*wipes away tears*
*throws tissue into trash can*
*puts sad book back inside purse*
So I won Starseeker in a giveaway from Bart’s Bookshelf (thank you, I really liked it!), and I got it in the mail the other day and I read it today in between being scared shitless by “Hush” (why are the Gentlemen so scary? why do they do that with their hands and their faces?) and trying to figure out what the hell happens in “Doomed” (hell happens. They have to go back to high school to fix the stupid Hellmouth; such a subpar episode, plus there’s loads of Riley acting a fool, though – hey, goody – this is also the one where Spike figures out he can hurt demons!), which is what I’m doing now while I’m writing this, and it was really good, and it made me cry like a baby, a hungry angry baby.
Here’s what it’s about: Ever since Luke’s father’s death two years ago, he’s been a bit floundering, falling in with A Bad Crowd of rotten kids (what is with British schoolchildren? Are they really like this, or are British YA novels and my old flatmates lying to me?), and the aforementioned Bad Crowd has recruited Luke to break into an old lady’s house and steal a box that she has. But Luke is hearing things that other people can’t hear, voices, humming, the sound of a young girl crying – and when he breaks into the house, he finds a girl there. There’s a lot more than this going on – he has a gift for music, there’s a piano concert coming up, his mum’s thinking about remarrying – and when it all (tearing up again here) comes together at the end, it’s very lovely and moving.
I am still sniffly. I cried a lot of tears. Starseeker reminded me a smidgy bit of David Almond – with the gentle, delicate way of dealing with loss, and the slightly mystical thing. I like the slightly mystical thing. I am all about mystics; in fact, I am all about English mystics. Hooray for England! I support your long tradition of mysticism! British YA fiction seems to do this sort of a lot, all this touchy-feely mystical stuff, which is strange because American YA fiction doesn’t, and Americans are waaaaay more touchy-feely than Brits. Thoughts?
My second try with Linda Newbery. I really want to love her! The covers of her book are always so appealing! This one had bits that were set in Chelmsford, and I lived in Essex for nine months! But still, the only strong reaction I had to her books – like last time – was, Jesus God, I’m so glad I’m not raising children in England. British schoolchildren are awful. They are awful. My flatmates thought I was from the scary ghetto because I have sketchy neighbors and got mugged one time; this in spite of the fact that they got the shit beaten out of them by their classmates in school. I love England like a fat kid loves cake, but I could never ever raise kids there, ever. Ever. BECAUSE THEY WOULD DIE.
The Shell House is actually not about awful British schoolchildren. Sisterland had much more awful British schoolchildren. The Shell House is about a boy who is struggling with his sexuality, and a girl who is struggling with her faith, and a back-in-the-day World War I guy who’s struggling with both. It had bits that were good, but there were also bits that were just blah. Faith (the girl who’s um, struggling with her – I don’t know why I bothered with this sentence) isn’t terribly likeable, ever, and the two plots don’t come together very neatly either. They’re thematically linked, but they aren’t juxtaposed in an interesting way, and Edmund himself, the World War I guy, wasn’t that interesting, or fleshed-out. I felt sort of gipped on the Edmund front.
Okay. I have Linda Newbery’s Set in Stone out of the library too. If I don’t like that, I’m just giving her up forever as Not My Thing. I wouldn’t be being so persistent if the covers weren’t so nice!
Ah, Linda Newbery. I’ve been meaning to read one of her books for about a year and a half – I very vaguely remember wanting to buy it at the Foyle’s on the South Bank when I was there in January 2007 with the family. Something with clocks.
Sisterland is about a girl called Hilly who has a problematic sister that’s got a crush on a racist kid (British kids are scary! I’m never raising my kids in England cause those British kids are way too frightening!), and her grandmother has got Alzheimer’s and is forever talking about someone called Rachel (on account of how she was secretly Jewish when she was a kid and she had a sister called Rachel who she lost touch with), and also there’s Hilly’s BFF Reuben who has a crush on a Palestinian kid called Saeed, and Hilly gets a crush on Saeed’s brother Rashid.
I enjoyed this, but my God, it dealt with a lot of issues. In that ostentatious way, like, And now, I will be dealing with the issue of – racism! Hey, don’t worry, homosexuality, you’ll get your turn! And look at the Holocaust crowding in on the side! Hold your horses, Holocaust, you’re our main event! I’m all in favor of YA books Dealing with Issues and everything, but I thought that Ms. Newbery was too clearly trying to Deal with Issues, rather than just letting them happen as they happened. And there was a lot going on here, so that none of them were really very thoroughly handled. Lots of juxtaposing of different kinds of intolerance, but not enough to where you really had time to get a ton of sympathy for anybody dealing with the intolerance.
Still, it was good. Not as good as I bet that book of Linda Newbery’s is that I saw at the Foyle’s but my library doesn’t have and I can’t remember its title and will thus never find it … but pretty good.