the spindlers

Lauren Oliver's The Spindlers, a middle grade fantasy, is currently available as a free, full-length read on the HarperCollins Children's Books site.  That’s where I read it – as part of the Browse Inside feature!  I liked Oliver’s first middle grade fantasy, Liesl & Po, so I had been meaning to give The Spindlers a try.  Add to that Iacopo Bruno’s cover art (he’s the Italian artist behind the cover for Iron Hearted Violet, as well!), and I was determined to read the book.  Yes, my head was turned again by a pretty cover – and I’m not sorry.

Evocative of Alice in Wonderland, this novel from New York Times bestselling author Lauren Oliver is a bewitching story about the reaches of loyalty and the enduring power of hope.

Looking across the breakfast table one morning, twelve-year-old Liza feels dread wash over her. Although her younger brother, Patrick, appears the same, Liza knows that he is actually quite different. She is certain that the spindlers—evil, spiderlike beings—came during the night and stole his soul. And Liza is also certain that she is the only one who can rescue him.

Armed with little more than her wits and a huge talking rat for a guide, Liza descends into the dark and ominous underground to save Patrick's soul. Her quest is far from easy: she must brave tree-snakes, the Court of Stones, and shape-shifting scawgs before facing her greatest challenge in the spindlers' lair, where more than just Patrick's soul is at stake.

Liza is sure that her younger brother Patrick’s soul has been stolen away by the spindlers, spider-like creatures that live Below.  She’s sure because her one-time babysitter Anna told Liza and Patrick all about the creatures that live Below, and introduced them to Pinecone Bowling and other games before she went off to college.  Liza knows the signs, and she knows that the Patrick living in her house is not the real one.  The only thing she can do is to set off on a quest Below to find Patrick’s soul and bring it back Above.  On the way she’ll meet an enormous talking rat, and she’ll have to trust, negotiate, and listen in order to make her way to Patrick.  And then face the spindlers, of course.

I have complicated feelings about The Spindlers.  On one hand, the final chapters of the book were fantastic, and the suspense and resolution were perfectly modulated.  There were also gorgeous passages that spoke right to my story-loving soul, such as this one from page 109:

“[H]er parents did not understand—and had never understood—about stories.  Liza told herself stories as though she was weaving and knotting an endless rope.  Then, no matter how dark or terrible the pit she found herself in, she could pull herself out, inch by inch and hand over hand, on the long rope of stories.”

On the other hand, many of the adventures before the final showdown were derivative, slow-moving and boring.  Mix the awkward pacing in with overly elaborate prose (turns out there’s a fine line between something beautiful and something overwrought!), and what results is a book that is just okay and leaning-toward-mediocre.

That said, I am an adult reading a book meant for children, so I asked myself if I would feel the same way if I picked up this book as a child, if I hadn’t already read Alice in Wonderland, The Lord of the Rings, the Harry Potters, Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, or any of the other books that I am quite sure were used to inspire various scenes and creatures.  And honestly, I think most of the frustration I felt with the book would go away, except for one thing: the pacing.  The middle chapters, while each describing glorious or terrible scenes on Liza’s journey below, are still just scenes.  There’s an absence of building tension, and they drag.  And I think, unfortunately, that they drag enough that most kids would put the book down.

As I said, I felt a lot of different things about this book: frustration, interrupted occasionally by pockets of appreciation and wonder, and then unbridled enjoyment at the very end.  It was a mixed bag, reflecting my overall experience with Oliver’s writing: sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it.  In all, an interesting read.

Recommended for: fans of Lauren Oliver and young readers who like adventures, fantasy and talking animals.

Fine print: I read this book for free via the HarperCollins website.  I did not receive any compensation for this review.

liesl & po

When I need a break from young adult books and their ever-present danger, excitement, and nervous blush of first love, I turn to fantasy, middle grade, and the ketchup bottle label. Okay, so not actually the label. But this is the truth: sometimes you need a different sort of story to stir the heart, fire up your sense of wonder, and make the whole world new again.

Thus, I love middle grade fantasies, which combine two favorite elements. The original attraction may be due to fond childhood memories of C.S. Lewis’ Narnia books, or that I keep being pleased to bits by the middle grade books I do pick up. Whatever the case, it segues nicely into an introduction of Lauren Oliver’s Liesl & Po (which is, as you’ve probably guessed, a middle grade fantasy).

Liesl lives in a tiny attic bedroom, locked away by her cruel stepmother. Her only friends are the shadows and the mice—until one night a ghost appears from the darkness. It is Po, who comes from the Other Side. Both Liesl and Po are lonely, but together they are less alone.

That same night, an alchemist's apprentice, Will, bungles an important delivery. He accidentally switches a box containing the most powerful magic in the world with one containing something decidedly less remarkable.

Will's mistake has tremendous consequences for Liesl and Po, and it draws the three of them together on an extraordinary journey.

From New York Times bestselling author Lauren Oliver comes a luminous and magnificent novel that glows with rare magic, ghostly wonders, and a true friendship that lights even the darkest of places.

Liesl is a small girl locked in an attic, in a world where the sun hasn’t shone in a very long time. Her father has just died when a ghost appears. That is the start of her adventure. Meanwhile, in the same city, an alchemist’s apprentice is caught in an error and must make his way in the world. And a ghost (yes, the same one that visits Liesl!) finds itself pulled into the living world and makes decisions that will change all three of them. What follows is a sweet, predictable tale about heart, finding happiness, and letting go.

After all of my blather about middle grade fantasy, I feel I should mention something. While Liesl & Po does have magic and an alternate world, I think that in its essence it is an allegory. For evidence, I present this excerpt, from page 96:

“(That was the kind of world they lived in: When people were afraid, they did not always do what they knew to be right. They turned away. They closed their eyes. They said, Tomorrow. Tomorrow, perhaps, I’ll do something about it. And they said that until they died.)”

Beyond the ‘moral’ in that paragraph, I submit that the book itself works best if looked at as a fable. It is charming and an easy read, but it is also simplistic. The edges fray a bit if you pull hard. So it is best to take it at face value, to read it quickly and appreciate its descriptions of magic and emotion, and move on. That isn’t to say I didn’t like it – I did! But I like it better when I don’t dig deeply.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the lovely artwork by Kei Acedera. Liesl & Po is beautifully illustrated, and this thoughtful touch only adds to the appeal of the story.

Side note: In the past few months I’ve read books by authors I wasn’t keen on (due to previous experience). Both times, I’ve been surprised and quite pleased to find that their recent work changed my mind. Maggie Stiefvater’s The Scorpio Races and Lauren Oliver’s Liesl & Po were enchanting, and I shall be looking for more from them in the future.

Recommended for: fans of middle grade fantasy and fables, and those who for one day would like to see the sun come out from behind the gray.

Fine print: I read Liesl & Po courtesy of HarperCollins' Browse Inside feature, and in conjunction with March of the Middle Grade.

teaser tuesday (74)

It's Teaser Tuesday, a bookish blog meme hosted every week by MizB of Should Be Reading. Here's how it works:

Grab your current read and let it fall open to a random page (or if you're reading on an electronic device, pick a random number and scroll to that section). Post two or more sentences from that page, along with the book title and author. Share your find with others in the comments at Should Be Reading, and don't give anything vital away!

“On the third night after the day her father died, Liesl saw the ghost.

She was lying in bed in the uniform gray darkness of her small attic room when in one corner the shadows seemed to crimp, or flex, and suddenly standing next to her wobbly desk and three-legged chair was a person about her height.”

p. 5 of Lauren Oliver’s Liesl & Po

what is life without love?

One of the best quotes I jotted down while reading The Psychopath Test was this bit, from page 113 of the ARC version:

“Sociopaths love power. They love winning. If you take loving kindness out of the human brain, there’s no much left except the will to win.”

Reading is weird. The mind makes connections and keeps things stored away until they merge and create a new network of knowledge. That passage jumped out at me in part because of my criticism last year of Lauren Oliver’s Delirium – something that I’ve been contemplating on and off ever since. In the dystopian world Oliver created, love is taken out of the equation by a medical procedure performed on all citizens at age 18.

My biggest problem with that scenario was that I could not imagine how a society would function successfully (or even semi-successfully) without love. Perhaps this is due to a lack of imagination on my part. But ever since, I’ve been validating that thought with observations and quotes from other places. And in this case, from a journalist working on unraveling the world and identifying psychopaths.

My take? If you remove love and empathy from the human experience, no one can function. You fundamentally break society, and the world won’t go ‘round, even in a limping, dystopian, empty sort of way. What do you think?

delirium

If you are looking for the best thing since sliced bread, try making yourself a grilled cheese sandwich. Or if you don’t do dairy, perhaps a hummus pita bread hybrid. But, you know, don’t count on Delirium. That’s not to say it’s drivel or that it won’t be passionately loved by someone out there. It will. Probably several someones, actually. But it’s just not, you know, whipped cream in a can. Which is pretty much one of the best inventions ever, for obvious reasons.

Before scientists found the cure, people thought love was a good thing. They didn’t understand that one love -the deliria- blooms in your blood, there is no escaping its hold. Things are different now. Scientists are able to eradicate love, and the government demands that all citizens receive the cure upon turning eighteen. Lena Holway has always looked forward to the day when she’ll be cured. A life without love is a life without pain: safe, measured, predictable, and happy.

But with ninety-five days left until her treatment, Lena does the unthinkable: She falls in love.

To succeed with me, a dystopian (or any genre, really) novel must have a couple of key elements: a character or two that I absolutely fall in love with, a certain level of trust in/for the world they live in, and a tense or mysterious unveiling of events. I can give or take one element if you hand me beautiful writing on a platter. But you must want an example! Here, I have one all ready: The Knife of Never Letting Go.

Todd (main character in aforementioned novel) is young, but he’s already been through a lot. For most of the book he is confused, but he’s 100% about doing the right thing. Or what he thinks is the right thing. And when he gets it wrong, his guilt is palpable. You literally HAVE to feel for him. I didn’t understand his whole society/world at first, but the gradual reveal was both sinister and awesome. I never once ‘popped out’ of the story and told myself it was unrealistic. And as for the plot: nonstop action, danger, tension. No space for doubt or disbelief. Now, go read that book!

Delirium disappointed me on all three counts. 1) I never invested in any one character. Although all of them have some redeeming qualities, I didn’t see enough change, growth, or any really deep human emotions to cause me to root for someone. I saw some ugliness, I saw awful memories, and I saw bad friendship. I did not find a connection with anyone because of those. The most interesting characters (to me) were the ones not present: Lena’s mother and sister. The ones with the most face time didn’t exactly change my world.

2) This dystopian-thing. I may just be a born skeptic, but I didn’t buy it. There were a couple of creepy people dedicated to the cause and keeping order. Not so much actual violence. But the main problem: even though love is a powerful emotion, it is not the ONLY emotion. And the world that Oliver painted was definitely grayscale without love. I am not convinced that society would have worked the way it was described given the parameters the author laid out. I found myself putting the book down to ponder what would have made it more believable, and to analyze which elements rang false.

And finally, 3) the plot. It’s a slow starter, but that in and of itself isn’t always a bad thing. I will admit to reading Delirium compulsively up until page 120, about which time I realized that nothing spectacular was going to jump out and grab me. It’s not that nothing happens. It’s just that I knew what was going to happen. I felt let down.

Now, lest you get all up in my face and say that this is/was/will be your favorite book ever, and I’m a horrible person for hating it, let’s review. I may be a horrible person. But I did not say that I hated the book. Just that it disappointed me. And every reason I used to substantiate that claim was an opinion and personal experience thing. This book can work for you, you can love it, and we can still be friends. I’m just not joining the fan club.

My question coming out of this: can you be spoiled for dystopian novels? Because this one read like Uglies to me. Uglies for girls who wouldn’t usually touch dystopian lit. I begin to wonder if I’ve read so much end-of-the-world goodness that I won’t find anything new under the sun. If that’s the case, I’m very sad.

Also sad? This snippet of text:

“He left me a note. He left me a note. For me. The idea – the fact of it, the fact that he even noticed and thought about me for more than one second – is huge and overwhelming, makes my legs go tingly and my hands feel numb.” -page 142 (ARC, subject to change)

Let’s hope it gets cut from the final version. That’s all. Really.

Are you still looking forward to Delirium?

Delirium releases February 1, 2011 from HarperTeen. I received a review copy through Traveling ARC Tours. Delirium also counts for the 2010 Dystopia Reading Challenge.