avengingsybil

Conscious Neglect

My life is a blur right now, and in times of such insanity, it is usually my blog that is the first to suffer. Sorry, blog. I'll be back at you in earnest, but probably not until after the winter holidays.

For now, though, just a few snippets.

- First I'd like to add my long overdue congratulations to Sherman Alexie for taking the NBA! I was rooting for several books in the running (hi, Sara Zarr), so I would have pleased in just about any case, but I did just recently go on and on about Adventures of a Part-Time Indian so double hooray. 

- I just finished the second Kiki Strike and, though I didn't love it quite as much as the first, I still enjoyed it. I want to be a teenage spy when I grow up.

- Part of my recent craziness is due to preparation for a Caribbean vacation that starts this coming Saturday. To me, the prospect of heaps of beach, hammock and pool time bookended by substantial plane rides means pleasure reading a-go-go. I already have several books packed, including the ARC of The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks (which I have been saving for just such an occasion), as well as The Golden Compass, which I'll be re-reading in anticipation of the movie's release. You can go ahead and hate me, I would.

Happy belated Thanksgiving to all, and Happy early Chanukah. 

Written material © 2007 Dawn Emerman

Avenging Zoey?

See if you can guess my one big problem with Before I Die....

Did you guess? Does your guess somehow include a word that begins with the letter "Z"? If so, you are probably right.

If you have not yet read BID, don't proceed, as thar be spoilers.
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Ready? OK. I take significant issue with the Zoey character. Not because she's kind of wench-y, because I'm actually pretty comfortable with unlikable characters. That's what I like the most about the main character Tessa, the way that she's difficult, and in her persistence of difficulty she resists falling into the dying martyr trap. It's Zoey's pregnancy that I can't let go of, can't overlook. I know it pretty much defines her character and friendship with Tessa. It's necessary to the story. But that also irritates me-- she's a vehicle. Her job is to be the loose-morals friend whose pregnancy is the consequence and in her circumstance she comes to learn that life is precious, that here she is giving something up that Tessa would give anything to have. She's there for contrast and perspective, and the neat counterpoint it all provides is part of the whole ball of yarn that knit up my scarf of objection. It seems too convenient, lazy and simple.

My problem's not even that Zoey decides to keep her baby even after her parents consent to an abortion that she initially wants. It makes sense that pregnancy--a condition unrivaled as a symbol for the potential of life--would be held in high regard by a person who would give anything for a chance to live. From Tessa's point of view, I don't get a propagandist slant. It's just, why Zoey? The relationship between Tessa and Adam is great. It's not easy, it's not ideal, but it feels true and beautiful. I'm glad of course that Tessa gets to experience love and enjoyable sex. But the feel I get is that she deserves it, while girls like Zoey who go around getting knocked up by stoners do not. I know she ends up looking forward to the birth of her daughter, but why does her impending motherhood feel like redemption for a slag reputation? She gets to live, Tessa dies, and still I feel like she's the one who gets the shaft. Blerg.

I don't mean to paint the picture that I didn't like Before I Die or to overshadow what a lovely, talented writer is Jenny Downham. The last few chapters were especially gorgeous and moving, and I found myself having to stop and reread passages all through the book because I so loved the author's way with words. My problem is that I got caught in a sticking point, and once I was there, I couldn't fully let go.

As an aside: I read a review of Before I Die in Entertainment Weekly a few months back, and the reviewer loved the book so much, he expressed what a pity it was that it was published in the ghetto of Young Adult fiction. I was immediately enraged by yet another case of a snotty critic fulfilling his own need for a literary ghetto. Thom Geier wins this week's  "Suck It!" award. Congratulations, Thom.

Before I Die is a sharply written, emotionally exhausting book. I recommend it, and I look forward to more form this author. I just really wanted more for Zoey. Surprised?

Written material © 2007 Dawn Emerman

Ou est la bibliotheque?

Though it is not a young adult novel, Elaine Dundy's The Dud Avocado will appeal to a certain type of teenager. I was definitely that type of teenager, though perhaps it's for the best I wasn't aware of the book at the time because it might have put ideas in my head of running off to Paris right then instead of waiting until college. Then again, I never had a rich uncle to finance such a thing.

Anyway, what to say about this book, which apparently comes back into fashion every decade or so? At first I couldn't wait to get my hands on it, Francophile that I am. Then once I got into it I started to become annoyed with Sally Jay and her manic flightiness and her seemingly misguided promiscuity. Finally, my feelings circled back by the end with what I felt was a satisfying conclusion. I'm not sure I understand why this book is so lauded and continually regarded as a lost classic, but I did find it to be purely enjoyable. How can you not love a protagonist who gets lines like, "I just love sexy fat men. I really do. They make me feel so--oh gosh I don't know--so feminine. Anyway, he's a real jazzy kid, this Stefan. Full of beans."

There are certain dated aspects to the book. The above lingo, for example, contributes to its charm. The undercurrent of casual racism is an unflattering document of the past. What I'm really interested in, though, is the impact the book had when it was first published in 1958. The fore-and afterwords proclaim that it was a smash, but was Sally Jay's openness about her sexuality shocking at the time? All the sex occurs off-page, and the number of sexual partners she lists is mild by today's standards, especially for a single woman who is over 21. But for a young woman unashamedly engaging in sex without love in the uptight 1950s? There are also forays into gay bars that indicate that the relationship between the homosexual and dramatic arts communities goes way back. Was its blatant inclusion a scandal at the time? And what part was acceptable by virtue of taking place in Europe vs. America? I'm genuinely curious.

All in all, it's not my favorite book, but--the occasional librarian bashing aside--I did like it and, as I said before, there is a certain subset of teenager (girls and boys) who will just love The Dud Avocado and appreciate it for its adventurous spirit and humor. I enjoyed it for those reasons, as well as the way the protagonist redeems herself somehow in the end without the obligatory moralizing-- a grown up notion that I feel is often the true differentiator between adult and YA fiction. Sally Jay gets to continue having sex without consequences (albeit with one man) and still have a happy ending.

As for Sally Jay's quickie marriage to Max in the end, I don't think is as tidy as it seems, or that that it "saves" her. Rather, I think it's a stop on the way to her becoming who she is, an experience she will have as she changes and grows in a way that stays true to the woman the reader comes to know who goes after what she wants and lives a life without regrets.

Written material © 2007 Dawn Emerman