Riveting Reads: Catching Fire

It’s out! The sequel to Hunger Games is out!

Okay, so Catching Fire has been out for a couple of months, but in this economy one copy of a novel has a way of circulating through many of my friends and family and students before I have the chance to devour it. You might remember from an earlier review that I referred to Suzanne Collins’ first book in this series as “word chocolate”, and the description still applies to the second. Catching Fire had me biting my nails down to the cuticle. (Poor things look like I dug myself out of a casket.) Who would have thought Collins could outdo herself in the sequel. (Isn’t that the great thing about book sequels verses movie sequels? Book sequels are usually worth the purchase.)

To recap the ending of Hunger Games, the brave and resourceful Katniss Everdeen just won the national Hunger Games, although not alone. She and her doting fellow District Twelve tribute, a baker’s son named Peeta, accidentally survive the death match together under the ruse of a couple deep in love.

This is where Catching Fire begins.

Katniss and Peeta return home, go their separate ways, and only pretend to be in love whenever the Capitol is watching. Katniss wonders if she’ll ever even have a friendship with Gale again—the boy in District Twelve that she really likes. Since the rules of the games clearly state that there can only be one winning tribute every year, the president of Panem fumes as this tiny act of rebellion starts catching on in the other Districts. He fears that the Districts will all revolt as a result of Katniss and Peeta’s stunt, so the president leans on her to convince the public of the victors’ love, to legitimize it with sappy sideways glances and passionate on-camera kisses. Will they be convincing enough for the president? Read it and find out.

My one criticism, which you may have already heard from other book lovers, is that the ending of Catching Fire could not be more truncated! I was all geared up for an ending that tapered into a resolution. Instead I found a spray of unresolved problems that snaked around my sense of closure like a live wire. Am I so angry that I won’t read the third book when it comes out? No. The author hooked me with Hunger Games, and reeled me in with Catching Fire. I can only hope the third will grill me with lemon. (Yeah, time to retire that analogy to Florida.)

In any case, Collins is an exceptional, award-winning author. If you can’t wait for the last book in the Hunger Games series to come out, Collins is also the author of the Underland Chronicles Series. Her novels are praised by Stephen King, Stephenie Meyer, The New York Times, USA Today, and…me. Pick up your New York Times Bestseller today. Or at least borrow one from a friend.

RADITUDE, WEEZER

Yesterday was a momentous one.

Weezer's latest album: Raditude hit the stores.

I personally purchased my copy for $14.99 at ShopKo in Spanish Fork. (Plus, I got a hot new pair of leather boots while I was there. Couldn't resist.) ShopKo didn't make the kind of fuss they should have about the album, as i had to dig in the regular section around some country CDs to find it. But behold, there it was. A large dog on the cover jumping in a iconic eighties living room (you know the kind with the striped brown and mustard couch, simplistic coffee table, and a carpet the same color and texture of a teenage boy's drab, overly-long and barely washed hair.) On the coffee table was a book--it's title unclear to the naked eye, and I found myself wondering what the book might be titled? What would Weezer have on the coffee table at home. Inasmuch as I don't follow any Weezer fan sites where this kind of thing is already known, I just guessed.

Perhaps:

Snuggies for dummies?

Track suits etcetera?

The memoir of a 1/2 Japanese girl?

Any other suggestions?

Anyhoo, the actual music, while slightly pop-ier than usual, has the signature "odd-girls are hot" and "regular jobs suck" thematic quality. At first, I didn't love the "partying" song or whatever it's called. But soon, I warmed much like I was wearing a Weezer Snuggie. Overall, the CD will be immortalized in my collection. like all the other albums. I am still firm in my declaration that Pinkerton is the best CD, but I still celebrate all things Weezer.

(PS-Rivers-if you're reading this, name one of your next songs Rena (pronounced re-nuh) I'm a 1/4 Mexican Mormon girl from Utah with feminist core and a birth mark shaped like Australia. I once had a cat named Nicodemus, a Pomeranian/poodle named Chanel. Oh and I have a relative with a racist bird. And my kick-a** husband believes in the Sasquatch. Tell me you can't come up with lyrics for that!).

Riveting Reads: The Surrender Tree

Let me paint a word picture for you. The Surrender Tree by Margarita Engle is short. It’s a short children’s book of poetry with a shocking yellow cover and the charcoal silhouette of a tree rooted in a palm of a hand. A tree that looks almost finger-painted against the yellow background.
Its captivating cover attracted me like bees to honey. Or me to shoes. Or me to candy corn. I digress.
The silver spherical sticker helped sell me too, of course. The Surrender Tree is a Newbery Honor Book. Also, when you flip the book over, there’s a list of seven more notable awards Engle’s book was given, including ALA Best Book for Young Adults and Américas Award.
Critics agree. The Surrender Tree is a hit. It’s circulating through bookstores, libraries, schools, book clubs, and blogs. No doubt it will end up on the Oprah Book Club list. (At least this is one book your book club will likely read all the way through. Now, if you only get them to stop with the tangents and focus on a literary discussion for more than ten seconds at a time.) At a hundred and sixty-nine pages with only a poem on each page—similar to Out of Dust or Crank, two other very popular adolescent poetry books—The Surrender Tree still manages to douse the reader with a powerful Cuban voice and lyrical imagery.
The book spans the length of three Cuban wars where slaves fought the Spanish for freedom. Pulling from experiences of her great-grandparents’ past (they were Cuban refugees during the wars), Margarita Engle writes of three central characters. Rosa is a rebel Cuban with a talent for herbal healing. Some call her a witch because of her healing power and her ability to vanish when the adversary is closing in on her makeshift hospital. Witch or not, Rosa nurses injured rebels so they can live to fight another day. But her charity doesn’t stop there; Rosa heals friend and enemy alike. Her husband José keeps Rosa safe from the Spanish soldiers and an especially frightening villain nicknamed Lieutenant Death. Lt. Death hunts Rosa for years, believing somehow that her death will kill the spirit of the rebel movement and cause the faction to deflate.
Read The Surrender Tree and find out if Lieutenant catches “the witch” or if the Cuban refugees best their opponent. Anyway, at least look at the cover. You’ll be hooked too.

(as published in The Foothill Breeze in October 2009)

Riveting Reads: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

It is a truth universally acknowledged that women love Jane Austen. Even I—who would rather be watching football more often than cozying up on the couch with the latest Sandra Bullock DVD—love Jane Austen. I love it all; the gooey, sappy, so-sweet-you-could-die, eloquent, British prose is like a Valentine just for me. Any woman who has fantasized about “the one” as being a wealthy man, who could have anyone, but picks you for your wit and spitfire nature, can relate to Austen’s masterpiece, Pride and Prejudice.
But who knew it could be better?
Throw in a little zombie action, a dash of ninjas, and some kick-butt sword fighting, and what do you get? The marriage of Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith. (Bet Austen never thought she’d find matrimony like this!) With his bizarre and, let’s be honest, just plain fun interpretation of Austen’s novel, Grahame-Smith tweaks an already pristine classic into three hundred plus pages of laughs.
Grahame-Smith rebirths the famous first lines of the Pride and Prejudice into a telling opening. It says, “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.” And so the hilarity commences.
Elizabeth Bennet lives in a small British village outside of Meryton. Life is quiet, acquaintances few and far between, and scarcer as the epidemic inflicting the area—zombism or “the strange plague”—brings the dead to life and sets them hunting for scrumptious brain matter. The Bennet sisters are not the unprepared knitting and piano-playing types as Austen created. No, in Grahame-Smith’s version, the sisters had been trained in Martial Arts and wield weapons beneath their petticoats like Asian warriors. Grahame-Smith transforms Elizabeth Bennet into a heroine of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer persuasion. The strong female character we knew and loved is now a modest, zombie-annihilating vixen.
Although, I did laugh for nearly the first twenty pages without pause, I should warn you—as my sister warned when she loaned it to me—that the novelty tends to wear out sooner than later. Truth be told, it did. About the time that Mr. Darcy outlines the parameters of an accomplished woman as having “a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, [as well as being] well trained in the fighting styles of the Kyoto masters and the modern tactics and weaponry of Europe”, I thought the novelty had run dry. Nevertheless, it was worth reading.
Now, I realize there is a reader out there who is scoffing at the very idea of zombies in a Jane Austen novel, and is saying, “how dare someone pollute the words of a classic writer?” Yet, Grahame-Smith never claims to be a match for Austen’s intellect or talent. In fact, he only took one literature class. Truthfully, I hope he starts a trend. I, for one, would like to see A Farewell to Arms and Werewolves or Ulysses and Vampires. Besides, if you didn’t think Mr. Darcy could get any hotter, wait until he decorously blows the head off a zombie with a musket.
Kudos, Grahame-Smith. Write us another.

(published first in The Foothill Breeze in Oct. 2009)

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

I would have another Riveting Reads review for you this Thursday, but I lost my thumb drive. Might as well be my thumb, ya know? I'll see what I can do. It's on Pride & Prejudice & Zombies...and yes, it is that awesome! Darcy can get hotter!

Riveting Reads: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Do you know what you can get for under twelve bucks at Wal-Mart? About four bags of supreme pizza rolls. Or a small pack of Huggies—you know, the kind with only enough diapers to last a weekend. Or a Hannah Montana tee, knee socks, plaid miniskirt, hair clips, shoes, or pajamas—I bet if you could even get Hannah Montana fruit snacks. (Notice I didn’t list a Hannah Montana backpack? It’s because I’m banking that they’re more than twelve bucks. How else can you expect Miley to pay for her unicorn collection?!)

Or—if none of the above sparks your interest—you could get a copy of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.
Now, don’t be put off by its hokey name. You should know that my first instinct was, “Chic Book Alert!” which—as you can probably tell by now despite my chic status—isn’t really my type of book. Nevertheless, under the polite scrutiny and encouragement of my work book club, I purchased my own copy. OK. Say you just took my advice and bought your own copy, and opened it up to the first page. “What’s this?” you hypothetically say. “It’s a letter,” and as you flip through you realize, “What the devil? It’s all letters. It’s a novel entirely composed of letters!” And it’s true. It is a novel composed entirely of letters. But please stop walking to the Returns counter. Except for the crazy limitations the formatting must have put on the authors who still managed to pull off a New York Times Bestseller, you will still enjoy it.

Love it, I daresay.

Miss Juliet Aston is a newspaper columnist and semi-successful novelist living in London in a post WWII world. London is in ruins, a virtual skyline of crumbling brick buildings and other “dinosaur bones” of a once thriving city. Juliet’s own flat was destroyed by Germany's bombs, and paralleling the city’s aftermath, Juliet’s ideas for her next novel are scattered and lacking a common thread. Until one day…

…Juliet receives a letter from a Mr. Dawsey Adams from Guernsey, a Channel Island. Dawsey finds himself in possession of a book that once belonged to Juliet. She writes back to Dawsey, saying, “I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers” (a statement that I know has to be true. How else would I have found The Vorkosigan Series by Lois McMaster Bujold? It had to be Book Karma!)

In the midst of their correspondence, Dawsey reveals to Juliet of his participation in a local literary society, which was invented by accident in the heat of the Nazi occupation of Guernsey. Soon the entire hodge-podge literary society opens up a discourse with Juliet, telling stories of the occupation, some light-hearted and others heart-wrenching.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society is worth reading. Book clubs will especially love it. With a ribbon of humor, Shaffer and Barrows offer a fresh perspective on the aftermath of WWII and testify to how literature can link people together in tough times.

(As published in the Foothill Breeze on September 17, 2009)

Things I didn't know (or just forgot about) and don't like...

1. I forgot that I hate that the 3rd season of Veronica Mars changed the theme song "We Used to be Friends" to some melancholy emo version of the song. It was the one TV show that I would never fast forward the theme song when watching the DVD. But the 3rd season version sucks toe.

2. I didn't know that if you kick a semi-deflated soccer ball at your car and it hits the antenna that the antenna will likely tap the back windshield and shatter the whole cursed thing. (Learned that lesson for a measly $500 bucks).

3. I forgot why I opted to have a $500 deductible on my car insurance policy.

4. I forgot that when a medicine bottle says, "take with food" that if you don't you'll have a stomach ache all day--even if you eat a half hour later.