Playing Baseball in SUMMERLAND

Most people know of Michael Chabon for his adult novels, but he also wrote a YA novel, a rollicking romp called Summerland.  Summerland is strange and funny and crazy; it's the kind of book where you just know that the author was having a good time writing it, smiling as the words rolled out onto the page (though I always keep that old mantra in mind when I say things like this: easy reading comes from difficult writing). 

Summerland's protagonist is Ethan Feld, a boy who hates baseball almost as much as his father loves it.  Ethan lives on Clam Island, Washington, he has a best friend named Jennifer T, and he's the worst player on his baseball team.  One morning, Ethan awakes from a freakish baseball nightmare to find a werefox named Cutbelly sitting on his chest.  Cutbelly's opening line captures the mood of Summerland: "My name is Cutbelly.  I am a werefox.  I am seven hundred and sixty-five years old.  I have been sent to offer you everlasting fame and a fantastic destiny" (37).  Cutbelly has arrived to recruit Ethan for a mythical baseball team that can save the world, but at first it certainly seems like Cutbelly has got the wrong man.  It takes a raucous adventure to convince Ethan that he just might have a baseball star inside himself after all.

Summerland is a book for baseball fans and fantasy fans, a book about home runs and Sasquatches and ferishers and giants.  Imagine a fantastical baseball field populated by mythical creatures.  Now stretch that image over a whole world and you've got a sense of the place that is Chabon's novel.  It's a nice place to play for a while.

[Chabon, Michael. Summerland.  New York: Miramax Books, 2002.]

The Decision To Read MARCELO IN THE REAL WORLD Is One You Won't Regret

I know that there are people in the world who don’t believe that a young adult book can also be a great literary novel.  There are books I would suggest to these skeptics, books that are shelved in the YA area that could just as easily wander over into the adult “Literature” section and be comfortably at home.  Many times, these books manage to make the leap over, books that resonate across the generations such as Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief.  I just finished another book that transcends the YA genre into the world of Simply Great Books that anyone of any age should read. 

Marcelo in the Real World by Francisco X. Stork is narrated by Marcelo, a seventeen-year-old boy whose father makes him a deal: if Marcelo works at his father’s law firm for one summer—following all of the rules of the “real world”—Marcelo may return to the private school he’s been attending for his whole life.  If Marcelo fails to complete the job and follow the rules, he will be required to attend a regular high school, a fate Marcelo dreads.

So why has Marcelo attended a special school for all of these years?  Well, that depends on whom you ask, and it’s an ambiguity that Stork hits dead on, a tightrope walk that’s only one of the impressive feats of the novel.  To his son, Marcelo’s father acts as if the special school has been an unnecessary crutch for a perfectly healthy—if slightly quirky—boy.  Yet early in his time at the law firm, Marcelo discovers that his father has described his son as having a “cognitive disorder.”  Other law firm colleagues use less generous labels.  When his new co-worker Jasmine asks Marcelo to describe this “cognitive disorder,” Marcelo—puzzling over his father’s words—tells her the term isn’t accurate.  He tells her that, “From a medical perspective, the closest description of my condition is Asperger’s syndrome…[but] that term is not exactly accurate” (55).  Indeed, there is no “term” that is an exactly accurate definition of Marcelo.  Nor is there a “term” to characterize Marcelo’s father or Jasmine or Rabbi Heschel or Wendell Holmes—the other young intern at the law firm (though I’d hazard to diagnose this last character as a Certifiable Jerk).  And that’s one of the beauties of Marcelo in the Real World.  Marcelo tells his story, but he leaves much in the hands of the reader, which is just how we want it.

Marcelo in the Real World is about society and discomfort and religion and love.  The real world Marcelo finds is not always pleasant or welcoming.  It’s often unjust.  Marcelo—who has a “special interest” in religious texts of all kinds—thinks of Jesus’s advice to “Be in the world but not of the world,” yet admits that “I have not the slightest idea how to accomplish that or even if it’s possible.  The world will always poke you in the chest with its index finger” (201).  Aside from containing one of the most apt metaphors I’ve ever read, Marcelo’s reflection stems from the fact that his new job proves far more complicated than he could have expected.  There are good and wonderful things—especially Jasmine, whom I adore—but there are also rough things, things far uglier than a law partner who calls Marcelo “Gump” and an intern (see jerk diagnosis above) who wants to use Marcelo to get Jasmine onto his boat for less than upstanding purposes.  These other things force Marcelo to make a decision that will affect the rest of his life.

This is a novel about making a decision, a choice in which there is no clear path and negative consequences in every direction.  As Jasmine points out to Marcelo, “Every time you decide, there is loss, no matter how you decide.  It’s always a question of what you cannot afford to lose” (169).  No matter who you are, you know what it feels like to face a tough decision and you will be right there cheering and worrying along with Marcelo.  There are, however, some decisions that aren’t so difficult; picking up Marcelo in the Real World is one of them.  I’m so very glad I did, and I suspect Marcelo and his story will stay with me for a long, long time.

[Stork, Francisco X.  Marcelo in the Real World.  New York: Scholastic, 2009.]

Looking to Add Some New Books to Your List?

The 2010 Cybils were announced today. These are awards given by children's and young adult bloggers, and while I wasn't a participant in the judging (maybe someday!), I've been excited to hear about the 2010 winners, especially in the young adult category. Today it was announced that the winner is Split by Swati Avasthi. This book looks great. I can't wait to read it, and I've added it to my (ever growing) list of soon-to-read books. If you're looking for some new YA books to add to your list, check out the other finalists on the Cybils Website.

Entering the Grey Area in THE ADORATION OF JENNA FOX

I love it when I don’t know how I feel about an issue, when I move from one side to another and back again, trying to find steady ground.  Sometimes I think this comes from years of discussions and debates around the family dinner-table when I was growing up, or maybe it just comes with the territory of being the daughter of a lawyer, but whatever the roots, I’m drawn to books that present a “What if…” question that I’m not quite sure how to answer.  When a story makes me wander into the space of grey, where nothing is black and white and where I sympathize with two very different perspectives, I relish the chance to try and figure out what it is that I believe.

Mary E. Pearson presents this opportunity with her novel The Adoration of Jenna Fox.  It’s a novel that poses difficult questions.  How far should medical science go to prevent death?  How much of my natural-born body and mind is needed to make me, me?  How far would I go to save someone I love: how much would I risk losing if I could keep even just some part of that person alive?

Set in the not-too-distant future, The Adoration of Jenna Fox explores the very biomedical issues our present-day society is venturing into.  How much of a leap is it to imagine bio-engineered bodies when we already have bio-engineered tomatoes?  What about the possibility that all of our new vaccines and medicines are giving viruses the chance to mutate into something we may not be able to cure?  We can download our stories and our pictures and our every passing thought onto computers; how much of our brains can be downloaded, and stored and, possibly, uploaded for future use?  If we could save it all, would we?

Jenna Fox is asking the same questions we all ask, especially when we, like Jenna, are seventeen years old.  Who am I?  Who are my friends?  What makes me different from everyone else?  But Pearson blends big philosophical questions in with Jenna’s search for herself, bringing the reader along with the quest.  And as Jenna notes, “In one moment, one brief glance, reality can flip.  Whatever we believe can vanish.  Believing in something doesn’t make it so” (131). 

While life can be easier—and certainly more comforting—when everything is black and white, we know in our guts everything isn’t so crisp and clear; we know “reality can flip,” and it’s this knowledge drives us deeper and deeper into Pearson’s novel, pulling us to the very last page.

[Pearson, Mary E. The Adoration of Jenna Fox. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2008.]

Opening the Door to KEESHA'S HOUSE

According to Robert Frost, "Poetry is what one hears behind closed doors."  In Keesha's House, multiple narrators take us behind "the wide blue door half hidden by a weeping willow tree," the door of a house that takes in teenagers who need a place to go, for a few days, a few months, for as long as they need--it's a place to go "when you need a home more than you need your pride."  Keesha's House takes readers not only into this house, but also behind the closed doors of each narrator, into their lives, their troubles, their secrets and tragedies and small joys.  And it takes us there in poetry.

Helen Frost interweaves the stories of six teenagers in this novel in poems, and poetry feels like just the right form, for stories that cut deep into the gut.  Frost tells Harris's story.  We see Harris find a note in his locker reading "Die faggot."  We see him get shoved across the cafeteria. We see the assistant principal tell him, "You're too young to make this choice.  Just wait.  There's lots of pretty girls out there."  We see Stephie try to hide her pregnancy from parents who think she's still their little girl.  We see Stephie's boyfriend Jason watch his dreams slip away.  We see Carmen long for her grandmother from a juvenile detention facility and Dontay struggle with his second-tier status as a foster kid.  We see the headline: "Tobias Walker, age fourteen, was found dead Tuesday afternoon."

By the end of Keesha's House it's hard not to look around and try to see deeper into the stories behind any stranger.  And it's impossible not to see "the value of a house like this."  Not just the house that takes people in when its raining and there's no place else to go, but a book like this, that takes in characters who need their stories told.

Emily Dickinson wrote, "If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire could ever warm me, I know that is poetry.  If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry."

I know Keesha's House is poetry.

[Frost, Helen.  Keesha's House.  New York: Frances Foster Books, 2003.]

Pink Hair, Hollywood, Crazy Families and Good Friends in ABSOLUTELY MAYBE

I’ve wanted to read one of Lisa Yee’s books for a long time.  Not just because they sound awesome, but because she does too.  I’ve been a member of The Society of Children’s Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) for a few years now—if you have an interest in children’s books, get yourself to their website and join, pronto!—and she’s one of the (many) authors who seems to have a really positive presence in the organization.  I’ve seen her answer the message board posts of other (often aspiring) writers, and she just seems, well, really super nice.  So when I was browsing my local bookstore the other day and came across a book called Absolutely Maybe (featuring a pink-haired girl on the cover) by Lisa Yee, I snatched it up.

“Maybe” is short for Maybelline (well, actually, it’s short for Maybelline Mary Katherine Mary Ann Chestnut), the protagonist of Lisa Yee’s sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking YA novel.  The plotline (in a sentence) is this: Maybe drives across the country from Florida to Hollywood to find the father she’s never met.  But the heart of Absolutely Maybe doesn’t lie with the plot.  It lies with the characters.

At one point, early in their journey, Maybe looks at herself and her two best friends through the eyes of a waitress at a roadside diner: “The waitress stares at us like she’s never seen a white boy with and Afro, a Thai boy with slicked-up hair, and a Goth girl with pink hair” (45).  The waitress can’t see Ted’s ability to make Maybe laugh even when things seem to be at their worse (and they get pretty bad) or Hollywood/Daniel’s unwavering devotion to Maybe and his dream of filmmaking.  The stranger taking orders can’t see any of the things that make Maybe endearing to her two best friends, and actually, neither can Maybe.  So, yah.  She’s looking for more than just her dad.  Even if she doesn’t quite know it.

Ted and Hollywood/Daniel are really great—and unique—sidekicks, but Yee’s roll of memorable characters doesn’t stop with them.  There’s Jess, who works in a Taco truck, introduces Maybe to the wonders of perfect carnitas, and offers Maybe both friendship and a much-needed job.  There’s Maybe’s ex-stepdad Sammy, his girlfriend Willow, and the beastly girls who attend Maybe’s mom’s charm school.  And then there’s Chessy.  Maybe’s mom.  A larger than life character (she wears the shoulder pads to prove it) who’s a presence, always, even when Maybe’s thousands of miles away.

I’d recommend Absolutely Maybe to anyone looking for a realistic story with a little drama and a little humor and a lot of surprising and interesting and unusual characters.  I’d recommend it to people who like stories about friendship or family problems or running away to a new place.  I’d recommend it to readers who have an interest in film and those who haven’t quite figured out what their interests are.  And last, but not least, if you’ve ever though about dying your hair blue or pink or green or, even, cutting it all off, you might find a kindred spirit in Maybe.  It’s absolutely maybe possible that you’ll find something you didn’t even realize you were looking for.

[Yee, Lisa. Absolutely Maybe. New York: Scholastic, 2010.]

BOOKLIST: Novels Featuring Music and Musicians

I haven’t done a themed booklist for a while (though I've got a few in the works).  Still, I've noticed that many of the books I’ve been reading lately have had a common theme: music.  So I figured I’d compile my next booklist with these recent reads as my inspiration.  Whether you play in a band or sing in the shower or just enjoy listening to music—any kind of music—you might consider trying one of the books on this list.  You can almost hear the songs playing as you read, be they crazy loud tunes on your car stereo (Just Listen), the sweet classical notes of a cello (If I Stay), or operettas sung amidst terrorists (Bel Canto).  Here are a few musical novels...

Just Listen by Sarah Dessen

This Lullaby by Sarah Dessen

Fat Kid Rules the World by K.L. Going

King Dork by Frank Portman

If I Stay by Gayle Forman

Bel Canto Ann Patchett

This list is just a start.  I’m hoping to add more titles as I discover them, but if you’re already looking for more, here’s a link to an article from the Los Angeles Times called “Young Adult Books That Rock: A Beginners List” for more ideas that will feed your musical soul.