Catherine Tate as Beatrice and David Tennant as Benedick

For those who aren’t familiar with the text (I highly doubt my blog readership–such as it is, ha–isn’t familiar with Shakespeare, but you never know), Much Ado About Nothing is a romantic comedy in which two pairs of lovers, Beatrice and Benedick and Hero and Claudio, get into complications on their respective ways to the altar. (Isn’t that the plot of every romantic comedy though?) Of course, that is drastically oversimplifying the plot, but after nearly two years of working in publishing, I’ve gotten somewhat better at finding what Cap’n Sweet Valley calls the “handle” (one-sentence sales pitch) of things.

But Much Ado is perhaps the best known for its verbally sparring, love-masquerading-as-dislike pair Beatrice and Benedick, arguably the most famous of the Sexual Tension Disguised as Bickering couples in media, played in this production by David Tennant and Catherine Tate. Nearly every pair of romantic leads in screwball comedies from the 1930s is modelled on them, and many books have tried to recreate that tension as well, to varying degrees of success. (Pride and Prejudice on the good end…and countless scores on the not-so-good end.)

For all that I usually dislike the trope in fiction (perhaps because of the countless scores on the not-so-good end), Much Ado is my favourite of Shakespeare’s comedies, and this was a delightful production.

Wyndhams Theatre, where the play was staged. To my very great amusement, it was by St. Martin's Court.

After a much needed nap and shower at my hostel, I made my way down to the theatre around 7:00pm. It was a madhouse outside; an enormous queue of people hoping and waiting for returns so that they may be able to buy them at the door, not to mention a crowd of people already in place at the stage door.

White-Harp has to stick her nose in the picture. Of course she came as well!

I went inside to find my seat, which was in the stalls in row M, on the lefthand side, which was David Tennant’s side of the stage, which meant I got a great view of the back of his head when he was facing Catherine Tate, but was otherwise fantastic when he speaking his monologues.

My lottery ticket. I still can't believe my luck.

I bought a programme and the script, which I knew going in had some changes made to the text. I’m fairly familiar with Much Ado, mostly because I played Beatrice myself once, so I was curious to see what changes and cuts they made. Some are fairly major: Leonato’s brother Antonio has been replaced by a character named Innogen, who is Leonato’s wife in this production. Others are minuscule: a few lines cut here and there, some attributed to another character, or else adapted to fit the addition of Innogen (ma,am, lady, etc.), or its new setting.

As you can see from the stage photo (not mine, of course, as photography is prohibited), this isn’t a “straight” production: no doublets, no hose, no lutes. Instead of Renaissance Italy we are now in 1980s Gibraltar. I know little of recent-ish English military history, but apparently there was a base there where personnel went for a little “rest and relaxation”, and to enjoy its Mediterranean climate. It updates surprisingly well to this setting, not to mention there was a lot of fun to be had with the fashion of the time, as well as the music. Yes, all the songs have likewise been updated with an 80s pop sound, and more the most part, it actually works. The cast does a bit of singing and dancing, mostly along with the radio or in a discotheque, so this isn’t a “musical” in that respect, but it’s still rather choreographed.

The cast itself was pretty good, with Adam James as Don Pedro and Jon Ramm as Dogberry as standouts. I was initially put off by what I thought was Adam James’ flat reading of the text in the beginning in his opening scenes, but I was proven wrong shortly afterwards. He bestows Don Pedro with a depth you rarely see in productions of the play; his character mostly acts as a facilitator in getting both couples (he asks Hero to marry Claudio, and then suggests “trapping” Beatrice and Benedick into marriage) together. What’s often underplayed is the fact that Don Pedro proposes to Beatrice first, and he takes this thread and runs with it. So his suggestion of an entertaining “diversion” seems more the action of a man trying to find a good laugh in a broken heart rather than a bored soldier with nothing to do and a lot of time on his hands.

Dogberry too, was a particular treat, and Jon Ramm is a scene stealer. The play imagines him as a blustering, Rambo-idolizing, wannabe-macho “bro”, the sort of person who wears fatigues and dog tags because he thinks it’s “cool”. Dogberry is a difficult part: he can be slightly odd at his most average and mediocre and downright confusing and bizarre at his worst. Right before the halfway point, he arrives like some sort of comic relief, which seems odd in a play already filled with hilarious characters. He is certainly the show’s clown, but how to make him funny in a different way? The core of Dogberry’s character is that he is a working class flatterer with pretentions to the class he serves, which manifests itself in an overeager and enthusiastic desire to please and be praised, as well as the aforementioned difficult and strange malapropisms. It’s the malapropisms that are hard to sell as an actor. The comedy in someone using the wrong words in the wrong contexts is actually not inherently funny, so you need to an actor with a lot of subtlety and an understanding of what Dogberry actually MEANT to say in order to find the laughs in the wordplay. Otherwise he’s just weird.

Sarah Macrae as Hero and Tom Bateman as Claudio were serviceable, but updating the play has done their storyline no favours. Hero and Claudio are problematic to begin with; they are flat, cardboard figures (Hero especially), which is made all the more glaring compared to the full-rounded brilliance of Beatrice and Benedick. Moreover, Hero’s storyline is riddled with issues from a feminist standpoint, and I don’t necessarily mean the whole “marriage/purity/virginity” thing (which, of course, was a fact of life in the time this play was written). No, the problem of Hero is that she has absolutely no personality. None. Beatrice, on the other hand, is a sparkling example of a wonderful female character–no, a wonderful character full-stop–and even more brilliantly, she is a female who doesn’t have to cross-dress as a man in order to be awesome. Rosalind and Viola are delightful, but are essentially men in girls’ clothes (which makes sense as men would have worn women’s clothing to play them), Katharina is spiteful for the sake of being spiteful, and Juliet is a really horny naïf. Lady MacBeth is another example of a great Shakespearean female character with depth and dimensions, although unfortunately she meets a horrid end (but that play is drenched in blood anyway). I think it’s the strength of Beatrice as a part that makes Much Ado my favourite of Shakespeare’s comedies, and why Hero is such a problem for me.

So then, what of Hero? Keep the setting straight, and the audience can give the whole purity nonsense a pass as a fact of history. Push it to the 20th century…and then what? I thought the director could have played a little with the relationship between Leonato and his daughter: Hero as a sheltered, innocent, but sexually curious Daddy’s little girl who is ultimately too good (and too scared) to rebel. She might have toyed with the idea, but her affection for her father keeps her grounded. There, I fixed it: suddenly you have a portrayal of Hero that is plausible, and restores some agency to a character who essentially exists to be beautiful, wooed, slandered, fake-dead and then married off. But this complexity was never fully explored in this production–they were getting there with some visual references to Princess Diana, but I felt that was more a gag about the 1980s than any meaningful commentary. Still, in all fairness, I’ve never seen Hero done justice anywhere.

Innogen, however, was a pleasant change. Antonio has one heartfelt speech about the death of his niece Hero that feels weird, and as a character, he’s sort of just…there. Change “niece” to “daughter” in that same speech, and have a mother speak those words, and suddenly it becomes more powerful. It also adds some depth to the constant cracks Leonato (and indeed the rest of the characters) makes about women’s infidelity, although I thought this was largely unexplored. “I think this is your daughter,” says the Prince. “Her mother hath many times told me so,” he replies. (In all fairness, the whole “women are untrue” bit is glossed over instead of addressed, which…meh. You can’t have everything.)

The Framing of Hero/Seduction of Margaret takes place in a darkened, smoky discotheque during Hero’s hen night, which was a brilliant idea, and much less clumsy than having the Prince, Claudio, and Don John the Bastard spy on Borachio humping a maid in some ridiculously contrived manner. Hero’s “garments” is the veil she wears to signify her last night as a bachelorette, which Borachio steals and places on a drunken Margaret’s head. Fantastic.

But of course, what would a review of the play be without mention of Beatrice and Benedick, and their respective celebrity actors? I thought Catherine Tate was funny, and wonderfully poignant in Beatrice’s emotive scenes (particularly during Hero’s disastrous first wedding), although I found her performance a bit broader than I am inclined to like Beatrice. It’s probably a personal preference–I like Beatrice arch rather than lippy, but her chemistry with David Tennant is marvelous, and they have some great scenes together which showcase that beautiful exasperated fondness we saw with The Doctor and Donna. Lovely.

But truly, by a very great measure, David Tennant was far and away the best performer in the entire company: funny, charming, and serious when the need called for it, but also wonderfully generous–despite his star billing, the play is ostensibly not about him, which is rather nice. I’ve seen plays with celebrity actors where you never seem to be allowed to forget that s/he is the Star of the Show, which detracts a lot (in my opinion) from the overall experience.

But what makes David Tennant the best actor in the company is how he’s able to make Shakespeare accessible. I don’t mean that his name will draw an audience disinclined to attend theatre (although it does); I mean that he’s able to turn Shakespeare’s words into something that sounds modern. Of course, Shakespeare wrote in early Modern English, but many people find his work difficult: rife with clever wordplay and references that are now obscure. Tennant’s ability to make an audience comprehend not only the content but the meaning of even the densest of Shakespeare’s speeches is a remarkable talent. I’m thinking of his Hamlet, which I saw on DVD, and his “To be or not to be” was nearly a revelation. (Seriously, Google it. It’s not some poncy existential contemplation–although it is–it’s a very serious and awful speech about a man battling such severe depression he is contemplating suicide.)

Tennant plays Benedick as a louche lout in his natural Scottish accent (which made for some hilarity when Claudio plays along pretending to be Benedick when Don John approaches him at the masque: “Och aye, you know me weel, I am he!”), but when it comes time for Benedick to play the earnest lover, he is the most winning. There’s something of a lost puppy about David Tennant, and behind the witty words and womanizing ways of Benedick, there is a man easily hurt. It’s this vulnerability which makes Tennant appealing to women, and you really feel that he is love with Beatrice–he can put on the most convincing lovestruck looks of adoration ever.

Benedick’s “entrapment” scene was a comic high in the play, masterfully accomplished with use of a revolving stage, some columns, and white paint. On the other hand, I felt Beatrice’s “entrapment” relied too much on slapstick. The scene involved Beatrice being hooked to a cable and hoisted about the stage. Tate is a great comedienne, and a wonderfully physical performer, but the laughs she pulled from the audience had less to do with her performance and more to do with the situation comedy. Terrible! Not that Beatrice’s entrapment scene is any good in the text either, really–in contrast to Benedick’s, in which Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato are convincing Benedick of Beatrice’s mad passion for him, Beatrice’s counterpart involves Hero and Ursula making fun of her sharp ways and extolling Benedick’s more excellent virtues. I’ve always hated Beatrice’s entrapment scene, mostly because of the subtext is “a woman must not be too shrewish, too outspoken, too loud, or too witty!” Ugh. (Thankfully Beatrice maintains her sharp tongue by the play’s end, but still. Ugh.)

The only thing about the show which detracted from my enjoyment was the audience. How pretentious and awful is to for me to admit that? I’m no great theatre-goer, nor am I a huge Shakespeare buff (I mean, I’ve never read or seen Hamlet or MacBeth or any of the great tragedies, really), but honestly. I know Shakespeare wrote for both the nobles and the masses (often in the same play), but it irks me to no end when people respond wrong. Tate delivers Beatrice’s “Kill Claudio” line with steely seriousness, and a few people laughed. Laughed! That wasn’t a joke! Just because Beatrice is Catherine Tate and they were funny for most of the play before doesn’t mean every line is supposed to be funny!

And the worst was the obnoxious fangirl sitting three rows in front of me. Now I will admit I am an obnoxious fangirl myself, but even I draw the line at whooping loudly and cheering at everything David Tennant does. I suppose she accomplished what she set out to do, because he looked directly at her and pointed his finger. She ruined Benedick’s “change of heart” scene by practically shouting his lines before he said them and I was so close to hopping over the seats and strangling the life out of her. Yes, I would love it if David Tennant looked me straight in the face and acknowledged my existence too, but STOP RUINING THE PLAY FOR OTHER PEOPLE.

She was thrown out before the interval. Thank god.

The play was marvelous and fun and I am so very glad I had the opportunity to go see it. Afterwards I attempted the stage door, but no such luck. As I mentioned before, people were queueing up even before the play had started, and by the time I got out there, it was a madhouse. I tried to take some photos, but I ended with a ton of the back of people’s heads. However, a very nice and awesome girl I met during the play was kind enough to attempt some pictures for me, being as she was much taller and could possibly shoot over the back of people’s heads.

The fruits of her labours are here:

The backs of David and Catherine's heads.

Half of Catherine and David's faces, but with bonus Adipose baby!

An actual decent photograph of David Tennant as he waved goodbye. Catherine had already gone inside.

If I couldn’t have the cast sign my programme, I at least met with some awesome Doctor Who fans? I met a lovely couple from Bournemouth who were in their 50s, and we spent a long time debating the merits of Moffat’s Who. Apparently his version of the show isn’t as popular in the UK as Russell T. Davies’ (ratings are apparently on the decline), although from what I can tell, the exact opposite is happening in America. Perhaps it’s a sensibility thing. I’m not sure, but they complained it isn’t the show it used to be, and they’ve been watching since the 1970s. I will admit it was rather nice to be surrounded by people open about their affection for Doctor Who, although I suppose it’s mainstream in the UK and not the cult thing it is in the States.

Wow, perhaps I should go on vacation all the time, as I seem to be blogging more.

MOCKINGJAY by Suzanne Collins

Now that the last book of this trilogy is finished, what do I have to look forward to? I feel bereft, a bit like I did at the end of HARRY POTTER. Alas, alas, alas.

(Actually, I have plenty to look forward to. MONSTERS OF MEN, for one. Also, THE CLOCKWORK ANGEL is on my list of books to read next.)

That being said, I feel the need to write a slightly longer, more emotional reaction-based review of MOCKINGJAY because ZOMG. I got this book at midnight and finished reading in the wee hours of the morning because I COULD NOT PUT IT DOWN. Oh Suzanne Collins. You are good at writing teh crack.

Warning: SPOILERS BENEATH THE CUT.

First, despite my claimed abhorrence for FEEEEEEEELINGS, here is what I have to say about my FEEEEEEEEEEEELINGS when it comes to the FEEEEEEEEEEELINGS in this trilogy. You know. That infernal Team Peeta vs. Team Gale debate.

So, here it is:

BOOYAH. TEAM PEETA FOR THE WIN.

But. But. I feel that the romantic conclusion of this trilogy is moot. This young girl at the midnight release party sums it up best.

Books of Wonder Owner: Who do you think Katniss should end up with: Peeta or Gale?
11-Year-Old Girl: I don’t know. I don’t really care. It’s her decision!

DAMN RIGHT. YOU GO, GIRL.

Romance? Irrelevant. It’s not about whether or not Katniss chooses someone, and while I love Peeta, I did not walk away from this book cheering that my team (whatever that means) “won”.

It’s a horrible way to talk about relationships anyway, winning or losing.

So let’s talk about this book as a whole. Which…destroyed me. It was one of those novels that made me mull, unable to say unequivocally I loved it! or I hated it!

Of course I didn’t hate it. It was simply too good for me to do anything but be in awe of it. But awe doesn’t exactly inspire the same emotional reactions as “love” or “hate”, and it certainly isn’t one of those books that takes you for an emotional thrill ride. (Even though it does rip my heart out several times.) Unlike the end of say, KUSHIEL’S AVATAR–which is emotionally satisfying–MOCKINGJAY is in many ways a chronicle of the atrocities of war. To steal from another YA series, “war makes monsters of men”. You don’t necessarily walk away from Chinua Achebe’s THINGS FALL APART saying “I loved it!”

In this regard, I find MOCKINGJAY rather close to the conclusion of THE LORD OF THE RINGS. Some things you can’t go back from. Some wounds will never truly heal. Some things, once experienced, can never be unlived. What I did not realize I wanted from this book was a resounding emotional climax and conclusion: President Snow defeated! A new order is established! Things are good! Katniss and Peeta live happily ever after!

No. The world does not work that way. Those who have witnessed the horrors of war know that the world does not work this way. Tolkien was a soldier in the Great War and saw many of his boyhood friends die. Collins’ father was a veteran of Vietnam. Things do not return to status quo, nor do they get “better”. You live with your scars.

Guh.

I think it’s a fitting end for the girl on fire, who wasn’t even the girl on fire by choice. Manipulated and used as a pawn from beginning to end–by both the Capitol and the rebels, her only real desire from start to finish was to survive. And that’s what she does. She survives. And continues to live on. The ending of the novel is so bittersweet in this way:

Peeta and I grow back together. [...] I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive* is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion of spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.

*emphasis mine

Did I want her to “choose” Peeta like this? No. I wanted her to realize that he was good for her. I wanted them to play out their gender reversals in a happy version of District 12: her bringing home the bacon (literally) with her phallic weapons as he kept home and hearth alight. I loved that about Katniss and Peeta together: she’s stoic and he’s emotional, she’s pragmatic and he’s sensitive, she’s the hunter and he’s the nurturer. Roles traditionally ascribed to men and women have been switched in these two.

And while I think that still exists, that’s not the point. These two who have been through so much and suffered so much finally settle down for a bit of peace and quiet. It doesn’t have that resounding climax I wanted, but it feels right, even if it lacks drama.

I have issues with the book, but overall, I think it’s pretty fantastic. There are some pacing issues towards the end, not to mention the epilogue makes me angry (but I choose to ignore the epilogue’s existence). Also, Gale Hawthorne, I can’t stand you. You are a motherfucking tool. (More on that later. Maybe. If I feel up to it. And no, it has nothing to do with “the Nut” episode. Those who have read MOCKINGJAY will know what I’m talking about.)

But aside from that, I thought MOCKINGJAY was smart, a sharp critique on reality television and propaganda, as well as a powerful novel about war. Recommended. (Obviously.)

So, what did you all think?

The hardcover of TENDER MORSELS by Margo Lanagan

There’s not much I can really say about TENDER MORSELS that’s coherent. This novel slayed me. I closed the pages feeling absolutely gutted and wrung out, wondering if the world would ever be okay again and knowing it will.

TENDER MORSELS is a retelling of the fairytale Snow White and Rose Red (Schneeweißchen und Rosenrot), which is about two sisters, roses, a bear prince, an ungrateful dwarf, and stolen treasure.

I’m rather fond of fairytale retellings, as is evidenced by my love of Robin McKinley’s BEAUTY, Elizabeth C. Bunce’s A CURSE AS DARK AS GOLD, Malinda Lo’s ASH, and countless others. I love them as literal or as figurative as they come. I think I love fairytale retellings because the story mechanics are already in place so the author is free to take the characters and world in any which direction s/he pleases. Similarly, fairytales being so sketchy and vague themselves allow for wonderful interpretations of the source material.

In the case of TENDER MORSELS, Lanagan is more figurative and less literal, turning a story of two sisters and a bear prince into a beautiful and haunting story about blood and family. The book is viscerally moving and in many parts disturbing. The novel opens with a dwarf having lost his virginity to the town slut before moving onto the horrific tale of Liga, a young girl imprisoned and repeatedly raped by her own father.

Rape, incest, forced abortion, these are only a few of the issues Lanagan touches on throughout the novel. Due to the horrific circumstances of her early life, Liga escapes into a beautiful and literal fantasy world of her own making with her two daughters, both of whom are children of violence: the first of incest and the second of gang rape.

Branza and Urdda grow up in an idyllic paradise, but little by little, the “real” world begins to punch holes into their peaceful lives. First the dwarf (from the first scene!) and then men who turn into bears when they crossover. Sheltered beyond belief, the sisters react very differently to these intrusions. Fiery little Urdda (Rose Red) wonders about the world beyond, while placid Branza (Snow White) would prefer things to remain the same.

Of course things must change, even in the dreamlike existence of Liga’s created world. Sexual awakening, heartbreak, and murder can’t be avoided, even in paradise. Urdda finds her way into the real world, but Branza and Liga stay behind, and the consequences of reality permeating fantasy are substantial.

Ultimately, this novel is about womanhood, about the bonds females forge with each other. It’s incredibly powerful, disturbing, and moving. Go read! Go! Go!

Review of WHITE CAT by Holly Black

WHITE CAT by Holly Black

Because I suck at writing cover copy, I’m just going to swipe the one on Holly Black‘s website.

Cassel comes from a family of curse workers — people who have the power to change your emotions, your memories, your luck, by the slightest touch of their hands. And since curse work is illegal, they’re all mobsters, or con artists. Except for Cassel. He hasn’t got the magic touch, so he’s an outsider, the straight kid in a crooked family. You just have to ignore one small detail — he killed his best friend, Lila, three years ago.

Ever since, Cassel has carefully built up a façade of normalcy, blending into the crowd. But his façade starts crumbling when he starts sleepwalking, propelled into the night by terrifying dreams about a white cat that wants to tell him something. He’s noticing other disturbing things, too, including the strange behavior of his two brothers. They are keeping secrets from him, caught up in a mysterious plot. As Cassel begins to suspect he’s part of a huge con game, he also wonders what really happened to Lila. Could she still be alive? To find that out, Cassel will have to out-con the conmen.

Spoilers after the cut.

LOVE. Love, love, love. Hi, Cassel, hi. You’re a cute-patootie. Also, your mom is fucked up. AND I LOVE HER OMG. You probably agree with me. Well, about the crazy fucked up, at least.

I’ve read many of Black’s previous works but WHITE CAT is indubitably the best. Perhaps that’s personal bias, as I’m not much for fairies. I wasn’t a huge fan of TITHE or IRONSIDE, although I loved VALIANT to pieces. (That’s because in my aesthetic algebra Beauty and the Beast > Tam Lin.)

Like many of Black’s works, WHITE CAT is loosely based on a fairytale of the same name. What I like about Black’s fairytale reworkings is that the source inspiration isn’t very obvious. She keeps elements from the original stories, but they’re only elements; her stories take center stage and shine.

Her latest book is no exception. WHITE CAT has everything a girl could want: a story about hot brothers, con men, prep school boys, prickly and bitchy girls, mothers who screw up their children, and magic.

What? You say that those things aren’t what a girl wants from fiction? What is it then? Sparkly vampires and angsty love triangles? Pffft. Surely you delude yourselves.

My favourite part of WHITE CAT is the magical world Black has created. In this universe, a certain portion of the population are “workers”; that is, people who are magically gifted in some way or another, and who work their magic through touch. Curse work has been forbidden since the Prohibition, but it’s been poorly regulated, giving rise to crime syndicates of working families. (OMG AWESOME.)

Black very elegantly gives us just enough information to understand her world without any awkward info-dumping. For example, curse work doesn’t come without consequences; the worker suffers a “blowback” every time s/he uses his/her gift. Black never point-blank tells us what a “blowback” is, but we infer that the consequences of using magic vary according to gift and ability.

WHITE CAT is at its heart a story about family, a subject and theme Black has explored in her previous novels. Like Sarah Rees Brennan, she writes about the way love can harm as much as it heals and it can be devastating. (Hence why Cassel’s mother is my favourite character in this novel–she’s a perfect example.)

Wholeheartedly recommended! Especially if you’re like me and are sick and tired of paranormal romance saturating the market. Will this trend ever die? Someone please stake it through the heart already.

BEAUTIFUL CREATURES by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl

A while back on one of the various social media platforms I have (really, I’m starting to reach saturation point with social media) I said I wanted to be haunted by a book. Until I read BEAUTIFUL CREATURES, I hadn’t been.

Ethan Wate wants nothing more than to get out of his small town, to leave Gatlin, the South, and what he perceives as his tiny way of life. He wants nothing more than to be able to experience the outside world. One day, the outside world intrudes on Gatlin in a spectacular way in the form of Lena Duchannes, the dark haired and green eyed niece of the town shut-in, Old Man Ravenwood.

(Can you see how deliciously gothic the book is already?)

Lena is certainly different, but little does Ethan know just how different she (and her family) really is…

I can’t quite explain it, but there’s something old-fashioned about BEAUTIFUL CREATURES. When I say “old-fashioned”, I mean it somehow reminds me of the YA I read as a child, which was full of past lives and ghosts and throughout-time parallels: fantastic happenings that stretched credulity, but were nevertheless wonderfully imaginative.

It’s funny, because I tend to hold my YA to a slightly different standard these days than when I did as a child and BEAUTIFUL CREATURES doesn’t quite hold up. And yet. AND YET. There is an “out-of-time” and insular quality about this work that’s shivery and seductive. This is not a real place, not as I know it. This is Southern Gothic. This is the Haunted Mansion in Disneyland.

The Haunted Mansion. The ORIGINAL, mind you.

The original Haunted Mansion in New Orleans Square, thank you. None of this Dutch Gothic Revival nonsense in Magic Kingdom’s Liberty Square. (Yes, yes, I’m a Disneyland freak. Speaking of, I haven’t been recently. I am due for another visit.)

If I sound pejorative when I compare it to the Haunted Mansion, I don’t mean to. What I mean is that BEAUTIFUL CREATURES is a fantasy place, somewhere I can go that has no bearing to this notion of “reality” or “the real world”. It’s not gritty and urban the way Holly Black’s TITHE is. BEAUTIFUL CREATURES is, quite simply put, fantastical.

It’s not perfect, but gothic novels wouldn’t be truly gothic, haunting, and creepy without some serious flaws. Lena and Ethan are more cipher than girl and boy at this point to me, the racial/feminist relations are kind of problematic, and the book is long and unwieldy. And yet. AND YET. I love the length because of its atmosphere and I kind of love that Lena and Ethan are slight caricatures. It serves the overall story somehow. The racial/feminist tension is still troubling, but it lends itself to the “out of time” feeling.

This book hooks itself into your subconscious in the very best ways, and for that I highly recommend it.

Review of WILL GRAYSON, WILL GRAYSON by John Green & David Levithan

Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green & David Levithan

For some reason, I keep wanting to type David “Leviathan” instead of Levithan. Anyway, WILL GRAYSON, WILL GRAYSON was the first book I purchased initially for my ereader. So this review has the privilege of being two-for-one: review of content and review of form.

First off, review of content. WILL GRAYSON, WILL GRAYSON is the story of two high school boys who both happen to be named Will Grayson, whose paths happen to cross accidentally one night and how it affects them. Except for me, the novel should have been titled TINY COOPER IS BESTEST CHARACTER EVER.

Because he totally is.

This book, as my coworker Vicki says, is satisfying. One rarely says that about fiction and YA fiction at that. For me, YA is often exciting, thoughtful, heartwrenching, etc. but rarely does it leave me with a contented sigh at the end.

The reason I’m so contented? Tiny Cooper. Tiny Cooper is, as one Will Grayson says, “the world’s largest person who is really, really gay” or “the world’s gayest person who is really, really large”. Tiny Cooper is faaaaaaaabulous and fabulous. Gay, outgoing, or fat, Tiny is a refreshing character, teen, gay, or otherwise, because he’s so comfortable with himself. But this isn’t to say that Tiny doesn’t have his share of problems or insecurities, indeed, it’s the validation of Tiny as who he is at the end of the novel that makes this book so lovely and satisfying.

Hang on, JJ, you might say, I thought this was a book about two boys named Will Grayson. Who is this Tiny Cooper you’re going on about? Are you sure you read the right book?

I did, it’s just that I found the Will Graysons vastly less interesting. It’s a bit of an unfair assessment, but in all honesty, I really do feel this novel belongs to Tiny. Two rotating viewpoints is tricky to execute, and as fine as Green and Levithan are as writers, the Will Graysons have very little to do with each other, and everything to do with the largest gay person ever or the gayest large person ever. Consequently, Tiny is the fulcrum around which the other two rotate.

Personally, Green’s Grayson is my favourite of the two narrators. It may be because I’m familiar with Green’s writing, or it may be because Levithan’s Grayson can’t capitalize to save his life.

I develop a little bit of a facial tic when people don’t capitalize and punctuate properly. I am, at heart, an old-fashioned girl and even in this text and Gchat age (Anyone remember AIM? Remember when it was the cool thing to do? AM I REALLY THAT OLD?), I prefer that you not butcher the English language, thanks.

I understand why Levithan’s Grayson writes the way he does. One, it’s to visually different the two boys. Two, he’s a depressed and bitter, bitter young man and he just can’t be bothered to care. I get it; it doesn’t bother me any less. Also, I fear for Levithan’s Grayson a little. I know a great many older gay men who are depressed and bitter and they invariably turn out to be unbearable queens. Thankfully he has the cheerful influence of Tiny and other gay kids comfortable with themselves, so there’s hope, especially by the novel’s end, which I keep coming back to as being INCREDIBLY satisfying and “feel good”.

Recommended! Recommended! Go and tell me you love Tiny as much as I do!

Ebooks: Maybe?

And now, review of form. First, I’ll say that I love the instant gratification aspect of buying digital books. Hmmm, I feel like reading this book! I shall purchase immediately. (I fear for my wallet.) None of this walking down to the bookstore business! I don’t have to get off my lazy butt! Awesome! However, the experience of reading on an ereader was…not the best.

It takes far too long for me to flip a page, for one. I’m a speed reader, so I tend to read in gulps, as opposed to word-by-word. The other is that, because I’m a speed reader, I often need to flip back a couple of pages or so to remember a detail better. Usually I can flip to “about where” I remembered reading it on a physical book. On an ereader? Absolutely impossible.

I’m not sure whether or not I like reading ebooks. I can’t deny the appeal of being able to carry several books at once and not have to worry about space, especially as I usually read three or four books at a time. However, the ereading device simply cannot match my reading needs. It’s too slow.

My newest movie obsession

For the first weekend in ages, I did nothing but watch movies and it was GLORIOUS. I rewatched Dangerous Beauty and Much Ado About Nothing and then watched Amadeus no less than three times. On the same day. (I know, I know, I tend to obsession.)

I think my taste in movies can be extrapolated and extended to my taste in books. Why do I love Dangerous Beauty? It’s an intelligent historical chick movie. Also, it has courtesans and apparently whenever people think of “courtesans”, they think of me. Why do I love Much Ado About Nothing? Because it is delightful. No other reason. Seriously, it is CHARMING and the cheer is infectious. Also, a little ridiculous, but I like that sort of thing. Also, this is my favourite of Shakespeare’s comedies.

As for Amadeus, well, this is a little harder to articulate. Certainly I love Mozart and his music, but one can’t help but be gratified by a great story well-told. Revenge, passion, the nature of genius, the pain of mediocrity, humor, tragedy–this movie is wonderful in every sense of the word. I could go on and on about its brilliance, but everything I feel about this film can be summed up in its title: Amadeus, Beloved of God. One of Mozart’s names rendered into Latin (he was christened with Gottlieb, but went by Amadé in his professional life), but also a recurring theme throughout the play/movie: divine inspiration. Oh! Oh! How I love this movie so.

Anyway, despite having watched movies all weekend, what I really want to do in this blog post is was review two very lovely books, GUARDIAN OF THE DEAD by Karen Healey and THE DEMON’S COVENANT by Sarah Rees Brennan. More after the cut.

It feels like it’s been a million years since I last reviewed a book. In fact, the last thing I reviewed was RAMPANT by Diana Peterfreund back in January. Oh dear, oh dear. I have read a great many new releases since, but since I don’t have the time to backlog the ones I have read, I will focus on the two I’ve read most recently.

Review of GUARDIAN OF THE DEAD by Karen Healey

GUARDIAN OF THE DEAD by Karen Healey

I can’t recall how I first heard of this book, but however I did, I’m glad it came to my attention. At first I was a bit wary because the blurb included the word “fairies”. Cue me groaning. I don’t like fairies. I think I have some residual cognitive dissonance about fairies because despite the new literature about fey people harking back to their tricksy and less-than-sweet roots, there’s some part of my brain that thinks of Victorian twee. You know, glittery wings. Tinkling voices. That sort of thing.

But I’m glad I ignored that sense of cognitive dissonance because I really enjoyed GUARDIAN OF THE DEAD. Possibly because it didn’t really have fairies. (More on that later.) What to focus on first? How about the fact it features a capable, interesting, and likable heroine whose worth is not measured by her looks? Or an actual asexual character? Or how about the fact that the book features a CHARACTER OF ASIAN DESCENT who is, you know, a fully-rounded person instead of a trope?

I loved the mythology in GUARDIAN OF THE DEAD, particularly because it was new to me. It involves some of the myths and legends of the Maori, the native people of New Zealand. I loved this glimpse into mythologies unfamiliar to me, but more than that, I was fascinated with how Maori culture permeates that of contemporary New Zealand. The protagonist Ellie is a Pakeha girl, or white. The fact that a word like “Pakeha” is known and used in everyday New Zealand is really amazing to me, especially as us Americans have a history of repressing our native peoples.

So in many ways, I feel that using the term “fairies” to describe the supernatural patupairehe in Healey’s novel is somewhat of a disservice. The word “fairy” is loaded with many connotations (including impressions of Victorian twee, clearly), but more than that, it is a very Western European word, coming into Middle English from Old French via the Norman invasion. Tricksy magical beings exist in all mythologies, but it bothers me a little to conflate patupairehe with “fairy”. It’s as if someone described kumihos (the Korean equivalent of the Japanese kitsune-tsuki) as “fairy women”. Sure they lure unsuspecting men to ruin with their beauty and foxy ways (quite literally–they turn into foxes), but I run into a bit of an idiomatic brick wall when someone describes them as “Korean fairies”. Because they’re not. Not really.

I have some of that idiomatic block when it comes to the patupairehe. They are what they are, not an exoticized approximation of a known quantity. I think it may have been a marketing decision as Healey never does it–her novel is uniquely and completely New Zealand, somewhat insular, but fascinating. I read everything through the lens of a biracial American, but what struck me about GUARDIAN OF THE DEAD was how it seemed familiar. The mythic qualities of a girl going into the Underworld to save someone resonate throughout all cultures and I really enjoyed that aspect of it. But more than that, Maori myth pings with what I know of Hawai’ian mythology.

I’ve spent a lot of time in Hawai’i, and what struck me about the integration of Maori and Pakeha cultures in New Zealand called to what I know of Hawai’i. Not only do Hawai’ians and Maori share common ancestry, but how Hawai’i's native population and “white” culture (along with East Asian culture) mingle is somewhat similar to New Zealand. Hawai’ian words make their way into people’s everyday speech, from the obvious “Aloha” to the culturally appropriate “hapa”. (“Hapa” meaning “half”, or “half-blooded”, referring to the racially mixed population. I am “hapa” myself.)

Regardless! GUARDIAN OF THE DEAD is an awesome novel! Don’t mind me; I’m dorky in ways that don’t interest people. So, I leave off with a ringing endorsement of COOL MYTHOLOGY! GREAT FEMALE CHARACTERS!

Review of THE DEMON’S COVENANT by Sarah Rees Brennan

THE DEMON'S COVENANT by Sarah Rees Brennan

I reviewed THE DEMON’S LEXICON a while back, so I won’t bore you with a recap. (Or rather, I won’t bore you with my recap as I tend to be prosaic. Go read the book instead!) THE DEMON’S COVENANT is the sequel to THE DEMON’S LEXICON, the continuing adventures of two pairs of siblings: Nick and Alan Ryves and Mae and Jamie Crawford.

THE DEMON’S COVENANT is told from Mae’s POV and is the third Awesome Lady Being Awesome in my post (the first two being Ellie and Iris from GUARDIAN OF THE DEAD). I will admit had a little difficulty getting a handle on Mae in the previous book. This isn’t to say she was unlikeable or poorly written, but I think it might be a function of Nick’s POV. Unlike her younger brother Jamie–who is titchy and prone to saying funny things when terrified–Mae comes across as extremely capable and therefore narratively less interesting. (Forgive me!)

That being said, I love Mae. I really do. Once we are inside her head, we are privy to all the insecurities and vulnerabilities she cannot and does not show the rest of the world (and Nick, being somewhat of an obtuse POV character, wouldn’t have picked up on these cues). She is very, very real and awesome. And the most amazing thing about Mae is the relationship she has with her brother Jamie.

I cried. This is stupendous because I rarely cry in books. I sobbed my eyes out in Beverly Cleary’s RAMONA AND HER MOTHER and Marcus Zusak’s THE BOOK THIEF. It takes a lot to make me cry because I’m moved to tears by odd things. Romance usually fails to move me. Deaths, while sad, don’t really make me sniffle either. But the way Rees Brennan writes about love and family just gutted me, especially at the end. Saying farewell to someone, supporting them in the most difficult and dangerous decision of their lives, and being strong despite a breaking heart (and one’s heart can break in situations NOT related to romance)–these are all ingredients that can reduce JJ to tears.

What I love most about Rees Brennan is that she writes about family, an element often missing from YA fiction these days. Parents are either absent, dead, or simply neglectful. While the parents of Nick and Alan, Mae and Jamie fall into one of those three categories, family is never overlooked. Love is a powerful thing, especially when the love that ties you to someone doesn’t have anything to do with romance. Oh, oh, oh. My heart. It hurt.

So, like THE DEMON’S LEXICON I wholeheartedly recommend this book. It has demons! And sexy boys who fight with swords! Slightly Machiavellian “good” guys! Adorably snarky gay brothers! AN AMAZING PINK-HAIRED HEROINE. Go!

New post at Running Roommates!

Read about it here! It’s a good thing we’ve started training. There are 5lbs of post-holiday pudge I need to get rid of, 10lbs altogether I’d like to lose. Tonight I will do a nice, restorative yoga practice to recover. Running is really hard on the body! Doesn’t help I have one flat foot, loose ligaments in my shoulders, and one bum knee. I’m a young and decrepit, how sad.

But you know who isn’t young and decrepit and is instead young and awesome? Astrid Llewellyn from Diana Peterfreund‘s RAMPANT. I read this novel months ago, but never got around to giving it a proper review. Hopefully White-Harp will be chiming in with her thoughts as well via vlog. (We are ambitious, White-Harp and me.) Review follows beneath the cut.

Review of RAMPANT by Diana Peterfreund

RAMPANT by Diana Peterfreund

All Astrid Llewellyn wants to do is survive high school and become a doctor. Unfortunately, her mother (who may or may not be crazy) has different plans for her only daughter. Astrid had grown up listening to her mother’s eccentric tales of rabid, rampaging unicorns but it isn’t until her boyfriend is attacked by one that Astrid becomes convinced.

Soon she is off to Rome to train at a convent with other female virgin descendants of Alexander the Great, otherwise known as the only people in the world who can save you from killer unicorns. But Astrid isn’t sure being a unicorn hunter is something she wants–especially that pesky virginity thing–but when a very real conspiracy hurts someone she loves, she will do anything (including unicorn hunting) to settle the score.

Two words. Philippa. Llewellyn. I loved Astrid’s older cousin/sister-surrogate to pieces. I loved that she was intelligent, pretty, popular, in college, and virginal. Phil seemed real to me–like a girl I would know, or a girl like whom I wish to be. Her reasons for not having sex are as realistic and, well, reasonable as any I’ve ever read. I loved that she was a role model for Astrid and that she wasn’t perfect either (convincing your underage cousin to sneak out in a foreign country probably isn’t the smartest idea). Also, her name is Philippa. My favourite character in the ANNE OF GREEN GABLES series by Lucy Maud Montgomery was Philippa Gordon (also called Phil). I was predisposed to like her.

The rest of the novel was enjoyable. I was amused at the inclusion of the kirin, which in the Korean and Japanese languages means “giraffe”. In fact, it’s actually a mystical Chinese beast called the Qilin that someone decided best resembled a giraffe. Go figure. I thought Peterfreund’s reinvention of the unicorn myth was interesting, although I will admit that even I had a hard time wrapping my mind around these things as bloodthirsty creatures. My one issue was actually the romance; while I liked Giovanni, he seemed almost too good to be true. I like my romantic leads to be less polished and more prickly. Also less hot. But that is a personal preference.

Recommended. Now, can anyone let me know when the next book in this series will be released?

Remember when…Sarah didn’t use big words.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Although I went by Sarah in those days; it could because I was the only Sarah in that class and was thus able to avoid sharing the name with another girl.

Looking at my Remember When, I suppose it came as no surprise to anyone that I now work in publishing. :) Speaking of which, I finally got around to reading FIRE by Kristin Cashore, the review for which follows beneath the cut.

Review of FIRE by Kristin Cashore

FIRE by Kristin Cashore

Being on holiday means there is more reading of the leisure variety and less of the work-related variety. I bought FIRE a few months ago with every intention of reading it immediately, but I might have overestimated how much reading I am humanly able to manage in a given day.

FIRE is a companion novel to GRACELING, Cashore’s debut. It takes place in the Dells, a country east of the Seven Kingdoms, populated by the most fantastic creatures—monsters.

Fire is the last human monster. Cursed with too much beauty and the power to control people’s minds, she despises her own existence. But the kingdom is on the brink of a civil war and Fire begins to discover that those traits she hates about herself may have the power to help and heal as well as harm.

I enjoyed FIRE much more than GRACELING, which I found to be a straightforward, predictable high fantasy complete with swordfighting and war and romance. FIRE is much more sophisticated, and I think it’s in part due to Fire herself. Katsa from GRACELING annoyed me more often than not as she seemed like a typical “kickass heroine”: able to rip out your nuts with one hand while gouging your eyes out with the other, looking gorgeous all the while.

Fire is markedly different from Katsa because she is feminine. My favourite heroines tend to embrace rather than subsume their femininity (please see my love for Phèdre nò Delaunay in the KUSHIEL’S LEGACY universe) instead of aping traditionally masculine attributes like immense physical strength or fighting abilities and supplementing them with superficially “girly” traits like great hair (ahem, Buffy, cough). Of course, I love when authors are able to successfully subvert these tropes into the realm of genderqueer (like Tamora Pierce’s Alanna), but it’s rarer than I’d like.

Is too much beauty a curse? Many of us wouldn’t think so, but I think Cashore does a great job at conveying the sort of burden too much beauty endows. She also makes Fire a wonderful feminist heroine, not because she can shoot arrows, but because her womanly attributes become her strengths. I also love that Fire wants more than anything in the world to become a mother, but will not risk giving birth to another monster. I, who feel absolutely no such compunction, found her dilemma heartbreaking.

FIRE is published as young adult here in the States, but I found this novel to fit better into the “New Adult” category Cap’n Sweet Valley and I are trying to publish. While Fire is seventeen, she seemed much older, and her narrative seemed less YA than adult. I know both FIRE and GRACELING were published as adult abroad, but that may be because other markets don’t have as developed a YA section as we do.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed this book immensely. This isn’t to say it’s not without flaws because it certainly has them, but I was so pleased by Fire as a feminist heroine that I am able to overlook them. Recommended.

Husbands rest here. Photo by ColorMeKatie.

Note: I celebrate Christmas (the secular bits, anyway), hence why I name that holiday. Seasons greetings, happy Yule, happy Chanukah, happy Kwanzaa, and happy holidays to everyone who doesn’t!

One thing I don’t like about Christmas is shopping for gifts. I’m notoriously terrible at thinking of what to give people and even worse at receiving presents. My relatives asked what I wanted for Christmas this year. I was about to put down my usual answer (books or a gift certificate for books), when I realised my new job makes asking for books sort of moot. I actually couldn’t think of anything else.

However, this year, I have decided to foist my favourite books I’ve read in 2009 upon the people I love. As far as presents go, books are relatively inexpensive (compared to, say, a Nikon D60, which is what I actually want but don’t dare ask for). What follows is a JJ’s List of Awesome Books To Give People.

Great YA Books

• ASH by Malinda Lo (my review)
• SHIVER by Maggie Stiefvater (my review and White-Harp’s review)
• LIAR by Justine Larbalestier (my review)
• CATCHING FIRE by Suzanne Collins (my review)–but don’t forget THE HUNGER GAMES!
• THE FOREST OF HANDS AND TEETH by Carrie Ryan (my review)
• THE DEMON’S LEXICON by Sarah Rees Brennan (my review)
• THE DISREPUTABLE HISTORY OF FRANKIE LANDAU-BANKS by E. Lockhart (my review)–not pubbed in 2009 BUT THAT DOESN’T DIMINISH ITS AWESOME
• FLORA’S DARE by Ysabeau Wilce (my review)–sequel to FLORA SEGUNDA
• GOING BOVINE by Libba Bray (my review)

Great Adult Titles

• NAAMAH’S KISS by Jacqueline Carey (my review)–part of the KUSHIEL’S LEGACY series, but this is a standalone
• HUMMINGBIRDS by Joshua Gaylord (review forthcoming!)

Let it be known I have a distinct YA (and fantasy) bias. Let it further be known that possibly the best book I’ve read this year has not yet been published. (Gaah!)