A Certain Slant of Light

What I’ve Just Finished Reading

For whatever reason, my favorite pastime right now is reading novels on ebook while simultaneously playing my favorite silly Facebook game, so I have been knocking out many of the Newbery Honor books of the 2000s.

- Joan Bauer’s Hope Was Here, which was depressing, not because of the leukemia or the absentee parents (both surprisingly less depressing than you’d expect!) or any factor under the author’s control, really, because the part that I found depressing was the part where the town got together to elect a candidate to fight political corruption and won and he actually got the local corrupt company to pay its back taxes. From the vantage point of 2020 it felt almost unreal.

However, the food descriptions are quite good, and I liked Hope’s musings on her job as a waitress, and in general the fact that the book focused so thoughtfully on her work.

- Jennifer L. Holm’s Our Only May Amelia, which I can’t believe I didn’t read as a child, because it was everywhere with its cover of a scowling tomboy girl in overalls with a fishing rod and I loved tomboy books and I remember considering it at many book fairs and yet for whatever reason I never read it. Anyway, perfectly cromulent nineties tomboy book, not sure my younger self would have gotten on with Holm’s inexplicable decision not to use quotation marks when the characters are talking, nonetheless wish I had read it when I was younger because I devoured so many tomboy books at the time that I eventually got sick of them and even now when I see one I sigh inside and go “Not another.”

- Sharon Creech’s The Wanderer, which I dreaded because I read Creech’s Bloomability and Walk Two Moons as a child and I found them confusing and sad and just didn’t get them or enjoy them at all.

As it turns out, I loved The Wanderer! But I strongly suspect that I wouldn’t have understood it when I was a child, anymore than I understood Bloomability or Walk Two Moons; I think Creech writes adult books about children, rather than children’s books, and they get marketed as children’s books because the publishing industry has forgotten that adult books with child main characters are a thing that you can do. And then these books keep winning children’s book awards because the writing is beautiful and adult judges love it.

And still the sea called, come out, come out, and in boats I went - in rowboats and dinghies and motorboats, and after I learned to sail, I flew over the water, with only the sounds of the wind and the water and the birds, all of them calling, Sail on, sail on.

AND FINALLY (deep breath), Alan Armstrong’s Whittington, which tells the story of Dick Whittington; the story of a cat named Whittington, the many-greats descendent of Dick Whittington’s cat, who is telling Dick Whittington’s story as he adjusts to life in the Barn of Misfit Animals; and the story of a boy named Ben, who is inspired by Whittington’s retelling of Dick Whittington’s story to accept help for his reading difficulties instead of throwing the book across the room whenever anyone tries to help him.

I also finished a non-Newbery-Honor book, Jaclyn Moriarty’s Gravity Is the Thing, which may end up getting its own post, because this post has gotten quite long.

What I’m Reading Now

Continuing the Newbery Honor theme, I’ve just begun Gary D. Schmidt’s Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy. It is a children’s historical fiction book about the evils of racism written during the early 2000s, and to tell you the truth I feel that I already served my time with that genre, but perhaps it will surprise me.

What I Plan to Read Next

Back when I first started the Newbery Honor project, evelyn_b and I had a chat about how far back I would be able to go before I hit a book the library didn’t have. The answer turns out to be the year 1999... sort of. The library itself doesn’t own a copy of Audrey Couloumbis’s Getting Near to Baby, but some of the schools in the library consortium do.

However, the books in those school libraries won’t be available till the schools reopen. (Of course, the physical library books won’t be available till the library reopens either, but the library will almost certainly reopen long before the schools.) Normally I would wait patiently for the school reopening (even in normal times, these shared system books aren’t available over the summer), but this time I went ahead and bought a copy. I figure that if I don’t patronize independent bookstores now, they won’t be there to patronize later.

More meme answers! ancientreader asked:

4. What’s better (or the least bad): character over plot or plot over character?

I have been known to complain vociferously about the primacy of plot in modern Western thought about How Stories Work (and I mean modern in the most recent possible sense: the older Disney films don’t suffer from this relentless drive to advance the plot all the time. Sometimes they stop dead so you can admire the beautifully animated cuckoo clocks) and the tragic fact that this has trained readers to expect plot instead of an endless succession of picnics.

So definitely character over plot. There are a few books I really love where the plot goes completely off the rails near the end, but I love the character work so much that it’s just like, eh, it would be nice if the ending was better, but it doesn’t really matter. (This is assuming that the ending isn’t bad in a character-assassinating kind of way, of course, but that’s a different problem than “the plot fell apart.”)

5. Do you think stories can change lives? Is there a story that has changed yours?

I do, although now that I’ve written it I can think of a time when a story qua story changed my life; rather, my life has been shaped by the friendships that I’ve made through stories, like the way Emma and I bonded in sixth grade over our loathing of Cleon-as-love-interest in Squire and it ended up leading indirectly to most of my high school friend group. Or the various fandom friends I’ve made over the years. Also the “we don’t share a specific fandom but we all love books” friends.

I did decide against studying English in college directly as a result of Madeleine L’Engle’s A Ring of Endless Light, in which one of the characters warns Vicky Austen to major in something else because focusing on another subject will give her a wider understanding of the world and thus enrich her writing. As it happens I feel that this was a good choice, but all the same it seems like a somewhat flimsy basis on which to make a decision of that magnitude.

21. Would you like to write an alternative ending for any of your favorite shows/books/etc?

If I had to pick one, it would probably be Jaclyn Moriarty’s The Murder of Bindy Mackenzie. The first four hundred pages or so are a beautiful exploration of one high school girl’s loneliness and difficulty making friends (and I really liked the fact that this difficulty arises from genuine aspects of her personality; it’s not a “she’s perfect and no one appreciates her” story), and then suddenly as we close in on the end ( spoilers )

I finished Jacqueline Moriarty's A Tangle of Gold, which I enjoyed very much! It's the third book in her Colors of Madeleine trilogy, and a fitting conclusion for this strange, whimsical ride.

The writing is excellent, as Moriarty's writing always is. She's always had a bright, light-hearted voice, funny and full of whimsical imagery - I particularly like her dialogue; her teenagers sound like teenagers, not so much in that they mimic specific slang (which dates quickly anyway), but in their intensity and passion and occasional goofiness.

But I think her ability to fold pathos effectively into that framework has grown tremendously through her books. I felt the melding didn't quite work in her first book, Feeling Sorry for Celia, but by A Tangle of Gold she's mastered it: there's a moment about halfway through the book (I won't say what it is so as to avoid spoilers; that is the one problem with discussing the third book in a trilogy) where the emotional tension is so great that it was hard to read through it.

At this point, a character works magic through the sheer intensity of her emotions, which I usually feel is a cop-out - but this time I really believed it. The emotional atmosphere was that strong.

Moriarty also pulled off a Big Reveal which was both totally unexpected and yet also made perfect sense; I don't think I've seen that done so well since Sarah Rees Brennan's The Demon's Lexicon.

It's not a perfect trilogy. The world-building is frustrating if you approach it with the idea that it should all hang together sensibly - for instance, how the hell do you farm in a world where seasons blow in and out like rain? Summer one day, winter for the next two weeks, and then a spot of spring! But it's rather charming if you let go and just go with the flow.

Moreover, it's very much infested with Moriarty's greatest flaw as a writer: she seems to be unable to resist a good conspiracy theory. Or a bad conspiracy theory. Or a so-so to middling conspiracy theory. The result is that the actual power in the Kingdom of Cello ends up lying three conspiracies behind the throne, each conspiracy more secret, shadowy, and weird than the last.

The end result of this is that the royal family of Cello is fascinating as a picture of a dysfunctional family, but never quite convincing as part of the power structure of the country. In fact the political plot never did take off for me, which made the book less powerful than it might have been. But it's still more than worth reading for the personal relationships between the characters.

What I’ve Just Finished Reading

Barbara Hambly’s Fever Season, the second of the Benjamin January books.

What I’m Reading Now

Lots of things! Notably Pamela Dean’s Juniper, Gentian, and Rosemary, which I’m loving so far. I like Gentian and her passion for astronomy; I like her group of friends, who are all good at different things but support each other in their goals and push each other to be better. They are possibly the first group in the history of fiction to have even a passing resemblance to my high school friends.

One of the things Dean is really good at, I think, is showing all the permutations of friendship. The friends you madly adore, the friends you adore but find exasperating, the friends you would never have sought out on your own but have grown to love as a part of the friend group, and the people in the friend group that you tolerate because everyone else seems to like them.

So far my feeling is that Dominic is super creepy. Also possibly an automaton. I know Dean likes quotes, but so far Dominic talks in nothing but quotes. It’s like he inputs the things other people say, processes the key words through a database of literary quotations, and spits out a couple lines of poetry that are vaguely related.

I’m also reading Jaclyn Moriarty’s The Cracks in the Kingdom, which I feel dubious about at present. However, I felt dubious about the first hundred pages or so of A Corner of White, too, so hopefully The Cracks in the Kingdom will pull together in the end in the same manner.

I’m nearly done with Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty. I have the strong impression that Sewell read Uncle Tom’s Cabin fifteen times, then said, “I want to write something like this, BUT FOR HORSES.” They have the compulsively readable quality, despite being about as subtle as jackhammers. Sewell hasn’t managed to make me cry yet, but perhaps she’s saving the tear-wringing scenes at the knacker’s for the end of the book.

And finally Frances M. Wood’s When Molly Was a Harvey Girl. I will forever grieve the fact that Wood’s writing career never really took off, because When Molly Was a Harvey Girl shows that Becoming Rosemary was not a fluke. I like Wood’s heroines, in all their stubborn and occasionally bratty glory; I like their older sisters, with their various but always vibrant personalities; and I like Wood’s light hand with historical fiction.

What I Plan to Read Next

Sarah Orne Jewett’s A Country Doctor. Also, Eva Ibbotson’s A Countess Below Stairs has finally (finally!) come in at the library, so at last I’ll get to read it.

What I’ve Just Finished Reading

Susan Cooper’s Over Sea, Under Stone, the first book in the Dark is Rising sequence, which I actually quite enjoyed. I went into it with such low expectations that I was pleasantly surprised to find it a family adventure story, a la Narnia or Swallows and Amazons or even the Boxcar Children. And with a magical twist, to boot!

I am very fond of this sort of story, although it seems to have fallen out of fashion in recent years. There are Hilary McKay’s books - I adored The Amber Cat, though for whatever reason I’ve had trouble getting into her other books - and Jeanne Birdsall’s Penderwick series, which is absolutely charming. The fourth book should be coming out next year, I hope...they seem to come out at three-year intervals.

What I’m Reading Now

Alexandre Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo, because I was feeling gigantic French novel withdrawal. So far, everyone is jealous of Dantes and scheming against him and he has just been taken to the police station (gendarmerie?) on suspicion of being a Bonapartist agent.

Also Jaclyn Moriarty’s I Had a Bed Made of Buttermilk Pancakes, which I am struggling with, because I want to smack so many of the characters. Of the three main adult characters, one just embarked on an affair with a married man, one schemes vaguely about cheating on her boyfriend - even though she’s happy with him! - and one is pettily unhappy about little things her husband does.

I have to keep checking the cover to convince myself that this really is a Moriarty book. The characters in her teen novels are so much more grown up than this.

What I’m Reading Next

The rest of the Dark is Rising sequence.

There is but one problem with Jaclyn Moriarty’s A Corner of White: the sequel is not out yet.

Actually this is not entirely true. A Corner of White does have an actual defect. While it eventually becomes quite engrossing, it takes an awfully long time to get rolling: while the book is never a slog, it remains eminently put-down-able until the two protagonists finally come into contact, and that’s about a hundred pages in.

I say “come in contact” rather than “meet” because, of course, Madeleine and Elliot do not and cannot meet, on account of living in different universes. (In consequence Elliot and Madeleine show no signs of falling in love with each other, which is quite refreshing. Although I suppose if it becomes possible for them to meet in a future book that may change.)

They become penpals by sending letters to each other through a crack between worlds. A broken parking meter in Cambridge, where Madeleine came to roost after she ran away from home for the thirteenth time and her mother followed her (what is it with Moriarty’s characters and running away from home?), connects up to a broken TV in the Elliot’s hometown of Bonfire in the Kingdom of Cello, where colors occasionally attack people.

Red comes in waves that make people either intensely busy or intensely angry, purple slashes people to death or occasionally picks them up and spirits them away to its lair - colors live in lairs, of course - and yellow - but we won’t even talk about yellow.

And also sometimes towns register themselves as Hostile, which means they are seceding from the Kingdom of Cello - except recently towns have started becoming Hostile without bothering to register. I mean really, how rude.

Okay, the world-building is a bit bizarre, which probably contributed to the fact that I found A Corner of White hard to get into at first. The bizarre is something of a wildcard quality in Moriarty’s work: her best characters, IMO, her Emily Thompsons and Bindy Mackenzies, are also the strangest, because their eccentricities make them seem the most individual and most fully human.

But I think sometimes her willingness to throw herself into zany plot twists or world-building weakens her stories by taking the focus away from the character interactions, which are what she does best.

However, ultimately the gamble pays off with the Kingdom of Cello. It starts out seeming quaint and unreal, but eventually, unevenly, fleshes itself out to seem like a real place. And there are things people don’t know, which I found excellent: I think often fantasy authors want to explain too much. It is perhaps important to know how magic works, and what it can do - but it can get pretty boring if you also know why. Leave unanswered questions!

And then write the rest of the trilogy! Because I want to know what happens next.

goldjadeocean linked an excellent article about feminist characters (summary: Strong Female Characters (tm) are a good starting point, but we need lots of different kinds of female characters in fiction); and within that article there's a link to a topic that is, if possible, even closer to my heart: Feminist SFF: Female Friendship.

Which argues that, yo, SFF novels need more female friendship. To which I would add, most kinds of novels need more female friendship! The only novels that have anything like a sufficiency are children's novels.

Specifically children's. YA novels, in contrast, tend to suck at female friendship.

Although there are some good ones. Jaclyn Moriarty's Year of Secret Assignments is particularly awesome in this regard - all of her books are, but Secret Assignments especially so. Also Michelle Cooper's Montmaray Journals: the most important relationship is Sophie's friendship with her cousin, Veronica. And - maybe I should make this a separate post.

But its worth noting that when I wanted to read books that had tons of female friendship, I turned to girls' literature from a hundred years ago. A century past, people! We should be able to do at least as well!

Continuing my binge on Australian YA lit, I read Melina Marchetta's Saving Francesca, which is - very good but not quite to my taste. The first half of the book is so difficult to get through; it's not boring, but it feels like a gray miasma is roiling off the page, lingering in the air, bleaching color and deadening emotion even after the book is closed.

This gives the second half of the book, when Francesca reengages with the world, a feeling of fragile luminosity, but I'm not sure the joy of the second half is worth the misery of the first.

However! All is not drear in my reading world. I read Jaclyn Moriarty's Feeling Sorry for Celia. (I should have a Jaclyn Moriarty tag.) WHY ARE YOU NOT READING JACLYN MORIARTY. Seriously. Why are you wasting time on this post? IT IS TIME YOU COULD SPEND READING JACLYN MORIARTY.

What I particularly love about Moriarty's work is the richness of her characters - there's a certain density to their lives, a feeling that they are enmeshed in a web of people: friends, classmates, family, boyfriend (sometimes), schoolwork, work work... and even the characters who we barely see seem individual. We may not know their story, but you can tell they have one.

And being surrounded by so many three-dimensional characters makes the main characters stronger and more interesting. The individuality of the secondary characters brings out unexpected facets of the main characters, perfectly in character but also surprising.

Moreover, it gives the reader perspective on Moriarty's characters which is hard to achieve with Marchetta's, whose book is more tightly focused. (It helps, too, that Moriarty writes epistolary novels, while Marchetta writes in first person). This makes it easier to love and sympathize with her characters: the reader doesn't have to feel every iota of their pain.

Also, I love Moriarty's sense of humor. She can be serious, and she doesn't shy away from painful topics, but she writes with a firm grip on her sense of the ridiculous and an exquisite grasp of amusing turns of phrase. She makes me love her characters and laugh out loud, and I can't think what more I would ask from an author.

I started reading The Year of Secret Assignments this morning, sitting on the edge of the couch waiting for my toast to pop. Half the book later, I lifted my head and looked about in puzzlement, wondering why I was sitting in such an uncomfortable position and hadn't there been plans for breakfast?

That, my friends, is how engrossing Jaclyn Moriarty's The Year of Secret Assignments is. Unless you have a deep-seated revulsion to literature about high school students, you should read it.

(I note that Moriarty is Australian. All the best writers are Australian these days: Isobelle Carmody, Garth Nix, Michelle Cooper who wrote the Montmaray books. Possibly I should consider emigrating.)

The Year of Secret Assignments is a bit like I hoped John Tucker Must Die would be, if John Tucker Must Die wasn't a misogynistic piece of crap, as both of them involve taking vengeance on a sleazy jackass who jerks girls around for his own entertainment. But beyond that there's little point of comparison, as The Year of Secret Assignments has things like "female characters who actually like each other and have lives outside of their slowly burgeoning romances with their pen pals at the neighboring high school."

The story is told through the letters flying back and forth between pen pals, which means that Moriarty juggles six different first-person narrators. It's a bit confusing at first, but they differentiate eventually: Lydia is the crazy fun daredevil, Cassie is quiet and still trying to get over her father's death, and Emily is...Emily. And they have fun times together! They paint murals on the walls of Lydia's rooms and sneak out of school to watch a movie every Thursday and are generally awesome.

Emily is my favorite. She writes long letters sprinkled with malapropisms and peculiar grammatical constructions; one gets the feeling that, a) she wants to be smarter than she thinks she is, and b) she hasn't quite gotten the hang of written English yet. That this is charming rather than maddening is testament to Moriarty's skill.

Emily also has the most interesting and individual romance, which felt specific to these people, in this place, at this time. Her eventual boyfriend, Charley, is well-meaning but deeply awkward: geeky in a way that is light years removed from anything geek-chic.

(However, I suspect that the other boyfriend in the book is more popular with readers: he has most the stigmata of an appropriate book crush.)

Also, there's a sequel. It's called The Murder of Bindy Mackenzie (Bindy, a highly strung nerd, being my favorite secondary character - did I mention all the fun secondary characters? There are fun secondary characters. Given how many primary characters there are it's amazing there's room for anyone else) and I mean to get it out of the library tomorrow.