March Reading Log

Killer Angel, by George Grant
Dandelion Fire, by N.D. Wilson
Kiss Me, Kill Me, by Lauren Henderson
Gullstruck Island, by Frances Hardinge
KJ Bible: I Chronicles, I Samuel
Marcelo in the Real World, by Francisco Stork
Jane Austen Ruined My Life, by Beth Patillo
The Incredulity of Father Brown, by G.K. Chesterton
The Spellman Files, by Lisa Lutz
Manalive, by G.K. Chesterton

Scoop of the e-e-evening: Gullstruck Island

Ever since reading Fly by Night, I have loved Frances Hardinge. Verdigris Deep got a bit eerie, but it was still amazing. Gullstruck Island shipped from the UK, because I couldn't wait for a US release. Her wicked way with words is like sucking on a cherry jollyrancher.

Gullstruck brings back the glassy, mouth-watering prose and the delicious plot labyrinths that fans have come to expect from Frances, but this time they flavor an intricate fantasy world, where "volcanoes quarrel, beetles sing danger and occasionally, a Lost is born."

In the village of the Hollow Beasts live two sisters. Arilou is a Lost – a child with the power to depart her body and mind-fly with the winds – and Hathin is her helper. Together they hide a dangerous secret. Until sinister events threaten to uncover it. With a blue-skinned hunter on their trail and a dreadlocked warrior beside them, they must escape. Can the fate of two children decide the future of Gullstruck Island?

Now, I'm not really a fan of epic fantasy. Complex worlds with mazy customs and tongue-twisting names are not my cup of tea. So I didn't enjoy Gullstruck Island as much as I enjoyed Hardinge's previous books. But I did enjoy it. And there you have proof of an author's prowess. Her characters reeled me in, despite their regrettable abode in the epic fantasy genre. Ha ha.

(Embarrassing confession: I was all excited to learn that Frances had another book coming out in September--"The Lost Conspiracy." Then a few days later I realized, hello, it's the American title for Gullstruck.

Figure that one out for yourself, did you, Noel? Sigh.)

Scoop of the e-e-evening: Marcelo in the Real World

It’s hard, sometimes, when quiet, thoughtful books run their hands over religion. There’s relief, at first, because for once holy books and holy teachers are taken seriously, but there’s also the temptation to assume that, since the author is shedding light on truth, all his conclusions are truthful. Scraping ointment away from a little fly feels nitpicky in a reviewer, but lumping wisdom with truth feels even worse. There is a difference between the two. A vital difference. So I scrape.

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Marcelo is a teenager with low-functioning Asperger’s syndrome—his brain over-processes information, and requires order above all things. He’s comfortable with the daily routine he has kept for years, but his father thinks it’s time for Marcelo to step out into the real world.

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Marcelo in the Real World stages big questions: with all the suffering in the world, why do we go on living? What if someone doesn’t believe in God? Is He still there? Some of the author’s replies are gorgeously spot-on ... and then, hazy, grey ideas slip through, muddying the waters. “What else can we do but trust that He is at the source of what we feel and hope He is at the end of what we want to do? Trust the sense you have that you are traveling the right direction because, when it comes down to it, that ... is all you have.”

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What about, “If ye abide in my word, ye shall be my disciples indeed; and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” Marcelo may have head knowledge of God, but he doesn’t have the personal relationship that lights a disciple’s path.

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Back and forth. The author reveals blazing brilliance: “Our effort is but a counterpoint in the music of His will.” (Abraham Joshua Heschel) And bland bleating: “She doesn’t need to believe in God or even remember Him to do His work. Her belief is in her deeds, which is okay.... Thoughts about Him are not what He wants. He wants deeds.”

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There’s a lot of wisdom in Marcelo in the Real World, and a bit of truth, as well. The tricky part for teenage readers will be to distinguish between the two.

Scoop of the e-e-evening: Dandelion Fire

You know how sometimes, you step out of the cinema, and all the words and colors and images swirl in your brain, and you can’t settle on one specific moment, but you know it was golden, and suddenly, everywhere, the world is brilliant and hectic and cosmic? Once in a while, paper and black ink become as vivid as that moment outside the cinema. And when they do, book reviews discombobulate into little jots:

Nate Wilson knows the beauty of …

a paradox: Hylfling bows beside Kansas shotguns. An erstwhile dark-caped wizard eating a hotdog.

uncommon language. “[The sapling] was supple, wick with hidden life.”

truth and depth in a two-sided story.

richer-than-black-soil humor.

hidden layers.

twists that glow green and gold in the hollows of your mind, as they connect with true faces from Old Stories

snuggling deeper under the covers, chuckling and reveling in the deliciousness of a tale.

I know several people who’ve told me they just couldn’t get into 100 Cupboards. But for those of you who liked it, even just okay, Dandelion Fire will blow you away.

And may I add that the author’s little finger contains more imaginative plot turns than most three-volume novels?

Hurray for Chestnut King!

Page to Stage

We’re gearing up for our fifth annual De Vries Cousin Drama Camp. This summer’s film is Macbeth, and my sister and I have been adapting a script, an amalgam of “No Fear Shakespeare,” Noel De Vries, and good old Bill (as the playwright says in Nicholas Nickleby.)

I already know what I want to do Summer 2010: The Mennyms, by Sylvia Waugh. If you have not read this amazing British tale, do so without delay. It delighted my ten-year-old imagination, and remains a favorite today. Ten pages into the script, I cannot wait to see my siblings and cousins as the beloved Mennym family! (Um, Marie, I really have been working on Macbeth. I can’t understand how ten pages of Mennym script got onto my laptop…)

We initially wanted to film E. Nesbit’s The Enchanted Castle next year. But that story had its drawbacks. For one thing, we don’t live near any castles.

It got me thinking, though, about all the novels our family loves, and would love to see made into films. We can’t make all of them ourselves, obviously, though that’s the only way they’ll be made to our complete satisfaction. But if the right people were involved… None of your loose adaptations, mind. No film at all is better than something you cry over at nights. But a fantasy list…

My Dream List (live file, of course)

The Blue Castle (L.M. Montgomery)
The Enchanted Castle (E. Nesbit)
The Star of Kazan (Eva Ibbotson)
Meet the Austins (Madeleine L’Engle)
The Brothers Karamasov (Dostoyevsky)

I know there’s a Yul Brynner VHS of Brothers out there somewhere, completely inaccessible to poor people like me. But I’d love to see a dramatic thriller with a ReliantK soundtrack. Intriguing, no?

What are your fantasy films?

All in a day's work

Sometimes my dad worries about my job.

I left a scribbled memo to myself on the kitchen counter:

pick up hatchet at library

He held it up, one eyebrow raised.

I had to explain the Gary Paulsen part.

I'm up at Novel Journey...

You might have read the piece before, since I posted it here a few months ago, but it generated some good comments at Novel Journey. Such as,

It sounds like you are a librarian to the outside world and in your heart. So why not go ahead and get the library science degree that will give you the credentials that will in turn allow you to move up in the library or move to a new library if you ever wish to move?

My answer?

More Gilbert

But we are talking about an artist; and for the enjoyment of the artist the mask must be to some extent molded on the face. What he makes outside him must correspond to something inside him; he can only make his effects out of some of the materials of his soul.

“The Dagger with Wings,” G.K. Chesterton

Rant (heavily influenced by a reading hangover)

Mousy appearances may deceive, but reading addicts feel pain like everyone else.

Next-morning headaches, for one.

Got a new book from the library yesterday, and a juicy BBC period drama from Netflix. Did I let them lie, savoring the anticipation? Dip into a few chapters, then fold some laundry, all the while untangling plot and characters in my head? No. I watched the film, straight through, and then dove into the novel.

By 12:22 am, my binge was over. Silence. Nothing left to look forward to. Do people think we enjoy that feeling? It's gut-wrenching. In the unplumbed depths of our hearts, we wish we'd left a few chapters for tomorrow. But we cannot.

At least I'm admitting I have a problem. :)

Till we are helped as if a kingdom cared

I was just thinking about all the books I've read, because they were mentioned in another book, or how many films I've seen, because they were referenced in a novel, or how many deeds I've done, encouraged by completely fictional characters.

Wanting to watch The Last of the Mohicans and the 6 hour Pride and Prejudice, because of The Year of Secret Assignments.

Reading the Bastable books because of The Magician's Nephew.

Sitting perfectly still in church, and only curling and uncurling my toes, because of The Witch of Blackbird Pond.

Cutting my hair because of Nancy Drew.

Growing out my hair because of Salamanca Hiddle.

Writing our own Pickwick Paper because of Little Women.

Reading Bleak House because of Soobie.

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Drinking milk and eating blueberries because of the Boxcar Children.

Reading Ivanhoe because of Lucy Whipple.

Getting up in the middle of the night to drink cocoa because of Meg Murray.

Stacking green bean cabins because of The Trolls.

Saying "croopus" instead of "crap" because of Dido Twite.

Keeping a Jimmy Book instead of a journal, because of Emily Starr.

Drinking tea obsessively because of Miss Marple.

Writing letters to my siblings from mysterious unknown persons and putting them in the mailbox because of Appleby Mennym.

Singing I'M FINE TOTALLY FINE ALL OF THE TIME while jumping on the bed because of Criss Cross.

How about you?

Let the games begin

So guess what?

The Hunger Games is coming to a theater near you.

(Via The Longstockings)

And I agree with Siobhan, "I hope it's not aged down for a younger audience. It would be so so so awesome if they let it be a real teen-centric thriller, violence and all."

G.K. Chesterton

In December, I was a Chesterton virgin. Tonight, I finished my fourth of his books.

Love Father Brown.

Love Orthodoxy.

And Manalive.

How can you resist:

"Why don't they make more games out of the wind?" he asked in some excitement. "Kites are all right, but why should it only be kites? Why, I thought of three other games for a windy day while I was climbing that tree. Here's one of them: you take a lot of pepper--"

"If we were snowed up in this room, we'd be the better for reading scores of books in that bookcase that we don't even know are there; we'd have talks with each other, good, terrible, talks, that we shall go to the grave without guessing..."

"...a mystic is one who holds that two worlds are better than one."

Go, and read him more.

What's the name of his other leg?

The shoe's on the other foot today. You can read my answers to an author's questions about the life of a youth librarian here.

Marchen Tea

To celebrate Willem Grimm's birthday and Once Upon A Time Day, we held a Marchen Tea. (Extra points for German translation.) Everyone read their favorite fairy tale aloud ... I read Blue Beard. I've loved that story since reading it in a little red hardcover collection at my grandmother's house, years and years ago. My family says I have morbid taste. Be that as it may.

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Pictured below: Chai Cupcakes and Mint Brownie Tarts.

BBC's Jane Eyre

There's nothing like watching Jane Eyre for the dozenth time to reconcile me to being "poor, obscure, plain, and little."

How did those quiet Bronte sisters do it?


(Sidenote: Ellen Page is starring in a new adaption? Eh, sorry, but that just makes me cringe.)

And the winner is ...

Seven names were put into a helmet, but only one was chosen.

Erin! Congratulations on winning The Year the Swallows Came Early. I think you'll really like it. Everyone else, take a trip to your local library.

And you can also still vote me in for a $25 Amazon certificate...

Thanks for participating!