Life in miniatures

My first read for 2015 arrived with a lot of hype riding on it. Unfortunately, Jessie Burton's debut novel, The Miniaturist, doesn't live up to it. It's entertaining, yes, but I got a feeling of want after turning the last page. And my immediate reaction was, "That's it?"

Burton's novel concerns itself with one Petronella Oortman, a 17-year-old who arrives in Amsterdan to join her husband, the wealthy Johannes Brandt, after their arranged marriage. Johannes doesn't have that much time for Nella, being a busy merchant trader that he is, and leaves her to the company of her spinster-ish sister, Marin Brandt.

Nella and Marin don't hit it off. Ah, the usual in-law rivalry. So what is Nella to do to while away her days of ennui? Apparently, nothing. Just go through with being a trophy wife. But then Johannes gifts her with a cabinet-sized replica of the Brandt home. Nella decides to hire the services of a mysterious miniaturist, who has an uncanny ability to produce miniatures that mimic what is happening in real-time in the Brandt household.

My first read for 2015

Who is this miniaturist? How come he or she somehow predicts events through the miniatures that he or she creates? When one of their dogs gets killed, for example, the replica has a blood stain on it. And what the hell's the matter with Johannes and his non-ability to consummate the marriage? And how about Marin? Why is she so bitchy all the time?

The Miniaturist does provide answers to these questions. But the way it does so has the feel of lazy storytelling. The miniaturist turns out to be a woman, who has the supernatural ability to "see." Sounds simplistic? It is. Oh, and Johannes turns out to be gay, which explains his inability to keep it "up" even when Nella attempts to cop a feel. Marin turns out to have been involved with a man who seems to be Johannes's nemesis in the heavily enterprising world of 17th century Amsterdam.

The clichés continue to pile up on top. Marin becomes pregnant with their black servant. When Johannes find himself imprison for the crime of sodomy, it is Nella who takes over the business. Somehow, we're made to believe that Nella acquires her business acumen overnight. And for the life of me, I can't figure out why Nella feels to have this deep connection with her husband even when they've hardly spent any time together. It's a mystery.

The Miniaturist could've been a beguiling piece of historical fiction. All the elements are there—manipulative in-laws, nosey househelp, devious businessmen and their wives, and nail-biting courtroom drama. But Burton just skims over these aspects. What you get is just a watered-down atmosphere of Amsterdam in the 1600s, which just feels damp and cold all the time.

Read this book if:

1. You find doll houses creepy.
2. You're into historical fiction.
3. You're curious about the hype.

Of collaborators and resistance fighters

I guess I spoke too soon when I posted my 10 favorite reads for 2013 in the previous post. I never knew that I'd be making a late addition to it, and it's this debut novel by Laurent Binet—HHhH. Somehow, I'm glad that this would probably be the last book that I'll be reading for the year, for HHhH is one truly glorious read.

HHhH is Laurent Binet's debut novel, but it doesn't feel like it. This historical novel really makes other books in the genre feel like they've been written by history undergraduates who are just too lazy with their research. If there's anything that Binet pulls off in this novel, these are the meticulous details that make HHhH very richly textured.

HHhH stands for "Himmlers Hirn heisst Heydrich" or Himmler's brain is called Heydrich." Now, Heydrich: If there's one man more feared that Hitler during WW2, it was this blond who was responsible for carrying out the Jewish solution, the systematic killing of Jews. I can't imagine how one person can think of all those gruesome ways just to exterminate a group of people. But Heydrich was able to do it, until he died of an infection after an assassination attempt.

So HHhH is about how two exiled operatives living in London were able to change the course of this dark period in our history. And these two are Josef Gabcík and Jan Kubiš, a Slovak and a Czech, resistance fighters extraordinare. I have much admiration for these men after reading the novel. I wouldn't have the courage to go into enemy territory and plot to kill a person so close to Hitler. You know that if you've been tasked to do this mission, there really is no coming back.

Most of the chapters of the novel focus on Reinhard Heydrich though. It provides details from his youth up to his quick rise leading to Hitler's cabinet. The Blond Beast, everyone called Heydrich, for he really had those "prized" Aryan features—he was tall, had blue eyes, and striking blond hair. But what makes Heydrich truly Hitler's soldier is that he shared the Führer's plan—to rid all of Europe of Jews.

The novel's very postmodern in its narrative. Oftentimes, the narrator strikes a conversation with the readers, telling us how such and such detail were arrived at. And the narrator can be funny too, especially when he mentions how certain dialogues by famous men in history can never be truly confirmed. When the narrative makes way for conversation, the narrator is quick to point out this caveat. In a way, this technique seems to be quite endearing, as if the author makes fun of himself or at least criticizes the way he presents his story.

Because HHhH is about an assassination, it reads like a thriller and adventure story. How can it not be, no? At the part where the actual assassination is described, the reader is left breathless. And during the hair-rising climax when the resistance fighters were trapped in a church surrounded by Nazi stormtroopers, you can't help but root for them, even though you know that that's one situation where it's impossible to get out of.

I just wish that there were many historical novels written this way. History is exciting. We shouldn't be forced to read boring texts about events that influenced how we are now. I think this is why I loved HHhH so much. It shows us that history was made by people, and that these people thought of us when they risked their lives or did remarkable things.

Read this book if:

1. You love historical fiction.
2. You want to give postmodern novels a try.
3. You are, like I am, fascinated by all things related to WW2

I kissed a goose girl and I liked it

When I bought Shannon Hale's The Goose Girl, a very dear friend remarked, quite amusedly, "Oh, what's that?" Perhaps he was taken aback by the somewhat cheesy cover. Or maybe the weird title set him off. I couldn't blame him though—the cover is quite fluffy and the title, well, it's just one of those less familiar fairy tales by the Grimm brothers.

So yes, Hale's The Goose Girl is a retelling of a fairy tale. (You can read the original version here.) But it's a retelling that kept me entertained during a holiday. The young adult novel is Hale's debut, and it has become so widely read that 3 more books followed it, making up "The Books of Bayern" series.

Our goose girl is Crown Princess Ani of the kingdom of Kildenree, who gets betrothed against her will to a prince of the neighboring kingdom of Bayern. We can say that Ani was probably a fish out of water in her native land, where people see her ability of speaking to animals as a very unnatural gift. It doesn't help that her mother, the queen, sees her as being unfit to rule, forcing to queen to promise the crown to the second-born prince.

So Ani is whisked away to that unfamiliar kingdom with her small band of royal guards and Selia, her lady-in-waiting, who has other plans of her own once they reach Bayern. Selia manages to raise a mutiny while in transit and assumes the identity of Princess Ani, who escapes and finds herself in the employ of the palace—as the girl who tend to the king's 50 geese. And as goose girl, she befriends the other people under the king's employ, people who, despite being Bayern natives, still feel alienated. In Bayern, there appears to be a rough stratification of its citizens, with people who come from the outside forests being treated as second class.

At heart, The Goose Girl is a coming-of-age story. At the beginning of the novel, Ani seems to just go with whatever people decide for her. She doesn't even see the value of being the crown princess. But she comes to a beautiful bloom as the goose girl: appreciating the value of hard work, realizing the importance of forming true friendships, coming to terms of who she really is, and even falling in love with an elusive character. One can't help but love Ani, and one does wish that she makes everything right.

The Goose Girl, being a fairy tale, has a happy ending. But this conclusion doesn't feel contrived at all, which is so unlike the denouements in fairy tales wherein everything becomes conveniently right. Ani uses her gift in a pivotal fight sequence. In a way, she "works" to make things right. And the reader might feel giddy to discover the true identity of our elusive boy.

It's not all fluff though. Hale gives us a few bloody fight scenes. And Selia's way of talking to Ani can come off as very bitchy. (A modern retelling indeed!) But let's face it, we read these stories because we want to feel good. Because fairy tales, no matter how fantastical they may seem, make us want to believe that the betrayed princess gets her crown, traitorous people get punished and sometimes killed, true friends are rewarded, and people live happily ever after.

Read this book if:

1. You love modern retellings of fairy tales.
2. You always felt that you can speak to animals.
3. You're dissatisfied with the usual fairy-tale endings.

Choose kindness

If there's one message that R. J. Palacio's novel, Wonder, conveyed to me, it's the idea that one should kindness. I do believe that it's kindness that's lacking in our world today. If we all choose to be kind, instead of choosing to be right, then everything might just be a little bit better, yes?

I'm getting a feeling that the writer might be referring to the act of kindness being extended to a person who haven't been a frequent recipient of it. In her debut novel, that person is one kid named August Pullman. Now why should people choose to be kind to him,  you might wonder. Well, Auggie, has been born with several defects, causing his face to have several deformities.

It's hard to picture what Auggie looks like. In the novel, he always says that he looks much worse that you could imagine. He mentions that his eyes droop to the level of his cheeks, that he has a perennial scowl, that his ears look like clenched fists, that his hip bone was grafted to his face so that he could at least have the semblance of a jaw. Are you picturing it already, dear reader?

But Auggie is one tough kid. Despite having been home schooled until the 4th grade, he goes along with his parents' decision to enter 5th grade in a prep school. I begin to recall what 5th grade was like for me. And I can't help but think that Auggie might have made the wrong decision. Grade schoolers can be pretty mean with the things they say. And it's around that time that they form cliques. I have my doubts as to the survival of Auggie.

And yet, Auggie develops real friendships in his school, with a group of people who choose to be kind to him. It is kindness that motivates Jack Will, a popular kid, and Summer, a budding writer, to befriend Auggie. It is not necessarily kindness though that made them stay friends with him, for they discover that Auggie is funny, smart, sensitive, and very friendly. Indeed, kindness paved the way.

I particularly liked the character of Jack Will. Like everyone else, he feels uncomfortable meeting Auggie for the first time. But pretty soon, Jack Will becomes Auggie most ardent protector. Yes, these two had some rough patches, especially when Auggie overhears Jack Will saying something to other students that he's rather die than be friends with Auggie. But all these things are just your typical situations in grade school, I think. And the way that these two become friends again, by a thread of email exchanges, is quite amusing.

Wonder is the kind of novel that you go through in one sitting. It's very episodic, with the book being divided into chapters written in the perspective of the different characters. Wonder is wonderful. It brings back fond memories in grade school when friends were someone you share lunch tables with and your teachers are people you really look up to as your second parents. Grade school was such a magical and wonderful time for me.

I loved Auggie, Summer, Charlotte, and even the school bullies who eventually make amends with Auggie. I loved Auggie's sister, Via, who overcomes her insecurities and realizes her place in the family. I loved Via's friend, Miranda, who treated Auggie as her brother. I loved Via's boyfriend, Justin, who is an adorable dork. Most of all, I loved Jack Will, who stuck with Auggie and made the good decision to be kind to him.

Read this book if:

1. You had a wonderful time in grade school.
2. You think that the friends you made in grade school are the best people in the world.
3. You choose to be kind.

Heartbreaking and beautiful

John Corey Whaley's debut work, Where Things Come Back, is one of those young adult novels with big messages about second chances, family, and interconnected lives. But unlike your usual YA novel, Where Things Come Back works because it isn't sappy and cloying at all.

I'm reminded of Melinda Marchetta's Jellicoe Road, which has a dual narrative. In Whaley's novel, well at least at the start, we read alternating chapters featuring a 17-year-old named Cullen Whitter who lives in a town in Arkansas and a young missionary in Africa who's looking for meaning in his life. Two lives set continents apart. And this is one of the reasons that makes this novel suspenseful: how on earth could the author establish the connection between these two completely disconnected story lines.

I think most readers would be able to identify with Cullen. He's your typical introverted American teenager living in a very small and dull town. Cullen's life soon becomes non-typical, with the disappearance of her gifted younger brother and the appearance of the Lazarus Woodpecker (long believed to be extinct) in their town. In Where Things Come Back, it is the woodpecker which somehow symbolizes the hope that things and people can come back. It's a pipe dream though, as the woodpecker is never actually seen and Cullen's brother won't be coming back ever. (Of course, I don't want to spoil the reason for his brother's disappearance.)

But everything ties up so neatly that I was surprised at how logical all the connections were. You know the gripe some people have with George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, wherein he kills off his major characters just when you've started rooting for them? Well, Whaley pulls something like that in his debut novel. Characters take several steps back for other characters to play out their roles. The young missionary dies midway into the novel, paving the way for his college roommate to bring the novel into a climax.

A lot has been said about this debut novel. Where Things Come Back did win the 2012 Michael L. Printz and the William C. Morris Debut awards. Totally deserving, if I may say so. And if you're looking for a heartbreaking and beautiful read, this novel might just be it.

Read this book if:

1. You like debut YA fiction.
2. You've lived in a small and idyllic town yourself.
3. You know that everyone deserves second chances.

This needs more kink

Okay, let's get a few things out of the way. Yes, the writing's bad. Yes, there are a few phrases that can boggle the imagination (e.g., Laters, baby.). Yes, I fell into the hype. With that being said, let's focus on other things about Fifty Shades of Grey, shall we?

There's Christian Grey. One word—hot. But this hotness has its caveat, for Christian has this Red Room of Pain. The RRP is where he unleashes all his carnal desires on women (all of them brunettes) in BDSM scenarios. He's also filthy rich. You can't get wrong with hot and rich, no?

There's Anastasia Steele. One word—bland. Well, she appears bland in the first few chapters but somehow finds her own spirit at the latter half of the book. I find it unbelievable that she finds herself not good looking. After all, two apparently hunky guys have the hots for her.

So these two engage in a contract, where Ana becomes Christian's submissive. All subs need to sign a non-disclosure agreement. That's romance for you! A good chunk of Fifty Shades of Grey is about Ana's negotiations with Christian. The BDSM newbie will learn a lot here. Safewords, soft and hard limits, vaginal fisting, whatnot.

It is this contract which I find problematic, something that steers the reader toward a disappointment. With all the funky details in the contract, I was expecting something more, well, graphic and intense. I love vanilla. But I would really like to read BDSM, especially if the reader has been primed for it. But E L James holds out on the kink. The scenes are not just too kinky enough.

I've been restraining myself from counting all the sex scenes in FSoG and then categorizing them as vanilla or BDSM. But a quick scan through the pages made me think that, for all its hype, the book is rather tame. Women, you don't need your tissues.

So that's my main beef against this book. I wanted my kink! I wanted to read about Ana being slapped, whipped, and poked with toys. I wanted scenarios where Ana will scream the safeword. I wanted Christian to be uninhinbited.

I had no issues with what kind of relationship these two are in. Goodness, they've entered into a 'legal' agreement! I don't get why people are calling Ana a disgrace to women. Ana's intelligent. She's an adult who knows what she's getting into. She has spunk. In a way, she's with the man of her deepest desires.

All in all, I did find Fifty Shades of Grey rather entertaining. And I do get the hype. If you're prepared to not take particular attention to the narrative, you'll definitely be entertained to. Let's face it—sex sells, no matter how badly it is written.

Read this book if:

1. You want to find out what all the fuss is about.
2. You love your vanilla, but you crave for rocky road sometimes.
3. You have no problems with "Laters, baby."

Wonderful debut fiction

There's always a thrill in discovering new talent. You pick up a book, have no expectations whatsoever, and end up loving the work. Well, that's not exactly the case between me and Karen Thompson Walker. I've heard so much about this author and how good her debut novel is. So I thought it's time to check out the hype.

Fortunately, the hype is more than merited! Walker's novel, The Age of Miracles, is a wonderful read. It's one of the best coming-of-age stories I've read recently, and it's both heartbreaking and hopeful.

The narrator is 11-year-old Julia, an only child who is one very introspective individual. One day, for reasons not really specified in the novel, the earth's spin has slowed down, resulting in cataclysmic changes in nature and in the way people go about their daily lives. It is this slowing that provides the device for Julia to tell her story.

Oh no, The Age of Miracles isn't sci-fi. The focus here is not on the changes to the earth's weather systems, or the eventual disruption of the food chain because of the extinction of plants, or the circadian rhythms of the animal kingdom. It's still about Julia and her family. Julia's dad is shown here as a sympathetic character, even though Julia finds out that he's been having a relationship with their next door neighbor, the piano teacher. Julia's mother embodies what happens to a person in this weird times, one who experiences the "syndrome," an illness brought about by the slowing. She is oftentimes hysterical and unstable.

Julia, despite her age, tries her best to cope with her parents' seemingly dwindling relationship, but it is through her that her parents work things out. She also has her first romantic relationship with a boy from school. Be prepared though for how this relationship would end. It just broke my heart when I read that part.

There's a lot of people that we encounter through Julia's eyes. There's her eccentric grandfather who collects things and is obsessed with cataloging them for the end times. There are the kids at her school, who provide the reader with the effects of the slowing among people Julia's age. There's her piano teacher who is one of those people who continues to stick to "real time," sleeping by night and going about through the day, even though the hours of the days and nights continue to increase. Through Julia's family, we see how people cope with this strange phenomena by following the government's orders of "clock time."

The Age of Miracles has a very beautifully controlled narrative. And it seems that Walker certainly possesses the writing talent. I'm guessing it has something to do with her being an editor of Simon & Schuster, having been exposed to different writing styles, and learning to identify what works with readers. Her debut novel is an auspicious one, and it's a work that definitely earned all the positive word-of-mouth.

So, dear reader, I now have another author who's going to be under my radar. Here's to reading more debut fiction and discovering new talent.

Read this book if:

1. You love debut fiction.
2. You're in the mood for a good coming-of-age novel.
3. You've always been curious about what would happen should our planet slow down on its spin.

Don't let the cover deceive you

First, this isn't really a hardcore love story, despite the screaming red cover. Second, being a work by Alain de Botton, it's more of a philosophical discourse than fiction.

While de Botton does present a male (the unnamed narrator) and a female (Chloe) character, he simply makes use of these characters as evidence, if you will, of what happens when two people have a connection and fall in love.

In the book, we examine why people are inexplicably drawn to one another, go through the motions of a relationship, have trivial and significant arguments, drift away, cheat on one another, and sometimes fall out of love. The chapters are something like theses on love and its many aspects -- intimacy, seduction, and even 'romantic terrorism'.

Love had to be appreciated without flight into dogmatic optimism or pessimism, without constructing a philosophy of one's fears, or a morality of one's disappointments. Love taught the analytic mind a certain humility, the lesson that however it struggled to reach immobile certainties (numbering its conclusions and embedding them in neat series), analysis could never be anything but flawed -- and therefore never stray far from the ironic. [page 194]

This slim work of 'fiction', the debut of Alain de Botton, is not to be missed. While some of the sections may make your eyes glaze over, the novel's ideas about this complex emotion are fascinating to read.

A very heartbreaking love story

Hmmm . . . love stories. Just the thought of holding a book about love is enough to make my teeth ache. It's a good thing that I didn't know that Madeline Miller's debut novel, The Song of Achilles, is rooted on love, and a very different kind of love at that.

The Song of Achilles, at its core, is about the bond between two men -- Patroclus and Achilles. The novel opens during Patroclus's childhood, when he was exiled to the land of Phthia. The son of a lesser king, Patroclus meets Achilles during his exile, for Phthia is the land of Peleus, an honorable king and the father of Achilles. It is in Phthia where Achilles decides to take Patroclus as companion. Patroclus even follows to Mount Pelion, where he and Achilles are taught by the centaur Chiron.

Of course, as the novel is rooted in mythology, there will be prophecies. And one such prophecy is the death of Achilles after he slays Hector in the siege of Troy. Achilles, having been known as the best of the Greeks, take part in the campaign to get Helen and return her to her husband, Melanaus.

We all know that Achilles dies, but Miller chooses to focus instead on the sacrifice made by Patroclus. In Patroclus, we have a character who embodies the concept of unselfish love. He knows that Achilles will die, he knows that there can be no redeeming aspect in the war against Troy. Still, Patroclus does take part in the battle, causing him his life and Achilles's despair.

He weeps as he lifts me onto our bed. My corpse sags; it is warm in the tent, and the smell will come soon. He does not seem to care. He holds me all night long, pressing my cold hands to his mouth. [page 340]

The Song of Achilles is one tender love story involving two very different characters -- Patroclus, the disgraced and clumsy son of a lesser king, and Achilles, the golden hero and the son of a goddess. I'm not sure if this romantic concept is based on the Iliad, but I couldn't care less. The novel is such a joy to read.

The author has a background on Latin and Ancient Greek, and she's been known to make modern adaptations of classical tales. Yay! Maybe this means that she'll be writing another captivating novel soon! But for the meantime, I think I'll be reading the Iliad, after having been inspired by The Song of Achilles.

Read this book if:

1. You love mythology.
2. You want a different take on the siege of Troy.
3. You're into debut fiction.

Spoof-y

Daniel O'Malley's debut novel, The Rook, took me by surprise. I wasn't expecting to like it that much, considering that I'm not really into the fantasy-action-supernatural genre. This was an impulse purchase. Normally, I Google the books that I've been meaning to buy, checking out what other people say about them. However, The Rook floored me. I was extremely entertained by it.

O'Malley, in the opening chapter of the novel, presents us his heroine, one Myfanwy Thomas. (The w is silent and the f hard, rhyming with Tiffany.) Myfanwy awakes with no recollection of her own self and with dead bodies in latex gloves lying around her. The opening statement is enough to arrest you:

Dear You,

The body you are wearing used to be mine. [page 1]

It turns out that Myfanwy's former self was anticipating this memory loss and has decided to write letters to her new self to explain what she is and what she does for a living. Through these letters she discovers that her official title is Rook Thomas and that she's part of an ultra-secret organization called the Checquy Group, which is made up of retainers, pawns, and the Court. The Checquy apprently handles troublesome supernatural cases. She also learns that she has powers to control the people around her, and that her touch can be fatal if she wills it. Nevertheless, the new Mywanwy is peeved to find out that, despite these powers, her old self was a meek persona who was more comfortable dealing the Court's administrative functions instead of doing 'field work'.

The concept of the Court is particularly intriguing, as it is rooted in the game of chess. We have pawns who do the dirty work under the supervision of the Court. The Court itself is made of 8 individuals with supernatural abilities: 2 rooks, 2 chevaliers, 2 bishops, 1 lady, and 1 lord. Reading each of the characters that make up the Court is a delight. Rook Thomas's counterpart, Gestalt, is 1 individual that commands 4 bodies. One bishop is a vampire. And the Court's very regal lady can enter your dreams.

As I was reading The Rook, I realized that it reminded me of many pop cultural references. The varied abilities of the Court alludes to the X-Men. The school were students are trained call to mind Professor Xavier's School or, at the very least, Harry Potter's Hogwarts. The cases that Rook Thomas gets involved in, with the many instances of slime and ectoplasm appearances, is like The Ghostbusters. Add to that the bureaucracy and the efficiency of the organization, and you also get James Bond or Mission Impossible. The apparent 'spoofiness' of the novel never goes overboard. It's a fun read, I tell you.

So back to Rook Thomas. It appears that the Court has been infiltrated and that the former Rook Thomas has unearthed it. It is this mystery, this unravelling of the conspiracy if you will, that propels the story. It's a wonder to read the various letters that the old Mywanwy wrote for her new self, which are interspersed into the main storyline. O'Malley's novel is also very funny. If you like wry British humor, you'll be hooked with The Rook.

I was initially turned off by the book's length. (The hardback is close to 500 pages!) But The Rook's taxi-meter pace works to the reader's advantage. It's hard to put down a novel when each chapter has an action scene involving a flesh-eating blob, a hatching of a dragon gone wrong, a house overran by a religious cult which is in turn overran by ectoplasm, among other things. Oh, the wonders never cease.

A caveat: The Rook might just be the first in a trilogy or a series. While the main story does come to a close, it isn't as clean and complete as some people would have it. It seems O'Malley has set the stage for the next novel. I am keeping my fingers crossed that it would be as enjoyable as his first.

Read this book if:

1. You know that there just might really be an organization that protects us from supernatural creatures.
2. You can suspend your disbelief for extremely outrageous stuff.
3. You like chess.
   

Read this book aloud

If you're a big fan of the works of Dr. Seuss, then you'll surely appreciate Robert Paul Weston's wonderful children's book, Zorgamazoo. It's a fictional work that is entirely written in verse, which I think is a feat in itself.

Here is a story
that's stanger than strange.
Before we begin you may want to arrange:

a blanket,
a cushion,
a comfortable seat,
and maybe some cocoa and something to eat. [page 3]

Zorgamazoo is about two characters, a human named Katrina and a zorgle named Morty, and how they embark on an adventure that's truly out of this world.

Weston writes about a world underneath our normal one, where strange-looking creatures live. It's a place called Zorgamazoo populated by ogres, mermaids, fairies, and other fantastical creatures. And one day, all these creatures mysteriously disappear. Morty unwillingly embarks on the quest after having his name drawn in a lottery. Katrina, on the other hand, is a girl always on the lookout for adventure. It's a mismatch ripe for many possibilities.


It becomes impossible for the reader to not go through this book in one sitting. For one, the illustrations of Victor Rivas Villa, which appear at the start of every chapter and intermittently in the inside pages, are delightful. His style is very distinct and quite appropriate for children.


I also think that the publisher made it a point to vary the typefaces used for some words, probably to avoid the monotony of having chunks of stanzas on every page. It's a very good technique, if I may say so, for it highlights some of the key words in the story. Katrina's name for example, when it appears in full in the text, is written in large classic serif type.


Of course, the main reason a lot of people would love this book is Weston's witty verse. There's a pleasant rhythm when you read the stanzas aloud. There's never an awkward nor a contrived line. Everything works perfectly. This is a book that you read to your children as you tuck them in bed.

And you better be careful when you take this book somewhere public like in a bus or the library. You won't be able to stop yourself from reading Weston's fabulous verse out loud.

Read this book if:

1. You love reading text that rhymes.
2. You're always on the lookout for wonderful debut fiction.
   
3. You can't get enough of reading books aloud.
   

Give it up for Saba

There's another dystopian novel that everyone's talking about -- Moira Young's debut novel Blood Red Road. It has recently won the Costa for Best Young Adult Novel, so I think that more and more people will be discovering this satisfying work of contemporary YA fiction.

Young's protagonist, Saba, is predictably strong willed. Saba lives in a dried-up area called Silverlake with her father, her twin brother Lugh, and her youngest sister Emmi. One day, a group of hooded riders abduct Lugh. Saba's father is also killed, and Saba promises to herself that she'll do whatever it takes to get Lugh back.

In the world of Blood Red Road, I kept asking myself where could Silverlake be? I keep thinking that it's somewhere in North America, where the weather has been so f****d up that it hardly rains anymore, resulting in the land's arid climate. Young never does disclose where Silverlake is, much less the reasons for Earth's condition in the novel. I guess it's a technique to compel readers to anticipate the rest of the books of the trilogy.

The language of the novel is something that takes getting used to. It's made up of broken English with hardly any regard for tenses, subject-verb agreements (gasp!), and punctuation marks to set off dialogue. Still, the rhythm of Young's dialogue is very engaging that I never did pay attention to these details while I was reading.

The day's hot. So hot an dry that all I can taste in my mouth is dust. The kinda white heat day when you can hear th'earth crack.
We ain't had a drop of rain fer near six months now. Even the spring that feeds the lake's startin to run dry. You gotta walk some ways out now to fill a bucket. Pretty soon, there won't be no point in callin it by its name. [page 7]

Of course, there's so much more to this novel than just a story about one girl's quest. While the world building isn't as extensive as fantasy readers are used to, the circumstances in Blood Red Road did appeal to my love of the escapist and the speculative. It's a world where people have been addicted to a drug called chaal, which is controlled by a very powerful king called Pinch. And Saba's twin somehow plays a role in keeping the king in power for the next 6 years.

There's something derivative about Blood Red Road though. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it's the story of the quest. Or perhaps Saba's nature which can get quite predictable in this genre. Nevertheless, Young's debut is outstanding. It is difficult to write another dystopian novel at a time when The Hunger Games is extremely popular. But Blood Red Road is more grounded in its themes, more plausible in its story. And for a first book of a trilogy, it has successfully done its purpose -- to make the reader hungry for the next book.

Read this book if:

1. You love dystopian fiction.
2. Broken English narrative doesn't bother you.
3. You can be patient in waiting for the rest of the books of a trilogy or series.

What if your memory fails you every day?

Imagine, if you will, waking up every morning with absolutely no recollection at all of the past several years. Imagine seeing a stranger next to you in bed only to find out that he's your husband. Imagine looking yourself at the mirror and getting confused with all the age lines that you see in your face, for you remember being only in your 20s when you went to bed. In S. J. Watson's debut novel, Before I Go to Sleep, these are exactly what happen to Christine Lucas the moment she first opens her eyes in the morning.

Christine has amnesia. She can't recall the details of what happened to her for the past several years. She's had this condition for more than 20 years, a condition brought about by an accident, which her husband Ben tells her.

So you might be thinking that Christine's husband is a dearie, right? Explaining to Christine every day for the past 20 years who he is and telling her about her amnesia. It must be nerve wracking to be in Christine's shoes. I'd seriously consider killing myself if I were in my shoes. Thankfully, she discovers that she has a journal, one that she's writing on every day recently. The journal also tells her one important thing. Written on the first page of it is this sentence:

Don't trust Ben.

It's chilling reading that sentence. Just 3 words. Three words that somehow turn the novel into a very engaging one. Yes, Before I Go to Sleep is a thriller. And what's more interesting is, you find yourself really curious as to how Christine can get herself out of the situation she's in.
Something's definitely not right with the things Ben keeps telling her. Ben mentioned that they didn't have kids, that her accident caused her amnesia, that she was a lowly clerk at some office. But Christine has occasional flashes of memory: a son named Adam, a best friend, an affair, a sexual assault.

Watson's novel is one of the most entertaining novels I've read in years. I found it refreshing that the novel just focused in on a few characters, allowing him the leverage of wonderful character development. Everyone would love Christine and be distrustful of Ben. Although, some readers would definitely be put off by the apparent black-and-white attributes of the characters.

But what I found even more compelling is how Watson throws something to the reader from the left field. Her husband may not even be the person he's telling himself to be. Christine finds out that she's been seeing a medical specialist clandestinely every day, meeting the doctor as soon as Ben leaves home for work. Watson slowly unravels the reasons for these. It's a nail-biting unraveling though. Watson definitely teases the reader's patience.

Before I Go to Sleep is one novel that feeds on paranoia. I think that Watson has entered the realm of genre fiction with a bang. Let's just hope that his next novel is just as rewarding as this one.

Read this book if:

1. You've always been afraid of losing your memory.
2. You love the movie "Memento".
3. You keep a journal.

Stand-alone high fantasy

My main beef about high fantasy novels is that you should have lots and lots of patience to read them. For one, many of these novels written by those considered masters of the genre are so thick, doorstop proportions actually. Another, it's not enough that you should read not just the first of the series, but the 5 or 6 books that follow it. And it doesn't help that the other books haven't even been written yet. Case in point: George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, a planned 7-book series, isn't complete yet, with only the 5th book published this year. (Prayers are definitely needed to make sure that he's still alive to finish the series.)

Good thing that Brandon Sanderson's debut novel, Elantris, is a complete fantasy novel in itself. In Sanderson's novel, we meet three characters -- Raoden, Hrathen, and Sarene -- in a place called Arelon. The vast land of Arelon is divided into the cities of Kae, Fjorden, and Elantris, which are so unlike one another in terms of beliefs and political system. The current unofficial capital of Arelon is Kae, which is a kingdom ruled by merchants. Fjorden is a bit far off, with the people being devout to a religion called Shu-Dereth and is ruled by Derethi priests. Elantris is cursed. There was a time when Elantrians were considered gods: they had power, they glowed. But 10 years ago, the chasm happened, causing Elantris to decay and its people to appear diseased. Now, Elantrians are in a state of being half dead and half alive. Their hunger cannot be assuaged and their wounds do not heal.

So let's go back to the three protagonists. Raoden, the prince of Arelon, is visited one day by the Shaod, causing him to become one of the cursed Elantrians. He is thrown into the city and is considered dead by the people of Kae. The woman he is engaged to, Sarene, who is a feisty woman from the faraway kingdom of Teod, doesn't know of what happened to Raoden. But because of the political arrangement of their marriage, she is destined to become the widowed princess of Kae. Hrathen arrives at Kae, hoping to convert its people to Shu-Dereth.

Sanderson's world-building talent is so promising in this first novel that Elantris doesn't have the feel of debut fiction at all. When he depicts Kae as a place of corruption, you can almost sense the stench of the dirty dealings of the ruling class. Likewise, the dirt and slime that covers Elantris is something that you can almost see and smell. The fictional world that Sanderson conjures is equal parts fascinating and repulsive.

However, Sanderson tends to repeat himself with what transpired from the previous chapter. Often, the events of one chapter are discussed in detail by the characters in the next. (Thank goodness that Elantris isn't a doorstop.) Lots of dialogue permeate the text; hence, Elantris isn't as action packed as I would like it to be. Nevertheless, the narrative is still fast paced enough to make you read through the night (which I did by the way).

I think Elantris made me a fan of Brandon Sanderson. I'm now on the lookout for his acclaimed Mistborn series. I do believe that the estate of Robert Jordan, who wrote the series The Wheel of Time, entrusted Sanderson to finish the long overdrawn fantasy epic. Fans of TWOT need not worry, for I think the series is in good hands with Sanderson.

Read this book if:

1. Fantasy novels are your thing.
2. You have no patience to read fantasy novels that constitute a series.
3. You're curious about Sanderson's work.

She has my number

If you're friends with someone who knows the exact date that you would die, would you ask him to tell it to you? Tough question. On one hand, knowing the exact date of your death would somehow let you live your life to the fullest. On the other hand, I'm sure that you would go crazy if you'd know. Exact dates of death are one of the things that make Rachel Ward's debut novel for young adults, Numbers, very interesting.

In Numbers, Ward is no big fan of glamorized characters. The main character, Jem, is an introvert 16-year-old who seems to be always in the center of trouble. She lives with a social worker as she's an orphan (her mother OD'd on heroin). Spider, the black boy who eventually becomes her boyfriend, is a runner for drug dealers. Even though Spider knows Jem's unnatural ability, he doesn't know that he only has days to live. These are the characters that we seldom see in YA fiction today, giving the novel somewhat of a fresh, raw feeling to it.

Jem has an unusual gift -- she can see the exact dates when people are going to die when she sees them in the eye. When you think about it, it's not exactly a gift but a curse. One day, while she and Spider were out in London, she sees the same dates on people who are about to ride the London Eye. She forces Spider to flee the place just minutes away before the London Eye is bombed. And because of their juvenile records, the entire nation launches a manhunt for the pair. The press reports that they are simply witnesses, but the two know that there's a huge chance that they would be blamed for the attack. Records for suspension? Check. Drugs? Check. Possession of a dangerous weapon while in school? Check. Parents non-existing? Check.

Numbers then becomes a series of chapters with the cat-and-mouse theme. Jem and Spider flee to places, often stealing cars and then ditching them. Eventually, Jem and Spider get separated after a run with the police and Spider is taken into custody. Jem literally finds sanctuary in a cathedral and then negotiates with the police to see Spider in exchange for talking to them. Surprisingly, the police agree.

Because we know that Numbers is far grittier than any YA novel, Spider indeed dies on the day that he and Jem are reunited. However, his death is quite anti-climatic. I feel that this is one of the weaknesses of the novel, as the reader somehow feels cheated that Spider goes through a lot in the book just to die because of a careless slip. Nevertheless, the novel's conclusion more than makes up for it. The ending of Numbers is just too good to mention here. It begs for a sequel. (And, thankfully, there is!)

Ward's novel, for all its aspects about troubled youth and racial prejudice, is still basically a love story. The novel does become unpredictable in some parts, but all can be forgiven because of the juicy ending. There are parts in the novel that make it hard for the reader to relate to either Jem or Spider, too. But the overall impression I got when reading Numbers is one of hopefulness. Troubled youths Jem and Spider may be, but there's a deep motivation for the reader to continue in the hope that these two somehow find redemption. In a way, the pair get to it. Spider realizes that it is his love for Jem that can make him a better person. Jem, even without Spider, she takes on the care of Karen, her social worker, who becomes terminally ill after a few years. In her own terms, Jem becomes someone responsible.

Read this book if:

1. You were once a troubled youth yourself.
2. You like unconventional love stories.
3. You're craving for YA fiction that isn't sugary sweet.

Ooooh, nasty

Iain Banks's debut novel, The Wasp Factory, isn't for the weak of heart and stomach. There's animal torture, not one but three child murders, parental neglect and deception, gender confusion, to name a few. Needless to say, I loved it.

Frank Cauldhame, the 17-year-old "hero" of Bank's controversial novel, lives with his father in an isolated part of Scotland. Frank may appear to be your normal teenager who's curious all the time. But underneath that innocuous exterior is a monstrous individual, for Frank has some very twisted notions of fun.

First, Frank likes to torture animals. He beheads birds and small mammals. One of his favorite pastimes is getting mice from the petstore, putting them in his slingshot (or catapult as it's called in the novel), and then flinging them to their deaths. Also, he ties the heads of these animals in stick structures which he calls the Sacrifice Poles.

Second, Frank has murdered three children. The first was his cousin, who he managed to kill by placing a poisonous snake in his cousin's artificial leg. He also killed his younger brother by telling his brother to hit a German war bomb on the beach. And he murdered his cousin Esmeralda by letting her become entangled in a huge kite which Frank specifically built for the purpose of carrying his cousin away. Esmeralda's body is never found.

Then comes the initial conflict of the story -- his older brother, Eric, has escaped the mental institution where he's confined. Eric was once a promising medical student, but he was found to be setting fires to dogs in the neighborhood. Since his escape, Eric has been giving Frank phone calls much to his dismay and without the knowledge of their father.

Banks's debut novel, which was first published in 1984, truly deserves its widespread acclaim. It has even been chosen by a British poll as one of the top 100 novels of the 20th century. Banks's writing is visceral, often provoking a reaction of disgust from the reader. I, however, revelled in Banks's detailed narrative. And because of The Wasp Factory, I'd be willing to give Banks's science fiction novels a try.

In a way, The Wasp Factory is a coming-of-age novel, albeit in a very weird and gothic way. When Frank finally discovers who he really is from his father, it's enough to make your blood run cold.

Read this novel if:

1. You're not afraid of violence in novels.
2. You love debut fiction.
3. You're into surprises at the end.

In the future, the 80s are cool

The 80s were fun years. I was in grade school during this time, and I had fond memories of Saturday morning cartoons and console games. Ernest Cline's debut novel, Ready Player One, brought me back to this wonderful novel. It's not a period novel, contrary to what you might think. It's actually science fiction.

The year is 2044 and the world is, as expected, an economic, environmental, political, and societal mess. As a means of escape, people log in to a virtual world called OASIS, which has been created by James Halliday. OASIS can be likened to a universe. There are different worlds that people can visit. People can go to school, conduct their business, entertain themselves, among others, in OASIS. This virtual meeting place has become so ingrained in the lives of the people that OASIS currency is even more stable than real currency. Also, you can be anyone you want to be in OASIS.

Then James Halliday drops dead and leaves no heir for OASIS. Instead, he tells the millions of denizens of OASIS that this virtual world can be theirs if they find the three keys that are located in the vast OASIS universe. Of course, this game spawns a culture of hunters, called gunters, whose sole obssession is to obtain the keys. For 5 years, gunters have painstakingly studied the life of Halliday for clues and they have also meticulously gone through 80s pop culture, the decade that Halliday was very fond of. This isn't surprising though, as Halliday grew up in the 80s amid Ataris, coin-op games, and other console games.

Ernest Cline with his DeLorean. Love it!

But during one ordinary day, one person finally discovers the first key -- Wade Watts, or Parzival, as he is known in OASIS. However, Parzival would soon learn that finding the first key has its downside, as there would be several professional gunters who would be after him for information, some even threatening his life. It is at this stage that Ready Player One really takes off as a very entertaining and thrilling read.

Cline definitely knows his pop culture. This is evident in the various games the gunters have to go through to get a key and pass through a gate. In the first gate, for example, Wade has to play Joust, one of the very first vector graphic games. And there are so many references to Blade Runner, Atari, Back to the Future, early computers with laughably small RAM (think 16 kB), and the movies of John Hughes.

Ready Player One is one very funny novel, a book that is so refreshing to read because it doesn't take itself too seriously. Yes, Cline is one gifted writer. His descriptions of the various planets in OASIS and the virtual battles are vivid. And Cline has made me recall my favorite console games in the 80s: Pac Man, Galaga, and Pong.


But of course, my all-time favorite game is the one shown below. I can spend hours just playing it.


Read this book if:

1. You love anything 80s.
2. You're heavily into gaming.
3. Most of your waking hours are spent online.

My favorite book this year (so far)

One can never go wrong with an excellent storyline, a well-developed character, and super writing, no? All these I found in this year's Newberry winner, Clare Vanderpool's debut fiction Moon over Manifest. I would have to say that, well, this is my best read so far this year.

Vanderpool has come up with a novel that combines history, mystery, and one girl's coming of age in one beautiful story that I devoured in one sitting. Vanderpool took me back in the year 1936 in a small town in Kansas called Manifest, where Abilene Tucker has been sent by his father over the summer for reasons he just won't disclose. Abilene and his father, Gideon, are somewhat of a nomadic duo, never staying too long in one place. Manifest, however, is Gideon's hometown.

Abilene then lives with a middle aged pastor named Shady, who also took care of Gideon during his childhood years. It is in Gideon's house where Abilene discovers a hidden cigar box once owned by a boy named Jinx. Abilene learns about the childhood years of Jinx when she makes the acquaintance of the town diviner, one Miss Sadie. It is this person who provides us with the stories of Jinx childhood way back in 1917 at the start of the first world war.

Like any good novel, Moon over Manifest eventually provides the connection among Abilene, Gideon, Jinx, and the good people of Manifest. It is a story that has given me goosebumps because it is just that good. Not a missing thread, not a gaping hole in the narrative, not a contrived circumstance. It made me realize that historical fiction, true historical fiction written with meticulous research, need not be boring.

There are a lot of characters to root for in this novel. Miss Sadie, for all her apparent negativity around Abilene, is an angel. The nun who's also a school teacher, Sister Redempta, turns out to have a very pivotal role in the novel. Even Hattie Mae Macke, the town's journalist, is never two-dimensional. We don't get the nosey reporter who's always covering up things from the main character.

To be honest, I wasn't really prepared to like Moon over Manifest as much as I did. I couldn't care less about Kansas in the 1930s. But of course, I just had to get this book since it won the Newberry after all. Imagine my wonderful surprise when I discovered that I've been reading this nonstop for almost 5 hours and that I was almost crying at the end. Read it! Read it! Read it now!

Read this book if:

1. You like historical fiction.
2. You always think about your hometown.
3. You'll read anything that has won the Newberry.

Feels detached, but in a good way

I love debut fiction. There's nothing like the thrill you feel when you discover a new author. Whoever said that the novel is dead must be delusional. Life of Pi, The God of Small Things, The White Tiger -- all of these are debut novels; they're all wonderfully satisfying reads as well. Reading debut fiction can be quite risky, too. You just don't have any comparison. We all have a list of writers that we are partial too, but with first-time novelists, you just don't know whether you'll like their work and ultimately decide they're writers to watch out for.

So after being terribly disappointed with Mockingjay (review to follow next week), I've decided to take a risk and read Eleanor Catton's debut novel, The Rehearsal. I've read so many things about this novel that I was challenged to read it. The Rehearsal is one novel that polarizes readers. One group would say that it feels oddly detached. Another would mention that it represents a departure from your traditional storytelling. Both are true, in fact. And I'm pleased to say that I liked The Rehearsal. It's the type of novel that makes you think.

The pivotal scene that drives the two narratives in The Rehearsal has to do with a scandal -- a high school teacher was discovered to be having a sexual relationship with his student. It is this context that we hear the perspectives of the main characters of the novel. Isolde, the sister of the sexually abused student, has struck an air of indifference on the issue; it is her classmates that express a strong point. Isolde continues on with her student life amidst the chatter and gossip of her classmates. The result is something analogous to living in a fish bowl, with everyone noticing and discussing Isolde's every move.

Isolde is also studying the saxophone, going frequently to her saxophone teacher for private classes. The saxophone teacher remains nameless throughout the novel. But ironically, it is her thoughts, dialogue, and actions that become the novel's most distinct voice. The sax teacher speaks to parents about different subjects, in a language that somehow feels unnatural because of their verbosity. It is the sax teacher that introduces Isolde to Julia, another high school student and encourages them to become friends. The friendship of Isolde and Julia again become the subject of malicious talk at school. It is only when Isolde develops a romantic relationship with Stanley that the novel takes a wonderfully uncomfortable turn.

The other narrative in The Rehearsal, which occurs as alternating chapters with the chapters on Isolde, is that of Stanley. Stanley is a first year drama student at a prestigious institution. As a student of the performing arts, Stanley comes off as unremarkable. He doesn't have any unique skills. One would only feel for Stanley because Catton writes him as a sensitive character. It made me ask though -- did Catton write her characters purposefully this way? It's as if Isolde, the sax teacher, and Stanley are mere observers, as conduits of people's thoughts.

The latter parts of the novel is where everything gets more interesting. As part of the requirement at the end of their first year, the drama students must perform a play that nobody has heard of. The class decides to choose the sexual abuse in the nearby high school as their subject. Little does Stanley know that he's dating the sister of the subject of their play. Isolde is also clueless about the play. Add to the fact that Stanley will be playing the abusive high school teacher and that Isolde's parents have been invited to watch opening night, you just know that everything will come crashing to a close, and in a big way.

If the novel feels detached, then I guess it is Catton's way of saying that we're all spectators of everyone's lives. Catton engages the reader in a very unusual way. Instead of letting her reader feel that he or she experiences the novel's scenes, Catton lets the reader view it at a distance. Here's an excerpt to illustrate. Note that it has the feel of an opening act of a play.

Isolde and Victoria are watching television. Isolde is curled in the cat-furred hollow of the armchair with her legs hugged to her chest and her head upon her arm. Victoria is lying on the sofa with one leg cocked and the remote control held lightly between her finger and her thumb. Their father has just come through the room and crumpled Isolde's toes in his big hand and said Goodnight, slugs. Their mother has just called out from the stairway, Bed by eleven please. Their counterpointed footsteps, light and heavy, have just dwindled away up the stairs, and they have just shut their bedroom door with a faint and knucked click.

So, Eleanor Catton is someone whose later works I will be looking out for. Who knows what kind of novel she comes up with next. The Rehearsal is so refreshing; I've never read anything quite like it. You read other people's thoughts about the same situation. It appeals to different aspects of our lives -- our need to express our thoughts about a scandalous affair, our fascination for the taboo, our indecisiveness as adolescents, our indifference to people we hardly care about.

If this review has made The Rehearsal seem like a pretentious piece of contemporary literature, then I would have to say that it is not. On the contrary, The Rehearsal is very readable, the dialogue crisp, and the characters people you can relate to. Read it, now.

Read this book if:

1. You like plays.
2. You love debut fiction.
3. You've been the subject of malicious talk.