The One Shot World Tour: Best Read With Vegemite!


Vegemite Jars, Through the Years
(From the Canberra Museum in Australia)

Welcome to Best Read With Vegemite! our admiring tribute to the YA books and writing peeps of the Ozland.

In 1974 writer Penni Russon was born in a suburb of the port city of Hobart, Tasmania, Australia, where there are cool-sounding places like Knocklofty Park and a town called Dynnyme. (Den Me? Denny Me? How does one say that aloud?) Hobart is home to beaches, and bridges, and boats and a really cool Botanical Garden. Miz Russon studied children’s literature at Monash University and writing and editing at The Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology. She claims that she first became a poet first because the length was as much as she could write – but poetry seems to flow from people who have such a way with words. This exquisitely disturbing piece shows just a teensy sliver of her range. Penni now writes poetic novels from Melbourne, and she blogs poetically at the quirkily named Eglantine’s Cake. Who or what is eglantine? Eglantine is, according to the encyclopedia, a type of wild rose often called sweetbriar, but it is also often been used as a place or character name in English poetry. Penni Russon’s Eglantine is a bit mysterious, a bit unknowable. Says the blogger:

“I think Eglantine is a little girl. The house is quiet. The baby is sleeping. Eglantine’s mother is outside somewhere, pegging clothes on the line or weeding the vegetable garden. They have a big sprawling backyard, a hills hoist, some chooks. It’s afternoon, hot outside but inside the house is dark and cool. Eglantine has a home haircut, but it’s sweet, short with blonde tufts sticking out. She’s creeping through the slumbering house, up the hallway – bare feet on floorboards. Tomorrow is Eglantine’s birthday. In the kitchen on the bench is a cake, with hard pink sugary icing. Eglantine is peeking through the kitchen door, she’s standing stretched up on tiptoes. She wants a taste, just a bite of pink, crystally sugar…”

Eglantine’s Cake is a blog full of musings on the everyday, with thoughtful talk on the writing life (“…if a novel was a daily account, a diary, it would be pages and pages of ‘nothing to report’. When we look back on our lives we probably see it in this way, episodes of note and in between an aggregate memory of undistinguished days: dinners, breakfasts, showers, sleep.”), sprinkles of cuteness from Penni’s two very young and gorgeous daughters (One of them calls stewed apples ‘stupid apples.’ Yet she probably eats them…), and enthused comments on books she likes. The author encourages lurkers to ‘delurk’ and leave her a comment.

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Penni Russon’s first YA novel, Undine, reveals the intricacies of a complicated family dynamic that includes secrets and lies and manipulation – as well as a reliable friendship, a cute little brother, and an ordinary life. The book was published in Australia to critical reviews in 2004, being named a Notable Book of the Year by the Children’s Book Council of Australia.

Quietly bizarre Undine is the last girl you would expect to be “magical.” Certainly her best friend, Trout, has paid silent homage to her awesomeness with his undying crush, but pretty much everybody else thinks Undine is just average. Even Undine herself believe that she’s nothing special. There are plenty of other girls with little brothers and dead stepfathers; with mothers who are sort of neglectful sometimes and sort of obsessive other times. That’s why the day she imagines she hears voices telling her to come home, she begins to worry. The afternoon she imagines rain clouds butting together to create a storm, and one blows up — centering on her — she really begins to worry. Because being ‘special’ means that everything she’s shoved down inside about her longing to be different and unique… just might have a chance of happening. And who — or what — will she be, then?

Family descriptions come alive in Russon’s writing. Relationships and the responsibility a young person has to both listen to those they love and to follow their hearts are the common denominators which draw the Undine trilogy together. After Undine finally crossed hemispheres to land on American bookshelves in 2006, it was followed closely by its sequel, Breathe in 2007.

Breathe is not as easy a book to read as the first in the series. For one thing, you’re well assured early on that the happy-after wrap-up from the first novel has lulled you into a false sense of security. The omnipresence of the narrator draws readers from being safely behind Undine’s or Trout’s perceptions, and pushes them into a broader stream. Trout’s fears and feelings, little brother Jasper’s impotent frustrations at being too young, Lou’s fearful rage that she cannot keep her daughter locked up safe forever are all equally accessible, thus giving an emotional resonance to Undine’s struggle for balance. Is she Girl or Magic? Magic or Girl? Is it possible to choose both? Or must it be, as her mother insists, Girl only, or as her father seems to suggest, Magic only, and forget the consequences?

This narrative stance also gives readers a chance to be deceived, as the truth is obscured by the emotional tension of the varying characters. The conclusion to this trilogy isn’t yet available, but I will be quite intrigued to see how it all ends.

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As always, there is a bit of artistic disparity between the covers of a book released in the United States and its overseas counterpart. The U.S. cover of Undine is dark and dramatic, with a blue eye staring out balefully over a stormy sea. Please note the exceptionally placed lightning bolt.

To my mind, this cover doesn’t really do the novel justice. Part of Undine’s bizarre charm is that she is …dead ordinary. Really. She fights with her Mom, and thinks she’s just a bit weirder than other moms. She had a little brother who sometimes refuses to wear pants. She has a best friend who’s heart she breaks by falling for his brother, and she’s stubborn yet at times so bewildered by her sudden maturity that she’s hilarious. So the lightning? It’s there, but it’s not so much a part of that Ordinary Life, at least not in the first book in the series. The Australian cover, with the layers of depth beneath water seems to suit the story best.

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We hope you’ve enjoyed this rare treat, a splash of underwater sprite, a bite of cake, a bit of Vegemite from the land down under. There are more salty, crunchy bits out there waiting – bundle up in your fleece (remember – it IS winter in the Southern Hemisphere) and don’t miss when:
Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast interviews the amazing Margo Lanagan

Kelly Fineman shows some love for Melina Marchetta

Big A, little A discusses Anna Feinberg‘s “Tashi” series

Jenn at Not Your Mother’s Bookclub gleefully interviews Simmone Howell

Chicken Spaghetti reviews Kathy Hoopmann’s award winning All Cats Have Asperger Syndrome – which sounds hilarious –

Gwenda at Shaken and Stirred is all about How Sassy Changed My Life, The Red Shoes by Ursula Dubosarsky and more love for Margo Lanagan

Jen Robinson discusses John Marsden’s “Tomorrow” series, which is very cool

Finding Wonderland also salutes Jaclyn Moriarty’s epistolary novels with a little letter love of our own

Little Willow discusses the sweet and funny Finding Grace by Alyssa Brugman

At A Chair, a Fireplace & a Tea Cozy it is all about Catherine Jinks and her four intensely superlative historical “Pagan” books,

Jackie at Interactive Reader posts about Randa Abdel-Fattah’s Does My Head Look Big in This? (a book I am dying to read), as well as John Flanagan’s The Icebound Land

Trisha at The Ya Ya Yas interviews Queenie Chan

Fuse Number 8 talks more about John Marsden and also highlights a new Hot Man of Literature: Andy Griffiths

Mother Reader will be posting on Am I Right or Am I Right? by Barry Jonsberg.

Vegemite tour organizer, Colleen from Chasing Ray writes about all the 48 shades of awesome of Nick Earls

And we have guest appearance from blogger Jenny Davidson who has interviewed mystery author Peter Temple.

Enjoy them all, and be a happy little vegemite!

Top Five Reasons for Vegemite

There are plenty of good reasons for Vegemite. I mean, other than the fact that it’s a fine example of nutritive recycling — Vegemite is made out of leftover brewer’s yeast, which is a by-product of brewing beer — it’s also über vitamin-healthy, and if you don’t count the sodium (or use scant amounts), it’s über-healthy all ’round. It inspires ‘roses in every cheek’ I am told (though the child looks a bit feverish to me), and is an all around favorite Australian snack.
We here at Finding Wonderland salute the wonder that is Vegemite, and offer you just a few more reasons why it is so, so awesome and so book-friendly:

5.) It’s not jam.
Jam sandwiches, which seem to work so well for British characters, tend to leak. Librarians? They no like the sticky books. Jam: book unfriendly. Vegemite: somewhat book friendlier (though unidentified brown smudges in books make librarians also quite uneasy. Just… be neat, okay?).

4.) It’s not as attractive to ants.
Okay, Australia is often called Oz, for its completely otherworldly weirdness factor, which is quite high. For instance: have you seen the ants in Oz?! Do you want to see the ants in Oz? Wouldn’t you just hate to be carried off by huge, six-legged, venomous, jam-sucking insects whilst you were innocently reading? Sure, some ants will eat Vegemite. But some ants… will eat anything. ‘Nough said.

3.) It’s a spread made for sharing.
Vegemite anagrams to ‘meet give.’ Meet. Give. It’s the international symbol of friendship!

2.) Dude, can you PAINT with jam?
Okay, yes. Technically. But is it as cool? ‘Course not.

1.) And the number one reason why Vegemite is so awesome is that it’s the rich goo that will glue together authors as diverse as Barry Jonsberg, the nuanced Margo Lanagan, Alyssa Brugman, Tasmanian resident Penni Russon and newcomer Randa Abdel-Fattah. It’s part of the Australian history and culture which we’ll celebrate kidlitosphere-style this week.

Best Read With Vegemite! Coming Wednesday to a blog near you.

Blowin' in the Wind


Ahh, what’s that bracing citrus scent, astringent, acidic and clean? Why, it’s the smell of a rant. Yes, folks, MotherReader has finally gone all-out, creating a bumper sticker and a fabulous logo for BACA – Bloggers Against Celebrity Authors.

Some may feel uneasy with the level of vitriol this subject can elicit, but here’s the thing: Can celebrities bank on their celebrity to get into Serious Lit’triture? No. You can have a “my life on the backlot” tell-all book or a celebrity+’pimping for serious topic’ book like Katie Couric’s about her husband’s cancer, but those are a dime a dozen, and are generally stripped, pulped and recycled within a month unless they’re just awesome. (This from people in the know at B&N.) Could, say, Matt Damon Angelina Jolie, walk into a New York publishing firm and be taken seriously as a novelist? No. But let him her write a children’s book — The Bourne Babies My Many Colored Babies — and heck, hshe’d be in. {EDIT: Thanks to blogger e.luper for reminding me that Matt Damon did, in fact, write the script for Good Will Hunting, and may, in fact, be able to …write a novel. Maybe.}

It’s as if publishing is a marble-walled edifice, gates kept by stern agents and editorial assistants in ocher and bronze livery, and children’s publishing is a back door flapping open in the wind with no gate, and no guards, through which any fool off the street can wander.

…unless they’re an actual person, and not a Name, and then, miraculously, the gates and guards are back, with an extra layer of frowning critics who expect that kidlit writers are people with too many cats and a Garanimals-for-Grownups wardrobe, in some kind of extended adolescence and not in possession of a real job writing for ‘real’ people.

What is UP WITH THAT!?

Today’s other rant is about my current Work In Progress. Via GalleyCat, I hear that not only in the U.S. is there a wave of WWII novels in the making, it’s happening in the UK as well. I am obscurely annoyed by this, as my current WIP, going to the editor this week? Is set during… the Second World War.

Am I merely a follower, here, banking on the Ultimate Good v. Evil story, where the Good Guys Won? Good grief, I hope not… I think what I have is an unique angle, but is there really anything new in plots these days, especially plots with a foregone conclusion? Not… really. I guess it’s because current situations aren’t as clean-cut that people want to return to old victories… which is another rant in itself, I’m sure.

What’s that? A breath of fresh air? Why, yes, it’s A.F.’s interview with the 7-Imps! Don’t miss it!

Blowin’ in the Wind


Ahh, what’s that bracing citrus scent, astringent, acidic and clean? Why, it’s the smell of a rant. Yes, folks, MotherReader has finally gone all-out, creating a bumper sticker and a fabulous logo for BACA – Bloggers Against Celebrity Authors.

Some may feel uneasy with the level of vitriol this subject can elicit, but here’s the thing: Can celebrities bank on their celebrity to get into Serious Lit’triture? No. You can have a “my life on the backlot” tell-all book or a celebrity+’pimping for serious topic’ book like Katie Couric’s about her husband’s cancer, but those are a dime a dozen, and are generally stripped, pulped and recycled within a month unless they’re just awesome. (This from people in the know at B&N.) Could, say, Matt Damon Angelina Jolie, walk into a New York publishing firm and be taken seriously as a novelist? No. But let him her write a children’s book — The Bourne Babies My Many Colored Babies — and heck, hshe’d be in. {EDIT: Thanks to blogger e.luper for reminding me that Matt Damon did, in fact, write the script for Good Will Hunting, and may, in fact, be able to …write a novel. Maybe.}

It’s as if publishing is a marble-walled edifice, gates kept by stern agents and editorial assistants in ocher and bronze livery, and children’s publishing is a back door flapping open in the wind with no gate, and no guards, through which any fool off the street can wander.

…unless they’re an actual person, and not a Name, and then, miraculously, the gates and guards are back, with an extra layer of frowning critics who expect that kidlit writers are people with too many cats and a Garanimals-for-Grownups wardrobe, in some kind of extended adolescence and not in possession of a real job writing for ‘real’ people.

What is UP WITH THAT!?

Today’s other rant is about my current Work In Progress. Via GalleyCat, I hear that not only in the U.S. is there a wave of WWII novels in the making, it’s happening in the UK as well. I am obscurely annoyed by this, as my current WIP, going to the editor this week? Is set during… the Second World War.

Am I merely a follower, here, banking on the Ultimate Good v. Evil story, where the Good Guys Won? Good grief, I hope not… I think what I have is an unique angle, but is there really anything new in plots these days, especially plots with a foregone conclusion? Not… really. I guess it’s because current situations aren’t as clean-cut that people want to return to old victories… which is another rant in itself, I’m sure.

What’s that? A breath of fresh air? Why, yes, it’s A.F.’s interview with the 7-Imps! Don’t miss it!

Poetry Friday: The Forest for the Trees

LOST

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

“Lost,” by by David Wagoner, from Collected Poems 1956-1976 (Indiana University Press)

Poetry Friday is a means of finding oneself. Take a look at where else you might end up at the Poetry Friday round-up, hosted by Big A, little a.

"He peered coyly through the extraordinarily long lashes which complimented his caramel skin…"

Via de Bond grrrl, I came across this random list of YA banalities at Joëlle Anthony’s site.
Example: from being part of the ‘red-headed stepchild’ class, red hair has risen through the ranks until apparently we all lust for it. However, it’s just not that common, except by introduction of henna or Clairol or somesuch. Yet my YA peeps? Seem to have found an endless store of flame-haired sidekicks in a back closet somewhere. Writers: Just say no.

And the über long man-lashes — hilarious, since my S.O. really DOES have inch-long lashes that might make fake lashes look tame by comparison — but yes, it’s no longer a big deal. Lads: Better lashes at times than the lasses. Usually without Max Factor. Let’s draw a veil and move on to YA quirks such as raising the eyebrow (usually the right eyebrow, since that’s the only one I can consistently raise), replacing the usage of ‘Mom and Dad’ with ‘Laura and Luke,’ and nail/lip/thumb/something biting ’til blood flows. And I’m sure you could list your own idiosyncratic YA traits from your own reading.

There are umpty million clichés in the windy city (or wherever you are – it’s pretty breezy over here today), but the one that bugged me just a bit… and then a bit more… was #14 — the ‘cafe au lait’ skin tone. The ‘coffee and cream’ complexion. The African-American-as-caffeinated-beverage cliché. Actually, it’s not even limited to African Americans – let’s say the half or whole – Pakistani- Bangladeshi- First- Nations- Hispanic- Generic- Brown- Person as caffeinated beverage.

(Note that nobody is ever listed as, say, the color of Coke? Although I have seen root beer colored eyes. Which is to say: um, brown.)

As a person of color, blogging with another person of color… writing novels wherein persons of color live and move and have their being… have I ever committed the faux pas of describing shades of skin tone as a drink? Oh, probably yes. I freely admit to having been a lazy writer in some past life. Is any of the writing where I described persons-as-drinks going to be published? Good grief, I hope not. Not because it isn’t an apt enough description — (although, if I ever see someone with skin the color of a latte, I will, in fact, call for medical assistance — a latte lacks color depth and looks rather chalky; if I see a person that shade, I’ll assume they’re about to pass out) — but because it is ultimately a lazy way of thinking, a lazy way of writing/speaking, and millimeters away from relying on racial tropes, clichés and stereotypes that reflect an unexamined inner life. As Joëlle mentioned,

“…it seems to be a way white authors have of treading lightly around skin color.
I haven’t noticed this in any books by black authors or about black people.
I notice it in books where all the characters are white and they have one latte colored friend. It’s almost like white people are afraid to call someone black. Does that make sense?”

Yes – the statement makes sense, no, it doesn’t make sense to avoid… race.

I always love Stephen Colbert’s assertion that he doesn’t see color (it’s just alarming when other people use this statement seriously, isn’t it? Do they not realize he speaks in shades of IRONY?), but the truth is that there is a school of thought which seems to require writers to embrace such a depth of PC that they can’t even use words anymore. (Not to mention the school of thought that is against actual scientific terms [Ah, scrotum], or the group that objects to sort of made-up descriptors [Happy to be Nappy? – yes, it’s a word. Yes, it has a meaning only understood by some. No, it does not threaten you or your child. Moving on.]) It’s true that we all want to be sensitive to offending people, but honestly — Susan Patron didn’t wake up one morning in the mood to offend. I doubt Holly Black or e. lockhart, or Maureen Johnson or even The Great JK just said one day, “Hey! Let’s offend the East Texas PTA this week!”

So, in a way? I feel like there’s no remedy from being offensive. And maybe we should stop trying so hard not to offend…

Others have discussed this before, referencing biracial characters, etc., and have wondered how to delicately set their feet. So, maybe let’s all agree to state that there is no need to be delicate, there is only a need for common sense and open-heartedness and a conscious willingness to “do unto others/speak about others.” We can’t avoid race. We can’t pretend that since it’s not directly affecting us that we’ve somehow transcended it, to arrive on a rarefied, colorless plain. That just doesn’t happen. So. We’ve now got to actually engage our brains and think about how we want to express that which we see (or that which we are), and ways to do it that celebrate it, embrace it, or at least don’t trivialize it and make it a lazy cliché.

Tall order.

Thanks, Joëlle, for starting the conversation.
Thoughts from anyone else?

Most Egregious Misuse and More

Hwy 505, just outside of Vacaville: Local Grown Peaches.
Apparently it would have killed them to add the -ly.
Oh! But there’s awesome usage news — via Bookshelves of Doom, I a.) found out about a new grammar site — and b.) discovered that they have endoresed Junie B. Jones. So huzzah – let all children rejoice – and eventually learn better grammar.

Good reporting from A.F, the social half of the group. I’m still sort of shocked that the Mirrored Disco trio didn’t win the silvery award with their blinding getup. Seriously. Did someone go Goldfinger and paint themselves?!

Via Book Moot, we may now be seeing the last Artemis Fowl. What IS it with fun series ending this year!? Why can’t they, as Hank Green sang, “last forever?”

Ooh – more books! Check out the Pay It Forward Book Exchange. Fun!