Emily Calkins

As I mentioned in my last post, I recently took over the LGBT feature at the Hub. My second post is up today; it’s a review of The Miseducation of Cameron, which I loved. Check it out, if you’re so inclined.

Here I am again! I know one post a month isn’t all that exciting. Sorry. You can always pop over to the Hub, where I wrote four posts in January and one last month. I’ve taken over the LGBTQ feature over, which means you can expect more queer-friendly books showing up in my posts here as well, including one this month! But let’s start at the beginning of the month:

The Lost Hero
Rick Riordan
Hyperion Books for Children

My reading New Year’s Resolution was to read one book every month that was recommended to me by the teens at my library, and this was January’s pick. I didn’t quite finish it in January for two reasons. One, I was simultaneously reading the next book on this list, and two, I didn’t enjoy this at all and really had to slog to finish it. It’s almost 600 pages, and it’s 600 pages of then EXACT SAME THING happening. Meet supernatural/mythical creature; battle; one of the three protagonists saves the day. As I said on Goodreads, “I can understand why kids like him: the books are absolutely action packed, and the main characters are infinitely relatable (I think this is mostly because they’re so bland they aren’t much more than Mary Sues),” but I have absolutely no interest in finishing the series.

The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet
David Mitchell
Random House, 2010

While I was reading Percy Jackson Redux, I was also reading this, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, and it was lovely. In a lot of ways, a pretty old fashioned novel with clearly drawn lines between good and evil. Some of the people at my book club seemed to take issue with this, but I think Mitchell was doing it on purpose, and it was so beautifully written and throughly researched that I didn’t mind a bit. Can’t wait to read more David Mitchell.

The Way We Fall
Megan Crewe
Disney-Hyperion, 2012

A slightly different take on the YA thriller – this one is set on a little island where people suddenly start getting very, very sick. And dying. It’s all very Outbreak-y, but unfortunately, it fell a little flat for me. Maybe because it’s written as series of diary-style letters to the protagonists estranged best friend, who happens to be off the island when the outbreak occurs? In any case, I appreciated the realism of this-it all seemed very much like it could happen-but I never got emotionally involved, so the moments that should have had a big impact just didn’t. Bonus points, though, for a science-inclined, mixed race female protagonist for whom neither of those characteristics are at all defining.

Anya’s Ghost
Vera Brosgol
First Second, 2011

This is the kind of graphic novel I love, a story about a teenager who doesn’t quite fit in, and genuinely isn’t sure whether she wants to or not. Great art that transcends it’s cartoon-y style, particularly in it’s use of a limited color palette, and surprisingly creepy.

Starters
Lissa Price
Delacorte Books for Young Readers, 2012

Yet another YA dystopian series. An intriguing premise (everyone older than 18 or so and younger than 65 is dead; the elderly live well into their 100s and young people–Starters–have basically no power) is marred by sloppy, unwieldy world building, minimal character development, flat dialogue, and telling-not-showing in general. There are many, many dystopias out there; with that in mind, this one is a pass.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post
emily m. danforth
Balzar + Bray, 2012

A bildungsroman set in early 1990s rural Montana, and so beautifully done. It’s about growing up gay in small-town Montana, but also small-town Montana itself, from the sun-baked summer days to the barn-like mega church to the movie store where the same clerk always checks you out and knows every movie you watch. The characters (well, except for a very few) are complex and sympathetic even if you find yourself appalled by their actions. Highly recommended, although be aware if you’re giving it to teens that it’s got plenty of drinking, drug use, and sex, all handled frankly and without condemnation (which is how I prefer it, btw).

Ready Player One
Ernest Cline
Crown, 2011

My February teen-recommended read and a 2012 Alex Award Winner. Peppered (is there a word that’s stronger than peppered? Overflowing?) with references to 80s and 2000s pop culture, this is a funny and, really, kind of silly novel. The world building is the best part. It manages to be equal parts unsettlingly close to reality, absurd, and funny. The plot, while exciting, always seems like it’s on the brink of a twist that never comes, but it’s a quick and unique read. A great pick by the Alex Committee – gamers and nerds of all ages should enjoy this one, and it will introduce younger readers to a host of classic pop culture (hello, John Hughes and War Games).

It’s 2012, you guys, and I am going to blog this year, dammit. It makes me happy to write about what I read. And here’s what I read last month:

Blood Red Road
Moira Young
Margaret K. McElderry, 2011

A unique take on the dystopian/post-apocalyptic genre (I know those aren’t the same, but this is both, as are many other YA novels) featuring one of the grouchiest female protagonists in recent memory. Pros: evocative setting, breath-taking paced plot, fierce band of female warriors, sexy bad-boy romantic lead. Cons: romance somewhat compromised by annoying, “destined for each other” element. Some people might be annoyed by the dialogue; I liked it.

Recommended for fans of Ship Breaker and The Knife of Never Letting Go.

Under the Mesquite
Guadalupe Garcia McCall
Lee & Low Books, 2011

A novel-in-verse about a teenage girl coming of age on the Mexico-Texas border. I read this Morris Finalist for an interview with the author that I did for The Hub. It was a great contrast to Blood Red Road - hardly any “action” at all, just brief reflections on growing up with each foot in a different culture. I’m not always a big fan of novels in verse, but I think the limited vocabulary and potential for word play work particularly well for young immigrant voices, and this is a case in point (see also National Book Award winner Inside Out and Back Again).

The Fault in Our Stars
John Green
Dutton, 2012

Well. So much has already been said about this book (it’s been called, I think, “luminous,” “damn near genius,” and I’m pretty sure all of its journal reviews have a shiny star accompanying them). It’s by far John Green’s best book, and I sort of feel bad for all the other great YA coming out this year, because I just don’t see how this could NOT win the Printz. It’s brutally, painful, and sometimes hilariously honest about being sick, especially as a young person, and it’s absolutely heart-breaking. Although Hazel and Augustus are smart and clever (like most of Green characters), they transcend the quirkiness of his previous protagonists and the story is all the more moving for it. Everyone should read this book, no matter how old they are and what else they like.

Living Dead Girl
Elizabeth Scott
Simon Pulse, 2008

If The Fault in Our Stars is a DNRIP (that’s do not read in public) because you’ll be sobbing, this one is a DNRIP because you’ll be making horrified faces the entire time. It’s about a girl, now called Alice, who was abducted on her 9th birthday and has been abused and molested by her abductor ever since. She’s now about to turn 15 and she’s getting too tall and well-developed to continue being Alice for Ray, her captor. Now he needs to her help him find a new Alice, and then he’ll get rid of her, just like he got rid of the first Alice. It’s a truly grim and terrifying read, and I could not put it down.

Imaginary Girls
Nova Ren Suma
Dutton, 2011

Surreal and beautiful. The relationship between wild, magnetic Ruby and Chloe, the narrator and her younger sister, is great – you envy their closeness until it becomes clear that it’s not that enviable after all. The writing is poetic and the whole book has a murky, half-lit feeling that makes the reader feel like they, too, are living in the drowned village in the reservoir.

The Bread Bible
Rosy Levy Beranbaum
W.W. Norton & Co., 2003

It’s hard to really read a cookbook, but I’ve paged through most of this one and made 3 of the 150 recipes last month, so I’m counting it away. The title isn’t a joke – this is an (almost) exhaustive resource on bread-making. I say almost because I wanted to make hamburger buns and was dismayed to find that this doesn’t have a recipe for them! Missing buns aside, though, it’s an extremely technical look at the science of bread-making. The instructions are incredibly detailed (example: use bleached all-purpose flour, Gold Medal or Pillsbury brands only), and I have no doubt that cooking though it, which I’m trying to do, will be a great learning experience. The prose is hilariously stilted on occasion, but I’m not reading this for the prose, so there you go.

Don’t Expect Magic
Kate McCullough
Delacorte, 2011

Don’t Expect Magic is a pretty predictable read populated by mostly two-dimensional characters (the distant but loving dad with problems of his own, the cute nerd, the beautiful popular girl with hidden depths, etc.), but the narrator, Delaney’s, angst, prickly voice will appeal to young teens, and her growth, although frustratingly slow at times, is believable and enjoyable. There’s light romance, a little family drama, and lots of lessons to be learned about the value of each person as an individual (bonus points for a somewhat surprising LGBT element!) It didn’t appeal to me personally, but it would be a good collection addition where gentle YA or books for middle school readers are needed.

Americus
Written by M.K. Reed,  art by Jonathan Hill
First Second, 2011

I liked this one more than I should have, maybe. It’s a story of small town teens finding solace and company in an extremely popular fantasy series. When a conservative mom finds out that her son is reading the series, she ships him off to military school and begins a campaign to get the book removed from the library – so yes, the anti-censorship message and the young, hip librarian who fights to keep the book in the library kind of biased me.  Other pros: the dialogue is great and the black-and-white cartoon-style art is a lot of fun. Cons: well, with maybe the exception of Neil himself, the characters fall so clearly into good vs. evil camps that book comes of as extremely one-sided. The book-banning moms, in particular, are over-the-top. Not a balanced or subtle read, but one that will make the librarian in you cheer anyway.

Batman: Year One
Written by Frank Miller, art by  David Mazzucchelli
DC Comics, 2007 (first published 1986)

It’s pretty hard to read this in 2012 and appreciate how revolutionary it must’ve been in 1986. It obviously influenced Christopher Nolan, and I appreciate how dark it is, although I think many, many contemporary comics play with genre conventions at least this as effectively as Batman: Year One does. The writing is good, if a little over the top with the noir undertones and although the guy who recommended this to me ensured me that Miller is actually about women’s empowerment, I didn’t see it. The Chief Gordon parts are more interesting than the Batman parts (Batman is SO. SERIOUS). He’s only saved from complete pompousness by a brief scene in which he pretends to be a drunken playboy and clearly enjoys it. The art is mostly serviceable, with some nice panels and some kind of hideous ones.

I’m in the middle of not one but TWO books that I started in January but will finish in this month. Goodreads tells me that I am on track to read 100 books this year (second time’s a charm?)

The National Book Awards finalists, including a category for Young People’s Literature, were announced last Wednesday. There was some confusion over which titles were supposed to be  included, so the YPL category has six finalists instead of the traditional five. Then, yesterday, the “accidental” finalist, Lauren Myracle, withdrew her novel Shine from consideration at the request of the National Book Foundation. It’s kind of a mess of situation, to put it mildly. I wrote a couple of posts about it for the Hub. The first includes the names of all six of the original finalists (be sure to check it out so you can add them to your reading list!). The second gives my take on the whole miscommunication/mistake/withdrawal business. There’s also a poll where you can vote on your reaction to the mistake and the way the NBF handled it.

Mostly (and I think this comes across in my post) I feel sad for the authors. The five chosen finalists are having what should be a very exciting time ruined by bad PR, and poor Lauren, who’s always seemed so wonderful when I’ve seen her in person, must have had one hell of a week. I think the NBF screwed up three – first, obviously, in making the erroneous announcement; second, in waffling on how to deal with it; and third, asking Myracle to clean up their mess by withdrawing herself. Boo.

Um, hey, y’all. Sorry about that. Anyway, I’m back now! Hooray!

A lot has happened in the wonderful world of YA since during my absence (also in my life – new job! new city!). Here’s a quick list of books that I previously reviewed that have been released lately. Now you can buy them! Or better yet, check them out from your local public library! Yay!

Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor. Like I said in my review, this is a MUST read for fantasy fans. One of the most beautiful and heart-wrenching fantasies I’ve read in a long time.

Queens of All the Earth by Hannah Sternberg. I read this one way back in April. It’s a lovely little book (and a perfect gift for anyone you know who’s about to graduate/take a semester off to travel the world. Especially if that person is going to Spain, where I totally want to go after reading this).

Dust & Decay by Jonathan Maberry. I reviewed this one for the Hub back in July. A great addition to Maberry’s exciting zombie series.

Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins. Another Hub review. Confession: I have a little girl crush on Stephanie Perkins. Her books are so sweet and swoon-y, and she seems SUPER nice (she replies every time I -or anyone- tweets about her books, which must be really time-consuming. Fans appreciate that kind of thing). Lola, like Anna and the French Kiss before it will charm the pants off you.

Another one I must mention is Sara Zarr’s new novel, How to Save a Life. The ladies over at FYA turned me on to Ms. Zarr, and I’m SO glad they did. She writes the most realistic, flawed-but-wonderful characters of any author in YA. Recommended especially if you’re a fan of John Green or Sarah Dessen, but also if you like to read good books. Which you probably do. I just finished this one a couple of days ago, and I’m hoping to write a review, but don’t wait for that – go get it right now.

So! There’s something for everyone – horror, romance, contemporary fiction, and fantasy. Go forth and read, y’all! (and come back soon for a review of How to Save a Life. Try not to get that Fray song stuck in your head. Fail. Curse me, but still go buy the book ’cause it’s awesome).

Understanding Comics: the Invisible Art
Scott McCloud
Harper Paperback
1994 (originally published 1993)

A couple of weeks ago, I put out a call on Twitter. I’ve been getting into comics/graphic novels, and I wanted a reference book that would give me an introduction to the history and important authors/artists of the format. Someone tweeted back, “Aside from Understanding Comics, you mean?” Well, no, friend, I didn’t mean that  (I’m a little behind the times in the world of what I now know to call sequential art), but I think that counts as a recommendation. When we were at Borders last week, I picked up a copy, and I’m so glad I did! Understanding Comics turned out to be not exactly  what I was looking for, but it was a fascinating and informative read.

Understanding Comics contains a little of this history I was looking for, but it’s really more of a philosophical/theoretical exploration of what comics are and how they work. McCloud does an amazing job, in just 240, of introducing readers to a host of topics that are important for appreciating comics. He discusses the  historical relationship between pictorial images and text and advances a fascinating theory of iconography that examines the effect of art along a continuum from representational to symbolic. His discussion of the gutter – the white space between panels – explains how gutters not only imply movement through time and space but require a high degree of involvement from the reader, who is required to fill the white space with her own imagination. His discussion of how the text, images, and layout of comics come together to create sequential art was my favorite part. Many of the ideas translate well to thinking about picture books, too (the gutter = the page turn, in my mind), so as a picture book fan that was an added bonus.

As wonderful and informative as it is, Understanding Comics is not without its weaknesses. My biggest issue is the lack of in-text citations. This is a common gripe for me with popular non-fiction: you’re reading along, the author makes some interesting but rather grandiose/controversial/sweeping claim, and you want to find out just what he’s using to back that up. Well, in Understanding Comics, you’re out of luck. There is a small “selected bibliography” at the end, which is great, but I’d love to know which of McCloud’s ideas are his own, and which he borrowed from other writers (to be fair, he frequently references other writers, including art theorists and sequential artists, so it’s not like he’s trying to plagiarize - it’s just frustrating to follow up on an idea and have no clue where to start).

Still, gripping about citations (and the very occasionally self-important tone) aside, Understanding Comics is a must-read for anyone who’s at all interested in the format, or anyone who likes art theory. Highly recommended.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone
Laini Taylor
Little, Brown & Co.
September 2011

Karou has learned, in her seventeen years, to avoid questions about her family and upbringing.  It’s easier to blow off those topics than to even begin explaining that her “family” lives in a liminal space between our world and a place Karou knows only as Elsewhere, and that the closest thing she has to a father is a part-ram, part-human, part-other things creature named Brimstone who pays for the teeth he collects with wishes. When huge black hand prints begin appearing on the doors to Elsewhere, Karou’s careful separation of her Earthly and not-so-Earthly lives begins to crumble, and questions that have gone unanswered for seventeen years – who is Karou, exactly? – must be answered.

Oh, you guys, this review does not want to be written. Daughter of Smoke and Bone was so crazily, wonderfully good, but figuring out how to explain that wonderfulness seems to be beyond me. I guess I could put it this way: there was not one single thing I didn’t like about this book. Usually, because I’m a nitpicky reader, there’s something that doesn’t fit, doesn’t flow, or otherwise keeps a book from being perfect. Not so with Daughter of Smoke and Bone.

Taylor unfolds the story in tiny bits and pieces, so the transition from Karou’s human life in Prague to the tumultuous, war-shattered Elsewhere is seamless and natural. Both worlds, and the characters in them, feel full-developed and real. Like Karou herself, the story is much more than first it seems to be, yet it never becomes overly complicated or unwieldy. Instead, the many pieces of of Taylor’s rich, rich world-building come together so believably that it’s never difficult to follow. It’s not the most compulsively readable book I’ve read lately, but the plot’s absolutely gripping, and I was torn between wanting to read faster to have my questions answered and wanting to linger over Taylor’s writing.

And Taylor’s writing is lovely. Karou’s keenly felt emotions – her frustration, anger, loneliness, and love – are the story’s anchor and Taylor describes them beautifully. The relationships between the characters are delightful and nuanced. Characters fight, laugh, complain, and love and they do so in distinct voices. Karou’s friendship with fellow art-student Zuzana, for example, is full of the pithy, banter-y exchanges that are the stuff of real friendships.

(Example: “I swear I hate people more every day. Everyone annoys me. If I’m like this now, what am I going to be like when I’m old?”

“You’ll be the mean old biddy who fires a BB gun at kids from her balcony.”

“Nah, BBs just rile ‘em up. More like a crossbow. Or a bazooka.”

That’s the kind of casual exchange you have a with a friend.)

There’s just so much to love about this book. Taylor borrows from Hebrew and Christian mythology but makes the ideas all her own. The writing is beautiful, both on the sentence level and in Taylor’s ability to craft a thrilling, gut-wrenching plot. It’s both epic and surprisingly intimate. A Best Book of 2011, OBVIOUSLY, and highly, highly recommended, especially for anyone with an inkling of fantasy-fandom in them.

Review copy picked up at ALA; official release date is September 27, but you can pre-order right here. AND YOU SHOULD.

Mark and I are staying with my parents and grandmother as part of our ongoing job-and-home-hunting quest. This morning, we hit up Borders for a couple of things. When we got home, the following conversation ensued:

Me: Well, we managed to only get one other thing at Borders (we went to pick up a test prep book for Mark).

Grandma: Oh? What’s that?

Me: Understanding Comics.

Grandma: I’m disappointed.

Me: Well, it’s for my job! It’s professional development! (side note: this is only kind of true. Mostly it’s an accessory to my burgeoning love for comics/graphic novels).

Grandma: Well. You could have fooled me.

***

Sigh.

Whoops, y’all. One week of break turned into two, because the trip to see family bled right over into a cross-country move, and as it turns out, 12-15 hour days of driving aren’t that conducive to blogging, especially when you’re prone to motion-sickness and can’t read in the car. But I’m back! I’ll have a new book review soon, I hope, but this is a cpd23 post. Things 5-9 (yep, I missed that many!) included Google calendar, which I already use to organize my personal and professional lives; Evernote, which I already have on my phone and iPad; and a variety of social and professional networks, both real world and online. The cpd23 posts for things 5-9 are linked above and worth checking out if you’re interested in any of those tools. I’m going to skip blogging about them and jump in at thing 10.

Thing 10 is about paths to librarianship and professional certifications. The cpd23 post focuses on paths to librarianship in the UK, so it’s not particularly relevant to my experience. It is an interesting read, though, and for someone with an American education who might be interested in working the UK, it provides a nice introduction to the necessary certifications.

Anyway, the blogging assignment that accompanies thing 10 is to “tell us about why you joined the career, where you are now and how you got there and what you are planning to do next.” This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, especially with the whole unemployment situation. (I’ll admit that sometimes my thoughts veer toward “OH GOD, WHY did I spend SO MUCH MONEY on a Masters degree only to enter a TERRIBLE job market?! What was I THINKING?”). But in all told, I’ve loved my previous jobs in libraries, and I know I’ll love my future jobs as well.

I came into the profession sort of sideways, which isn’t uncommon for librarians, I think. I spent the summer after my junior year of college living in Chicago because that’s where my boyfriend lived. Through a series of lovely coincidences, I ended up with an internship in the archives of the amazing Newberry Library, where I mostly wrote finding aids and processed some small collections. Even though I enjoyed it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be an archivist, and I graduated from college without much of a plan. I spent some time as an administrative assistant before, through another series of lovely coincidences, ending up with a part-time gig in the archives at the Northwest Museum of Arts & Culture. While I was there, I learned to use EAD and write MARC records – those skills lead to a para-professional position as a copy cataloger at the public library in my hometown. Although the work itself wasn’t particularly exciting, I got to see EVERY new book that came into the entire library system, which was amazing. That job cemented my love of children’s and young adult literature and public libraries and lead to my application for library school.

Although there are a growing number of paraprofessional positions in libraries, I decided to get a Masters because I thought it help me qualify for more positions. The program at UT, where I went to school, grants an MSIS (Master of Science in Information Studies) but the program is still ALA-accredited, so it’s essentially the same as getting an MLIS or even the traditional MLS. I did a huge variety of things in my two years in Austin. I was the photo archives intern at the Center for American History, I did storytimes at a local preschool, I  worked in several public libraries in children’s services, teen services, and reference. I did chat reference for a community college system in West Texas. I’ve found that I really love public services – my personal love of YA and children’s lit, and my fondness of teenagers (somebody’s got to have it, right?) have drawn me toward youth services, but my last position was general reference, and I liked that a lot. I’ve gotten more and more interested in ways that libraries can adapt quickly to new technologies while still providing basic services to the underserved. I love the diversity of public libraries – the huge range of people who come in, the variety of questions and materials and programs. That’s the reason I want to stay in public libraries, as opposed to going academic or special. The reference desk at a public library is pretty far from the quiet processing room of a special collections library or archives, but that’s where I started, and the reference desk is where I hope to end up!