Cinder by Marissa Meyer: the Lunar Chronicles, Book 1

"She was 36.28 percent not human."

With Cinder, debut author Marissa Meyer re-imagines the fairy tale Cinderella as a futuristic political thriller.   Cinder is an exciting story that will appeal to female fans of dystopian fiction, steampunk, science fiction, and fairy tale reinventions.  It plays with a range of ideas (medical ethics, political compromises), but especially the question of what defines us as human.  Is it our bodies?  Our emotional capacity?  Or something else entirely, something that can't be precisely understood? 

Cinder Linh is a cyborg living in the futuristic city of New Beijing, under the control of her resentful stepmother.  She is an expert mechanic and has a booth in the marketplace where she repairs all manner of broken technology.  One day, Prince Kai approaches her booth incognito.  He has a broken android, and is willing to go to great lengths to have it repaired, although it is an obsolete model.  Why?  What Cinder doesn't know is that the Emperor, Kai's father, is lying ill with a deadly disease called letumosis, a disease without a cure which is devastating the earth.

Things quickly unravel for Cinder.  Her stepsister Peony, the only person in her small family who actually likes her, catches the disease and is sent to a holding place where she is expected to die quickly.  Since Cinder was with Peony when she became ill, Cinder's stepmother vengefully "volunteers" her for medical research--as a cyborg, she is not considered fully human, and has no rights or independence.  She expects to die as a research subject, as almost none of the cyborgs enrolled as test patients survive.  Surprisingly, she does not.  She is mysteriously immune.  Meanwhile, the Emperor dies, Prince Kai is about to become Emperor in his father's place, and the sinister Queen Levana, ruler of the Lunars (who live on the moon) arrives on earth to  manipulate him into marriage.  Cinder finds herself in a perfect storm of political intrigue, deception, and danger.

The big weakness of this book is that one of the plot points (who is Cinder, really?) is pretty easy to guess from about half-way through--the clues are a little too obvious.  Still, the story is engrossing despite that.  We may know who Cinder is before she does, but we don't know how she's going to get the prince and save the kingdom, or even escape getting squashed by Queen Levana's peculiar ability to "glamour" and control those around her.  Cinder is an interesting heroine which some cool attributes of her own (her cyborg programing allows her to see when people are lying to her, for example).  Since this is a modernized version of the old tale, she is of course conceived of as much more independent and gutsy than the Cinderellas of the past. 

Cinder is the start of a four-book series, which Meyer has stated will each be based on a different fairy tale.  Scarlet is coming out in 2013, Cress in 2014 and Winter in 2015.  Cinder's story is left unfinished, but it looks like the next book will focus on different characters.  Here's a short author interview put out by the publisher:

The Chaos by Nalo Hopkinson

For fans of science fiction and fantasy who have sought and craved non-White voices, characters, and perspectives, the small number of Black writers in these literary genres have provided them few options from which to choose... Nevertheless, recent developments have excited Black speculative fiction and fantasy enthusiasts about the prospects for the fiction of the new millennium to reach into the future and, just as importantly, grapple with issues centuries old and older. At the center of this fervor is the Black speculative fiction and fantasy novelist Nalo Hopkinson, who forever changed the field in the three short years following the 1998 publication of her much-acclaimed novel, Brown Girl in the Ring. Following in the thematic footsteps prefigured by Octavia E. Butler, the first Black female writing speculative fiction and fantasy, and yet writing in an inimitable style no one could have anticipated, Hopkinson makes her fiction as rich as her own background.
Gregory E. Rutledge

The first thing I want to say is that it is a pleasure to read a teen book which features the city of Toronto so graphically and unapologetically.   I could follow the action in The Chaos down to the street. This story had an incredible sense of place for me, partially because it's set in my hometown and I could recognize many landmarks, but also because I think place is one of the things grounding this very unusual book.

 The Chaos is Nalo Hopkinson's first novel for teens, but she has a stellar reputation for her adult work, which has been adopted by the sci-fi/fantasy community although her writing has at times been described as boundary-breaking.  She has won or been nominated for many major awards, including winning the World Fantasy Award for her anthology Skinfolk.  Her themes typically encompass issues of race, culture, queer identity, and history.   Her books have been variously described as urban fantasy, black fiction, occult fiction, speculative fiction and magic realism.  I think the term magic realism applies best to this particular novel, but Hopkinson pushes the genre to it's extreme.  The term that kept coming to mind as I read The Chaos was surrealism.  This novel is a bit like Kafka, a bit like Charles de Lint, but wilder, richer and with more diverse imagery than either of them.  I think what gives it its richness is partly Hopkinson's gift for description, but mostly her ability to mash up the folklore of extremely different cultures without blinking an eye.  As an experienced reader, that's something that appeals to me.  It feels very fresh.   Like Kafka, Hopkinson does not offer explanations for her fantastical situations --we never know exactly what the Chaos is, what drives it or how and why it manifests on earth.  Hopkinson just plunges her heroine into unreality and watches her grow.   This book is going to frustrate readers who want to understand the internal logic of fantasy worlds.  It's going to frustrate readers who like closed endings.  It's even at times going to frustrate readers who want to know what the heck's going on. We don't always know.  To get into this book, you have to let yourself go a little.  But I think it's worth it. 

The plot centres around a young woman, Scotch, who is the child of a white Jamaican father and a black Canadian mother.  Her parents are strict and the atmosphere at home is tense and uncomfortable.  Strange things are happening to Scotch--she keeps getting black, sticky rashes on her skin that mystify doctors and that grow frighteningly quickly, and she has started seeing surreal floating creatures that no one else seems to notice. At an open mic with her older brother, a strange bubble of light appears, and her brother vanishes.  A volcano shoots out of Lake Ontario, mythical creatures take on form and substance, and almost every physical object transforms into something else.  Traffic lights become highlighters, bathroom stalls become singing clock towers.  Scotch's black rash starts to thicken and cover her whole body like a crust, threatening to turn her into a monster, and as she races to find her brother, Baba Yaga and a Rolling Calf (a monster from Jamaican folklore) seem to follow her around.  It's like a crazy, dangerous dream.  But amidst all the panic and confusion, Scotch is given the opportunity to make choices and show courage.  She is given the opportunity to grow. 

I haven't talked at all about the secondary characters and how strong they are, or  about the clever way that Hopkinson smashes all sorts of stereotypes.  This is a book which combines depth with imagination.  I'm not sure it will be the right book for the mainstream teen reader, but for the teen ready for something a bit more experimental, it's a good choice.

Here are some short video clips of Hopkinson discussing influences on her writing:

Runny Babbit: A Billy Sook by Shel Silverstein

I'm not the world's biggest Shel Silverstein fan--I find The Giving Tree kind of creepy--to me that story seems more about ingratitude and disrespect than giving.  Silverstein's poetry books are clever, but I don't always find much depth there.  However, I came across Runny Babbit a few days ago and loved the concept.  Published in 2005, Runny Babbit is a project Silverstein apparently spent over 20 years working on.  The poems not only rhyme, but also feature tongue-tripping nonsense words that can be decoded by switching first letters around.  Here's an example:

THE FUNNY BAMILY

Runny fad a hamily--

Matter of fact, he had

A sother and two bristers,

A dummy and a mad. 

His mamma fed him marrot cilk

And parrot cie and such,

And all of them were happy

In their cozy hunny butch.

I thought this book was hilarious.  But I must report that I didn't get great reviews when I brought it home.

Me (to son who loves funny books):  "Hey, listen to this, Ewan, it's really funny!"  (reads two poems)

Son (with bored look on his face):  "I don't get it."

Not one to be discouraged, I try again.

Me (to husband who is normally incredibly supportive of my bookish enthusiasms):  "Listen, I want to read you something--" (reads one poem).

Husband:  "Yeah.  I've got to read the newspaper." 

So maybe it's just me.  By the way, I love the part in Diary of a Wimpy Kid where a young Greg Heffley's parents tell him that if he gets up in the night he might find Shel Silverstein walking around in their hall, and how much that freaks Greg out.  Can't say I blame him.  This is Silverstein's author photo for The Giving Tree.

Would you want to find this guy prowling your hallway at night? 

Here's one final poem from Runny Babbit:



The Letter Q: Queer Writer's Notes to Their Younger Selves: Sarah Moon, ed.

"To hear the more than 50 contributors tell it, one might think that queer adults mostly end up living in ritzy corners of New York and becoming published authors."  
Kirkus reviews.


"YES!  You actually get to be PUBLISHED!  And you get to be friends with some of your HEROES!  Like oh not to name names but like MAURICE SENDAK!  I know!  I KNOW!  SCREAMMM!"
Gregory Maguire, author of Wicked (among other books) and contributor to The Letter Q.

The Letter Q is associated with The Trevor Project, which in turn is a spin-off of the It Gets Better project.  It Gets Better is a website targeted to LGBTQ youth who are struggling with a lack of acceptance or sometimes outright hostility from those around them. On the It Gets Better website, the message is that "it" (life as a LGBTQ adult) can turn out better than you'd think when you're in high school and people are spitting on you and throwing eggs at your house (or worse).  That queer adult life can, with any luck,  turn out to be not just better but surprisingly rewarding.  Of course, it probably doesn't hurt to have talents like some of the writers here to help you shape a bright, beautiful future.

I feel sad that we still need books like this.  Reassuring as this book is, warm and funny as it sometimes is, understanding as it is, it's still not fair for kids to have to wait to feel good about themselves. It's interesting the importance of coming out to one's family has in these small autobiographies--most contributors had to face lots of angst over this, and some families take years to come together again.

"It will take a good long decade after that first terrible coming out conversation.  (Hang on, Arthur, I swear.)  There will be years when the tension between you and your folks will be nearly unbearable.  But very, very gradually, it will begin to ease."
Arthur Levine

"You will reassure Dad that you don't hate men, especially not him.  He will love you fiercely until his last breath, a shallow inhale that comes just hours before your son is born.  Mom had no intention of pushing you away.  After today, she will tighten her grip, pulling you closer...to torture you.  She will continue to power away at you, doing everything she can to convince you that you are not a lesbian....It will take five years, but Mom will finally realize that she can't change you back...She will cut her losses and love her two grandbabies--and you.

One day many years later you will ask her if she wishes you were straight.  She will hesitate, then say,"I love you just the way you are." You will never forget that."
Linda Villarosa

I don't think this book will have much of an audience outside of its target one--it's a book with a specific purpose, and that's fine.  Most of the contributors are actually not primarily writers for teen readers, and I'm not sure how many of them most teens would recognize.   For queer teens who are currently unfortunate enough to find themselves in difficult circumstances, though, these frank, gentle and understanding messages could be a lifeline.

Here's the somewhat earnest publisher's trailer:

What I Actually Do

Well, actually I don't spend a lot of time balancing beside the bookshelves on one leg...but otherwise, pretty accurate.   

The A-Z of Geekdom by Mark Gonyea

This isn't a real ABC book, but maybe it should be! 

There are one or two I don't get--I guess I'm only 95% geek.  Apparently "Jane, get me off this crazy thing!" is a quote from the opening sequence in "The Jetsons" (I had to google it).

Brought to us by Mark Gonyea, author of A Book About Color;  A Clear and Simple Guide for Young Artists,  A Book About Design:  Complicated Doesn't Make It Good,  and Another Book About Design:  Complicated Doesn't Make It Bad.   

The Unforgotten Coat by Frank Cottrell Boyce

"And, at that moment, I felt my own ignorance spread suddenly out behind me like a pair of wings, and every single thing I didn't know was a feather on those wings.  I could feel them tugging at the air, restless to be airborne."


Reading a book by Frank Cottrell Boyce feels like putting yourself in the hands of a master storyteller.  It's a little bit mesmerizing, a little bit magical.  He's also a writer I love to hear read out loud.  The Unforgotten Coat has a lot in common with his first book, Millions, which I adored;  it's funny, insightful and optimistic,  has a touch of bittersweetness, characters I defy you not to fall in love with,  and writing which just lifts right off the page.  The Unforgotten Coat has a simpler storyline and  is aimed at a younger audience than Boyce's previous works, but it's every bit as sophisticated.  Polaroid photographs are used add a mysterious visual element which expands the story. (The photographs were provided by filmmakers Carl Hunter and Clare Heney, who have worked with Boyce in his other career as a screenwriter.)  And speaking of photographs, I love the cover of this book.  The child, the coat and the title all seem to pop at once--I find it really striking.

The Unforgotten Coat is narrated, in flashback, by Julie, who as a child went to school in the U.K.   When two refugee brothers from Mongolia join her grade 6 class near the end of the school year she is instantly fascinated.  Chingis, the older brother, invites her to be their "good guide" to their new country and Julie gladly takes on the role, hoping to be invited to their home, which she is sure must be full of exotic treasures, just as Chingis and his brother Nergui bring new ideas into Julie's life.

"A few weeks before, I had not known that there was any such thing as a portable bamboo palace.  I hadn't even known there was such a person as Chingis Khan, who had been born with a clot of blood grasped in his fist and who had conquered nearly the entire world in hardly any time at all, sweeping over the steppe into Central Asia and right up to the very gates of Europe.  I hadn't even known there was such a place as the steppe!  The steppe that was flat as pavement but as wide as a sea, with nothing but grass and great bustards.  Wide as a sea and I hadn't even known it was there.  If there were seas of grass and woven palaces in this world, why couldn't there be demons too?  And why wouldn't one of them be crouched on our doorstep on William Morris Avenue right that minute, munching a boy made of dough?"

Julie does her best, but the task of guiding the brothers safely in their new home and culture proves more difficult than she could have known. I don't want to give away the rest of the plot, although I will say it ends, like Millions, with a loss that is healed.  The book was inspired by the very first class visit Boyce made after Millions was published. He met a refugee from Mongolia, a girl named Misheel who "just lit up the room".

"The other children were touchingly proud of her and told me about the time Misheel showed up to the school dance in full Mongolian costume with her elaborate headdress and fabulous robes.  They knew all about Mongolia--its customs and epic landscape--because of her.  Her presence massively enriched their lives...Then once day the Immigration Authorities came and snatched her and her family in the middle of the night.  Misheel managed to get one call through to Sue Kendall before one of the officers grabbed her phone.  And, of course, she has not been seen since...I do know that a country that authorizes its functionaries to snatch children from their beds in the middle of the night can't really be called civilized." 

One of the things I admire most about this book is how dimensional Boyce has made Chingis and Nergui --they are not at all stock "exotic refugee" figures but fully realized individuals, and their world view is treated with a respect that seems to come completely naturally.

Boyce has donated this book to the Reader Organisation, which aims to transform "society's collective approach to reading by making literature accessible, available, emotionally rewarding, and fun."  Hey, that's what librarians want to do too!