In More News

BFF Robin Brande’s upcoming book has its own book trailer!! Now, I’ve seen book trailers. But this one! Is awesome! YAY! And the Guardian put together something for Aquafortis, because they know she’s a secret Anglophile: it’s the 10 Ten Dystopian Novels for Teens round up. Dark, broody, and English. Fun!

Bottom Shelf Books: not to be read whilst imbibing iced tea: Minh — as always full of happy little factoids to amuse — does an awesome author interview with Kyra Hicks, a lady whom I don’t think has gotten quite enough attention. She’s practically… Under Radar. Hmm. I’m sensing a theme!


In memory of Robert Mercer, please don’t forget to visit Robert’s Snow 2007 auctions which will raise money for the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston.

A Sliver of Light: Under Radar Reccomendations

“Everything falls to Katherine, and that means everything is falling apart.”

It is a powerful and heartfelt book which, for reasons of its authentic voice and timeless truths, cracked my heart when I first read it in 2001. The MFA thesis of author Heather Quarles, this book combines a family story and an exploration of belief to create a book painful in its clarity.

The storyline isn’t earth shattering: An alcoholic woman with four kids barely making it isn’t particularly original. The eldest child, Katherine, emerging as the caretaker of Douglas, Tracy and Alisa is what Al-Anon says naturally occurs in every family touched by alcoholism. People fall into roles in a family of dysfunction. It’s just how they cope, how we might cope in the same circumstances. But into this spiral of destruction, shines a light… from a wardrobe in the middle of nowhere. And that light both eases the darkness, and reveals a way in which they all have so much more to lose than they previously believed possible.

Just… something about the way this particular family is falling apart catches at the heart. As I said when I first reviewed this book for my writing group years ago,

“The truth is found in the writing — the dialogue breathes life into fear and anger, the chronic feelings of helpless love and suppressed rage the main character feels. The first person narration gives a true immediacy to the piece, and drags readers into the painful places with the family.”

At fifteen, most of us wanted to prove that we could run our own lives; these teens have to try, for the sake of staying together; they can’t even turn to their father, who is on a second wife and family. Though he might have grudgingly helped them, their youngest sister, Alisa, isn’t his child. Surely a parent who shows she can’t be trusted to take care of her own has given them the idea that no one else will take care of a child who does not even belong to him. So, the family goes it alone, and their attempt is astounding. But teachers have eyes — and the act of trying to parent while trying to be a kid is visible. When it all implodes, a desperate gamble to keep her family together drives Katherine to an extreme that may ruin more than she knows.

This book won awards – four of them. This book garnered critical praise. The author, according to the flyleaf of the book, has written short stories and essays. I have never found any, neither can I find an interview nor any additional information on the author except that she graduated from Emerson College. And I wonder: did something happen? Is she still writing? Can I ever tell her how much this book means to me?

An echo of this one book has remained with me for years, prompting me to read more about C.S. Lewis’ responses to the children who responded so strongly to him, and to more carefully frame questions of my own in the stories I write, with a heart for the people who may encounter my books, and ask questions of their own, seeking hope while dealing with reality. Such questions are universal, poignant, and haunting:

When faced with silence and despair, are we losing our grip when we find that we want to believe in Narnia? Is there something wrong with trying to find it wherever we are? Aren’t we all still looking for A Door Near Here?


Thoughtful, evocative and valuable book-gems found elsewhere. Check out:

A Chair, A Fireplace & A Tea Cozy and a discussion of author Ellen Emerson White, her general awesomeness, and why she is “under the radar,”

Big A, little a takes on Ingo by Helen Dunmore,

Jen Robinson’s Book Page has a discussion on The Changeling and The Velvet Room, both by the super-awesome Zilpha Keatley Snyder,

Over at Bildungsroman, the uniquely titled, The Girl in the Box, by Ouida Sebestyen,

Miss Erin: Girl With a Pen and Princess of Orange, both by Elisabeth Kyle,

Fuse Number 8 with a bit of the mythic: The Winged Girl of Knossos, by Erick Berry,

Bookshelves of Doom shares The Olivia Kidney series, by Ellen Potter,

Chicken Spaghetti writes on the intriguing sounding The Natural History of Uncas Metcalfe, by Betsey Osborne,

Writing and Ruminating has a fun one – Jazz ABC by Wynton Marsalis;

And The YA YA YAs wrap it up with Massive, by Julia Bell.

Not a bad crop of books (AND there are cute mice over at 7-Imps Picture Books Celebration today). Stay tuned for more Under Radar Reporting!

Buckle Your Swash: Under Radar Reccomendations

There was a type of fiction written largely in the forties and fifties — in the heyday of speculative fiction — that showed the genre of Adventure Narrative to its fullest and finest advantage. Those were the books you could describe as ‘thrilling,’ with flinty, taciturn heroes (and virtually invisible heroines), vivid action sequences, bold adventurers, treasure to be had, lives to be saved, battles to be fought, and schemers to outwit. Those edge-of-your-seat stories were often serialized in magazines such as Adventure or Amazing Stories, and were dismissed by many as mere pulp fiction, but in amongst pages of more forgettable fare landed The Curved Saber: The Adventures of Khlit the Cossack, the work of a quiet man named Harold Lamb.

Mr. Lamb was born in 1892 with speech and hearing disabilities which crippled him socially as well. He lived fully, for a time, in his imagination only, delving into the library at Columbia University and reading deeply into a hitherto completely unknown world – the world of Asia. He started writing short stories in college, and wrote for Adventure magazine for twenty years, eventually becoming known as “an American Dumas.” His character, Khlit, was first chronicled in those pages, and the response of readers is what secured his place in the pantheon of Cool Character history.

Later in his career Harold Lamb stepped away from academia and became a screenwriter. His writing was part of Samson and Delilah, directed in 1949 by Cecil B. DeMille, and many of his other stories were turned into film, including The Crusades, 1935, The Plainsmen, 1936, The Golden Horde (which was allegedly about the life of Genghis Khan) 1951, and The Buccaneer, 1938. Mr. Lamb even wrote a history book specifically for young adults, with watered down violence and sort of Robinhood-like Mongolian swordsmen, but it was not nearly as popular with young readers as his serial stories. The voice, descriptions and tight pacing in those books contributed to creating a world away that enthralled young adults yearning to ride out boldly toward swashbuckling adventure, and Khlit the Cossack was the Harold Lamb character readers wanted to ride with the most.

Cossack. Just saying the word with its sharp-heeled ‘k,’for some conjures up jackboots and bloodthirsty pillaging, red-cloaked Tsarist soldiers and the Napoleonic Wars; for others the word brings to mind entertainment — those people doing that dance where you squat and cross your arms and kick and shout “ho!” a lot, and wear a furry hat, and maybe have a curved sword at your side…

Part of the reason for the confusion is that the Cossacks were a hugely nomadic tribal group, and they were all over Russia, and Central Asia. Their paths cross Russian history, Mongolia’s ancient past, the history of the Ukraine, Chinese history, and more.

Harold Lamb’s exploration of the Cossacks takes place on the vast grasslands of the Central Plains, when the old warriors still ruled the steppes. His character Khlit the Cossack was probably the most famous and fabulous depiction of a hard-as-steel, justice-loving, sword fighter. Khlit’s mythic status was probably the basis for such depictions of nomadic sword fighters as Conan the Barbarian and Red Sonja, but they are only the most single-dimensional, anemic and paltry of imitations. Khlit was larger-than-life and simply amazing.

Lamb’s work introduced the various ethnicities present in that region at that time in a way that was so vivid and interesting that young would-be adventurers were mesmerized. They suddenly saw detail in what had been a piece of history. The people of Genghis Khan weren’t just crazed killers. The Cossacks weren’t just Russian or Chinese faces in a blur. Unlike other heroes of adventure fiction, Khlit wasn’t a womanizer – though he had female friends, and regularly helped damsels in distress. Khlit was simply… better than the usual fare.

The nomadic tribes had no written language. Because of this, their history is largely told by their oppressors, and all we have of them is their descendants, and the critical words of those who studied them from the sidelines. Lamb takes the history of the steppes — which to us would be a miserable experience – and humanizes it, giving it faces and reasons and subtleties of meaning. WE would hate to sleep in the saddle, and might not enjoy a night in a ger or a yurt. WE might be be grossed out to eat raw horsemeat, warmed and tenderized by the sweat of our horses, from beneath our saddles — as our hero does. But when he does it, it’s just another day on the steppes.

Cool.

Lamb’s intense historical focus came off more like cultural anthropology than sociology. His fiction examined the world of the Cossacks from within the Cossak’s sphere, as opposed to looking at it from a strictly scholarly way — and making an overall judgment from pieces. That kind of fiction writing takes a massive amount of research, a lot of care for one’s subjects, and boatloads of talent. Harold Lamb was three for three.

Until recently, Lamb’s work was totally out of print, impossible to find, kept in the stacks at libraries, and generally inaccessible. Young people who had grown up in the fifties and sixties loving stories of swordplay and treachery and treasure-hunting with a band of sinewy comrades kept passing the tales along to their sons, and thus Lamb’s work has never been thoroughly forgotten. The resurgence of interest has prompted Bison Books at the University of Nebraska Press to offer his Cossack stories again, bound in volume form. Now the fortresses of hidden assassins, the search for the tomb of Genghis Khan (and the subsequent escape from his vengeful ghost), the rides of the Mongol horde and other fantastic adventures are available to everyone. If you enjoy historical fiction, being transported to places in your imagination, and aren’t afraid of a little blood and gore, jump in. You’ll be glad you did.


Under Radar Recommendations are books that we have read and loved. Period.
They’re not necessarily new. They’re not necessarily old.
They’re books we think you’d love, ’cause we do.

There is, elsewhere, more of the usual awesomeness of the kidlitosphere. Fans of the under-read should also, check out:

Chasing Ray writing on Dorothy of Oz from Illusive Arts Entertainment (the Dorothy comic she says we should all be reading!),

Bildungsroman revisits Christopher Golden’s Body of Evidence series,

Interactive Reader, a new convert to the Christopher Golden Body of Evidence fan club, provides more love,

At Not Your Mother’s Bookclub: An interview with Robert Sharenow, author of My Mother the Cheerleader,

At lectitans, you’ll read about The Angel of the Opera: Sherlock Meets the Phantom of the Opera by Sam Siciliano,

Bookshelves of Doom is all about The God Beneath the Sea, Black Jack & Jack Holburn all by Leon Garfield,

Writing and Ruminating has an interview with Tony Mitton and a review of his book, Plum ,

The YA YA YAs spread the love on I Rode a Horse of Milk White Jade by Diane Lee Wilson (And I can attest: awesome book, folks.),

A late inclusion from Semicolon on unbeatable picture books.

And Chicken Spaghetti wraps up Monday with The Illustrator’s Notebook by Mohieddin Ellabad.

More Under Radar Goodness All Week Long: Stay tuned!

Stop! Hey, What's That Sound?


Static hiss.

“Control, we have received a signal… over…”
“Signal points to this site and is attempting to make book recommendations no one else might be making, over…”

“Details to follow, Monday, August 27th, over… and out…

Static hiss.

Stop! Hey, What’s That Sound?


Static hiss.

“Control, we have received a signal… over…”
“Signal points to this site and is attempting to make book recommendations no one else might be making, over…”

“Details to follow, Monday, August 27th, over… and out…

Static hiss.

Ficktion Friday: Departures

Bianca buffs her nails on her sleeve, and crosses her arms nervously. She hopes Char will come soon. From the look of it, departures are taking place, and she doesn’t want to be the only one to witness them.

Her finger had been poised above the bell for Char’s place when she’d heard his voice upstairs. Bobby. Maybe she was interrupting. Maybe Char hadn’t meant for her to come over today, bearing rolls from Cinnabon and soy lattes from Flying Goat Coffee. She’d scuttled back to her car, embarrassed. She’d gotten a signal wrong. Her married friends didn’t want to kaffeklatch with her when their husbands were home.

She’d assumed Bobby had been talking to Char, but he’d come outside alone, his cell balanced between ear and shoulder, a stack of garment bags cradled in his arms…

Where was Char? Why had she phoned? Was Bobby leaving?

Of course, he could be going on a business trip. Yeah, that could be why he was tromping down the front steps of their little condo for the third time with suitcases. He could be going to Europe or Malaysia or something. He might be away for weeks. Of course, that didn’t explain why he was doing all of this in the middle of the morning, when normally Char was at work…

Bianca sat, waiting awkwardly, hand on the parking brake, trying to decide if she should stay or go. Bobby had glanced up the street, toward her car. She was pretty sure he’d seen her. She was pretty sure that the open cardboard box he carried, full of odds and ends like coffee grinders and hangers was not something one would take on a business trip. She swore. Now he was striding down the walk in her direction. She turned the key and pressed the button to roll down the passenger’s side window.

“Can I help you?” Bobby’s brows were raised in faint curiosity. His polite tone set Bianca’s teeth on edge.

“Looks like you’re moving out.” The words rattled like gravel.

Bobby grimaced, dropped his pretense. “What’s it to you? Charelle’s at work. She won’t be home until about three-thirty.”

Bianca tilted her head toward the street. “Looks like you got her schedule wrong.”

Bobby’s face tightened as Char’s blue Civic pulled into the driveway. Bianca gnawed on her lower lip as Char flung open the driver’s side door, alternate expressions of fear, frustration and fury chasing across her face. Uneasily, Bianca rolled up her window, feeling like she ought to be somewhere else. The scene played out in pantomime.

What. Is. This. Char’s accusing finger, stabbing toward the car, the boxes, the man.

Now please, calm down. Bobby’s hands raised placatingly, shoulders hunched.

Calm down? Calm down? Char’s hands fly up toward her face, jerk like tethered pit bulls. In a heartbeat, the movements of rage falter, and Char’s body slumps as if she’s been hit. Bianca knows her cue as a friend, even as the unmarried friend, who knows nothing about the intricacies of a marriage.

“Char.” Bianca slides from behind the wheel of her car, her hands outstretched, wanting to shelter, waiting to heal. But Char surprises her, and straightens, her face emerging dry and defeated.

“Let’s help him,” she says in a surprisingly emotionless voice. “I’m sure he hasn’t got all day.”


So. The picture (Unusual Neighbours) which inspired this week’s Ficktion snippet was taken by Flickr photographer Ed Ed. It’s a nifty pic, and I like his stuff.

Poetry Friday: Losses for Literature

One Day I Decided
– by Grace Paley

One day I decided to not grow any older
lots of luck I said to myself

But she did have lots of luck, and we were lucky to have read her work before cancer took her away. You can read this wry poem in its entirety at Persimmontree Magazine, which may require you to a one-time free subscription. (“One Day I Decided,”is from Begin Again: Collected Poems by Grace Paley. Copyright © 2000 by Grace Paley.)

I came to read the work of Grace Paley in graduate school. She wrote about the very young and the elderly, about city people, Jewish people, Poles, Italians and Ukrainians, Irish people and African Americans down on their luck. Suburbanites were a bit shocked that an apparently upper-middle class Caucasian woman wrote knowledgeably about classes and colors not her own. She ignored them, or commented on them drolly, and kept writing anyway.

I am sad that I wasn’t at Mills the day she read for us, just as I am sad that Siohban Dowd was taken by cancer before she’d written everything she had to say. Some days I feel like “I have to catch up! All the good stuff is passing!”

What steadies me is that words…are… forever. Even out of print books can be discovered again. And the truth is that fabulous writers are being born anew, daily.

May others of Ms. Dowd and Ms. Paley’s caliber be born soon.


Poetry Friday’s round-up is hosted by John at The Book Mine Set; Chicken Spaghetti has what has to be my favorite Paley poem for you there. Bon Weekend.

Bloghopping

Leaving on a slow train: in eight days. At least I hope it’s slow. I’m in dire need of a nap once we start rolling. Still searching for those plaid shoes, too…

I am ridiculously delighted to have discovered BRAW: Books, Reading and Writing, which is the site of the Network for the Scottish Children’s Book. Though the authors names are not familiar to me (and largely the books listed are MG, which might be why), it’s nice to see that there are the usual book fests, kidslit-conferences, awesome publishers, really funny YA writers who blog (thanks, Sara!), and the like where I am going. Children’s lit is still not quite the industry elsewhere that it seems to be in the U.S., but the YA bookishness, it is here to be discovered… more on that as I find it!

Many, MANY people want to be writers, so many, many people pursue this dream with an admirable single-mindedness, and will do anything to get someone to read their work, anything, like even participating in an open competition. The American-Idol style competition thing at Touchstone, a subsidiary of Simon & Schuster, looks like it went …okay, since they’re planning another for romance writers next time. I still cannot honestly say that I am a fan of competitive publishing, because… well, some of the ‘red in tooth and claw’ agony of revision, workshops, and the like seem better suited to people who know you, or that you can at least trust to be civil and have constructive criticism. I cannot imagine just tossing my manuscripts into a ring of strangers armed with razors like that. I’ve never watched American Idol, but everyone by now has heard of Simon Cowell… and it only takes one like him, really. Only one.

More doom and gloom in the ‘internet will take over the world, and all the libraries will close, woe is me’ box: the Guardian, quoting an AP-Ipsos poll, reports that a quarter of American adults read no books last year. One quarter, or one in four. I’m going to try and find the original poll, but feel a bit of annoyance that children’s books aren’t listed at all. People seem to want to constantly harp on the fact that the publishing industry is dying, despite a 3% global increase last year over the previous year…to say nothing of what children’s literature worldwide is doing. (Maybe they ought to stop just counting Americans?)

Ouch! GalleyCat pulls no punches: some of us really WILL read that OJ book… riiight after we finish The Secret… And, I adore Ferdinand the Bull. Does Bottom Shelf Books think I’m morbid??

And a little squeal for Ying Compestine’s new book Revolution is Not a Dinner Party, which is a YA novel being cross-marketed to adults. Go! Read! Enjoy! Yay, Ying!

Sharks and Dinosaurs

So, say you don’t like someone’s book. You review it on your blog – negatively. You’re gobsmacked by just how bad it is. You talk about its offensiveness once or twice, and then you move on. And then you get served.

GalleyCat carried this story, which reminded me of the “shield law,” which serves to protect journalists and others who write for pay, and which is a hot topic in our state. I am of the opinion that the blogger in question is only being sued because they blog for a firm which has a goodly amount of cash. What about people who don’t have the resources to be sued for $15 million in damages? Does this affect your thinking about how you review books at all?


Guardian UK arts blogger Peter Bradshaw longs for the days of gimlet eyed, bloody dinosaurs, while the Telegraph laments what could be the end of a great literary tradition — because, of course, the smoke ban.

Lots to see and read but Blogger is behaving stupidly today, so I’m off for a bit…