Review of Ash by Malinda Lo

Lo, Malinda. Ash. Little, Brown, 2009.

After Aisling's mother dies, her father remarries, and his new wife and her two daughters come to live with them. But then her father dies, and Ash, as Aisling is called, must move with her stepmother and stepsisters to their estate in the south, where she must work as a servant to pay off her father's alleged debts.

Brought up on tales of fairies, Ash goes looking for them in the Woods - and finds Sidhean, a pale, ethereally handsome, and very slightly emo male fairy. Their platonic relationship lasts for years, with Sidhean seeming to want to take her to the fairy realm but insisting that Ash isn't ready yet. Ash, hating her life, is raring to experience the fairy world despite its dangers.

In the meantime, however, Ash meets the King's Huntress Kaisa, by whom she is fascinated. Kaisa is interested in Ash, as well, befriending her and teaching her to ride a horse. They fall in love - but the timing is terrible, as Ash has just bound herself into a contract with Sidhean. Will human love prevail over fairy magic?

What I liked about Ash was, above all, the love between Ash and Kaisa. Lesbian relationships are incredibly rare in fantasy, even for adults, although gay love between men is relatively common (I'm thinking Sherwood Smith's Inda books, as one example). Ash and Kaisa's love feels both inevitable and absolutely right, and far superior to a magical life spent with chilly, translucent fairy folk. Kaisa is brave, competent, dresses in warm and comfortable clothes, and won't wear a mask at a masked ball; no wonder Ash falls in love. This is a lovely romance that will take any reader's breath away.

I was a wee bit disappointed with Ash, however. It could be blamed on my reading while in bed with the flu, but I think it has more to do with a rather standard plot and a serviceable yet far uninspired writing style. Yes, this is a riff on the classic Cinderella story, but that is no excuse to use cliches, such as the stepmother's face darkening with anger or Sidhean's skin being pale as snow. There is a stiffness to the writing that kept me from being immersed entirely in the plot. Many of the characters are similarly stiff; in particular, the stepmother and stepsisters never become three-dimensional people but remain fairy-tale types, and are thus uninteresting.

Still, I read this novel to the end despite my weary, blurry eyes. And I feel much better today, testament to the healing power of fantasy! For ages 13 and up.

An overdose of historical fiction?

I've read four historical novels in a row, and now I've got the flu (or a sore throat, aches, and a slight fever, anyway). Could there be a connection? I suspect that I'll start feeling better the moment I start reading fantasy, which will happen after this post, at which point I'll crawl back into bed with Melinda Lo's Ash.

The Brothers Story by Katherine Sturtevant:
Although the jacket art depicts a lad who looks like a 70s California Boy, this novel about a teen who leaves his "simple" twin brother behind in their impoverished village to seek a better life in London plunged me right into the desperately cold winter of 1683. I sensed no anachronisms - even Kit's mindset and attitude (about sex and women, about religion, about a person's rightful station, about fairness) were clearly far from modern. There has always been a place in my heart for stories about roughing it in London Town, and this is a good 'un. For ages 13 and up.

The Best Bad Luck I Ever Had by Kristin Levine:
12-year-old Dit is thoroughly bummed when his tiny Alabama town's new postmaster doesn't have a boy his age but rather a daughter named Emma. Not only that, she's black - and in 1917, this can have ramifications. Tensions lead to a horrible situation - and it is Dit and Emma who manage to patch up the fallout. Although that sounds grim, the book's overall tone is easy-going. Dit is just a boy who wants to play baseball, do okay in school, and do the right thing. Emma, luckily, can help him with the last two, even if she's somewhat lacking in baseball skills. Fine novel (even if Dit's use of the word "gross" jarred me a bit. Did they say that in 1917?) for ages 9 to 13.

Neil Armstrong is My Uncle and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me by Nan Marino:
The title is long but the book is short. This is a slice of life from 1969 New Jersey, told from the point of view of a literal-minded girl named Tammy who just can't stand that her best friend is gone and and in her place (fostered by the same woman) is a little runt who tells huge whoppers. That this boy (Douglas, but known by Tammy's sarcastic nickname Muscle Man) must have a sad story to be in foster care, and that he is pretty darn nice guy despite his lies, doesn't occur to Tammy; she is unrelentingly intolerant and unforgiving of him, all the way through a 13 to 1 game of kickball (the sacred game in Tammy's neighborhood, which Muscle Man swore he could beat them all at single-handed). It's hard to understand why Tammy is so thick-headed - but still, this book is a quick and well-written read for ages 8 to 12.

Outside Beauty by Cynthia Kadohata:
13-year-old Shelby's family is anything but traditional - she lives with her gorgeous, beauty-obsessed, commitment-phobic mom and her three sisters, all of whom have different dads. When Shelby's mom is in a terrible car accident, the sisters all get shipped out to their four dads, and all they can think about is getting back together again. Kadohata can do know wrong as far as I'm concerned - this is a quirky, funny, touching look at family. None of the characters are perfect (far from it!), but we get to know them through Shelby's increasingly understanding eyes. I listened to this as an audiobook and adored Sue Jean Kim's narration. For ages 11 and up. (My 18-year-old daughter loved it, too).
Oh, and it takes place in 1983, which qualifies as Olden Days.

So there you have it. Let it not be said that I never read anything but SFF. But now I'm weak and feverish again. Definitely time for some fantasy - the best medicine.

Better get cracking...

Thanks to American Libraries Direct for this video, produced to introduce the VALA Conference and Exhibition in Australia.

Thank goodness this digital native has a book on her lap!

Review of The Magician of Hoad by Margaret Mahy

Mahy, Margaret. The Magician of Hoad. McElderry Books, 2009.

12-year-old Heriot Tarbas does not want to leave his large, extended family and the farm to serve the king as a magician, so he runs away. But after a few short and dangerous adventures, his fate catches up to him - and for a decade, he remains by the king's side, using his magical talents to ascertain motives and thoughts of possible friends and enemies and to conjure court entertainments.

As in any court, there are intrigues, and in this court it is the king's oldest son who wants to disrupt his father's fragile peace, while the middle son wants to vanquish the king's Hero to become Hero himself. The youngest son, Dysart, who is Heriot's friend, simply wants to marry his childhood sweetheart Linnet. When the oldest prince's plot springs to life, Heriot and others become pawns - until young Cayley, a mysterious and talented street urchin turned warrior, who rescues them all.

Like many of Mahy's books, there is a fascinating and sometimes frustrating mixture of straightforward narration and dreamy musing in this tale. There is much that is left unsaid and many questions unanswered. The main question for me is: what is the source and nature of Heriot's magic? He doesn't ever seem to need to "learn" it and it seems to have no limits except those imposed by his own old mental/emotional traumas. Surely, with powers like his, he would be one of the most reviled and feared people in the land - and yet, he is treated like an amiable and quite useful tool.

Much is touched on - the customs and history of the land, for example - but not explored in any way, almost as if the reader were a native of the land and was expected to know all this stuff. Although I'm usually eager to know small details of how everything works, I managed to put my curiosity aside and enjoy the story.

The strange personalities of the princely brothers are presented as opaque mysteries, and so we don't get to know them. Even Dysart, who starts off being a strong and fascinating character, gets left by the wayside as he grows older. Instead, we get to know Heriot, who remains just an ordinary guy even as he realizes just how very powerful and dangerous he is. His young friend Cayley, although more mysterious than anyone, is the person we know most about in the end, and the person we care most about. Cayley's story is the pivot around which the whole book turns, but we don't realize it until almost the very end.

I do wish the jacket art didn't make Heriot look like Harry Potter. Yes, Heriot wears glasses (which feels like an anachronism but does make him lovably flawed) - but do they have to be pictured as round? And where are his trademark long and numerous braids? Heriot is described as being copper-colored, and I suppose his skin does glow - but he just looks like Harry Potter with a tan. The upper frame of autumn leaves is a nice touch, though. And check out the New Zealand jacket art to the right. The braids are nicely done, but everything else? Yech!

Although this fantasy was not quite satisfying due to my yearning to know more (why didn't Heriot visit his family more often or have them come to court? how could he be happy so long in his somewhat dorky job?), it's still a rousing read that I would recommend to most fantasy fans, particularly those who enjoy Tamora Pierce. For ages 13 and up.

Hamsters - Born to be Wild

Orlando, our first dwarf hamster, flung himself off all surfaces with wild abandon and loved the feeling of our slick table so much that he'd slide himself across it on his stomach. His sudden early and inexplicable death (or, given his love of an adrenalin-fueled lifestyle, maybe not so surprising) threw my younger daughter and me into a short but intense period of mourning.

Theo, our second dwarf hamster, was happiest when we let her run down the hall and explore every room in the house (except the kitchen, where hamsters tend to hide under large, heavy appliances and stuff themselves silly with crumbs) - she lived to be almost 2 1/2 years old, truly ancient for a hamster.

And Valentine, our newest baby dwarf hamster, escaped from his cage mere days after we brought him home. Although usually escaped hamsters make themselves known by scuttling like hairy cockroaches across the middle of the floor while I'm drinking my morning coffee, Valentine didn't make an appearance. After nearly a week, we figured he was a goner.

But wait! This morning, faint but wild scritching noises behind the washing machine alerted us to his presence. Although I couldn't budge the washing machine, I managed to haul out the dryer enough for my younger daughter to climb behind it - and there Valentine was, standing on his hind legs as if begging to be rescued.

We're so glad to have him back! He's the most sociable hamster we've had yet, and as crammed with personality as all the others. It's no wonder that the Humphrey and Freddy books are so popular - hamsters really do have a sassy yet sweet style all their own. Don't believe me? Check out my favorite new graphic novel for younger readers - Colleen Venable's Hamster and Cheese, book 1 of the Guinea Pig, Pet Shop Private Eye series.

Geeking out with March Madness

For all you who followed last year's SLJ Battle of the Kids' Books with a fanaticism bordering on insanity - IT'S BACK! Or it will be in less than a week. Woot! Here's Betsy Bird with the official announcement (yes, with obligatory sock puppets).

Mini-review of The Problem with the Puddles by Kate Feiffer

Feiffer, Kate. The Problem with the Puddles. Illustrated by Tricia Tusa. Simon & Schuster, 2009.

The Puddle family - Mrs. Puddle, Mr. Puddle, Tom, and Baby (aka Emily or Ferdinanda) - leave their summer cottage for the city, but in the chaos they leave their two dogs behind and don't notice until two hours into their eight-hour car ride. In the meantime, the two dogs - a teacup Chihuahua and a Great Dane, both named Sally - decide to walk to the city themselves.

The Puddle Family dynamic is dominated by the parents, who never ever agree on anything. Tom, the son, is something of a nonentity and wouldn't be missed if he were to disappear from the book. Baby, the daughter whose strange assortment of names arose from her parents' failure to agree on one, is the most normal person in the family. All in all, I found the family and the eccentric folks they meet to be so quirky and unreal as to be quite uninteresting.

However, the two Sallys are another matter altogether! I loved every moment with these two dogs, who (in contrast to Mr. and Mrs. Puddle) demonstrate the best way to run a relationship - with plenty of respect, affection, and willingness to compromise. Even when they have a small spat, they make up quickly, and their easy banter will remind readers of similar conversations they've had with best friends. Here are the Sallys talking about which dog breeds the Puddles remind them of. Little Sally has just compared Baby to a pug.

"Have you ever noticed that she likes to have her neck scratched and pulled? How pug is that?"

"I know what you mean," said big Sally "I kind of think Tom acts like a chocolate Lab. Don't you?"

"Totally, or when he plays catch, he's such a Lab-Portuguese water dog mix...What about Mrs. Puddle?"

"Come on. She's a Lhasa apso if I ever met one."

"I know it! The way she sometimes snarls for no reason at all is so Lhasa."

And so on. Mr. Puddle, by the way, is "the best kind of mutt." I love these dogs!

The illustrations by Tusa were whimsical but not entirely successful - they kept showing the two Sallys being way closer in size than a Great Dane and a teacup Chihuahua would be. And both dogs wear the oddest little bows. But that's just a quibble.

This is a diverting and slightly surreal read whose canine characters steal the show from the muddled human ones. Recommended for ages 8 to 11.