Hex by Allen Steele

Rendezvous with Rama meets Ringworld in this novel set in the Coyote series. Allen Steele's latest Coyote-universe novel explores a new take on the Big Dumb Object trope (any overly large object, usually of alien origin, that causes a sense of wonder just by existing). Only the BDO in Hex isn't quite so dumb.

Twice 22 by Ray Bradbury

A little over a month ago our local high school announced its summer read for all students was Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, which I thought was not only a great selection but as good an opportunity to reread it myself with an eye toward recommending it here. Then last week Ray Bradbury died and that dredged up a whole bunch of memories of my first experiences with his work and so I'm shifting gears.

The short story anthology Twice 22 has a number of things going for it. First, it's a collection of Bradbury's short stories from the 1950s and 60s when he was pretty much in his stride and hitting them all out of the park. Second, when summer comes around I tend to find my attentions divided and short stories are easier to take in at once (as a side benefit, I end up reading more during the summer). Finally, specifically, this collection actually comprises the two Bradbury books I owned and read when I was in sixth grade – A Medicine for Melancholy and Golden Apples of the Sun – which combined is a pretty good place to start.

The thing about Bradbury, perhaps the most misunderstood thing about him that I suspect time will eventually correct, is that he isn't a writer of science fiction. True, he writes about space and life on mars and of a near-distant future (some of these stories take place in the early 2000s – imagine!) but the core of all these stories is the way Bradbury examines humanity. Doesn't matter whether he's writing about mail-order brides for colonists on another planet or telling of a love affair between a living dinosaur and a fog horn, in the end Bradbury's tales always leave a door open for the reader to explore their place within them.

4 Fantastic Novels

I was going to review just one of the 4 Fantastic Novels (Borgel), but discovered that it is not in print except in this collection.

That actually works out well, because at least three of this collection are fantastic. The other, The Snarkout Boys and the Baconburg Horror is not one of my favorite Pinkwater books (I have many favorites.)

One of which, The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death probably set me up to be disappointed by The Baconburg Horror.

His picture books are often wonderful, too. There's frequently a silliness that just makes me laugh.

Lies, Knives, and Girls in Red Dresses by Ron Koertge

It starts with a creepy introduction, and Ron Koertge's take on fairy tales gets darker and twistier from there.

Do you want to sleep? Find another storyteller. Do you
want to think about the world in a new way?

Come closer. Closer, please.
I want to whisper in your ear.

Written largely in free verse (although much of it reads like spare prose, and not actual poetry), this collection is decidedly not a hearts-and-flowers account of Happily Ever After (HEA). And it's accompanied by what appear to be cut-paper representations of many of the tales.

For instance, the first story fills you in on what happened to Cinderella's stepsisters after Cinderella moved to the castle, and it involves various forms of mutilation and wishing for death. There are other characters who don't exactly get their HEA endings either, such as the characters in Rapunzel (who knew?), the mole in Thumbelina, and the father in Hansel & Gretel (at least impliedly, based on Koertge's telling).

Some of the tales are brought forward in time to the present, such as "The Little Match Girl", which features a kid trying to sell CDs on a corner in a very bad neighborhood, Little Red Riding Hood, or "Bearskin", in which the soldier who makes a deal with the devil is a veteran from Iraq, living in the psych ward at the Veterans Administration hospital.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews

I’m trying to imagine the pitch for this book: We have a teenage narrator who is obsessed by film. But not current or popular films. Film school films. Obscure films. In fact, a major role in this book will be occupied by German filmmaker Werner Herzog’s 1972 cult classic Aguirre, the Wrath of God. Our narrator and his angry friend will remake it. Oh, and the third main character is a girl with leukemia. And the book has lots of profanity.

Author Jesse Andrews calls Me and Earl and the Dying Girl a “weird little book.” It is. But it works wonder with its weirdness.

“You can pretty much take any sentence in this book and if you read it enough times, you will probably end up committing a homicide.”  This is the voice of Greg Gaines, the “Me” in Jesse Andrews’ Me and Earl and the Dying Girl. And what a narrative voice it is—profane, witty, self-deprecating. Speaking of profane, the “Earl” of the title is Earl Jackson, Greg’s best (only?) friend, and the poet laureate of profanity. Earl and Greg make films together: Earl to escape his home life (he lives in squalor and his family puts the “diss” in dysfunction) and Greg to escape himself, though he is not self-aware enough through most of the book to realize this.

Greg’s theory about surviving high school involves hiding in plain sight—acquaintance with all groups, friends with none. This is where Rachel comes in. The Dying Girl. Greg originally spends time with Rachel only to mollify his mother, but his relationship with Rachel starts to affect his overall social invisibility.

Like the protagonists in John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars, Rachel is neither a saint nor a stereotypical “Cancer Teen.” Her passivity in the face of her illness at times infuriates Greg. And the “lesson” is more nuanced than, say, a Lurlene McDaniel book. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is likely to be lumped in with TFIOS. Understandably, as both share a subject matter and a snarky tone that helps mitigate the treacle factor that stalks such a topic.

Andrews uses multiple narrative techniques to propel the story and construct Greg’s unique voice. Foremost among these is screenplay format, which, given the role film plays in Greg’s life, seems organic rather than gimmicky. Bullet points, interior monologue, and newspaper headlines also feature. Greg is the funniest young adult narrator I have encountered in some time; I think teen boys will respond similarly (that may say something about my maturity level). 

Travesties by Tom Stoppard

In his play Travesties, Tom Stoppard lets his imagination run wild with a moment of 1917 in which several titanic figures of the early twentieth century found themselves in Zurich. At the intersection of Lenin just before his return to Russia, Tristan Tzara conceiving Dada, and James Joyce working on Ulysses, this is a moment just before the revolutions, political and artistic, are primed to explode.

Another Jekyll, Another Hyde by Daniel and Dina Nayeri

Another Jekyll, Another Hyde by Daniel and Dina Nayeri
"When his billionaire father marries French governess Nicola Vileroy, high society is all abuzz — but Thomas, the most popular student at Marlowe, is just plain high. Ever since his girlfriend Belle dumped him, he’s been spending less time with old friends and more time getting wasted at clubs. But after someone slips him a designer drug one night — and his stepmother seems to know way too much about his private life — things really start to get scary. As Thomas’s blackouts give way to a sinister voice inside his head, and as news of a vicious hate crime has students on edge, Thomas comes to the sickening realization that Madame Vileroy has involved him in a horrifying supernatural plan. How can he muster the strength and will to stop it? The pulse-quickening climax revisits Jekyll and Hyde as a current-day cautionary tale laced with a heady dose of paranormal intrigue."- summary from Amazon

First off, let me say that while this could be read on its own, it's probably best to have read the previous two books beforehand. I read this without having read the second book because I didn't realize there was a link between the books. I just thought they were retellings of different stories focusing on different characters. While this is true, I didn't think those characters would be ones we'd seen in previous books or that characters from previous books would be involved in the current book. So that kinda threw me a little bit when I started reading since there were some spoilers from the previous books.

OK, moving on, I did still like the book though it wasn't as good as the first. I didn't feel the same connection or suspense with these characters. It was creepy and thriller-ish, sure, but that didn't necessarily morph into "I must continue to read this book!". It took me a bit of time to get through it even though it's shorter than its predecessors.

I did enjoy seeing into the history of Vileroy throughout the years, both from her own perspective and from a third person perspective, now that this is the conclusion. The climax of the book was very interesting and the ending was handled well.

Overall, while I did enjoy the book, I think it's more of a library book than one to purchase, but it is an interesting series to check out. I'll be visiting Another Pan, the second book, soon!

Here, Bullet by Brian Turner

I never quite developed the muscles for reading poetry.  The year that it was covered in my high school, I had a kind but somewhat inept English teacher who could have done a better job of introducing me to Betjeman and who probably shouldn’t have let me memorize a song from Chess for a recitation assignment.  (Don’t cry for him: after one year teaching private school eleventh graders, he fled back to his girlfriend in England and subsequently became a mildly successful novelist and critic.)  So I’ve been trying to build those muscles as an adult and not quite succeeding.  Thanks to podcasts (mostly from Poetry Magazine, who produce several terrific ones), I’ve discovered that I enjoy listening to poetry, but I still find reading it to largely be a challenge.

Although he mostly covers fiction, Michael Silverblatt does occasionally interview poets on his invaluable radio program Bookworm.  (He also makes me jealous, as he once noted on the program that he has two separate apartments: one to live in and one that holds his books.)  A few years ago, one of his guests was a poet named Brian Turner, who had recently published his first book after returning from a tour of duty in the Middle East.  And a year or so later, when I found myself browsing the poetry shelves at the big Barnes and Noble in Union Square, looking for something to try reading, my mind flew back to that intriguing interview and the fascinating excerpts that Turner had read.  And so I bought Here, Bullet and proceeded to read it slowly over the course of two months, a poem or two at a time every few nights.

Who Took My Squid?

Kraken, by China Mieville, is the story of a dead giant squid that's gone missing, that's disappeared entirely, tank and preserving fluid and all, from its home at the British Museum of Natural History. A police division dedicated to the investigation of religious cults (and secretly to supernatural phenomenon) interviews museum staff including Billy Harrow, the original curator of the giant squid. But the police aren't the only ones after the squid. There's also a kraken worshipping cult which believes that giant squid are kraken babies, and is furious at the animal's disappearance. And there's a powerful London crime lord who happens to be trapped in animated tattoo on another man's skin. When, against the advice of the police, Billy discusses the crime with his friends, he is drawn into a bizarre adventure that redefines his understanding of London and of reality itself.

Friends With Boys by Faith Erin Hicks

The defining moment of Faith Erin Hicks's Friends With Boys for me is the scene where Maggie takes her new friends Lucy and Alastair to the movie theater to watch Alien, which results in the punked-out and tough-looking Lucy quivering in fear and hiding from all the violent, bloody action taking place on screen whilst Maggie and Alastair watch with eager anticipation and bored indifference, respectively. It's one of the first stereotype-shifting moments in a book which is mostly about shifting the standard high-school stereotypes into different perspectives.