Putting Some Tarnish to Those Lovely Red Slippers: Danielle Paige’s Dorothy Must Die

Lions, and tigers, and bears . . . and evil tinmen and creepy scarecrows and cruel experiments and slave labor and more . . . oh my . . .! To say that Danielle Paige’s Dorthy Must Die takes quite the turn from the traditional Wizard of Oz (well, the kiddie-story-version of the tale, anyway) would be an understatement. It would, however, be a reasonable corroboration of the 1985 movie, Return to Oz, in all it’s terrifying glory.

But what it also does is incorporate elements from author Baum’s subsequent Oz novels, which talk about a Mombi, and an army, which has a Princess Ozma and flying monkeys, that features a broken Oz in need of fixing, that has different factions of Oz ruled by different people, including a Gnome king, that have humans with bicycle wheels for hands and feet, and that feature a Deadly Desert. To be fair, as a child, I had no idea that there even were subsequent books about Oz, and I certainly didn’t read them. But I do remember seeing Return to Oz and having nightmares for maybe a decade afterwards.

Dorothy Must Die is considerably less scary than the movie Return to Oz . . . perhaps partially because I’m older, but more importantly, because it lets the reader into the heads of the actors, and because we’re following Amy, a heavily bullied young woman from a difficult family situation who stumbles into Oz in a tornado. In Oz, she meets the strange and illusive Pete, a band of wicked witches, and many others, as she learns that Oz is a broken place . . . not because Dorothy left, but because she came back.

As Amy puzzles her way through where she is, how she got there, and what she needs to do, she learns a lot about herself, her family, and finds that she’s actually a much stronger person than she’s allowed herself to believe before.

What I Liked About the Book:

1. The book begins with Amy taking constant bullying from her peers at school and, while she does stand up to it occasionally (there were definitely some cringe-inducing moments for me when she just couldn’t keep quiet), it’s no big surprise to see how it’s affected her demeanor. The best part, though? Her experiences dealing with bullies at home actually increase her skill set in Kansas and prove to be powerful tools in her skill set. I thought that this was a particularly powerful tool for the author to use to show how it’s possible–indeed, necessary–to learn from experience and use those tools where possible.

2. Much of the tale–at heart–is about Amy finding herself, which is a great tale for any teen to read, but especially one where the protagonist isn’t already in a great family (regardless of socioeconomic status), which seems to be a go-to in YA Lit. Instead, she has an alcohol/drug dependent, depressed mother; a father who’s MIA; a glowing awareness of how much she dislikes her place in the world; and a burning desire to get out as quickly as possible.

3. The characters are many and interesting. Best of all? They turn the saccharine-sweetness of MGM’s movie into something bolder, darker and more in flux.

4. I actually really liked Dorothy as the evil ruler–again, cutting into the uber-sweetness of the MGM tale, it really helped to bring the reader into a different time and place–and to show how people can change. Just as Amy grows in confidence and ability, Dorothy has, too. The good have turned wicked and the wicked work for good–this concept of the personal capacity for change works in both directions, which is a concept that I don’t see often enough in YA Lit.

5. Amy is repeatedly told not to trust anyone. By virtue of this, she’s taught to question the words, acts, motives and honesty behind each and all of the individuals she interacts with, even those she wants to believe in. More importantly, though, it forces her to learn to rely on herself: her own ideas, her own strength, her own capacity and intelligence, in order to formulate a clearer idea of what she is truly capable of accomplishing.

What I Didn’t Love About It:

1. I think Amy concluded–in describing what she was seeing around her–that about 90% of the characters looked “about [her] age.” In those words. Exactly. Repeatedly. Enough so that it was a distraction.

2. There’s also inconsistency with how Star’s described. In the beginning (and at various times throughout the story), Star’s Amy’s mom’s beloved pet, and Amy’s disgusted/grossed out/jealous(?) of this critter, but generally dislikes her. However, as Star makes the trip to OZ with Amy, suddenly Star’s Amy’s rat, her close friend, and even her bed companion.  All of which is confusing, because it’s like a switch is flipped in Amy in relation to the once-annoying rat.

3. It felt like there were a number of times when I found myself mentally wandering. I was listening to the Audible edition, which was fairly well narrated, but Amy has a tendency to circle in her mind around the same dilemmas repeatedly, with no or little new information to add to them. Sadly, when I’d realize that I’d been spacing, I could immediately tune right back in and not even need to rewind and listen again to what I’d missed.

4. Even after finishing the book, I don’t understand how Dorothy was able to ascend and become the monster beast she is. I think a little more background, a little hint at Dorothy’s internal motivations, would have helped to make this clearer and would have possibly created a basis for further and better ideas. Or why others who are either as powerful or similarly so wouldn’t take issue with her draining of resources for unknown personal use.

5. Astrid’s relationship to the Scarecrow–at least, her suggestively insinuated relationship? SUPER gross.

Overall:

This is a really interesting take on a story that could use a little tarnish on it’s technicolor glory, which I appreciated. It needs better editing, which is my biggest gripe, but otherwise, it makes for an interesting tale!

A New Superhero’s Coming to Town: Jeremy Scott’s The Ables

One of the biggest critiques I’ve heard of YA lit–especially that involving dystopic/fantasy/superhero type writing (think Veronica Roth’s Divergent series or James Dashner’s The Maze Runner series) is what about those with disabilities? Now, I hear the arguments against already: depending on the world, the time, the setting, the plot line, the type of powers, etc, disabilities may be obsolete or else irrelevant altogether. But doesn’t a more diversified, realistically represented cast of characters present a truer-to-life depiction of what we know?

Jeremy Scott’s The Ables dives right into a world in which almost all of the primary characters have a disability of some sort or another–whether they’re blind, deaf, have a learning disorder or a developmental one, they’ve been lumped together in a special ed class in the town of Freepoint, America. Though they generally don’t know it (at least not until they’ve had “the talk” with their parents), they’re all superheroes with an inherited superpower of some sort that they’re trying to learn how to use. Trying being the key operative here, as “special ed” is more to do with the fact that they have some attribute that conflicts with their ability to utilize their superpower than that they are, well, special ed.

As the school decides to have the equivalent to a very Harry Potter-esque Triwizard Tournament, in which the students create teams and try to rescue people from bad guys using their superpowers, the “special ed” kids want to have a go at it, too. And they make a darn good argument (with a little supporting help) for the fact that, together, they’re able to use their powers pretty effectively. And that, as a team, they function even better than most of the other individuals in their school.

Yes, you’re right: cue shenanigans. Between schoolwork, practicing for the tournament and eating an awful lot of pizza, the “special ed” team becomes, well, a team. And they have their own evil villain to fight–one that doesn’t come and go with the tournament, either.

What I Liked About the Book:

1. The author really does a great job of trying to imbue his characters with a sense of righteous indignation tempered with senses of humor and an underdog-will-win mentality. They’re not stupid: they know the odds are stacked against them, but capturing that great 12 year old mentality, they really want to give it a try anyway, and that mindset just jumps off the pages.

2. Great comic timing–especially “the talk” which, while drug out a bit longer than strictly necessary, sets the tone of awkward adolescence brilliantly.

3. There is a sense of fairness and humanity that the story addresses that I haven’t seen in a YA book since Rodman Philbrick’s Freak the Mighty. But this is a book that would appeal greatly to 12-13 year old boys, undoubtedly!

4. The book is savvy both to the idea of families and familial responsibility as well as to other responsibilities: school, chores and friends. It makes for a nice balance that, I think, more closely mirrors a realistic depiction of YA life than the stories in which the protagonists seem to have no responsibilities, no oversight, no nothing other than whatever they seem to want to do at any given moment.

5. There’s action, and the author doesn’t wimp out and play the mercy card at key moments.

What I Didn’t Love About the Book:

1. I think this is really a middle reader book, not YA, and while this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it was certainly not what I was expecting going into it.

2. I listened to this on Audible, the version of which is narrated by the author. I didn’t enjoy his narration, however, and think he would have been very much better served to have hired a professional reader. He read so fast it reminded me of those Micro Man commercials from back in the day! It seriously felt like he performed the reading and someone decided that it was too long, so they decided that, instead of his rereading the book a bit faster, they’d just speed up the recording. And while this might not seem like an issue, let’s be clear: it’s distracting.

3. It was really, really predictable. Like, super predictable. As in, I would have given up, but the book had received such great reviews, I assumed I was wrong about it. But there was really no great mystery here.

4. Interestingly, the author uses the word “Custodian” as a name for the superheroes, leaning on the traditional definition rather than the more modern one which is synonymous with janitor. Of course, the boys, upon learning this term, proceed to rag on how much it sucks to have such a title because they’re not janitors and don’t want to be referred to as them. I thought this was pretty unfair and unnecessary for the plot line, and it was one of the few points that the author brought up somewhat repeatedly which struck me as being fairly hypocritical, in light of where the rest of the story was headed.

5. I was disappointed in how the character Donnie was portrayed in the book. I don’t want to spill the beans, but I invite you, dear reader, to take a gander and not come to the conclusion that it’s not really fair.

Overall:

The book was . . . okay. As a middle reader book, it’s great, and it’s nice to see a book with an all-male team of characters. On the other hand, it’s incredibly predictable and so not overly engaging as a YA book. I thought the premise was fantastic, but the execution could be improved upon.

Anyone else out there have any thoughts? Any enlightenment to share on this one?

Well, It Definitely Ended With a Bang: A Sad Goodbye to Gina Damico’s Croak Series

I’ve said it before and, as I apparently have absolutely zero problem repeating myself, I might as well say it again: I will absolutely miss Gina Damico’s Croak Series, having finally finished the last of the trilogy, Rogue. Why is this such a sad parting? Ms. Damico’s done what I’ve found many YA authors to really, really struggle with (and mostly fail): balance. She had an amazing concept that was unique and interesting; a protagonist who’s out of control wild in some aspects, yet grows through the course of the series to have greater self and social awareness; humor and levity; sarcasm and respect; independence and parenting. The list goes on, but in terms of a wonderful YA series, well, it’s hard to move past this one.

In terms of this, the final installment, I’m not going to say much about the book itself because there’s not much I can really say without essentially ruining the book (and if you’ve not yet started it, the series). But in terms of interesting ideas that are being mixed in this series, there are many worth mentioning!

Though Lex, our protagonist, is not your average teen (pretty much ever, in an of the capacities in which we know her), we see her grow tremendously from the beginning to the end. There’s a clear arc here, and while I (somewhat) shudder to tritely reference this as a (duh!) bildungsroman, it’s certainly one of the best examples that I’ve seen. Lex’s growth from beginning to end is palpable, but it’s believable: she doesn’t overnight magically become a saint, nor does she lose herself in light of the decisions that she’s making. In every sense of the word, though, we see her grow up in this trilogy, which is definitely an aspect that I’ve repeatedly found lacking with many other YA series in which time passes, stuff happens, but there seems to be little or no change or growth in the protagonist.

In terms of story telling tropes, this story in some ways was reminiscent of a fairy tale to me. I don’t say that to suggest that there were fairies or princesses or knights on white horses, but to reference the fact that, from a very formally analytic view, there are a number of fairy tale elements there. I am no fairy tale expert, but I think Lex could easily be seen as a fairy tale lead: a young girl on the cusp of adolescence, seeking to learn about herself and a truth of the world around her, you have an ongoing question of who’s good and who’s not (note that this is modernized to reflect that no one being can be completely one or the other, which is a wonderful modern spin on this concept). Lex has numerous helpers along the way, the whole story is fantastical in concept and occurring in places that are laced with “magic” of one sort or another, and there is a clear conflict that Lex is working to resolve throughout the course of the books (actually, there’s more than one). She spends a good portion of the series on a quest to resolve the issues, aided with a team of friends, who share their many talents (and their lives) to accomplish this goal. We end the series with . . . well, if not a happy ending, then at the very least an ending that provides closure and makes us aware that there are things like greater goods and that sometimes, it’s ok to acknowledge fears, weaknesses and changes.

I really liked that the story included a well-rounded set of elements; we’re not just focused in on romance, on friendship, on fighting the bad guys, etc. It’s a rounded look at a teen coming into herself, and all of the vastly many facets that go along with it.

I’m sure there are probably other types of stories that this is quite similar to, but as I’ve been MIA reading endlessly long books and articles on fairy tales for class, that’s what you all get. 🙂 I’m sad to see this series end, but already have Ms. Damico’s Hellhole cued up on my ipod for when I’m not listening to thousand page classics (again, for class. . . sigh. .  .)

Anyone out there enjoying these?

If You’re Looking For Some Fun, Light-Hearted Entertainment, Look No Further Than William Ritter’s Jackaby

Well, Sherlock Holmes he certainly ain’t, but William Ritter paints quite a unique picture of an early American east coast paranormal investigator in Jackaby. The title character himself is painted pretty much exactly as one might imagine: a somewhat dorky loner, he’s quite intelligent with a keen attention to paranormal details and a failure to both accept and abide by social norms and niceties. His house–given to him as payment following a sketchy conversation over tea with the resident ghost–is a cabinet of curiosities worth of artifacts, creatures, and enchanted items, as well as just a lot of cool stuff.

The narration is told from the perspective of Abigail Rook. A member of the British upper classes, young Abigail’s lot in life doesn’t appeal to her in the least, and somewhat understandably. While her father, an archaeologist, instilled a love of adventure and possibility in her from a young age, he would not allow her to attend any of his digs. Instead, her mother, the nineteenth century British equivalent of a socialite, pushes Abigail to remain at home following the proper employment for young women of means, like she: finding a husband. Abigail, none too pleased with this, proceeds out into the world, happily prepared to follow adventure. Armed with hard-won university tuition money (well, she’s no saint, let’s just say that), she strikes off on a dinosaur dig, only to find herself boneless, beastless and broke when the dig folds. With the little remaining tuition money she has, she books herself fare on a ship sailing to America and, upon disembarking, immediately begins the task of trying to find employment.

Unfortunately, employment opportunities for young women straight off a ship were apparently somewhat limited. She attempts to find a job all over the town and, after facing repeated rejections, comes upon a flier advertising a position for an assistant to one Mr. R.F. Jackaby. Needless to say, and despite many of the niceties of an employment agreement having been left out, they begin work immediately to solve a string of murders happening in the town.

Overall, this is a fun read–I actually listened to it via Audible, and found the narration to be well done and engaging. Abigail is a fairly sensible (albeit vanilla, especially when compared to Jackaby) heroine and, although there were a few points where she’s written as being a bit overly naive, for the most part she was a solidly consistent character. In a number of ways, she reminded me of Tessa from Cassandra Clare’s Clockwork Angel series: she tough, patient and not quick to put on girly airs. There is a romantic element involved, but it was almost too silly to be taken seriously and really just served as a distraction from the story itself. More interesting is the humor that arises at intervals between Jackaby and Abigail. His cluelessness (whether true or willful) plays well off of Abigail’s prim and proper background, leading to a fairly British-feeling comedic timing.

The major scene-stealer here, though, is Jackaby himself. The character actually intrigued me, and while a part of me sort of wishes the book was told from his perspective, doing so would have ruined the story. He’s just an entertaining mishmash: at times, he’s crafty like Jack Sparrow; at other times, he’s as smooth as any George Clooney character I’ve seen; at other points, he’s a Sherlock Holmes, a la Robert Downey Jr. Basically, he’s a super unique character, which is something that’s both refreshing and exciting in YA Lit (and which doesn’t happen often enough!).

In all, this was an enjoyable–if quite lighthearted–read. Yes, I can criticize it and say that it needs more depth, the characters should be more dynamic and whatnot, that there were a number of loose ends that will presumably be spun off into sequels, etc. But at the end of the day, it was an enjoyable and entertaining read, with an impressive range of vocabulary used.

Anyone out there have a chance to read this one? Any thoughts or comparisons?

At the Intersection of Fantasy, Magic, Realism and Fancy: Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean at the End of the Lane

For the sake of full disclosure, I actually listened to this book some time ago. But I felt like a neglectful blogger, as currently I’ve run into the conundrum of a) listening to a boring book; b) partially finishing a  book that had to be returned to the library; c) continuing reading a lengthy series I’ve already posted about several times; and d) being assigned some spectacularly dull reading for my grad classes. Sigh. But I’d wanted to address the interesting literary realm that is Neil Gaiman anyway, so here we are!

I’m a very big Neil Gaiman fan, I’ll say that from the get go. But not just because his tales walk the line between fantasy and reality, and not just because they allow our imaginations to groove in the direction they want to go, but that we don’t often get a chance to let loose and enjoy. The Ocean at the End of the Lane is being billed as YA lit, and I suppose I can see that: it’s not the hard-boiled Alice In Wonderland on crack that Neverwhere is, and it’s not the graveyard fairy tale of The Graveyard Book. This story’s focused on the in-between of these two extremes: a normal boy growing up with his family, and the spectacular series of events that occur in his coming to know the little girl that lives, well, down the lane.

I liked that it had this interesting blend, and it touches on witchcraft, which seems to be a continuously popular topic that keeps coming up in writing. However, I had a little trouble enjoying all of it, as I felt there were a number of times when there was a good deal of talking and not a lot happening. Gaiman is always good for spinning a yarn, but if I were to compare Mr. Gaiman to Stephen King for a moment, this is his The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. There’s an on-going low-level tension throughout the relatively short tale, and there’s an end climax, but in terms of surprises along the way, there wasn’t much there (other than a fairly surprising sex scene).

It’s interesting, though, the lines he draws between the characters. Almost like a parable, there are clearly good characters, clearly bad characters, an evil to be overcome, a sacrifice to be made. And in the end, survival, hope, clarity and sadness. The simplicity with which the narrative can be dissected lends it to seem almost childish (like Mr. King’s Tom Gordon), yet it manages to maintain a more mature tension throughout.

In all, I’d say there are probably a few other YA Lit books that are a bit freakier (Ann Aguirre, I’m looking at you), but Gaiman is a household name and classic author for all levels, and this is a fine addition to a collection.

So what did you think? Anyone out there read this and enjoy it? Or think there were better out there?