soul machine

I try to keep on top of new graphic novel releases for two reasons. One, they are by far the most popular reads in my classroom library. My students gobble them up during choice reading time. Two, I personally love a good sci-fi or fantasy story, and some of the best new work in that genre is produced in graphic novel format. So when I found out about Jordana Globerman’s Soul Machine, I placed a pre-order. It didn’t hurt that it was during Barnes & Noble’s preorder sale, either!

Chloe and her older sister make souls by hand in an empty old house in the countryside. When their supply of breth—the raw material needed to make souls—runs dry, the evil MCorp tries to force them to franchise and make synthetic souls instead. Chloe sets out to the big city in hopes of finding a new source. And maybe a way to modernize their business that Lacey is so determined to keep in the past.

On a journey to find a real breth crop, untouched by MCorp’s greedy hands, Chloe uncovers long-buried family secrets—and starts to question whom to trust and what reality even is.

A beautifully rendered debut, Soul Machine is at once a metaphysical science-fiction story and a nuanced exploration of big ideas: spirituality, family, consciousness, and connection, but also unscrupulous consumption, megacorporations, and how egomaniac entrepreneurs impact our lives.

Soul Machine is the story of two sisters, Chloe and Lucy, trying to carry out their parents' wishes and rescue their dying family business (and failing). Their parents are dead or disappeared, and while younger sister Chloe is full of optimism about answers, and ready to charge out into the world to try and find a way to keep the business afloat, Lucy – who has been Chloe’s de facto parent – is more skeptical. They are insulated in the countryside, but in the city, MCorp reigns through monopoly and is promising an artificial counterpart to their family’s handmade product: souls. When Chloe reaches the city and encounters two very different women, she begins to doubt the story of her family that Lucy has always told her, and to doubt her way forward for the world. What will happen next?

My honest opinion is that this book was trying to be and do too many things, and so it succeeded at none of them. The story started with sisterly combativeness, which didn’t ring true from the very beginning – there wasn’t enough emotional depth evident (especially on Lucy’s side), and the dialogue was awkward before the sisters separated and the plot moved forward. Which leads me to my second issue: DIALOGUE in general. One of the ways dialogue was mishandled was in the character of Maya, the ever-present figurehead of MCorp, which seemingly controlled the consumer-based society. Maya as a figurehead seemed to embody physical perfection, a la the Kardashians, as well as a tech mogul position (think Mark Zuckerberg). She is meant to be a satirical caricature, which, fine. However, to signify her actual incompetence – in other words, to break down the stereotype of a creative genius founder – Maya uses slang. Words like “boo” and “okurr” pop up in her speech bubbles. This usage of AAVE (African American Vernacular English) in a narrative in which there are no major people of color is racially charged in a bad way.

Author-illustrator Globerman is also trying to set up a classist hippie (who wants to dictate who deserves a soul) vs. capitalist robber baron hate match. Given that the story is told from Chloe’s POV, and she has serious gaps in her understanding of the issues at hand, info-dumping is necessary, and for both sides it comes off at times as villain (or antihero) monologuing. The insubstantial feel of the “science” in the book and its lack of emotional heart combine with the above and muddle the message overall. The attempt is ambitious, and I applaud it – we need more young adult and middle grade books that delve into the “big” problems of society. However, I don’t think it coheres in Soul Machine.

My one major love in this book = the illustrations. Globerman’s art, with distinctive inking and panels colored mostly in shades of either pink or blue, are beautiful, interesting, and add depth. The book is worth rifling through for the art alone. I will certainly be keeping my eye out for Globerman’s work in the future.

While this satirical and metaphysical young adult graphic novel did not work for me, some will enjoy its engrossing art, and its attempt to tackle major societal issues.

Recommended for: fans of graphic novel art, ambitious science fiction ideas, and satire.

grace needs space!

Art is so powerful – in the present, in memory, and as a part of literature. While I had seen Rii Abrego’s work before (I reviewed Abrego and Joe Whitt’s The Sprite and the Gardener here on the blog!), I wasn’t following her other projects. However, I knew I recognized her art style from somewhere when I found it at SPX (Small Press Expo, an indie comics conference held each fall in Bethesda, Maryland), where author Benjamin A. Wilgus was tabling. I asked a question or two, and was sold immediately on their collaboration: middle grade science fiction graphic novel Grace Needs Space!

 

Grace is SO EXCITED to fly a freighter from her home space station (and away from her BORING mother Evelyn) to a faraway moon! Plus, she'll get some quality time with her FUN mom Kendra--something Grace definitely needs. Finally, a real adventure that Grace can get excited about while the rest of her space station friends go away for their summer vacations.

But when Kendra is too focused on work, Grace's first big trip suddenly becomes kind of lonely. Grace had so many plans for fun. But all it takes is one quick decision to explore the moon by herself before Grace's adventure suddenly becomes not so out of this world at all. With her mom mad at her, Grace wants nothing more than to return home. Then their ship breaks down. Will Grace be able to get through to her mom and save their trip in the end?

Grace is a space-obsessed tween who has been begging to go on a trip with her Ba, a traveller between space stations. To Grace, her Ba lives a life full of mysterious glamour. She, on the other hand, lives a “boring,” stationary life with her other mother, the chief engineer on a space station, and is super excited for a taste of travel and planetary adventure. She’s been anticipating their trip to Titan for so long and built it up in her head… (you can see where this is going). The reality ends up being both more and less exciting than her expectations, in unanticipated ways.

Grace Needs Space! speaks to a lot of universal ideas and themes: growing independence and developing identity, the juxtaposition of curiosity with physical limits, and parents (and adults in general) letting kids down. Wilgus’ story includes one of the most nuanced portrayals of divorced parents that I’ve ever seen in a middle grade book, with believable tension, interactions, and an open-ended conclusion.

Grace is beyond excited for a fun trip with her Ba, Kendra, and instead learns quickly that it is a no-nonsense work trip for her parent. This letdown is the first of several, and while her messages back home to her mother are cheery, the experience isn’t living up to ideas and ideals. While at age 12 she feels grown up, she’s not treated like an adult. Throughout the trip and on Titan, she has lots of free time and freedom, but not in a kid-friendly way. Realizing and reacting to her parents’ differing parenting styles, and being hungry for information and life experience, will resonate with most readers.

Abrego’s art is gorgeous. Her figures cute and stylized, with lots of color, rounded faces, big eyes, and diverse body types, skin colors, and clothing styles. Some of the most impactful panels include Grace’s looks of wonder upon experiencing new things, the gorgeous (and alien!) planetary landscapes, and details of space travel and extra-planetary life. Abrego’s illustrations definitely add depth to the story and complement it perfectly.

In all, Grace Needs Space! is an insightful, beautiful story about the growing pains of coming of age, and the ways in which people and expectations can let us down, or lift us up. It’s also absolute fun and a visual marvel: it contains multitudes!

Recommended for: readers ages 8 and up (though would be perfectly acceptable for younger readers who are reading up), fans of science fiction, and anyone looking for beautifully-illustrated graphic novels.

across a field of starlight

I am always happy to read science fiction. That’s especially true in today’s modern sci-fi landscape, where more queer, diverse stories are available from major publishers all the time. One of the titles that I’ve had on my radar for a while is Blue Delliquanti’s young adult graphic novel Across a Field of Starlight. Reading for the graphic novel panel for the Cybils Awards gave me the nudge I needed to pick it up, and I fell in love with its innovative plot, excellent characters, and themes. It was one of my favorite books of the year!

When they were kids, Fassen's fighter spaceship crash-landed on a planet that Lu's survey force was exploring. It was a forbidden meeting between a kid from a war-focused resistance movement and a kid whose community and planet are dedicated to peace and secrecy.

Lu and Fassen are from different worlds and separate solar systems. But their friendship keeps them in each other's orbit as they grow up. They stay in contact in secret as their communities are increasingly threatened by the omnipresent, ever-expanding empire.

As the empire begins a new attack against Fassen's people--and discovers Lu's in the process--the two of them have the chance to reunite at last. They finally are able to be together...but at what cost?

This beautifully illustrated graphic novel is an epic science fiction romance between two non-binary characters as they find one another through time, distance, and war.

 

Across a Field of Starlight is a sci-fi epic. The Ever-Blossoming Empire and the Fireback resistance are at war, and almost everyone is caught in the cross-hairs – including young Fassen, a resistance orphan, and Lu, part of a neutral party survey team who find them stranded planet-side in the aftermath. These two, in a moment born of stress, find a way to stay in touch despite diverging paths, and the rest is a story of resistance, of broadening perspectives, of unimaginable technology, and of finding ways to do the right thing, even when it is hard.

 

Fassen has grown up in the resistance, and knows no other world but one of duties, working for your food allotment, and dreaming of destroying the Empire at all costs. Lu, on the other hand, has a best friend who is an AI, pilots their own small research vessel, and lives in a secretive community that doesn’t welcome combatants on either side of the galactic war. They maintain a friendship based on storytelling and delayed communication but cannot share most of their lives with each other. When Fassen is faced with choices that stretch their understanding of right and wrong, Lu and the Field community show them another way of being – but there are deeper and more dangerous elements at play than culture clash. The future of the resistance, and the future of humanity, may be at stake.

 

I really appreciated the way that this story was one that echoed themes in other popular sci-fi franchises (the Star Wars films, for one), while making its own, hopeful way. Fassen’s place in the Fireback resistance is one that depends on healthy soldiers, and each soldier only has as much value as they bring to the war effort. Lu’s world is completely different – a commune based on mutual aid, sharing, and personal choice beyond subsistence. Author-illustrator Delliquanti asks the reader, through their characters, to consider a kinder, less capitalistic, and more peaceful future for humanity, and resists falling into the storytelling pitfalls of white saviorism and all resistance = good. Across a Field of Starlight is amazingly complex for a young adult graphic novel, and while it won’t appeal to all readers, I loved it.

 

I also appreciated the fact that Lu is Black and fat, and there’s no discussion of that at all – it’s just the way they are, and Fassen (and other characters’) genderqueer/trans identities are only brought up in the context of being able to afford meds, or what accommodations they must make to appear in a way that matches their identity, or why they might idolize certain other characters. The narrative doesn’t ask them to suffer, or give up their ideals, or even to fall in love, to be who they want to be. I found that added a refreshing, optimistic, and satisfying note to go along with some heavier, more serious notes in the story.

 

Delliquanti’s art is a major highlight of the book – it’s colorful, imaginative, makes great use of lighting, and totally sells the sci-fi elements of the plot with small details and costuming. A note in the book shares that Delliquanti plots & thumbnails on paper, and then completes the rest of their process digitally. The result is a polished, warm, and interesting take on science and space. There is no cold distance in Delliquanti’s art – it is amazingly cozy, with a rainbow palette. It doesn’t dwell much on the emptiness of space, but instead on the human lives that people it, and how they intend to survive (and thrive) together.

 

In all, Across a Field of Starlight is not to be missed – it’s beautiful, hopeful, and set in a galaxy that will feel welcome and unique all at once.

 

Recommended for: all young adult graphic novel enthusiasts, fans of LGBTQ+ fiction, and anyone who likes their sci-fi with a heavy dose of hope and cozy vibes, à la Becky Chambers’ The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet.

remote control

As an English teacher now, and a book blogger of longer standing, I am asked quite often for book recommendations. If someone wants science fiction, I nearly always steer them towards Nnedi Okorafor. Her stories are inventive and deeply interesting, and novella Remote Control is no exception. It is a concise, layered, and wondrous mystery.

 

"She’s the adopted daughter of the Angel of Death. Beware of her. Mind her. Death guards her like one of its own."

The day Fatima forgot her name, Death paid a visit. From hereon in she would be known as Sankofa­­--a name that meant nothing to anyone but her, the only tie to her family and her past.

Her touch is death, and with a glance a town can fall. And she walks--alone, except for her fox companion--searching for the object that came from the sky and gave itself to her when the meteors fell and when she was yet unchanged; searching for answers.

But is there a greater purpose for Sankofa, now that Death is her constant companion?

 

A young girl mysteriously glows with a green, killing light, can stop a bullet, and is widely feared – this is how Remote Control begins. Author Okorafor spends the rest of the story unraveling just how Sankofa became this creature of legend. How can she emit and evade death all at once? What about the uncanny red fox Movenpick who follows her everywhere? Does the ever-present and ominous corporation LifeGen have something to do with her powers? Or the mysterious glowing green that came from the sky when she was small?

 

Remote Control is a masterful, open-ended tale, rich in imagery and allusions, history and the future, natural world and the human-constructed one – and it is also a science fiction puzzle. Sankofa knows little about why and how she came to be who she is, and this guides the storytelling structure. Also unavoidable are tragedy, sorrow, and close encounters with fear and violence – some of the byproducts and antecedents of death. As she wanders Ghana on foot, first in a chase and then in avoidance, Sankofa studies human nature, even as she is held apart from it. Sankofa’s musings are perhaps best represented by this quote, from pages 112-113:

 

“…people were complicated. They wore masks and guises to protect or hide their real selves. They re-invented themselves. They destroyed themselves. They built on themselves.”

 

Okorafor’s tale is not especially kind to humanity, nor to those who find themselves with money and power – it is interested in how we treat those on the margins, and perhaps those who choose to unplug from the digital detritus of modern life. It also feels – in a very distant way – like a riff on the Superman mythos, if the only thing you knew about it was that the mysterious object that emits green light kills him.

 

In all, Remote Control imagines a weird, haunting, and visceral future where perhaps alien contact has mingled with the mythos of the harbinger of death, and a young girl has been caught in the crosshairs.

 

Recommended for: fans of Okorafor’s Binti, those on the lookout for original science fiction, and anyone looking for adult sci-fi and fantasy with YA crossover appeal.

city under the city

I had the pleasure of hearing Dan Yaccarino, author-illustrator of picture book- slash early reader-hybrid City Under the City, speak on a panel at Picture Book Palooza last month. He and the other panelists had very interesting things to say about how they create images to go with picture book words – telling their stories through images as well as (or married to!) the author’s text. Yaccarino’s title is science fiction for very young readers, and its words AND images evoke a whole different world.

Bix lives with her family in a city where people rarely talk or play together, and no longer read books. Instead, they stare at small portable screens, monitored by giant eyeballs. The Eyes are here to help! With everything. But Bix would like to do things for herself. Running from an Eye, she discovers another world: the City Under the City. There, she befriends a rat who leads her to a library and its treasure trove of books and knowledge. As she explores the abandoned city, she’s thrilled to learn about the people who lived there, with no Eyes. But she misses her family, and decides to head home, where, just maybe, she can help defeat the intrusive Eyes—and show her people how to think for themselves and enjoy each other’s company. 

Told through Dan Yaccarino’s stunning graphic style, this page-turning picture book/early reader crossover will spark a new appreciation of reading, books, independence, friendship, and family.

 

The people in Bix’s city are watched by the Eyes, who see, direct, and know all. Bix, unlike the rest of her family, does not like the help of the eyes, and tries to refuse their directions (this does not go well). One day she spots a rat and follows it through a crack and into… a hidden city below her own. There she sees many strange sights and learns to read books, which teach her about a great many things: history, music, art, animals, and friendship, for starters. She also lives by herself and cares for herself for the first time. But after a while, and a great deal of learning, Bix wants to go back to her family. What will happen next? Revolution!

 

With a premise that’s a cross between 1984 and The City of Ember, City Under the City takes some classic science fiction tropes and adapts them for young readers. While the idea of an AI surveillance state that controls humanity and doesn’t allow for noncompliance is a familiar storyline in modern media, it may be brand new for little ones just starting to read independently. Bix’s flight to an unknown world below, where mysteries abound and are unraveled, is another familiar premise – for adults. City Under the City has the potential to create and/or nurture the next generation of science fiction fans.

 

Yaccarino indicates full immersion in the worlds above and below through use of a limited color palette – purples and yellows for the world above, and deep orangey-red for the city below. He also includes allusions in his illustrations that adults will be sure to pick up on: distinctive landmarks, a very famous painting, etc. His style (ink on vellum, rendered digitally) relies on fluid linework in varying shades, architectural details, inventive use of perspective and lighting, and that limited color palette described above. The result is a picture book with: A) more to discover upon each re-read, and B) a deceptive simplicity with layers of meaning. It's also impeccably designed, with fun and unusual end papers and some page spreads that read like a graphic novel.

 

In all, City Under the City is simple enough for independent reading, but also complex enough (particularly with the help of images) for a science fiction premise. I loved the plot, the cheerful illustrations, and Bix’s can-do attitude. It is sure to delight readers young and old.

 

Recommended for: storytimes and independent reading for children ages 4-7, for anyone looking for unique picture books with distinctive plots and artwork, and for young science fiction and fantasy aficionados. 

 

City Under the City will be available from mineditionUS/Astra Books for Young Readers on November 15, 2022.

Fine print: I received an advanced copy of this title at Picture Book Palooza. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

shifting earth

I don’t want to admit it quite yet, but the end of summer is almost here… and I’m still thinking about all the books I meant to read over the summer. I was very ambitious, and I haven’t finished enough of them, but I’m an incurable book collector – it’s a law of the universe. Speaking of universes, Cecil Castellucci, Flavia Biondi, and Fabiana Mascolo’s new sci-fi graphic novel Shifting Earth imagines our own future world ravaged by climate change contrasted with a mirror universe where the population works together in astonishing ways, but cannot completely escape human darkness.

In a not-so-distant future, a freak particle storm has landed botanist Dr. Maeve Millay on an idyllic yet strange parallel Earth, with no way back home.

Here, two moons rule society, and nature outshines science. But just like her own climate ravaged planet, this verdant Earth has a sinister side. Children are rare. Humans must serve a purpose or pay an unthinkable price. Astronomer Zuzi battles this underlying darkness every day—just like Maeve did at home. Both women are fighters, and both face a choice: forge new paths, or save the worlds they've always known? Maeve will have to decide, and fast—because she's fighting for more than just herself.

In Shifting Earth, botanist Maeve is frustrated and, in some ways, hopeless – humanity has wrecked her near-future planet, and she’s struggling to preserve wild seed varieties to find something that will help humanity survive growing plagues and devastation. When she connects with an old friend at a conference, he urges her to come see his work, and this leads eventually to Maeve’s landing on an alternate earth with two moons and very different problems. On this other earth, usefulness is the true measure of value, and astronomer and scientist’s Zuzi’s work has been deemed useless. Maeve’s arrival unsettles Zuzi’s utopian-esque world in new ways, and it will take the effort and will of many to unravel what happened, and how to send Maeve back home.

 

I liked that this graphic novel asked some big questions in a fairly short volume. What is the good life? How do we create it for ourselves and generations to come? How do we preserve what we have and remain adaptable and open to the future and change? All of these are good questions, and Castellucci’s story not only poses them, but tries to begin answering them through Maeve and Zuzi’s intertwined narrative as well. I also liked that a variety of relationship dynamics were portrayed in the story, and the déjà vu interactions between Maeve and the alternate universe versions of her loved ones and friends.

 

One thing I had complicated feelings about: *spoiler alert* (highlight if you want to read) the forced birth plotline. *end spoiler* I also didn’t feel as invested in Zuzi’s portion of the story – perhaps partially because the stakes did not seem high until later in the narrative. It felt as though she and her partner did not get as much page time as Maeve & co. The stars of this story are the premise (getting sucked into an alternate universe: COOL!) and the climate change urgency driving the plot forward. The conclusion is meant to be a stunner but is weakened by neatly-tied resolution on one hand, and a sort of blank, unknowingness on another. After thrilling build-up, I felt unsatisfied.

 

Let’s talk the art, an ever-important part of any graphic novel experience! Biondi’s creativity comes through – especially in the depiction and imagination of what the shifting particles scenes that transport a character from one universe to another might look like, and in the visual conception of alternate earth. The art reminded me of the clean, professional lines of the Saga series, and it’s clearly created for the discerning adult comics reading fan. The palette contains a lot of earth tones (apropos for an earth-y story, ha ha) and what I call muted brights – colors that would be vivid at full contrast but are darkened or muted a bit.

 

In all, Shifting Earth is a thought-provoking science fiction graphic novel about climate change, alternate universes, and the essential humanity that ties us together, for good and bad.

 

Recommended for: fans of science-heavy science fiction and inventive adult graphic novels.

 

Shifting Earth will be available from Berger Books/Dark Horse on August 30, 2022.

 

Fine print: I received an ARC from the publisher as part of a giveaway. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

a prayer for the crown-shy

I am happy to report that Becky Chambers’ latest novella in the Monk & Robot series – A Prayer for the Crown-Shy – is just as affirming, emotionally complex, and thought-provoking as its predecessor, A Psalm for the Wild-Built. There’s more musing on the place of humans in community, as well as the essential nature of ecosystems, and the human place in them, but just as much love and belief. It’s a gem.

After touring the rural areas of Panga, Sibling Dex (a Tea Monk of some renown) and Mosscap (a robot sent on a quest to determine what humanity really needs) turn their attention to the villages and cities of the little moon they call home.

They hope to find the answers they seek, while making new friends, learning new concepts, and experiencing the entropic nature of the universe.

Becky Chambers's new series continues to ask: in a world where people have what they want, does having more even matter?

I called the first novella in this series a post-apocalyptic utopia, and I stand by that description. This is the story of two beings (one a tea monk, the other a robot, a remnant of an older, crueler time) wandering a world where humans have figured out their needs, how to meet them, and how to live sustainably within their natural habitat in the meantime. It’s a lovely place to escape into and imagine. Of course, as with any place (even a fictional universe!) where there are humans, there are a few more complexities. Sibling Dex, the tea monk, describes how their society functions without capitalism, and what they see as their individual role in the world – and how they are not fitting into it now. This internal unrest contrasts with visits to various people groups as Dex and Mosscap traverse Panga’s inhabited areas.

 

In this second volume in the series, Chambers spends less time describing small human comforts and wonders. Crown-Shy’s focus is instead more philosophical, as the robot half of the duo asks its essential question (What do humans need?) to the people they meet on the road. When not meeting people, Mosscap is obsessed with new trees, reading, and learning about the variety of ways that humans live in and interact with the world. As befits a creature who has existed only in the wild to this point, Mosscap focuses on mundanities and mysteries that most (including Dex) would bypass, or consider scenery, or leave unknown. The result is a volume that feels deeply rooted in nature, in harmony, and in a very human puzzling about purpose, loneliness, and unpacking our feelings.

 

A Prayer for the Crown-Shy is, quite simply, a joy. I hope for more in the series, but am grateful for these two slim volumes if that is all there is. Chambers has managed to create a feeling of contentment in book form – both titles in the series are lovely and heart-warming reads, especially for these restless times.

 

Recommended for: fans of Martha Wells’ Murderbot series and first-class science fiction and fantasy, and anyone who likes quiet, thoughtful, character-driven reading.

how high we go in the dark

I ordered a copy of Sequoia Nagamatsu’s debut How High We Go in the Dark for multiple reasons. It had an interesting title, and striking book cover, the author’s name was (is) cool, and I saw a glowing review of it somewhere (can’t remember where at this point!). So this book made its way into my possession, and was one of the 42 titles I packed to bring with me to the lake for the summer. I do understand that I sound like both a caricature of a book lover and/or someone in a novel when I phrase things that way, lol. Still, I didn’t know too much about How High: climate plague, prescient, and literary fiction were about the sum of it. I finished the book this past Friday evening, just as we learned that most of the house had Covid-19, so my thoughts and reactions were a weird mix of appreciation for a lovely, strange, atmospheric, and gentle book, and comparison to our very real pandemic.

 

Beginning in 2030, a grieving archeologist arrives in the Arctic Circle to continue the work of his recently deceased daughter at the Batagaika crater, where researchers are studying long-buried secrets now revealed in melting permafrost, including the perfectly preserved remains of a girl who appears to have died of an ancient virus.

Once unleashed, the Arctic Plague will reshape life on earth for generations to come, quickly traversing the globe, forcing humanity to devise a myriad of moving and inventive ways to embrace possibility in the face of tragedy. In a theme park designed for terminally ill children, a cynical employee falls in love with a mother desperate to hold on to her infected son. A heartbroken scientist searching for a cure finds a second chance at fatherhood when one of his test subjects—a pig—develops the capacity for human speech. A widowed painter and her teenaged granddaughter embark on a cosmic quest to locate a new home planet.

From funerary skyscrapers to hotels for the dead to interstellar starships, Sequoia Nagamatsu takes readers on a wildly original and compassionate journey, spanning continents, centuries, and even celestial bodies to tell a story about the resiliency of the human spirit, our infinite capacity to dream, and the connective threads that tie us all together in the universe.

In loosely connected vignettes, characters from both the near and far future react to a devastating Arctic Plague unleashed by global warming and melting permafrost. Devoted families try anything to save their families, disaffected loners work in a transformed funerary industry, doctors and scientists grapple with not only how to cure the plague, but how to escape and/or fix earth, and everyone deals in some way with grief, beliefs and responsibilities around death, and a planet transformed by mass trauma. Nagamatsu’s work imagines a world responding to a modern pandemic, and in doing so reveals an empathetic view of the future.

 

The elephant in the room is that there currently IS a global pandemic, and it has gone rather differently than Nagamatsu’s imagining – although he couldn’t have possibly known that, as he wrote his book pre-pandemic. It wouldn’t do you (or me!) any good to list all of the ways that things have gone differently in real life, so I will say only that Nagamatsu’s work is rather more generous to humanity. It imagines elaborate memorials, burial pacts, donating bodies to science, death hotels, parents taking their children to euthanasia theme parks for one last good day – at the core, remembrance and celebration of those lost to the plague. In doing so, Nagamatsu expresses a fundamental optimism (yes, in the midst of all of that death). Even as How High describes death in minute detail, the focus is on human beings striving for connection. Nagamatsu’s deft touch never feels emotionally manipulative, but – against all odds – tender and authentic.

 

Plague-fueled dystopias are not a new subgenre of science fiction, but I did appreciate architecture of this book, its literary fiction feel, and largely Japanese and Japanese-American characters as unique entry points. I also immediately liked the prose – not spare, by any means, but never overwrought. While each successive chapter is linked in some way to the others, there is no central (or even repeated) narrator, so it is not until you reach the end that everything unites into a cohesive whole. In that way the book feels more like a short story collection than a novel. At a couple of days’ remove, I can also point to Nagamatsu’s variations on intimacy (not sex) as a highlight. In other words, this book makes you think about what makes a loved one loved, and how people enter your life at different times, in different places, and mean different things depending on those times and places. It is a thoughtful work that makes the reader ponder human nature, our place in the world, and even our place in the cosmos.

 

In all, How High We Go in the Dark is an inventive, haunting, and extremely human story – one of striving to be our better selves/present/something in the midst of tragedy. It speaks to our current moment, of course, but it is also a meditation on loss, grief, and what is beyond all of this.

 

Recommended for: fans of Jodi Lyn Anderson’s Midnight at the Electric and Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven, literary fiction and atmospheric, soft science fiction aficionados, and anyone intrigued by the premise of a pandemic novel written just before our very own pandemic.

a psalm for the wild-built

One of the most soothing reads I picked up in recent months? Becky Chambers’ novella A Psalm for the Wild-Built, the first in the Monk and Robot series. I almost didn’t read it myself (I bought it to gift to my Dad for Christmas, as he liked the first Murderbot book, and is a big gardener), but the siren song of knowing what a book is about before I gift it was too strong to resist. Plus Tor novellas are notoriously readable, and Psalm was no exception. It’s an affirming, emotional cup of tea, and may be just the balm you need in these chaotic times. 

It's been centuries since the robots of Panga gained self-awareness and laid down their tools; centuries since they wandered, en masse, into the wilderness, never to be seen again; centuries since they faded into myth and urban legend.

One day, the life of a tea monk is upended by the arrival of a robot, there to honor the old promise of checking in. The robot cannot go back until the question of "what do people need?" is answered.

But the answer to that question depends on who you ask, and how.

They're going to need to ask it a lot.

Becky Chambers's new series asks: in a world where people have what they want, does having more matter?

A Psalm for the Wild-Built is the story of Dex, a non-binary devotee of the god of small comforts, who retrains as a tea monk (doesn’t that sound like a lovely vocation?). In doing so, they learn a lot about themselves (and humanity) – but still have a deep yearning to leave behind the expectations and responsibilities of society. They live in a post-apocalyptic utopia on Panga, where humans have mostly figured themselves out and live in harmony with the natural world. However, the echoes of a different era – a machine- and robot-centric era, where humans were NOT kind to the planet or each other, linger on in the margins. When Dex meets the first robot anyone has had contact with in hundreds of years, a different kind of communion begins. 

I hadn’t read Becky Chambers’ work before picking up this novella, but in truth, you don’t need to. It’s the start of a new series and an excellent introduction to her character-driven sci-fi sensibility and subtle emotion-filled writing style. I loved this novella quite a lot (for reasons I’ll get into in just a bit), and afterward I picked up The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet, her sci-fi debut from several years ago, and finished it almost in one gulp. Chambers has a talent for writing heart-truths, and this novella is no exception. In Psalm Chambers also plays with and muses on ideas of climate collapse and climate justice, robot/AI intelligence, and the value and definitions of vocation and personhood. 

I don’t want to share too much of what happens in this book, because it IS so short, but just to give you a sense of the vibes: I was reading it, thinking to myself, “this is soothing, I feel like planning a camping trip and preparing a big thermos of tea.” I was enjoying a novel, optimistic world and an interesting new pantheon of gods. Then all of a sudden I was sobbing and I had to put the book DOWN immediately, and even now, writing this at a remove, thinking of the little bits of wonder and raw feeling it evoked, my eyes are wet and my heart is clenching and I’m thinking: “My god, yes, I needed that. I am undone.” 

PHEW. Yeah so it’s an unassuming emotion-bomb ready to go off (and I mean that in the best possible way). Beware, good luck, I think you’ll adore it. 

“It is enough to exist in the world and marvel at it. You don’t need to justify that, or earn it. You are allowed to just live.”

Recommended for: fans of quiet sci-fi and fantasy (think: All Systems Red and The House in the Cerulean Sea), anyone who likes their reading with a dose of empathy, and for gardeners, tinkerers, and tea drinkers.

dune

I have, for the last twelve years or so, been talking about reading Frank Herbert’s famous sci-fi epic Dune. I even mentioned it in a blog post in 2013 as one of my top 10 most intimidating books. I’ve had friends try to convince me to read it, and I meant to read it… I bought myself a paperback copy about four years ago that’s been collecting dust on my bookshelves ever since. What finally made me pick it up? Watching this year’s film adaptation. As someone who hadn’t consumed ANY Dune-related media, the story was new and fresh, and I wanted to see if the book measured up. In many ways it did, but I still have my quibbles. I’m sure the world doesn’t need another Dune book review, but I tapped out my thoughts in the Notes app while reading, and after all this is why I have a book blog – for me!

Set on the desert planet Arrakis, Dune is the story of the boy Paul Atreides, heir to a noble family tasked with ruling an inhospitable world where the only thing of value is the “spice” melange, a drug capable of extending life and enhancing consciousness. Coveted across the known universe, melange is a prize worth killing for... 

When House Atreides is betrayed, the destruction of Paul’s family will set the boy on a journey toward a destiny greater than he could ever have imagined. And as he evolves into the mysterious man known as Muad’Dib, he will bring to fruition humankind’s most ancient and unattainable dream.

Dune is at its core the story of a family under siege – of the members of House Atreides, those who betray them, and the way those betrayals shape the universe as a result. The stage and setting for those betrayals? The desert world of Arrakis, which is a character in its own right. Author Herbert blends mysticism, the hero’s journey, myth and legend, and a deep understanding of ecology and science to create a science fiction masterpiece. It is a story that largely holds up a half century later, and marks it not only as relevant, but interesting, all these years later.

 

That said, I found that there were several things that the movie edited out or altered to match modern sensibilities, that were a bit of a shock to me as I read the book (as a modern sci-fi reader, and modern reader in general). These included: 1960s and 70s surface-level exoticism of Islam, a white savior narrative, eugenics as a way to create a superior kind of human (white supremacy!!), drug use to transcend consciousness and gain access to a higher plain of awareness and knowledge, a typical and misogynistic sci-fi/fantasy story trope of men with multiple wives while women are held to a different standard, and homosexuality as a stand-in or marker of depravity in a person or leader. There were also words and phrases like terrible purpose, race consciousness, and jihad, all repeated without disambiguation. All of this can be laid at the feet of a narrative “of its time,” but they also may take today’s reader right out of the narrative. Fair warning and all that.

 

The most interesting bits of Dune were, in no particular order: discussions of “desert power” (a line used to great effect in the film adaptation), Herbert’s commentary on corruption and leadership, and the Missionaria Protectiva (a planned seeding cultures with religious ideas to allow future persons to move freely within the religious frameworks of those worlds). I also appreciated Herbert’s juxtaposition of a practical acceptance of death as part of the life cycle, and common use of spice as a drug that elongates life. Dune had many things to say about beauty and youth, and unfortunately at some points veered into fatphobia.

 

As for characterization, I appreciated seeing the world of Dune through multiple perspectives, including Lady Jessica’s (Paul Atreides’ mother). At its core, this is a story of the flowering of a young man in the nexus of power, and it is not only a coming-of-age but also a coming-of-the-promised-one narrative. Creating an almost omnipotent main character does have some drawbacks. I say this without irony: men will see themselves in Paul — men who always believe they are the smartest in the room and have the most interesting things to say. And I don’t know if that’s what Herbert expected or wanted to happen, but I can see why this book is so timelessly popular. It has forward-thinking themes and a popular setting and incorporates real science, but what it also has is a Mary Sue sort of hero for boys who feel too smart for the life they are living to project themselves onto.

 

While this book and its main character are wise, poetic, epic, and stand the test of time, I found that it lacked (for me) a sense of authentic human empathy. The pacing is good, the twists interesting, the characters fully developed, and the emotion flat. I was engaged, but not at the level of wanting things desperately for the characters. The strongest emotion evoked was one of justice at the plan of revenge. I am happier, I think, with more modern books that ask me to emotionally commit to a character with real faults. And that is that.

 

Non sequitur: I caught myself wondering if Robin McKinley wrote The Blue Sword in part in response to this book? Some similar themes, featuring an imperfect character (a girl doing things!) growing into her own as a leader in a desert landscape.

 

In all, Dune is an interesting and seminal read, and one I’d recommend to those who like science fiction as well as those who don’t usually go for it (but who liked the recent film!).

york: the shadow cipher

Deckle edges. If you're a book worm like I am, you've probably come across them before. The uncut, random-looking pages (instead of a smooth cut) give a book that certain "something." Deckle edges convinced me to purchase my own hard copy of Laura Ruby’s York, and I'm so glad they did. This book could be defined many different ways (spec fic, alternate history, diverse sci-fi, a cross between The Mysterious Benedict Society and Scott Westerfeld's Leviathan...), but the thing that stands out to me is that it is incredibly, unbelievably of the moment. I know how long it takes to make a book, but if I didn't I'd think it was written two weeks ago. York is important and empathetic along with being smart and entertaining, and I think it might just be the perfect book for this year, for everyone.

It was 1798 when the Morningstarr twins arrived in New York with a vision for a magnificent city: towering skyscrapers, dazzling machines, and winding train lines, all running on technology no one had ever seen before. Fifty-seven years later, the enigmatic architects disappeared, leaving behind for the people of New York the Old York Cipher—a puzzle laid into the shining city they constructed, at the end of which was promised a treasure beyond all imagining. By the present day, however, the puzzle has never been solved, and the greatest mystery of the modern world is little more than a tourist attraction.

Tess and Theo Biedermann and their friend Jaime Cruz live in a Morningstarr apartment house—until a real estate developer announces that the city has agreed to sell him the five remaining Morningstarr buildings. Their likely destruction means the end of a dream long-held by the people of New York. And if Tess, Theo and Jaime want to save their home, they have to prove that the Old York Cipher is real. Which means they have to solve it.

From National Book Award Finalist Laura Ruby comes a visionary epic set in a New York City at once familiar and wholly unexpected.

Tess and Theo Biedermann and their neighbor Jaime Cruz live in a city that is like New York City, but not. In this version of York the famous Morningstarr twins started inventing and building a fantastical array of dwellings, transportation, and life-like machines in the late 18^th century, and the present-day result is a steampunk-like mashup of technological wonder. When they left, the Morningstarrs also left a trail of clues to rumored treasure – the mysterious Old York Cipher. For Tess, Theo, and Jaime, solving the Cipher may be the only way to keep their home safe from an avaricious real estate developer – but the clock is ticking. Will they solve the Cipher and save their building in time?  

One of the things that this book did so well was establish the motivations of each of the main characters in an authentic way. Ruthless real estate developer Darnell Slant wants to make money, and doesn’t care who he displaces (sound familiar?) or whether he destroys history. His hirelings Stoop and Pinscher possibly want something even more sinister, and they’re the everyday ‘face of evil.’ The Biedermann twins want to keep their home and life, their parents want them to face reality, and the whole family is still reeling from the absence of grandfather Biedermann, the one-time occupant of the building penthouse and former president of the Cipher Society. Jaime wants his father in his life, good things for his Mima, and to draw superheroes. Six-year-old neighbor girl Cricket wants to be a spy. And what did the long-gone Morningstarrs want? Why did they set up this treasure hunt? It’s a question that Tess, Theo and Jaime keep asking themselves, and bits and pieces of answers emerge throughout the story. The grand themes? The line between technology and life, injustice (racial, gender, socioeconomic), the definition of family (in its different forms) and home, and erasing the past for the sake of the future.

Now on to the things that I liked particularly (a different kettle of fish from admiring a well-constructed plot & characters, or great writing!)(which this book has in spades): parents who are alive (how many times do you see that in a kidlit book?!)! A diverse main character and secondary characters! A main character with anxiety and a service animal. A cool map of alternate New York and great descriptions of that feeling of insignificance you get in big cities. Social justice (pro-immigrant, pro-education, pro-affordable housing) baked in. Added to that, this is just such a smart book, with believably smart characters. Author Ruby doesn’t hold back – her characters use big words and think big ideas because they are intelligent, and Ruby obviously believes her readers are as well. I love that trust in the reader, and I think readers will sense it immediately.

I cannot forget to mention Chapter 7 (and then later Chapter 27), or as I am calling it, “In which we find out that six-year old Cricket (real name: Zelda) is HILARE” (hilare = hilarious without those pesky final two syllables)(a made-up word for the modern age which I am probably too old to use, but whatever). I want to be Cricket when I grow up. WHAT A RIOT. One of my favorite lines from a York (it consistently made me laugh out loud, btw) is in Cricket’s voice, from page 122: “What would a deathmetalhead raccoon wear? A helmet of course. Probably one with antlers.” I die.

What did I dislike? One solitary thing, folks. And that is that it took until Chapter 2 (really Chapter 3 because there was a prologue) to get to the hook. Until then it’s a lot of set-up and I wasn’t sure why I should care. BUT ONCE THERE, well. I was on my way.

In all, York hit all of the sweet spots: it was a funny, intelligent, and exciting read, and it made me think, feel, and reflect. I hope you’ll give it a chance!

Recommended for: middle grade readers on up, and anyone who likes mystery, alternate cities, and clever speculative fiction.

shattered warrior

Today’s review is part of the blog tour for Sharon Shinn's new graphic novel, Shattered Warrior, illustrated by Molly Knox Ostertag. It’s sci-fi, with a resistance fight and a love story (sounds a lot like Star Wars, eh?)(read it and find out!).

Sharon Shinn! Oh man, talk about one of the greatest discoveries of my blogging life – I found Sharon Shinn’s books through a blog challenge, and now I keep a sharp eye out for everything she does. It may or may not hit all of my sweet spots, but her work is always emotion-inducing (by which I mean I usually cry AND want to throw her books across the room/hug them in equal measure). tl;dr Sharon Shinn makes me read books/plots/subgenres I didn’t know I wanted, and like it. Folks, when I heard she had a sci-fi graphic novel coming out with one of my favorite publishers, I was IN, 110%, YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU, and I was not disappointed.

It is eight years after Colleen Cavanaugh's home world was invaded by the Derichets, a tyrannical alien race bent on exploiting the planet's mineral resources.

Most of her family died in the war, and she now lives alone in the city. Aside from her acquaintances at the factory where she toils for the Derichets, Colleen makes a single friend in Jann, a member of the violent group of rebels known as the Chromatti. One day Colleen receives shocking news: her niece Lucy is alive and in need of her help. Together, Colleen, Jann, and Lucy create their own tenuous family.

But Colleen must decide if it's worth risking all of their survival to join a growing underground revolution against the Derichets ... in Sharon Shinn and Molly Knox Ostertag's Shattered Warrior.

Not long ago, Colleen Cavenaugh was a beloved daughter of the great house of Avon, and she and her sister were showered with luxuries. Then the Derichets came and Colleen lost her whole family, and everyone on the planet lost their freedom. Now Colleen lives alone in her empty house and works in a factory sorting precious minerals for the Derichet overlords – and does not let anyone or anything touch her heart. That fragile cocoon is broken when a band of Chromatti threatens her safety, her lost niece is found, and the Valenchi resistance turns from rumor to real. Will she act, or will she try to preserve the status quo? The answer could change her planet’s future.

One of Sharon Shinn’s trademarks is delicious world- and character-building, and though the graphic novel format limits prose a bit, Molly Knox Ostertag’s art adds layers of history and meaning. Colleen’s world is restricted to places she can reach on foot, by bike, or by treadway (underground public transport on moving walkways), and so the scope of the book is narrow – this isn’t a grand starship journey. That said, there is plenty to explore on-planet – the opressive Derichet (who look like nothing so much as the Dark Elves from the 2nd Thor film!) pose an ever-present danger, but the Chromatti (ex-miners tattooed with phosphorous ink who roam about in bands) threaten as well, and Colleen is a particularly vulnerable target as a member of the former upper class, a woman, and a person with dependents.

Colleen herself is marked by loss. She lives one day at a time, trying to keep her head down, trying to stay safe and sane. But of course, it wouldn’t be a story if there weren’t things to knock her out of her comfort zone! One of those things is a Chromatti man named Jann, who both frightens and intrigues her in equal measure. It’s one of those “they would never have met if it weren’t for the ‘end of the world’” type of relationships. The delicate communication that Colleen and Jann cultivate ultimately leads to more, and it is one of the best parts of the book.

Colleen is also changed by her eventual involvement in the resistance. Though I didn’t love that it took a Derichet’s violence against a woman (this trope is still used to signal evil?! …yeah) to make up her mind, Colleen does get involved in a small way. Officially, the Valenchi “don’t exist,” they blow up transport a la French resistance fighters in WWII, and Colleen does her part but does not immediately become the leader – something that I’ve seen before in stories that always rings false. Subtlety = yesssss!

Other things I liked, because this review is getting really long: the stakes are high (plot could mean death!), gender equality in facing danger and putting everything on the line, old class system & wealth break down in the face of occupation (like Star Wars!), found family, diversity (seems like it was probably an artist decision more than an author one, but I’ll take it), and a bisexual love interest (heavily implied)(yay!).

Things I didn’t like: I wish there had been more page time for the legend the book title is based on, and I also wish there was more of this story, period. I think that further development of the Lucy-Colleen relationship would not have gone amiss. But. If my only complaint is that I wanted more, you know I liked the book!

So that brings us to the art, which is just fantastic. Molly Knox Ostertag really takes this story and makes it shine – the illustrations up the stakes, ground it in a place (make Avon & Comstock city come alive!), make you see and feel the characters’ changing emotions and attachments. The art is where the diversity in skin color, architecture, and clothing all tell their own stories – and come together to make the book something more, to show you a history that is unusual and interesting. I’ll be checking out everything Ostertag has ever done, and I usually don’t say that about art (I’ll say it once in a blue moon about an author, so this is a big thing).

In all, Shattered Warrior is a high-stakes rebellion/unexpected love story mash-up with to-die-for art. Read it!

Recommended for: fans of Princess Leia, the Saga graphic novels, and older teen and up audiences who enjoy science fiction with love stories and diverse characters.

Interested in more reviews of Shattered Warrior? Check out the rest of the blog tour:

May 15th – The Haunting of Orchid Forsythia 

May 16th – Writing My Own Fairytale
May 17th – The Novel Hermit
May 18th – Ageless Pages Review
May 19th –  Here's To Happy Endings
May 22nd – me
May 23rd – School Library Journal
May 24th – The Hollow Cupboards
May 26th – Bluestocking Thinking 

Fine print: I received a copy of this book for review consideration from the publisher. I did not accept any compensation for this post.

binti

I am not super conversant in the wider science fiction universe, but I read Tor.com regularly because they 1) have great (free) original short-form SFF content, 2) a lot of it is by diverse authors, and 3) they do a good job of reminding me to read their articles via Twitter. I saw the cover art for Nnedi Okorafor's Binti there when it was first released, and I put it on my to read list straightaway. I mean, LOOK AT THAT ART! It’s so beautiful and haunting and distinctive. I didn’t finish the novella until recently (one of my lovely secret sisters gifted me with the Kindle version, and it was the kick I needed), but guys, I can’t believe I waited to read this little book. It’s A+ feminist sci-fi entertainment.

Her name is Binti, and she is the first of the Himba people ever to be offered a place at Oomza University, the finest institution of higher learning in the galaxy. But to accept the offer will mean giving up her place in her family to travel between the stars among strangers who do not share her ways or respect her customs.

Knowledge comes at a cost, one that Binti is willing to pay, but her journey will not be easy. The world she seeks to enter has long warred with the Meduse, an alien race that has become the stuff of nightmares. Oomza University has wronged the Meduse, and Binti's stellar travel will bring her within their deadly reach.

If Binti hopes to survive the legacy of a war not of her making, she will need both the gifts of her people and the wisdom enshrined within the University, itself - but first she has to make it there, alive.

Binti is a young woman from an insular and mathematically talented desert people. The Himba are known for wearing clay on their skin and in their hair, and they cherish this part of their identity, even as it marks them as different. As the heir to her family’s astrolabe-making legacy, no one expects Binti to leave home – it just isn’t done. But Binti has surprised herself by getting into the most prestigious university in the galaxy, and she longs break taboo, leave, and to meet like-minded fellow students. What Binti cannot know is that her fateful decision to step into the unknown will change her, and the course of history, forever.

This compact story (under 100 pages) packs a punch. The plot isn’t overly complex (how could it be in so few pages? especially with any attention to world-building), and neither are the descriptions of tech or mathematics (no matter that the main character is a math and tech prodigy). However, Binti has one of the best senses of place that I've read in a long while - maybe ever! Okorafor also engages the reader with visceral, immediate and vivid descriptions of her heroine and her standing in her culture, along with her sometimes-dark inner thoughts and feelings.

I’ve made an honest effort recently to note the themes in books I like, rather than just enjoy them (in hopes of refining my book taste, I suppose). What I noticed in Binti: transformation, cross-cultural understanding, racism/othering, isolation/loneliness, and bucking tradition. Okorafor also played with some standard SFF tropes: a school for the gifted in space (on another planet in this case), and reimagining "the chosen one."

While Binti is a quick read, the pace is a bit slow at the very start as the reader settles into the setting and Binti's head (there’s some repetition as she focuses/convinces herself to do something). Then it’s danger, action, and suspense to the very end. 

I loved this book to bits, and I thought it had just enough worldbuilding and character development, but I guess I’m used to over-exposition common in most science fiction and fantasy. Basically, I came away with questions about the world: What is an astrolabe? Why the Khoush are so dominant? Why did Binti’s people have to learn the history of the Meduse, even though it is not their fight? What is going on with the Meduse and how did their contact with the Khoush start? How did math become central to everything Binti's people do? With all of these unanswered questions, you can imagine how excited I was to find that there’s a whole series of Binti novellas in the works. I can’t wait to read more Nnedi Okorafor!

In all, a satisfying sci-fi novella with world class description, a healthy dose of originality, and first person characterization.

Recommended for: fans of character-driven sci-fi, anyone looking for a book with a smart, strong heroine, and fans of Sarah Beth Durst's Vessel. 

star scouts

Middle grade science fiction graphic novel. Those six words = auto-read in my world. I love middle grade books, I love science fiction and fantasy, and when you put them together, in a graphic novel format? I am here for it. Add in a diverse girl as the main character, and Mike Lawrence’s solo graphic novel debut Star Scouts became a #1 priority in my to-be-read (TBR) pile.

Avani is the new kid in town, and she’s not happy about it. Everyone in school thinks she’s weird, especially the girls in her Flower Scouts troop. Is it so weird to think scouting should be about fun and adventure, not about makeovers and boys, boys, boys?

But everything changes when Avani is “accidentally” abducted by a spunky alien named Mabel. Mabel is a scout too—a Star Scout. Collecting alien specimens (like Avani) goes with the territory, along with teleportation and jetpack racing. Avani might be weird, but in the Star Scouts she fits right in. If she can just survive Camp Andromeda, and keep her dad from discovering that she’s left planet Earth, she’s in for the adventure of a lifetime. 

Avani is struggling to fit in at her Flower Scouts troup and new school when she’s accidentally teleported to alien Mabel’s spaceship as part of a Star Scouts (the intergalactic version of scouting!) homework assignment. Soon, Avani has made new friends, each with different strengths and talents, including flying and advanced robotics engineering. When Avani makes it to Camp Andromeda (real space camp) with her new Star Scouts troup, the adventures get even more intense. Will she prove that humans belong at space camp? It’ll take teamwork, friendship, and a little inventiveness to stay with her new friends and win the day.

Star Scouts is sci-fi fun from page one. For most readers, it’ll remain just that. I think there are things to love about this book, but there are also areas for improvement. Let’s dive in.

First, things I liked: it’s a book featuring a diverse main character – Avani is a rodeo-loving, Hindi-speaking adventure-seeker. Avani can be abrasive and impatient at times, but her sense of wonder and fairness balance that. And it’s just plain awesome to see a person of color as the honorary human at space camp! Following on that… space camp! Lawrence sets the scene with lots of futuristic bells and whistles (and a sci-fi take on typical camp activities). I also appreciated that the camp challenges relied not only on intelligence and training, but teamwork. Another bright spot is Avani’s new alien best friend Mabel. Mabel is a bit of a klutz and not so great at the badge challenges, but her heart and loyalty are portrayed as important as talent, and that’s a great message for readers.

And I haven’t even covered the fun and inventive art yet! Yikes! Illustration is where Lawrence really shines. The colorful page spreads are full to the brim, and yet the sense of action and movement is palpable. I might not understand the rules of physics at Camp Andromeda, but I believed them!

On to the things that struck me as problematic: first, there’s an implication within the first few pages that a group of Earth girls together would only be interested in makeup and boys, and that these interests mean that girls are vapid/stupid/not worthy of friendship. Granted, this is Avani’s view and she ignores the one person reaching out to her, but her perspective/judgment is not challenged in the course of the story. Secondly, once at Camp Andromeda, most of the action focuses on a girl vs. (alien) girl grudge match. Seeing both of those scenarios in the same story gave the book an anti-girl feel that wasn’t completely mitigated by awesome alien bff Mabel or the new Earth friend Avani made at the very end.

There’s also a running fart joke (ah, middle grade lit!) at Camp Andromeda that is essentially identity-based name-calling. I get that it is included for humor’s sake, but the taunts are not addressed by those in authority or significantly challenged in the course of the story. So… yeahhhhh.

Finally, an editing preference: there were many characters/creatures/robots included in the story – too many to focus on with any depth. These, combined with constant action and new challenges, resulted in a confusing smorgasbord. Star Scouts is a visually appealing read, but a crowded one.

In all, Star Scouts is a beautifully illustrated space romp featuring a diverse main character. There’s some room for improvement in the empowering (all kinds of) girls department, but it should appeal to anyone who daydreams about adventure while stuck in the everyday.

Recommended for: fans of Ben Hatke’s Zita the Spacegirl series, and anyone who likes middle grade lit, science fiction, and graphic novels (especially in combination).

Star Scouts will be released by First Second (Macmillan) on March 21, 2017.

Fine print: I received a finished copy of this book from the publisher for review consideration. I did not receive any compensation for this review.

the chimes

How did Anna Smaill’s The Chimes end up in my pile of books to read? That’s the question I’m asking myself after finishing it in one gulp yesterday. I stayed home sick from work and couldn’t bear to stare at a screen. The printed page worked though, so I read a really wonderful book in between naps and cups of tea. It’s the sort of book I thought would have been praised to the skies, the coverage unavoidable. If it was, I missed it. And my library only has two print copies in the system (and no ebooks), so they missed it too. My best guess is that I saw it mentioned in Book Riot’s Swords & Spaceships newsletter from November 4 (those lovely, simple days pre-election) – and I must have added it then to my library holds list. In any event, go find a copy for yourself and read it because it. is. fantastic.

After the end of a brutal civil war, London is divided, with slums standing next to a walled city of elites. Monk-like masters are selected for special schooling and shut away for decades, learning to write beautiful compositions for the chimes, played citywide morning and night, to mute memory and keep the citizens trapped in ignorance.

A young orphan named Simon arrives in London with nothing but the vague sense of a half-forgotten promise, to locate someone. What he finds is a new family--a gang of scavengers that patrols the underbelly of the city looking for valuable metal to sell. Drawn in by an enigmatic and charismatic leader, a blind young man named Lucien with a gift for song, Simon forgets entirely what originally brought him to the place he has now made his home.

In this alternate London, the past is a mystery, each new day feels the same as the last, and before is considered "blasphony." But Simon has a unique gift--the gift of retaining memories--that will lead him to discover a great injustice and take him far beyond the meager life as a member of Lucien's gang. Before long he will be engaged in an epic struggle for justice, love, and freedom.

In Simon’s world, the music of the Chimes at the end of the day wipes away memory, and the Onestory at the start of the day tells the story of humanity’s history. Since humans can’t hold on to memories, they hold on to bodymemory (repetitive actions mostly having to do with their trade) and objectmemory (imbuing specific objects with a memory they want to keep with them). But newly orphaned Simon has a gift – he can see memories and hold on to them longer than most. When he makes his way to London he falls in with a group of scavengers led by the ringleader Lucien and forgets about his past and his quest – for a time. Memory won’t leave him alone though, even in a world where that shouldn’t be possible.

Do you know that strange familiar feeling when a story is deeply original, but it somehow also reminds you of some thing, some touchstone in your memory? That is both the baseline story and the feeling evoked by this book. It is clear from the very start that something is deeply awry in Simon’s world, and that something has to do with music. Music is so pervasive it has replaced most speech, and the written word (code) has died out completely. From page 31 of The Chimes, “The words are simple, because words are not to be trusted. Music holds the meaning now.” The Onestory says that words were the thing that brought about the end of the world. And with no one who can remember yesterday, much less the past, all of London must accept that as fact.

The Chimes is chilling and poetic and original, and I loved it. Music permeates every page, every part of life in Simon’s London. Events occur subito or lento, not suddenly or slowly, and time is marked in musical notation. That said, you need not have a background in music to “get it” – everything can be picked up in context. And as you’d imagine with a story told in an amnesiac world, the truth comes to light only slowly, in fits and starts, as memory unravels. Meditations on the meaning and genius of music, truth, and the shape and fragility of human memory (and then what that means about the “essentials” of life) – these are the things that take a dystopian tale and marry it to literary fiction. The resulting story is just gorgeous.

Other marks in its favor: it’s fairly short, it has good cross-over potential (there’s nothing subject matter-wise that I’d hesitate to give to a mature twelve year old), and though it has the “tag” of literary fiction, it would fit just as well on a sci-fi and fantasy shelf. Also [spoiler: highlight to see text] the only romantic relationship is a gay one, so that’s happy-making [end spoiler].

So I’ve told you why I love it. But. This book will not work for everyone, as evidenced by its Goodreads rating. It doesn’t teem with a constant sense of danger, and there’s no villain to root against from the start.  Subtle, complex stories have to hit the right chord with the reader, and if you add up the heavily musical language, dystopian setting, and memory loss afflicting the characters, reader drop off is a given. It’s a book that takes a bit of patience, but it’s wildly inventive and unsettling and beautifully written once you’ve gotten inside and been swept away.

I happened to read The Chimes at the right time. I needed a story that was simultaneously beautiful and new, and that asked the age-old questions, “Do the ends justify the means?” and “What does it mean to be human?”

Recommended for: fans of the music of Patricia McKillip’s writing, the sincerity of Patrick Ness’ protagonists, and the subtlety of Leah Bobet’s worldbuilding, those looking for an adult readalike of Lois Lowry’s The Giver, and anyone who loves music, cleverly wrought dystopias, and/or literary fiction.