Britishness – Shannon Ozirny

Sad.

All this joyful crying at the Olympics got me thinking: why not take a tearful look back at the last seven months to see just how many books have made me cry? It’s only three so it won’t be too painful.

I should preface this by saying that I’m not a big crier while reading. So 2012 has been a particularly productive year thus far.

Why We Broke Up by Daniel Handler. Illustrations by Maira Kalman

Did this book make me cry out of sadness? No. Oh no. This book made me cry out of pure, unfiltered rage. Is there anyone I hate more in this world than Ed Slaterton? Probably not.

To counter the sadness and rage blackout, this Amazon interview with Handler and Kalman brings the LOLs. I love how awkward the whole thing is with the interviewer and am especially tickled by their description of the “working process” that starts around 5:10.

The Fault In Our Stars by John Green

Who doesn’t cry reading this book? I mean, really. The interesting thing about TFIOS is that it has a major Charlotte’s Web effect on me. That means that I can be anywhere, doing anything, and reading the last line of the book will put tears in my eyes. I was trying to pester our Summer Reading Club assistant into reading TFIOS and actually got damp peepers in front of her when I flipped to the back page. And it convinced her to check out the book! Note to librarians: teary eyes sell books. And make you look like a crazypants.

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness. Inspired by an idea from Siobhan Dowd. Illustrations by Jim Kay.

Hoo boy, I have never, never cried so hard reading. I literally had to put down the book, take off my glasses and put my head in my hands and sob. That was followed by crying steadily for the last 40 pages. It is such an exquisite, articulate, seemingly effortless portrayal of loss and self-doubt and fear. Brilliant.

And you know, while we’re on this whole sad theme, let me also share the only book trailer to ever make me cry. This is the trailer for Pussycat, Pussycat, Where Have You Been? by Dan Bar-el with illustrations by Rae Maté.

WHAT IF THE CAT NEVER CAME BACK!?! Oh, it makes me so sad.

And just for good measure, the movie that has made me cry the most is a bit of a shocker so I’ll throw it in here too. It’s completely ridiculous, but I bawled through most of District 9. I was so, so, so concerned for that little alien baby! Thank goodness for the internet, because someone has made a bad quality clip montage of the alien baby with “Dust In the Wind” in the background! YES!

The Top 10 Most Uninspired Rainbow Magic Fairies

Warning: snark alert.

But seriously, doesn’t this “Daisy Meadows” gal grind your gears some days? Am I the only one who thinks “What the crap – they’re really reachin’ here!” when I see some of these gals? Behold:

Flora the Fancy Dress Fairy: That ain’t no fancy dress! That’s a mermaid costume, lady.

Carrie the Snowcap Fairy: A snowcap? Is that even a thing?

Grace the Glitter Fairy: Okay, I know that the chidlers who read this series probably aren’t concerned with mutual exclusivity, but don’t all these fairies qualify as glitter fairies? Aren’t they all glittery? Or is Grace merely the most glittery of them all?

Imogen the Ice Dance Fairy: I’m picking this purely because of the name “Imogen.” Far out, Daisy. Interesting to note that the new version features the name Isabelle instead. Also, ice dance is lame, with the exception of this.

Megan the Monday Fairy: No one likes the Monday fairy. And that skirt looks much more appropriate for Saturday.

Abigail the Breeze Fairy/Evie the Mist Fairy: Like snowcap, I think that the breeze/mist are not consequential enough to require their own representatives in the fairy world.

Mia the Bridesmaid Fairy: This is the one that fans picked in some vote a while back, so I probably shouldn’t make fun of it. But really, I can’t help but imagine the Bridesmaid fairy as one who carries around a lot of vodka and broken dreams and insists that she’s not married yet because “She’s putting herself first” (also, wasn’t this book made into a terrible movie with Katherine Heigl?)

Paige the Pantomime Fairy: Because every child is concerned with pantomiming. And why the dang is she classified as a “Christmas Fairy” on the website?

Kate the Royal Wedding Fairy: No fascinator? Girl, please.

A reference question on fantasy for a Grade 6 Harry Potter hater

I don’t want to be redundant with these reference question posts, but I can’t help but jot something down when I find myself handing over a giant stack of books to a hungry lil’ chidler.

Tonight a Grade 6 gal came in looking for some good fantasy books. The staff member on the Information Desk called me out to field this one. I joyfully skipped away from my current duty of something boring and administrativey to help out.

Fantasy is a tough genre when it comes to recommending things as it can mean very different things to different people. This is how it went down:

What she had already in her book bag:

Princess Academy by Shannon Hale

This was a big tip-off. No Susan Cooper/Tolkien/Brian Jacques/Monica Hughes for this gal!

What she told me she likes:

All Roald Dahl (oh, now we’re talkin’!)
Scarlett by Cathy Cassidy (d’oh! I’ve never read it!)
Candy Apple and Poison Apple series (hmm…the plot thickens)

What she nixed right off the bat:

Before I recommended anything we had a bit of general chat about what’s super popular in the fairy tale/fantasy genre right now. She expressed immediate disdain for the following:

Harry Potter (never read it, doesn’t want to)
Princess Diaries series (she read some and they got “too boring”)
Spiderwick Chronicles (no explanation, just a scrunched up nose)
The Graveyard Book (she tried it but never got into it)
A Tale Dark And Grimm by Adam Gidwitz (I told her about the plot and she was promptly horrified)

Further adding to the challenge was that she has seen almost every movie made in the history of the world. This means she has seen lots of the terrible, terrible movie versions of very unterrible books.

What I recommended:

From what she told me, I was getting a distinct British humour/fairy tale/more-complex-book vibe from her (the Apple series aside). Here’s what I recommended. I’ ve put them into categories here because organization please me.

For their cheeky Dahl-esque humour:

Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket (she loved the movie so I gave her Book 4 as the movie roughly ends around Book 3)
The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart
The Willoughbys by Lois Lowry
Cosmic by Frank Cottrell Boyce (after hugging it and saying “I almost don’t want to give this to you because I want to take it home again and read it”)

For their fairy tale-ness:

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine
Fablehaven series by Brandon Mull
Inkspell trilogy by Cornelia Funke
Sisters Grimm series by Michael Buckley

Plug for Canadian fantasy:

Silverwing by Kenneth Oppel

Wild Card:

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead (it turns out someone bought this for her and she hasn’t read it yet!)

What she noticed on display and took:

Witch’s Business by Diana Wynne Jones

Now that I’m sitting here writing this post, I can think of so many more, but the poor dear had to carry her bag home so I think that was quite enough for one visit.

Very interesting how these things play out…and this may be the first child I have ever encountered who claims to like fantasy, but loathe Harry Potter.

The Unfinishables (or, book trauma)

“If I open you, I will finish you.”

This is the creed I stick to whilst reading. I am incapable of not finishing a book. I can take a book out of the library, mind you, and not read it, but once I start it, it’s on.

Holy Toledo – there were four commas in that 22 word sentence. That’s way too many. I’m just going to leave them there as a kind of cautionary comma tale.

I believe the worst experience was in Grade 11 when we were all forced to read Who Has Seen the Wind by W.O Mitchell. The classroom jokes included calling the book Who Has Seen the Plot and “Woooaaaahhh, Mitchell – your book is bad.” I think I was the only one who finished the cursed thing. I realize that hating this books makes me a bad Canadian, and an even worse Saskatchewanian, but I FINISHED IT.

Thinking back, there are only four books I haven’t been able to finish. I’ll start with the least traumatizing and work my way up. Give the pictures a clickaroo for more info on the books (especially Abadzis’ awesome Laika “micro-site”).

Shelf Discovery: The Teen Classics We Never Stopped Reading by Lizzie Skurnick. Avon: 2009.

This books is full of plucky, spunky, funny, articulate essays on everything from Harriet the Spy to Forever (yes, Skurnick’s definition of teen is kinda liberal). My plan was to read one of the essays each night before bed. That meant I would take at least a couple of months to finish the book, but it would be a fun lil’ pre-sleep routine. Well, not so much. Why? The dang thing was chalk-full of spoilers! While I had read a good chunk of the titles featured in the book, there were many still in my “To Read” shelf on goodreads. So, I had no choice. I had to put it down a mere twenty-some pages in. I know I just could have plowed through, as no plot synopsis or analysis is a substitute for the real thing, but I just couldn’t do it. This is not to say that Shelf Discovery is a bad book. Quite the opposite. But I just couldn’t live with the spoilers.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. HarperCollins: 2009.

There are two things in life that scare me: spiders and home invasion. I have had an irrational fear of both since childhood. This means that I can’t handle Coraline or The Graveyard Book. I’ve never even attempted Coraline because so many people have warned me against it (my spider fear is intense, folks). But I was determined to read The Graveyard Book because what kind of self-respecting youth librarian isn’t all over Gaiman? Besides, everyone told me the scene at the beginning is quick, non-explicit, and that it can be easily digested by nine-year-olds. I gave up by the second page, scared out of my bloomers. I’ve tried several times, even skipping over the first few pages, but I just can’t hack it. (Note: I also tried The Graveyard Book audiobook. That didn’t work either. Gaiman’s voice box clearly comes from the same factory as Boris Karloff’s. Spooksville).

Before I Die by Jenny Downham. David Fickling: 2007.

Man, I love well-written, angsty YA. Gayle Forman, Jandy Nelson, Sara Zarr – I love it. I like some grit, some real trauma, some good ol’ fashioned naughty bits. When I read the (mostly starred) reviews of Before I Die, I knew it was for me.

The premise is simple (teen girl has just months to live and wants to go off her chain before the end) but all the reviewers said the execution was brilliant, raw, and beyond expectation. Since it’s in this blog post, you know I couldn’t get through it. I gave up around page 30. Maybe things turned around in the end (I don’t think they do), but I couldn’t get over the “die” part. This was three years ago and lately I’ve been thinking of trying this one again. But for the time being, it remains an Unfinishable.

Laika by Nick Abadzis. First Second: 2007.

I tried to read this at the lake this summer. ‘Tis not beach reading, y’all. Laika was the first animal sent into space. It didn’t go so well.

I was about 2/3 into this book before my other half had to come outside, extract my bawling self from a lawn chair, and say firmly “I don’t think you should read this anymore.” He then had to hide it at the bottom of his suitcase and return it to the library for me because I couldn’t even look at it. The only thing more upsetting for me than this book was when I thought the baby alien was going to die in District 9. Seriously.

Laika is terrifically well done, but I think that was the problem for me. I still can’t shake it. It’s like Old Yeller but in Russia/space. That makes it about 40 million times more intense.

In my experience, I find that recommending an Unfinishable to a child or teen is more effective than anything else. If I can honestly say “I was too traumatized to even finish this book,” it will fly off the shelf. Of course, I’m not going around trying to traumatize chidlers. But Unfinishables make great sells. They issue a challenge:

I couldn’t get through this book. Can you?

A Category of Books I Like to Call “The Brad Pitts”

You know how Oprah always asks people, “What do you know for sure?” and they always answer with syrupy stuff like “My mom was always right,” and “There is nothing better in this world than a child’s laugh,” and nonsense crap like “I am finally myself.” Well, this is what I know for sure:

Brad Pitt is an attractive man.

Even when he’s all bearded and dirty, you can still tell there is a really good-looking man under all that mange.

Wouldn’t you, too, acknowledge that Brad Pitt is a very attractive man, even if you are not attracted to him yourself? If not, please pretend you do, because the entire conceit of this post depends on you agreeing that Brad Pitt is an attractive man.

I am one of those people who can see, objectively, that Brad Pitt is a stunner. But the thing is, I’m not personally attracted to him. It can be the same with books; I can objectively tell that a book is really great, has a definite audience, and meets a real need without truly loving the book myself. Thus, I give you the definition of a Brad Pitt book:

brad pitt book n. a book that one can, no matter his/her personal preferences, recognize as possessing high merit.

When learning any new concept, examples are helpful. Here are some of my personal Brad Pitts. Before you go off your chain in the comments section, remember the definition of a BP. I’m not saying that any of these are bad books or even mediocre books. Far from it. These are books that I know are great, and that I enjoyed reading, but just didn’t reach out and grab me by the throat. If I had reviewed these books I would have given them a great review (just like I gave two thumbs up to seeing Brad Pitt’s tush in Troy).

Perhaps one of the greatest BPs of all time for me has been Harry Potter. I understood why others would eat their own foot to read the books, but I couldn’t get beyond a little nibble of my baby toe. Again, like any BP, I enjoyed it, but didn’t fall in love. Same with the Westing Game; got the decades of hype, but didn’t feel it myself.

A more recent example is Smile by Raina Telgemeier. Fabulous book. I even had similar orthodontic drama involving pulled teeth and braces. But, for whatever reason, my heart wasn’t in it.

I should also make it clear what a Brad Pitt book is not:

A book that everyone else likes but I really didn’t like

Comparable celebrities here are the likes of Josh Duhamel, Bradley Cooper, and Robert Pattinson. These are all dudes that many people find scrumptious but I, well, don’t.

Savvy was a big one for me. Also, Incarceron. Unlike the BPs, I didn’t enjoy these books at all and had trouble seeing what others saw in them. To each their own kinda thing.

A book that looks pretty on the outside but (I think) is a stinker inside

Don’t forget that Brad Pitt is not only good-looking, but also a stand-up fella (wife swapping aside, he’s charitable). Therefore, a true BP book has to be good on the inside and outside.

The Carrie Diaries is one hot little number. The jacket feels kind of leathery and soft and I can’t resist that pink, spray-painty font. But unlike two of my favourite, very insightful YA reviewers (Tea Cozy and Reading Rants), I dang well hated it.

I’m always interested to hear what other people consider BPs. It’s also interesting to consider which books are true BPs (i.e. – have merit but didn’t grab you) and which have just been over-hyped (i.e. – BPs in Robert Pattinson’s clothing).

British slang + great fashion + librarians + 1970 = Dorothy Clewes’ Library Lady

One of the best things about working at an academic research library with a children’s collection is the lil’ gems you find in the stacks. They can’t throw anything away lest someone may write a thesis on it someday! I often go hungry during my shifts because I spend my whole break perusing the PZ 7s and PZ 4.9s. I recently stumbled upon Dorothy Clewes’ Library Lady whilst I should have been eating my lunch.

First things first. How fabulous is little Virginia May’s outfit? This is what I strive to look like on a daily basis, right down to the opaque tights and sideswept bangs.

This was published in 1970, but it reeks of 1951 (reeks in a good way, that is). Seven-year-old Virginia May only owns one book to her name until a library opens down the street. She is welcomed by the “library lady” (who is, hilariously, never referred to as a librarian), becomes a member of the library, and is soon on her way to borrowing the maximum two books at a time.

Ginny’s parents are amped that she is using the library, especially since their two teenaged sons, Charlie and Dudley, are more concerned with loafing about with a troublesome “gang.” Charlie and Dudley scoff at Ginny’s desire to be “educated,” until they get the chance to – get this – make some fish out of construction paper for a library exhibition! After making some very convincing bream and carp (A “bream?” What’s that? Who cares! It’s charming and British!), Charlie and Dudley begin to feel that they could do more in life than being a “brickie” and an “errand boy.”

‘What about that then?’ Ma said. She wa so pleased she looked ready to burst. It was the first time in a long while that she had felt really proud of her two boys.

‘For heaven’s sake – it’s only a bit of coloured paper hanging in a kids’ library,’ Charlie said, but he couldn’t help feeling set up at the unexpected praise and the idea of his cut-out floating from a ceiling for all to see.

But the craft-induced euphoria doesn’t last long. While drinking at the pub with the “gang,” Charlie and Dudley reveal that, in addition to their carp and bream mobile, the library fish exhibition contains some valuable old fishing poles (old fishing poles are valuable?). The “gang” then steals the fishing poles and put the blame on Charlie and Dudley! Luckily, Ginny and the library lady (and the science of fingerprinting) come to the rescue in a conclusion that contains the best colloquial uses of “loaf” and “bacon” in the history of literature:

‘You used your loaf, that’s what,’ Charlie said. ‘You remembered what time it was. I never would have noticed that in a thousand years.’

‘And that library lady of yours, polishing away our finger-marks from the fishing-rods because she wanted a smart turn-out. I never would have bothered to do that: but it saved our bacon.’

Brilliant.

Dorothy Clewes was very prolific, and I think she’s best known for her picturebooks with Edward Ardizzone. But I don’t think it really gets any better than Library Lady. It’s so charmingly vintage and English and has such a dear, schticky appeal for any librarian.