Tag Archives: young adult fiction

The Girl With the Glass Feet: Okay.

My brother gave me Ali Shaw’s The Girl With the Glass Feet for Christmas, and so I slotted it in to “First Novels,” for no other reason than I wanted to read it and it fit the category. Turns out it really is a wonderful first novel (the New York Times say so too), full of imagination and magic. The plot is the title: a girl (Ida) has glass feet, a problem because the glass spreads and cannot be ‘cured’ (though the novel goes to some pains to remind the reader that the glass is not a disease, it is part of Ida, not a disease to be cured or caught – something to be lived with and accepted).

It’s a novel about how to be in the present. Midas – the erstwhile emotionally stunted photographer and eventual lover of Ida – must abandon photography as the barrier between himself and human connection; other men must figure out how to be in relationships, how to confront their pasts and the failures of their (misguided) choices.

And Ida, while, Ida more or less serves as the metaphor/tool by which the men figure out how to be whole, feeling people. Sure she feels love and gets consumed by glass, but I can’t help but wonder whether she isn’t the one-dimensional fairy tale figure who enable plot action and character change at the expense of having these things happen for herself. Such is her lack of depth (if her solid glass-ness wasn’t enough) when she concludes she will die she writes a letter to her father and this reader gasped – having forgotten Ida might have a family, connections, feelings (fears!) about her own death. And this reader wasn’t at all moved by her death, more a reaction of wondering how Midas will respond.

I will say the richly imagined world that sees cow-dragonflies and a creature that turns all other creatures white on sight is pretty neat: though the (apparent) lack of connection between these magical things and the glass feet left this reader a little bewildered as to what all the magic was meant to (thematically?) achieve. Nonetheless, cow-dragonflies: pretty cool.

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Filed under 100 Books of 2011, Fiction, Young Adult Fiction

Alice in Wonderland: This is it?

     I confess to be somewhat underwhelmed by Alice in Wonderland. With all the pop culture boo-ra-ha-ha I had thought it might be exciting and entertaining, alas. Maybe the problem is not with the book at all, but with all the pop culture reference, maybe I knew too much to let myself be captivated? Or maybe it was that the ending – poof! it was all a dream! – remains my least favourite way to end a story, ever. Ever. Such lack of commitment to a fantasy world, to the reality of the fantasy, blah. Bleh. Meh.

I did like the cheshire cat. I could have done without Alice and the Queen. Also the King. A far better story if narrated by the cat? Someone has written that alternate version, I’m sure, and if you know where I could read it, let me know.

It’s a sad moment to realize I might not like the book because I know the story too well from movies, television, and *being* in the world. A sad realization because the appeal of a book – in particular a book of fantasy? – is that it promises the realization of another, different (however allegorically or metaphorically similar) world in which to consider the problems and questions of the world in which we live; yet as I read this book I spent much of my imaginative time comparing what I read with what I had seen, scattered in images and references, across my life. A lesson to myself to always read before I watch? Or to accept that the canonical and commercial become something other than simply books or stories, and must be considered as more expansive enterprises. Not necessarily a bad thing, but not what I had – in delusion, perhaps – expected when reading this classic.

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Filed under Book I'll Forget I Read, British literature, Fiction, Young Adult Fiction

Going Bovine: Okay

              And why shouldn’t there be a book about a teenager who gets Mad Cow Disease, has an angel send him on a mission to save the world, finds a Norse-God/garden gnome and has sex on the set of Girls Gone Wild? Indeed Libba Bray’s Going Bovine is as surprising its enjoyability as it is plot events.

I didn’t like the book for the first thirty of so pages. Too hip. Too pushy in its short sentences, curses and angst. But somewhere around the diagnosis I bought in and rooted for Cameron while he undertook his epic adventure. I could still do without some of the scenes where the “real meaning” of events is so heavy-handed I wonder whether the young adults of the intentional audience might in fact be infants incapable of deciphering a symbol (i.e. the church/mall of happiness ensures your happiness by insisting you buy things and consume. their happiness is… hollow).

I felt uncomfortable in the scene when Cameron loses his virginity to a drunk teenager. You can’t consent when drunk. Even in a novel. Especially in a novel.

I did like the ending. I appreciated the collapse of the disparate symbols and images into one mass of symbolic mayhem. I liked the attempt at offering young people digestible philosophy (you must make your life meaningful, you can make your life meaningful). I liked the conclusion of Cameron’s quest. So if you feel like an unpredictable, often inexplicable, series of adventures across the US along with a sick protagonist who changes in measurable (and predictable) ways, by all means, Go Bovine.

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Filed under 100 Books of 2011, Fiction, Young Adult Fiction

Ramona Quimb(l)y to the Rescue

                 I’m trying to write a lot these days. Writing things that I feel neither confident about or certain are worth writing, and so I spend a lot of time plagued with self-doubt. Enter Ramona Quimby, whose name I consistently misremember and mispronounce as Ramona Quimbly. I first met Ramona as a child, probably aged 8 or 9. I remember reading her stories and thinking ‘yes!’ and feeling like I understood everything Ramona went through. I loved that bad things happened to Ramona, but that she continued on being brave, being peppy, and giving her all to the world. So now, much older, when I have my occasional moments (or as of late, my frequent moments) of insecurity – when I feel exactly as I did at aged 9 when I wasn’t quite sure whether anything I did was right, or mattered – I return to Ramona. I’ve been on a bit of a stint: reading ‘Ramona the Brave’, ‘Ramona Quimby: Aged 8’, and ‘Beezus and Ramona.’ I don’t know whether the books themselves bring me comfort, or whether reading them reminds me of being 9 and well looked after by my parents, but whatever the cause, reading Ramona makes things feel better. I can’t in good conscience recommend Ramona, because perhaps you never read her as a child, or perhaps you don’t identify with precocious, misunderstood little girls, so maybe I’ll just suggest that you read it if you’re interested in finding out what it’s like to be a little kid and overwhelmed by the world. Or maybe returning to your own childhood “yes!’ book – because they really do make everything feel a little bit better.

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Filed under Fiction, Young Adult Fiction