around in giant space bubbles in the nude, if Aranofsky gets his way.

The central theme of all three stories is the loss of the great love. Tomas traipses through each time period, bellowing, crying and nearly stamping his feet in effort to save the woman he loves. Inevitably, they all die, though. Sorry, I didn’t give away the ending. It’s pretty much a given.

I wasn’t terribly impressed with the graphic novel, and I can understand why the film was met with mixed reviews. The story is a great idea. It has so much Romeo-and-Juliet potential, it could be Romeo and Juliet. But the execution falls flat on its face. The novel is drawn by Kent Williams, an artist widely respected in the industry. While some images are visually spectacular, there are parts of the graphic novel wherein background characters are little more than drawn lines. Perhaps one could argue that Williams and Aranofsky are trying to emphasize Tomas’s intense focus on his love, and so the rest of the world appears little more than hazy outlines, but it just looks unfinished.

See for yourself:


Each story ends with Tomas’s love dying in some fashion. In 1553, she sacrifices herself for the glory of her queendom. In the present day, she quietly dies in a hospital bed as Tomas receives word that they have found a cure for her cancer. Most bizarrely, in the future (remember, floating through space in a bubble), she is sacrificed to give life to the tree inside the bubble.

That I don’t get. The first two, I’m cool on. Tragic, romantic, ideas I can grasp. The final pair I can’t come to terms with. Why are they in that bubble? What’s the point of her dying if Tomas is just going to float through space alone?

Perhaps it’s just too meta for me.

Rating: Three stars

Book Review: Zot:! The Complete Black and White Collection by Scott McCloud

Zot! is a comic created by Scott McCloud, who is better known for having written and drawn Understanding Comics, a comprehensive work on the creation of comics. I found Zot! The Complete Black and White Collection at my my library after not finding a book I was looking for. I seem to have this allergy that prevents me from leaving the library empty-handed. So, I chose Zot!

Zot! is a series that combines the superhero elements of classic comic books with the newer genre of real-life, relationship based graphic novels. I suppose if you were to ask me the difference between a comic book and a graphic novel, that would be it, although that's not necessarily always the case. The definition of a graphic novel and a comic book is highly debated, and this review isn't where I would necessarily lay my lines down about that.

Anyway, I digress.

Zot! tells the story of a blonde-haired superboy named Zot who comes from an alternate earth, and his relationship with Jenny Weaver, a teenage girl from our own earth. The first half of hte collection is comprised of the 'superhero' stories in the series. Zot (real name Zachary Paleozogt) battles a host of villains who are all in some form or another caricatures of the villains McCloud grew up on.

The second half of the collection deals with more introspective, personal stories. McCloud deviates from the classic superhero format by literally exiling Zot in Jenny's (i.e. our) earth and moving the focus away from him. Entire issues of Zot! are devoted to characters that were introduced as minor players in previous issues, such as Ronnie, a comic book obsessed school friend, or Terry, Jenny's best friend who comes out in an issue.

Zot! was published in comic form from 1984 to 1991, and the stories that McCloud introduces, if you look at the time he was writing and drawing them in, are ground breaking. My favourite story has to be Jenny and Zot's first time. The story is left open to allow the reader to decide for themselves if anything actually happens.

What I liked most about the collection was McCloud's commentary. He provides insight into his drawing habits and his personal thoughts about each story. You can really tell he's an incredible perfectionist and it pains him in some ways to publish this collection, warts included. Personally, I didn't think there were any warts, but I'm not an artist, let alone a graphic novel artist. I liked knowing what he thinks of his own stories.

The stories themselves were fun to read. While not terribly complicated by any standards (McCloud admits that he had little knowledge of how to write a story when he first started drawing Zot!), they're interesting and humourous, as well as touching. I could understand Jenny's (I want to say motivation here, but it's not a play...c'mon Olga, work that vocabulary!) desire to flee her world and live in Zot's, where everything is just better. We've all been there before, and we don't have to be fifteen to feel like that.

The characters also made Zot! a good read. Each one, be it a villain or a friend, has a story and they're all interesting. I could go on and on. Seriously, if you happen to stumble upon this collection at the library, I suggest you take it out. It's not McCloud's best work, but it's a really great read nonetheless.

Rating: Four Stars

Book Review: Stuck in the Middle: 17 Comics From an Unpleasant Age edited by Ariel Schrag

Stuck in the Middle: 17 Comics from an Unpleasant Age collects the unpleasant, embarrassing, and often humourous memories of a group of artists from the junior high years. Best friends, horse camp, betrayals, first kisses, and parachute pants all combine to breathe life into the childhood memories that so many of us try and repress. It’s true. We all have, to varying degrees, really effed up stories of pre-teenage years.

In the spirit of Stuck in the Middle, I give you a tale of my own from those tender years when I thought in all honesty I would grow up to be the bride of Leonardo DiCaprio (or one of the Backstreet Boys.)

I never went to middle school, but that didn't prevent me from going through similarly painful juvenile rights of passage. As a child my family moved around a fair bit. By the time I was in the seventh grade, I was in my sixth grade school. As everyone knows, moving not only uproots you, it also turns you into the newest pariah of any given school. I don’t blame my parents for changing my schools very often, but I certainly know that I will never do the same to my own children.

In the seventh grade, after moving once again in the summertime, I happened to be close enough to go back to my very first elementary school. Figuring that I would at least have somewhat of a connection to these group of children, I begged, whined and complained until I was enrolled in St. J’s once again.

Of course, nothing ever goes right, especially not when you’re the new kid. I was immediately ostracized by former friends, having made the grave mistake of leaving on a bad note the first time around—I stole a robin’s egg from my class and was caught. That was the very last thing my schoolmates remembered about me before I moved away, and so I was the pariah once again.

But, I was resourceful. I made friends quickly, girls who came to St. J’s long after the incident, and thus had no memory of my egg-stealing.

Fairly soon I was fully embraced by a group of about five or six girls. The number of us changed constantly since we were always not speaking to this girl or that girl, but for the most part we got on really well.

The problem with prepubescent girls is, they are like mercury. Moods and alliances could change in an instant, without provocation. We were like ticking time-bombs, ready to go off at one another.

This became a harsh reality for me one evening. Out of nowhere I received a phone call from R.—she accused me of making fun of her voice. Bewildered, having done no such thing, I denied it vehemently, but there was no use. I was already a Benedict Arnold. The news spread quickly—Olga’s a teaser. And that was that.

The next day at school I was ignored by all of my friends, left to stew in the mess that I had made for myself by allowing myself to become a target.

Heartbroken, I was forced to tell my mother the details (after being yelled at on the phone once again by a friend the following night). My mother was livid, and no doubt even more bewildered than I was, having received a hysterical and no-doubt confusing explanation from a distraught pre-teen.

The next day, she took me to school. Instead of dropping me off, she went down to the schoolyard with me, and—to my horror—bitched out the very girls who had ostracized me for the past thirty-six hours in broken English.

God bless my mother. She was my greatest champion, fighting that battle as best she could with half-finished sentences growled at the girls. At least they had the courtesy of looking shame-faced.

I was convinced this was the end of my social life completely. R. and the rest of the girls apologized half-heartedly in front of my mother. When she left, I was left alone once again.

But then something miraculous happened. At lunchtime, I was invited to sit with them. Once more I was welcomed back into the fold, and in the blink of an eye all was forgotten. There was no need to discuss what just happened—it was over! Why bring up the pain, when we could just move on with our lives and share a bag of Doritos and talk about our crushes again?

I’ve never been able to forget that event, even though the details have become fuzzy. I still don’t quite get what happened, but it serves as a reminder that middle school—your thirteenth year especially—is f**king scary. You couldn’t trust anyone, and you couldn’t be trusted. That best friend who just yesterday was braiding your hair over lunch, could be pointing the finger of blame on you today.

I’m glad I’m not thirteen anymore. This collection of comics from that unsettling age is a great journey down memory lane, but it makes you think about your own hellish recollections. The best part of the book is knowing that everyone goes through the same thing—no one gets out of middle school without having been scarred by it.

Rating: Four Stars

Book Review: Mistress of the Art of Death by Ariana Franklin (aka Diana Norman)

Mistress of the Art of Death has been in my TBR pile since its publication. In fact, it probably should have gone on my TBR Challenge list at least a couple of years ago, but the list is so long, it sort of got lost in the depths of it.

Like a lot of books that find their way into my TBR pile, this one happened to casually announce itself through my former job as a sales girl at the local big-box bookstore. I would scower the shelves and the display tables for something new and interesting (and there was always something new and interesting), then write down the title or the author to take home. My pockets were full of slips of paper by the end of most of my shifts.

Despite the fact that I would ritually spend half my pay cheque on new books, I never picked this one up. I thought about it during my weekly trip to the bookstore. As I was checking out the graphic novels, for some reason my eyes shifted to the next shelf over. Lo and behold, there it was, staring me in the face.

Mistress is set in twelfth century England. Four children from Cambridge and the surrounding area have been kidnapped and murdered in a horrible fashion. The first child was found crucified and the local Jews have been accused of the murders. Cambridge, incensed by these brutal killings, force the Jews to flee to the castle, where they are protected by the sheriff, but not before Chaim, Cambridge’s most successful moneylender (and the unfortunate soul who discovers the first murdered child), is lynched, along with his wife.

King Henry I is shrewd—he is not interested in seeing the most profitable citizens of his kingdom expelled or massacred. Not when there are wars to be won and coffers to be filled.

His answer arrives in a pilgrimmage. An unlikely trio arrive in Cambridge: Simon, the best investigator the King of Naples can send, Mansur, a Moor, and Vesuvia Adelia Rachel Ortese Aguilar—mistress of the art of death. Salerno, home of Europe’s best medical experts, is where they come from, and they are commanded to find the murderer, and (hopefully) exonerate the Jews.

Adelia is a wonder—a female doctor in a world where even male doctors are considered an oddity, she is faced with the task of examining the corpses to determine who could have committed such a heinous act, while evading the notice of the Cambridge townfolk. It isn’t always easy to avoid notice, being the only group of foreigners in town.

Of course, this is Adelia’s story. But Franklin does not allow the other characters to become one-dimensional. They each have their quirks, which makes the book much more than just a mystery—it’s a novel about ordinary people in a historical setting reacting to extra-ordinary circumstances.

Child-killers are rare even in today’s society. To find your community invaded by a serial killer during that time must have been a truly frightening experience, and you can see how such events can create monsters and demons to frighten us in the dead of night. Indeed, Franklin ultimately turns him into a demon by his ritual--when he kills he transforms himself into an animal by wearing a pair of antlers, and he lures children to his den with jujubes, the Pied Piper of the fens.

I enjoyed learning the history of the fenland people, their accents especially. At times it was hard to get the gist of what they were saying, and I can only imagine how much harder it would have been for poor Adelia.

I didn’t enjoy Mistress right from the beginning. For one thing, the book’s language is frilly. But as the mystery soon enfolded, I was quickly sucked in. It’s part-CSI thriller, part-historical fiction, with a dash of romance thrown in to round it out completely. I’ll add The Serpent’s Tale on the TBR pile, because I like Adelia a lot and I’m interested to learn more.

Having also read Ken Follett’s Pillars of the Earth, I have a greater appreciation for the history as well. Franklin’s novel paints a different side of Henry I—in Mistress he is more than just the instigator of Thomas á Beckett’s death, he is a sensible and fair king who struggles with the limits of his own power. He also has some of the best lines in the book.

Definitely worth a read if you’re interested in the time period, or enjoy medical mysteries.

Rating: 4 stars

Book Review: Laika by Nick Abadzis

I should have known this book would be sad. I should have known, because I know the basic story of Laika, the first animal in space. Launched in 1957 in Sputnik II, Laika survived a total of five hours in space before succumbing to heat exhaustion and stress. She became the first animal to orbit the earth, and the first to die in space.

Nick Abadzis details the short life and death of Laika (Kudryavka, to the scientists and lab technicians who knew her best—she is actually renamed by the scientists shortly before launch), her trainer Yelena, and Koralev, the chief designer of the Sputniks in his graphic novel.

After the successful launch of Sputnik I, Koralev is ordered by Khrushchev to build and launch another satelitte to be launched by the anniversary of the October Revolution, a deadline only a month away. To make the launch stand out from the original Sputnik, they decide to send an animal. Little is known about the conditions a living organism can withstand in space, and with such a short deadline, they can make it a one-way trip.

These are the facts surrounding Laika's doomed flight. To fill out the story, Abadzis creates a world for Laika, focusing on her relationship with her trainer, Yelena. The real sorrow lies in how this relationship grows, and must ultimately be cut off. There is really nothing Yelena or anyone else can do to prevent the dog's death, and it makes the launch a sombre affair.

As the launch approaches the characters (the historical figures, indeed) try to rationalize to themselves and each other that the dog's death is for a great cause, but they cannot deny that it is a sad way for an animal to die.

I've never read anything so sad as this simple story about a Russian dog in space. It's made even more poignant by the final page of the book, a quote taken from Oleg Gazenko, the scientist who chose Laika:

"The more time passes, the more I'm sorry about it. We did not learn enough from the mission to justify the death of the dog."

The facts exist, cold and austere. Abadzis gives Laika a new story, one that shows that she was loved, even as an experimental animal. Her death may have been unnecessary, but she will always be remembered.

This is an excellent graphic novel, but I wouldn't read it if you've just lost a pet.

It's Okay to Eat Food* Book Review: In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto by Michael Pollan

* Food being the operative word.

In Michael Pollan's newest book, a response of sorts to his previous work, The Omnivore's Dilemma, he suggests that it's okay to eat food. In fact, he has a manifesto: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants."

With that, he begins In Defense of Food, a roughly two hundred page essay on the problem with what we consider food today, and how we can change the way we eat.

Pollan has a real issue with the western diet, which largely consists of processed foods, made from grain like wheat and soybean. According to him, much of the diseases found in western civilization, like cancer, heart disease, and diabetes, are linked to these foods. Never before in history has man been so "underfed yet so undernourished." The reason we eat so much, yet remain so unhealthy is because the food is so highly processed. Much of the nutrition from processed foods is removed, and then replaced by vitamins, and 'nutrients' like omega-3 fatty acids by scientists. But, because we know so little about the science behind nutrients and how our bodies absorb them (even after at least a couple of centuries of experimentation), we aren't actually getting any healthier from these "healthy foods."

He laments the loss of our former diet inspiration—our mothers—and vilifies nutritionism as a demon who has taken our cultural diet and turned it into a mass-produced industry.

Pollan's book joins a number of voices who are now calling for a return to whole foods. And with the rise of the slow movement, it feels like western society is slowly but surely moving towards a healthier diet.

Of course, while Pollan's manifesto is an important one, it doesn't offer any insight into how an entire population can achieve this, only the individual. Organic, whole food diets are expensive, and cannot feasibly support an entire country's population. Weight and health are proportional to income. The people most likely to suffer are the ones who need a change in lifestyle the most—the poor. But when a Big Mac a day costs less than a full week's worth of groceries, and you don't have to make it yourself, it's hard to change your lifestyle.

Still, for those of us who can afford to adopt Pollan's ideas, it's worth a try. Today we are encouraged to do everything as quickly as possible, but switching to a diet of whole foods automatically slows down your lifestyle. Even if you don't eat "mostly plants," you're already a step ahead of the curve.

Rating: Five stars

Book Review: The Road by Cormac McCarthy

I've never read a Cormac McCarthy novel. I was at the library, fifteen minutes before closing time, and I couldn't find a single book in all of the trade paperback section to take with me. Finally my eyes settled upon The Road and I grabbed it instantly.

I didn't know much about it, other than the cannibalism, which I spoiled for myself (and perhaps you as well) by reading an article about the soon-to-be-made film version. Regardless, the scene which I ended up ruining for myself was much worse than anything I could have imagined, mainly because of McCarthy's writing. Stark and rich with words that I can't rightly say I understand, it's a novel about family, hope, and survival.

Creating a post-apocalyptic world helps make it easier for the reader to bond with the characters because their survival in a world that exists outside of our own (a world a handful of people could one day see; cause, let's face it, not ALL of us will...) hinges upon staying together. By not telling the reader WHY all of this has happened, McCarthy forces the reader to consider the characters alone. Frail creatures who could be any of us.

The end is heartbreaking, but ultimately satisfying. I was convinced throughout the novel that This Would Not End Well. Indeed, while your heart bleeds for what ultimately happens, there is still hope. Ultimately, that's what McCarthy wants us to believe. Despite all of the pain and suffering one must go through...there is always hope.

Book Review: Silent in the Grave by Deanna Raybourn

A co-worker here at the Romance Factory (aka Harlequin) suggested I read Deanna Raybourn's Silent in the Grave after I told her how much I love historical romance. Not being a regular fan of mystery, though, I wasn't too excited about picking it up. However, this particular co-worker was sweet enough to hunt down and steal copies of both Grave, and its sequel, Silent in the Sanctuary for me, so I had little choice but to put it on the TBR pile.

Honestly, I am so glad I did! Even for the casual dabbler of mystery such as I this book was fantastic.

Silent in the Grave begins at a party in Lady Julia Grey's lavish townhome. Her husband Edward collapses and dies in front of their guests, a victim of his family's history of heart illness. Julia, left to ponder the next stage in her life, is visited shortly after the funeral by Nicholas Brisbane, a mysterious tall drink of water that I picture as either Gerard Butler or Stephen Moyer (Bill from Showtime's True Blood). To her surprise, he informs her that her dearly departed husband may not have simply died from a weak heart—he may, in fact, have been murdered!

It starts off incredibly well and keeps you glued to the pages as you dive deeper and deeper into intrigue. There's gypsies, there's lesbians, there's even absinthe! The writing is clever and whitty, and, best of all, it's a good whodunnit. While there are no "lemons" to be found, the most romantic moment in the book actually made me swoon. Swoon! I immediately put down the book, and texted my best friend to tell her she needed to read it.

Perhaps I'm too enthusiastic, but I don't particularly care. In a world where romance novels can be dreary and tepid at best, with a single kiss Raybourn ignited the romantic tension in the book. It's a perfect case for how less can somtimes be so much more.

Book Review: The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett

Ken Follett’s The Pillars of the Earth was a success in 1989 when it was first published, but it’s seen a resurgence of popularity recently due to Oprah’s golden touch (i.e. Book Club). I try not to gauge what goes on my to-be-read pile based on what Oprah endorses, but I can’t deny that her team chooses good books.

The Pillars of the Earth is no exception to that.

Set in the 12th century, the novel is about the building of a cathedral in a fictional English market town called Kingsbridge. Every character, of which there are about fourteen major and ten minor, is in some way connected to this town or its people. The novel is bookmarked by two factual historical events – the sinking of the White Ship, which ushered in the period known as The Anarchy, and the murder of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury.

It’s easy to see that this was Follett’s magnum opus—the incredible amount of detail in describing the cathedral, through its many states of creation (and destruction) indicate Follett spared no expense for this novel.

Personally, I found the detail to be, at times, too much. I don’t visualize buildings easily so it was a lot of meat that could have been spared for more story. Still, I feel I have a better understanding and appreciation about the sheer amount of work a cathedral in the twelfth century took. I already appreciate the architecture to begin with (that attracted me to this book initially), but having read Pillars I feel that I can look upon these buildings and visualize the masons and carpenters working high atop the scaffolding. I guess the amount of detail wasn’t lost on me after all!

The fuel that really drove this opus though was the characters. Their lives intertwined fluidly, and there were few that I didn’t have an opinion on. Follett’s writing really gives these characters a sense of who they are through their own words. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to write each person’s voice!

I felt he lost some of that, though, when he wrapped up the story. Some characters were forgotten and it felt insincere, especially after spending 800+ pages reading about their lives. I’m thinking specifically of Richard, Aliena’s brother, who isn’t a major character in any way, but (I felt) was major enough to get more than a one sentence death scene (that was only reported about—not even an eyewitness account!). Still, I really enjoyed this book. It sucked me in right away by introducing the first set of major characters. There were parts that I needed to force myself to get through (church-building in particular), but in the end it was worth it.

Book Review: Slightly Single by Wendy Markham

Wendy Markham's Slightly Single was a good read. Her story revolves around Tracy, an overweight twenty-something living in NYC. Her boyfriend, Will, is an actor and as the summer begins, Tracy is faced with her biggest fear--spending the summer alone. Will is off to upstate New York for summer stock. Without her.

I could relate to Tracy's character in a lot of ways. We're both overweight, we both have overbearing families at least an hour's drive away from us (her's is a bit farther...in Jersey no less!), we're both broke and we're both horribly self-aware. On the other hand, Tracy and I are different. While I battle issues with self-image, I'd like to think I'm not quite as abusive to myself as she is. Maybe I should be, though. Through the course of the summer, Tracy ends up losing forty pounds.

I liked the ending because it was hopeful. While Tracy ends up breaking up with Will, she's not utterly devastated by it. She realizes she can go on. I recently broke up with my long-term boyfriend and, despite it being really effing hard, I'm trying to keep that same mentality. Reading this book at this point in my life is sort of like a nice girlfriend reminding me I'm totally not alone. You can never have enough of those girlfriends.

Well-written and full of good characters, I really liked Wendy Markham's Slightly Single. I'm looking forward to reading Slightly Married next.

Book Review: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith

This book is so full of old-timey goodness that it makes me want to buy a pair of pantaloons and a corset, strap myself in and haul butt to New York City, circa 1916.

Times is tough for Francie Nolan and her family. Betty Smith paints a vivid and imaginative picture of life in turn of the last century Brooklyn, New York. Your heart breaks for the sorrow of Johnny Nolan, the doomed patriarch who drinks himself to an early grave, leaving behind his wife, Katie, and their two children, Francie and Neeley. Despite the hard life, Francie, who narrates the story, is able to find joy in her life.

I'm a bit of a promiscuous reader, in that, I read several books at a time. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn started off as a lazy Sunday read which led to a nightly ritual wherein I would read well into the night, bedtime be damned. I even took it on the work commute a few times, just to get a few more pages in. I really liked this book; like I said, it made me want to time travel. And to be honest, isn't that what a good book is supposed to do?