Book Review: Down the Mysterly River by Bill Willingham

To this point, the only way I’ve known Bill Willingham’s work was through his Fables series of graphic novels, and I’ve only read the first two of those. Down the Mysterly River came highly recommended from a friend who’s read the entire Fables series and is a huge fan of Willingham. I blew through it and, much like the last book I reviewed, was slightly miffed throughout because I thought I was reading some highly derivative work. Once again, I was wrong. Once again, that twist at the end is key, and it changes the whole game.

From the Goodreads summary:

Max “the Wolf” is a top notch Boy Scout, an expert at orienteering and a master of being prepared. So it is a little odd that he suddenly finds himself, with no recollection of his immediate past, lost in an unfamiliar wood. Even odder still, he encounters a badger named Banderbrock, a black bear named Walden, and McTavish the Monster (who might also be an old barn cat)—all of whom talk—and who are as clueless as Max.

Before long, Max and his friends are on the run from a relentless group of hunters and their deadly hounds. Armed with powerful blue swords and known as the Blue Cutters, these hunters capture and change the very essence of their prey. For what purpose, Max can’t guess. But unless he can solve the mystery of the strange forested world he’s landed in, Max may find himself and his friends changed beyond recognition, lost in a lost world…

As I read, I was immediately drawn in by Willingham’s sense of place, but also the sense of disorientation and despair that Max feels upon finding himself in an unknown wood populated by talking animals and chased down by crazy people with blue swords. Banderbrock, Walden, and even McTavish endeared themselves to me from the outset, each very interesting. And yet, as I progressed, I felt as though I’d seen some of these characters before. Not necessarily these exact characters, but these seemed to be echoes of characters I’d read before: the name Max the Wolf, I think, is an allusion to Max from Where the Wild Things Are, but if he was combined with Encyclopedia Brown. He has rules for detection, he solves and names his mysteries, and he doesn’t really talk like a kid. Similarly, Banderbrock reminds me of Trufflehunter from Prince Caspian, Walden of Winnie the Pooh if he were a policeman, and McTavish of O’Malley the Alley Cat from The Aristocats and the cat from The Secret of NIMH. Those are all fine allusions, really, but I wasn’t blown away by them.

The pursuit was exciting and danger-filled, and the mystery of where they are and why they’re there was also engrossing, but I still wasn’t absolutely enthralled. That is, until the last 1/4 of the book. Then it got real. I can’t tell you much more than that, because the surprise is delightful and so, so satisfying. It’s touching and intriguing, easily leading into sequels. Everything came together perfectly.

This is one that 6th graders could easily read, though there is a surprising bit of blood, mainly from McTavish the scrappy cat who likes to fight, as well as one scene with a blue cutter. However, it’s not overly graphic—more of a solid PG rating. I really enjoyed it, and the end made me appreciate everything that came before it much more.

Book Review: Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

There was so much buzz about Laini Taylor‘s Daughter of Smoke and Bone that I really couldn’t avoid picking it up. All these reviews talked about it departing from norm for YA fantasy fiction, but really not much more, other than it will defy my expectations. As I read, I grew more and more irritated, because I saw this as anything but the normal Twilight-derived formula that is absolutely unsurprising–with a few exceptions. Let me tell you: I was wrong.

The summary from Goodreads:

Around the world, black handprints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky.

In a dark and dusty shop, a devil’s supply of human teeth grown dangerously low.

And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal otherwordly war.

Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real; she’s prone to disappearing on mysterious “errands”; she speaks many languages–not all of them human; and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that color. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she’s about to find out.

When one of the strangers–beautiful, haunted Akiva–fixes his fire-colored eyes on her in an alley in Marrakesh, the result is blood and starlight, secrets unveiled, and a star-crossed love whose roots drink deep of a violent past. But will Karou live to regret learning the truth about herself?

From this description, I was mildly curious, but as I said, it was the reviews that drew me in. Also, as I said, I was underwhelmed for much of it. What particularly drew my ire was the Edwardian nature of Akiva the angel (angels are, by the way, the new vampires). He is utterly broody and smouldery, with fiery eyes that gaze tormentedly after Karou with a longing that can only be satisfied by running his hands through her neon blue hair and lots of making out while she admires his wings and his rippling tawny muscles. She’s the only thing in the universe that can sate his unquenchable, undeserving desire. But, of course, she’s absolutely wrong for him. Therefore, he’s torn between what he should do and what he wants to do. Thus, he broods. A lot. He’s nearly a caricature of Edward Cullen. He even stalks Karou and watches her sleep, much like Edward. I can’t stand Akiva in any way–but I’m not sure I’m supposed to. Or at least not completely.

Whereas Akiva is Edward, Karou is anything but Bella. She can, first and foremost, kick his butt. And she does. A lot. She defies the bland passivity that is Bella Swan as she wields curved blades and fights Akiva quite often. Karou is witty, very smart, and in no way is she either a victim or a pawn. She is passionate (unfortunately, toward Akiva, in both good and bad ways), and she makes mistakes, but she is not utterly defined or led by her desires. And when it comes down to it, she must sort out her priorities and finds that she does the right–though potentially the more difficult–thing.

Laini Taylor weaves a beautiful tapestry of the winding streets of Prague, as well as the bustling market of Marrakesh, as well as other vistas. Her writing style is witty and exciting, infused with rich, vibrant imagery. She also utilizes non-chronological storytelling to great effect.

I was really irritated at first, because of the similarities to characters like Edward who do nothing but brood and stare longingly at their loved one whom they can never have. However, the ending really did it for me, taking what I expected and assumed and turning it upside-down. Taylor is, in fact, playing with those expected conventions of YA fantasy and doing very different things with them, and I appreciate that. Karou is an enthralling character who is more than she seems, and I’m intrigued to see what she’ll do next.

The title of the sequel was actually just announced this morning: Days of Blood & Starlight.

Book Review: The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

This is the first of John Green’s books that I’ve had the pleasure to read at it’s release date, but I’m only getting around to reviewing it now, though I read it right away. This was book was amazing, funny, heart-wrenching, and nearly un-putdownable. I loved it. There may have been tears. It was wonderful and moving.

This is not your typical book about teens with cancer. It’s not just dark and twisty shot through with ribbons of depression. The narration is funny and feels real–not something I often expect from a male author writing a female character. Hazel, with all of her quirks and oddities, her aphorisms and passions, really come alive from the get-go. She endeared me to herself from the start with her deep passion for a book that some people might shrug off. Being inside her head was no burden; on the contrary, it was a treat. She’s trying not to live as though her condition runs her life, though in many ways it defines the way she thinks about things. She goes to a Cancer Support Group because that’s what you do, though she feels no real passion for it. That is, until she meets Augustus Waters.

Augustus and Hazel have an instant connection: an attraction and a rapport. What I liked, however, was that it wasn’t instantaneous love, like many books. Their development as a couple doesn’t just pop into existence, but develops slowly at first, tentatively–at least on Hazel’s part. But then, as many teen relationships do, they almost fall into it without realizing it, and this blossoming love leads them all over the world. Augustus is  a delightful character who is filled to overflowing with life. It’s almost infectious–and he resurrects Hazel from an existence surrounding her condition and little else.

There’s a good deal of humor strewn throughout the novel, which cuts nicely through the often difficult subject matter. Green explores the the fine line between hope and despair, as Hazel tries to find something good in the middle of terrible situations. She hopes to find the answers to questions that have plagued her for a long time and, though the results are unexpected, she finds something she needs in the meantime: a best friend and a love that she’ll always hold dear.

I can’t say too much about the plot, other than what the synopsis above says, but suffice it to say that this was an experience. I’ve not yet been disappointed by one of Green’s books, and this exceeded my expectations. For a type of book I’d normally steer clear of–a tear-jerker book about teens with cancer–this impacted me greatly. It was moving and poignant, honest and funny, and at times dark and abrupt. The relationship between August and Hazel is saturated with a passion that is refreshing and intense; I was incredibly invested in them from the start. This book was beautiful and emotional, filled with so many random details that I just latched onto and which brought the story and the characters to life. John Green’s writing voice has always resonated to me for some reason, and this was no exception. I felt like this was tailor-made for me, and I hope that you feel the same connection when you read it.

I could sit here and continue to gush–goodness knows I’ve done it enough to my friends. I’ll leave you with this: I don’t get emotional with books. I love books and become invested, but rarely do they move to me to laugh out loud or shed any tears. I’m not a crier with either books or films. However, this did both. I laughed out loud, and I welled a bit, because I was so invested in the characters. This is a book I’ll reread and enjoy just as much the second time around.

The synopsis from Goodreads:

Diagnosed with Stage IV thyroid cancer at 12, Hazel was prepared to die until, at 14, a medical miracle shrunk the tumours in her lungs… for now.

Two years post-miracle, sixteen-year-old Hazel is post-everything else, too; post-high school, post-friends and post-normalcy. And even though she could live for a long time (whatever that means), Hazel lives tethered to an oxygen tank, the tumours tenuously kept at bay with a constant chemical assault.

Enter Augustus Waters. A match made at cancer kid support group, Augustus is gorgeous, in remission, and shockingly to her, interested in Hazel. Being with Augustus is both an unexpected destination and a long-needed journey, pushing Hazel to re-examine how sickness and health, life and death, will define her and the legacy that everyone leaves behind.

Film Review: The Adventures of Tintin

Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson, along with seasoned writers Steven Moffat, Edgar Wright, and Joe Cornish, take on the beloved Tintin comics by Hergé. It’s Indiana Jones in many ways, but with a taste of wonder and slight hyperbole seen through a motion capture lens. Its story didn’t blow me away, but its scenes of imaginative action, as well as the attention to detail in the animation, were particularly stunning.

The plot is essentially straight forward, as the adventurous journalist (absolutely an archetype of Indiana Jones) comes across a beautiful model of the ship called The Unicorn. He buys it, and immediately he is deluged with offers to buy the model from him. From that point, the mystery deepens and it becomes clear that this is more than merely a model ship. There is a long history which accompanies the model, and a deep conspiracy which involves both treasure and revenge.

This is one of the most beautiful movies I’ve ever seen. The animation was absolutely exquisite and detailed. I could see the peach fuzz on Tintin’s cheeks. One of the things that Spielberg already does well is a chase scene. This entire movie is a chase scene with dozens of smaller chases scattered throughout. Each one is exciting and elaborate; Spielberg and his animators absolutely let themselves go without restrictions to provide a long series of pursuits, each more complex than the last. The characters don’t seem cartoonish, either. They’re just slightly exaggerated from reality. This grounds the film and distances it from simply being a buffoonish cartoon, yet provides the elasticity for it to be a little outrageous at times.

You can tell that the filmmakers just had fun making it, seeing what else they could do–what further thrills they could draw out. It’s not the deepest film, nor is the story particularly compelling, but with every scene I wanted to keep watching just to see what else they would come up with. It was a great ride and a lot of fun.

Book Review: Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs is one of those unique books that just doesn’t come along every day. It’s written around old, peculiar photographs found by the author which he’s compiled and incorporated into the story. It’s delightful and enchanting, with a great premise and a good number of oddities. It deals with time-travel, the importance of taking a stand and not shrinking away from what the world might fling at you. Riggs’ writing style is humorous and whimsical, and he’s drawn me into a world where the strange lurks just around the corner; and the best part: he’s left me waiting for more.

It begins with the mysterious death of Jacob’s grandfather, a man who has long raved about odd things and strange beings lurking about the world. Jacob was very close with his grandfather, whom everyone else thought was just slightly off his nut. Upon his grandfather’s death, Jacob begins to see some terrifying apparitions, which prompt him to dig into his grandfather’s past. As Jacob goes through his grandfather’s things, he comes across old photographs and letters, which lead him to Wales, to a home where his grandfather lived as a refugee during World War II. When he gets there, he finds a whole new world open to him. I don’t want to go into too much plot detail, as the surprise is really a big part of it.

One of the best parts of this novel is the atmosphere. From the beginning, with the death of Jacob’s grandfather, the novel is infused with a sinister mood. Riggs’ descriptions need little help from the pictures he uses, but they add a nice extra bit of eeriness to the already off-kilter sensation. From the imposition of death and evil creatures to the safe affluence of Jacob’s suburban neighborhood, to the isolated island which seems to be perpetually in “a dark and stormy night” with creepy, creaky buildings and odd children lurking in the corners. There is a wonderfully peculiar–there, I said it–cast of characters who are at once very British and also very outrageous. Furthermore, Jacob is genuinely funny and interesting Finally, Riggs plays with time and space quite a bit here–one of my favorite things. It works really well, and he doesn’t talk down to his younger readers.

This was one of the best books I read this year, and I recommend it to anyone from junior high upward. It’s intriguing, unique, and I have no idea where the forthcoming sequel might take us.

This is a Top 10 Reads of 2011 book.