Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.
July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. I had to take a few days off FFM. It’s been difficult to write this year, but with a little encouragement from the FFM Discord, I found enough inspiration to write two very different Les Mis fanfictions. The first is just a fan theory of mine, and the second is…well, you’ll see. Remixes of the latter story are highly encouraged.
Painless
Jean Valjean does not feel pain. Not in Toulon, where he slept in chains. Not down in the mud of Montreuil-sur-Mer, lifting a wagon with his back. Not even when he branded himself with a red hot poker.
His strength is that of an oridnary man’s. He simply cannot feel the pain of his deeds.
Until Cosette cries. She is his light, and everything he has done since she came into his life was all for her.
That is a pain that he cannot bear.
And if he must go to the barricades to soothe that pain, so be it.
Jean Valjean Beats Up Everyone
2
“Your time is up and your parole’s begun. You know what that means.” Inspector Javert snarled down at the convict.
Jean Valjean socked him in the mouth with a cross jab.
4
“Let’s not haggle for darling Cosette,” crooned Thénardier.
Valjean swung a mean right hook into Thénaedier’s kidneys.
6
Eponine’s scream rang out. Valjean raced outside and uppercut the nearest would-be-thief.
0
Valjean would have hidden Cosette away from all the ugliness of the world if he could. But now her happiness hung with Marius’s survival. Valjean would see that Marius lived, no matter the cost.
1
For decades Javert and Valjean circled each other, knives drawn. Javert had always known that Valjean was a monster. Valjean had tried for most of his life to believe that he was not. Now, the man who had dogged him his entire life was tied up and fully at Valjean’s mercy.
Valjean was living proof that a man could change. He could rise above the sins of the past. He could do the one thing that Javert could never do.
Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.
July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.
“We’ll never find it.” Janine and I had been in the corn maze for hours. The sun was getting low and the sky was already turning pink. We’d already found the exit, but had doubled back to the center of the maze when Janine realized she’d left her phone in the center of the maze. “And the place is gonna close soon. Can we please just let someone know and head home? I’m sure someone’ll find it and call you in the morning.”
“On what phone, Hillary?” Janine snapped. Even though her earbuds weren’t connected to anything, Janine still had them in. She’d been listening to music the whole time we were in the maze.
“Give them your mom’s number. Or mine. But it’s getting seriously creepy here.” The corny Halloween decorations—plastic skeletons and scarecrows with pumpkin heads—strewn throughout the maze hadn’t bothered me in the full daylight. But in the setting sun they cast long shadows that kept making me do double-takes. The beautiful October afternoon had turned chilly and windy. I shivered. “Let’s just go.”
“My whole life is on that phone. I’m not leaving without it.”
I knew how she felt. Janine had years of photos saved on it, a ton of apps, not to mention the phone number of everyone who mattered (and a few people who didn’t). She hated to be apart from it. Even in class, when she was forced to put it away, she would put her hand in her pocket every few minutes like she was making sure it was still there.
A gust of wind blew through the stalks. Dry leaves rustled against one another. It sounded like the field whispering.
“Please.” I shivered. “Let’s go. You know this place closes at sunset.” I glanced up at the bruise-colored sky. “Which is about ten minutes from now. We need to find the exit.”
As if on cue, the PA system that had been playing “Monster Mash” shut off. All I could hear was the wind, crickets, and Janine’s angry, “No!” She stomped deeper into the maze.
“Janine, please!” I grabbed the sleeve of her sweater. “We’ve gotta go!”
The sun disappeared below the horizon. A crackly voice on the PA system announced that Barley Farms would be closing in five minutes. That wasn’t enough time to get out.
Somewhere behind a row of corn I heard footsteps. Probably staff.
Maybe staff.
I hoped staff.
“Let go!” Janine tugged her arm out of my grip. She squinted in the dying light. “Where’s your phone? We need a flashlight.”
“I didn’t bring it.”
“You what?” Her voice rose into a squeak.
“Because I wanted to spend time with you for a change! Not you and your stupid phone!”
Janine opened her mouth to yell when a low howling sound floated over the maze. It sounded like a wolf, then turned into a mournful moan. “The hell is that?” Janine grabbed on to my arm.
A distorted man’s voice rolled over us:
And in the death As the last few corpses lay rotting on the slimy thoroughfare The shutters lifted an inch in temperance building, high on Poacher’s Hill
Janine’s breath caught. “What is that?”
“I told you we had to leave before dark!” I tugged arm back towards where I thought the exit lay. “Weird shit happens here!”
And red mutant eyes gazed down on Hunger City No more big wheels Fleas the size of rats sucked on rats the size of cats
This time Janine didn’t fight me. We jogged down the paths while the man kept speaking.
And ten thousand peoploids split into small tribes Coveting the highest of the sterile skyscrapers Like packs of dogs assaulting the glass fronts of Love-Me Avenue
In the dark, we didn’t see the roots sticking out of the ground. Roots that I would swear hadn’t been there when we walked in the maze hours before. Janine face-planted, jaw smashing against the hard ground.
“Are you okay?” I asked. She started to get up, blood falling down her chin.
She screamed. “Oh my God something just touched my ankle! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—”
We ran. I didn’t know where we were going. I could barely see anything but the stalks in front of me.
“I can hear music!” Janine said with panting breaths. “It’s just a song!”
“‘This ain’t rock and roll!'” The man called out. “‘This is genocide!'”
We both screamed.
I don’t know how we found our way out of the maze. By the time we did, we were breathless and clinging to each other. We finally got back to Janine’s car. She locked the door as soon as we got in.
“God.” I ran a shaky hand through my bangs. “The haunted corn maze was actually haunted.”
“M-maybe.” She looked at the holder connected to her air vent where her phone normally sat. “It’s okay. I know how to get home from here.”
I noticed then that she didn’t have her air pods. They must have fallen out during our mad dash for the exit. “Damn. And you lost your earbuds too.”
That was not the reaction Janine would have had a few hours ago. “You don’t want to go back and look tomorrow?”
She shook her head furiously. “Never again.”
“It’s all junk anyway,” I said.
“Yeah.” Janine started the car. “It’s all junk.”
It’s my favorite challenge: David Bowie Day! Celebrating the 40th anniversary of the movie Labyrinth, which was my introduction to David Bowie.
ELEMENT 1: Your story must take place in a labyrinth. Easy, right? Too easy? Well, since you were all begging for more Bowie…
OPTIONAL ADD-ON ELEMENTS:
♫ UNDERGROUND: Include a reference to the movie Labyrinth in some way, shape or form. I really wanted to have a reference to the worm, but “it’s all junk!” worked better.
Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.
July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. I’m in the process of selling my home. Since I’m running out of time for a story today and don’t want to fall further behind, here’s a rant. Stick around after the story to read the poem I wrote on the same topic.
An Easy 11-Step Guide to Selling Your Home
Get your house ready for showing. Purge every scrap of personality your home has. There can be no art on the walls. There can be no plushies on the bed. They don’t matter. Only your granite counter tops matter.
Find a realtor you like. You may wish to meet with a few of them before you decide who to go with. The deciding factor should not be if your realtor has a cool accent or likes your cats. But if he has a cool accent and likes your cats, that’s a big plus.
If your house is fit for a sexless robot to live in, it’s time to schedule showings and open houses. You must hide all evidence that a human lives in this house. Remove all trash cans. Make sure all the books on the shelf are non-controversial and for display purposes only. Hide all cat furniture. You have to pretend that the cats don’t live here, even though they will follow prospective buyers around for the whole showing and take naps on your realtor.
Get kicked out of your house repeatedly so strangers can look at it and then tell you they hate your bathroom decor.
Look on Zillow and secretly judge your neighbor’s houses that are on the market.
It’s been two months, and this sucks. Consider buying a Saint Joseph statue to bury in your yard.
Change your mind about buying the statue. If your mom found out she would think that you’re becoming Catholic again and would get too excited.
Besides, you tried to throw out a broken Virgin Mary statue during the initial purge, but the bag it was in ripped and paint splashed everywhere on the newly power-washed patio. Decide it’s best not to mess around with more statues of holy figures.
Explain to your non-Catholic friends why it’s not idolatry, not really, and that even ex-Catholics love a good religious statue.
Just accept that this is a deeply weird and frustrating experience, but at least you got a poem out of it.
But also if you don’t get any offers soon, you’re getting the damn statue.
Selling Your Home is a Deeply Weird Experience
We begged and fought to spend hundreds and thousands of dollars on 1,700 square feet. We signed the papers. We laid a stake. This is ours. No one can take it from us. This is our home.
My territory is 1,700 square feet with high ceilings and beige walls, nubby carpets, a creepy door.
My territory is new granite countertops, a rebuilt fence years of love and work and every picture hung on the wall.
And now– anyone can come into my territory. I must smile and welcome them. Hope that one of them will want to beg and fight for 1,700 square feet.
Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.
July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.
Tasting notes for a bottle of gin: juniper berries roll over the tongue, wash your mouth with a foundation that tastes of Christmas trees and better times. Citrus splash, the yellows and greens of summers left behind. Cinnamon dust, scraping around the edges of your teeth, grit on the tops of your molars, the small sins of the past you can never truly swallow.
Another challenge story!
Element 1: The form for today’s story must be Prosetry.
Element 2: Your story must mention at least THREE herbs or other botanical elements (i.e. chamomile blossoms, death caps, salt, sage, tobacco, pine, etc).
Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.
July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.
Leif had tranced badly for two nights straight. His trance state was rarely pleasant, walking through memories that he’d rather forget. Sometimes he was fortunate enough to have what he suspected his non-elven companions referred to as “dreams” — peaceful moments that showed strange but beautiful things. Sometimes they even showed himself as he wished to be, not as he was.
For the past two nights, his trances had brought him back to Doerin Oloth, the Autumnal Equinox. The nightmare of Lolth invading his mind, leaving Her venom in his soul. A great honor. A blessing.
A curse.
When Leif had awoken with a gasp in the cellar of Trollskull Manner, far from the drow city Menzoberranzan, spiders were gathered around them. His wrists, his throat, clustered together on the spider brand on his neck. He didn’t dare brush them away.
On the third night, after another trance full of spiders and old rituals, the bundle appeared. It sat on the end of Leif’s cot, wrapped in a pouch of spider silk, an oversized egg sac.
The moment he touched it, the strands dissolved into darkness. Inside was a thin book, its cover woven with black silk.
Leif opened it. It was a list of spells that he had never used before, some he had never heard of. The instructions for each were precise.
They were all written in his own script.
“Nau,” Leif hissed in the drow language. He let the book drop from his hands. “Nau, nau, nau.“
She had seen him.
Lolth had so many clerics, warlocks, worshippers. Leif had thought that was enough to keep the Spider Queen’s many eyes away from him. If he lived a small life in Waterdeep, if he didn’t displease Her, if he stayed far away from anything resembling life in the Underdark…that should have been enough to make Her forget him.
But Lolth did not forget.
Leif hurled the book far from himself, trying not to retch or scream or crawl out from his skin. He wanted to do all three.
But it wouldn’t remove the filth already in his soul.
It wasn’t unusual for Leif to be up earlier than the rest of the party. He needed half as much rest as they did, and sometimes refused to trance at all. What was unusual was that he’d ventured upstairs to the first floor of the pub they owned together. Leif tried to avoid the summer light as much as he could. The kettle was boiled, museli heating on the stove, and Leif was scrubbing his hands. For the sixth time.
It made no difference.
Yahg, always an early riser, was the first in the kitchen. The half-orc’s face was always hidden behind an iron mask, the mark of his order. Leif sometimes thought he should do the same, but thought it might draw more attention to him.
“You’re up early,” Yahg remarked.
“Yes.” Leif dried his hands on a dish towel. His fingertips had gone wrinkly.
“And dressed for winter.”
It was true. Leif had given into the summer heat and neglected his usual layers of clothing, at least in the tavern. Now he was back in the cloak, gloves, and scarf that he normally wore in public. “So I am.”
“Is something wrong?”
No one had ever sincerely asked him that question until two years ago, when Leif had first left the Underdark. He still didn’t know how to answer.
But he knew that Yahg would actually care about the answer, and try to fix it. Or offer him compassion and wisdom. And, worse, he would look at Leif through the narrow slots in his mask and actually see him.
“No,” Leif said after a too-long pause.
Yahg accepted the answer, and ladled out two bowls of museli. One for himself, and one for Leif. “Eat,” the monk instructed. “Everything’s a little easier on a full stomach.”
It’s DnD night, what do you want from me? Leif is my drow warlock PC, who really did not want to be a warlock. In-game, he got Pact of the Tome when he hit level 3, which he would’ve been incredibly freaked out about. But his party members are learning that Leif is kind of like a stray cat. Try to approach him and he’ll run; it’s best to let him come to you. I had originally planned a more hopeful ending, but it didn’t flow well, so you’re stuck with drow angst.
I have two other Leif stories! One from last year’s FFM, and one from this year’s.
Several years ago, I read An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir. I had many problems with it: the characters, the plot holes, and the pervasive threats of sexual violence against the female characters. One thing I had no complaints about, however, was the writing itself. While there was so much to dislike about An Ember in the Ashes, the prose was actually good. I just didn’t like the story it was telling. After I was finished with the book, I happily returned it to the library and thought that would be the end of my dealings with Ms. Tahir.
I was wrong.
When I started my job as a public librarian, there were five copies of All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir on the shelf. I walked past them every day, wondering why we needed so many. One day, I decided to find out. All My Rage received the 2022 National Book Award for Young People’s Literature. The following year, it received the Michael J. Printz Award. Now I was intrigued. I’ve read a few Printz Award winners over the years and liked them all. I had to know for myself if it was worth the hype.
All My Rage is told from the perspective of three different characters: Muslim teens Salahudin (Sal) and Noor, and Sal’s mother, Misbah. In the small, mostly-White town of Juniper, CA, Sal and Noor dream of changing their lives. Sal’s family owns the struggling Cloud’s Rest Inn Motel. Misbah’s health is failing, and his alcoholic father is no help for either the hotel or his wife. Sal struggles to run the hotel, take care of his parents, and finish his senior year of high school. Things might have been easier if he could talk to his best friend Noor, but she’s been avoiding him since the Fight.
Noor misses her best friend. She hasn’t talked to Sal since the Fight, which means she also hasn’t spoken to Misbah in months. Noor was orphaned at a young age, and Misbah was like a mother to her. Noor lives with her cruel uncle, who resents her for intruding on his life. She is desperate to go to college and escape Juniper, but her uncle forbids her from even applying to school.
Finally, Misbah tells the story of her life between Sal’s and Noor’s chapters. She starts with her arranged marriage to Salahudin’s father, Toufiq, and continues with her life in America and raising Salahudin. Her sections are beautifully written, and reveal more of the family’s history.
All My Rage isn’t just a coming-of-age story. It’s a problem novel. In fact, it’s the problem novel.
The definition of a problem novel is simple: a teenager has to deal with some kind of societal problem. Some famous problem novels you might have heard of are Speak by Lauire Halse Anderson, Crank by Ellen Hopkins, and Go Ask Alice by “Anonymous” (really, Beatrice Sparks). These books center around social ostracization, sexual assault, and drug use.
All My Rage deals with physical, emotional and sexual abuse, drug and alcohol dependency, Islamaphobia, parental death, chronic illness, poverty, teen parenthood, racism, bullying, and bias in law enforcement.
To be honest, it felt a little unbelievable at first that Salahudin and Noor could have so many terrible things going on in their life. I had to remind myself that there are real teenagers in the world who deal with all these problems. However, there’s just so many problems packed into the novel there were times when it edged into “misery lit” territory. Fortunately, Tahir’s elegant prose elevates All My Rage and keeps it from feeling like trauma porn.
I think that the various social issues that Sal and Noor have to deal with are handled well, for the most part. For example, Toufiq’s alcoholism is portrayed realistically. Salahudin tries to keep it a family secret, and Toufiq quits and relapses more than once. There were a couple things that I think could have been done a bit better. The racist bullying that Noor finds herself on the end of, for example. It starts out realistically, with subtle things, like the mean girl refusing to pronounce her name correctly. But it gets worse, with no real reason for the bully to be so horrible to her, and ends with a racist tirade the whole school learns about. Most bullying that stems from racism is a lot more subtle, and people who are blatantly racist like the bully typically aren’t that popular.
I also had some misgivings when I realized the novel was also going to tackle the issue of sexual abuse. One of my biggest complaints about An Ember in the Ashes was the excessive and pervasive rape threats in the book, and I wasn’t sure if Tahir would be able to write about this delicate issue well. Thankfully, sexual abuse is handled much better in All My Rage. The novel shows the long-term negative effects on the survivor, even years after the abuse occurred. The survivor is portrayed sympathetically, wounded but not destroyed. Overall, it’s a pretty good depiction of the aftermath of assault. I didn’t love the resolution of this sub-plot, however. I felt like it was just added on at the end, which made me feel like it was only included in the book to increase the character’s suffering.
At the same time I started All My Rage, I was reading another novel as well, that I’ll call Everything Bad Happens to Jimmy in lieu of its actual title. This is another heavy book, which starts with bad things happening to Jimmy. It gets worse from there, gets slightly better, and then gets worse again. Over halfway through the novel, another terrible thing happened to Jimmy, and I was just so tired of it. I put the book down and never picked it up again.
But I finished All My Rage, even though there were times I put the book down for several days because it just got too sad. So, why did All My Rage succeed where Jimmy failed?
Let’s start with the opening. Jimmy opens in media res with our hero already in a crisis. It’s an attention-grabbing scene, and we feel for Jimmy because he’s a vulnerable person who’s been put in a dangerous situation through no fault of his own. But we don’t really know who Jimmy is before this traumatic event happens to him. As more and more bad things happen to Jimmy, we don’t see much of who he is beyond his rage and pain. The things he’s gone through aren’t just part of who he is – they become almost all the reader sees of him.
All My Rage gives us time to get to know the main characters before the bad stuff in their lives happens. We get a look at who Saluhdin and Noor are: their struggles, their wants, their family lives, and their relationship with each other. We learn about who they are before everything goes pear-shaped, and that lets us get attached to the main characters. We want them to succeed because we like them and relate to their struggles. It took me a long time to finish this book, but I read the whole thing because I cared about Salahudin and Noor and wanted to see them (hopefully) earn a happy ending.
Noor and Sal’s ending is earned, rather than just something they stumble into. This is another area where All My Rage succeeded while Jimmy did not: the choices the characters make. Jimmy doesn’t make deliberate choices so much as he reacts to the situations he’s in. The current problem or solution is almost never caused by anything Jimmy chooses. Things just sort of happen to him, with an increasing amount of horribleness.
Salahudin and Noor are put in difficult situations and make deliberate choices based on what they think will help improve their circumstances. They make mistakes, and then must deal with the consequences of their actions. They are actively involved in the course the story takes, and aren’t just being pushed around by events that are out of their control. They drive the plot, rather than the plot driving them.
But finally – and maybe most importantly – All My Rage delivers on the promise of the premise.
“The promise of the premise” is a phrase that originates from Save the Cat! By Blake Snyder. When you read a book or watch a movie, you usually have an idea of what you’re getting into. That’s the premise. The premise of The Hunger Games, for example, would be “teens compete in a fight to the death.” Harry Potter would be, “wizard boy battles against evil in a magical world.”
The premise of Everything Bad Happens to Jimmy was “an urban fantasy set during a historical conflict.” The book did not live up to that premise. The historical conflict was a big part of the book, and there were some fantasy elements, but not nearly enough. Mostly, it was terrible things happening to Jimmy, with magical elements few and far between. The book I was reading was not the book that I had signed up for. In short, this novel did not deliver on the promise of the premise. When that happens, sometimes I can adjust my expectations and enjoy the story the author actually wrote, but with the book’s other aforementioned problems, I gave up.
For All My Rage, it would be, “two Muslim teens struggle to overcome difficult circumstances in a small town.” That’s what I expected from this book, and that’s what I got. Tahir fulfilled the promise of the premise.
As difficult as All My Rage could be to read, I kept going. The novel works because I sympathize with Salahudin and Noor. I care about these characters and I was invested in their lives. When they make mistakes, I don’t hate them for it. I feel for them, two kids struggling to keep their heads above the water when everything around them threatens to pull them under. The beautiful prose also helps with some of the darkness in this book and takes away some of the sting, as do the Misbah intervals.
All My Rage isn’t my favorite book. It’s hard to get through, and it falls a little flat when it comes to some of the supporting characters. That said, I think it’s worth the read. I’ve talked about representation in media a bit before, and All My Rage offers readers a look into the life of two Muslim teenagers. Their faith plays a role in who they are, but it’s not their defining characteristic. Salahudin and Noor are complex characters that offer “windows and mirrors” to the novel’s readers. They can give readers a look into their lives as Middle Eastern-Americans, Muslims, and as struggling teens. Other readers who are Middle Eastern, or Muslim, or a teen going through a tough time can see themselves reflected back in the pages of this book.
The writing itself was beautiful, and essential to the book. With so many topics being tackled, All My Rage could have become a clunky problem novel. Instead, Tahir has woven a multi-layered coming-of-age story that’s worthy of praise. If you like emotional, character-driven books, give this one a try. Just keep the tissues handy.
Every year, the Sunshine State Young Readers Award (SSYRA) Program in Florida names several lucky books Sunshine State books. These books have been voted on by schools across Florida as “the best” books for K-12 students. Alongside students’ and teachers’ votes, these books are “selected for their wide appeal, literary value, varied genres, curriculum connections, and/or multicultural representation.” These books make up the bulk of summer reading lists in Florida.
This year, a local school reached out to the public libraries and asked for help with their annual Battle of the Books. The librarians who signed up had to read two books from the Grade 6-8 list and write fifteen open-ended comprehension questions about them. A chance to read cool kids’ books on the clock? I jumped at the opportunity.
The first book I chose wasThe Lost Year by Katherine Marsh. It was an excellent book, but not exactly uplifting. For my second book, I chose Brick Dust and Bones by M.R. Fournet because it sounded like a fun urban fantasy romp. I was not disappointed.
SSYRA’s description:
Marius Grey hunts Monsters. He’s not supposed to. He’s twelve and his job as a Cemetery Boy is to look after the ghosts in his family’s graveyard. He should be tending these ghosts and–of course–going to school to learn how to live between worlds without getting into trouble. But, Marius has an expensive goal. He wants to bring his mother back from the dead, and that takes a LOT of mystic coins, which means a LOT of Monster Hunting, and his mother’s window to return is closing. If he wants her back, Marius is going to have to go after bigger and meaner monsters. Can Marius navigate New Orleans’s gritty monster bounty-hunting market, or will he have to say goodbye to his mother forever?
The book opens with Marius staking out a little girl’s bedroom, waiting for a boogeyman to arrive. After a magical tussle, he traps the terrifying creature in his monster book and turns it in for the bounty. By the time Marius got to the Habada-Chérie to get his reward, I was totally hooked. I realized the Brick Dust and Bones has so many things I loved about Harry Potter, minus an incredibly problematic author.
There’s obviously the magical orphan boy to start, but it feels sharper than Harry’s loss. Marius’s father disappeared when he was young, and his mother died two years before the start of the book. Marius misses and mourns them, especially his mother. Harry Potter misses what he might have had, but Marius knows true, deep loss.
Marius’s loss isn’t as straightforward as you might think. He can still hear his mother’s voice and have conversations with her. Not all the time, and sometimes her voice falls silent when he needs her the most. Even with her voice whispering in his ear, Marius still feels her absence deeply. Just being able to hear his mother’s is not enough to make him stop missing her. He’s also dealing with a different kind of loss, that of his childhood. Marius is pretty self-sufficient, but he doesn’t always want to be. There are moments when he just misses having someone to take care of him so he can be a kid.
The other thing I really loved about this book – and Harry Potter – was the well-developed magical world. Specifically, the magical world that’s just under normal people’s noses. There are three types of people: totally normal folks, totally magical folks, and fringe people. Marius is a fringe person, with one foot in the normal world, and one in the magical world. I think the setting that best exemplifies this is Mama Roux’s.
As a cemetery boy, Marius’s job is to take care of the mausoleums in his graveyard, as well as the ghosts that inhabit it. One of his chores is to take the ghosts to Mama Roux’s for dinner. Mama Roux’s is a neutral zone, where normal families come to dine without even knowing about the ghosts and demons around them. The ghosts have to avoid the normal children, though, since they’re more likely to see them. This is a place where demons cut deals with humans, ghosts pretend to eat fake food, and normal people don’t realize a thing.
Mama Roux’s isn’t the only thing about the setting I love. The book takes place in New Orleans, a city that is already ripe for magic. One of Marius’s teachers, Madame Millet, reads tarot cards for tourists at night but teaches fringe kids real magic during the day. The magical store he visits sells incense and gris-gris dolls as souvenirs for normal people, and supplies for actual spellcasting and monster hunting to people like Marius. Marius hunts monsters in the bayou, grave hops around the city’s cemeteries, and even uses the word beignets to signal a poltergeist. New Orleans’s burial traditions come back in a big way at the end of the book. There are some books where the setting isn’t that important. Rich People With Problems could take place in Anytown, USA, and you’d still have the same story. But if you took Brick Dust and Bones out of Louisiana, you’d have a very different story, and one that probably isn’t as much fun.
There’s a lot of good fantasy action sequences and monsters. Lots of monsters.
The story opens with Marius hidden in a girl’s bedroom closet, waiting for the lights to go out. Once they do, Marius faces off against the boogeyman hiding under the girl’s bed. He fights a “candy lady” who turns out to be more dangerous than he’d thought. There’s a fantastic final battle against a deadly monster who’s way out of Marius’s league. Even Marius’s best friend is a monster: Rhiannon, a mermaid who’s more man-eating siren than Princess Ariel.
Some of these monsters are based on Cajun and Hoodoo tradition, which was really refreshing. I really enjoyed reading about monsters that were outside the typical fantasy fare. Marius’s unconventional friendship with Rhiannon was great. While other monster hunters would have captured her without a second thought, befriending the mermaid is a boon to Marius in a number of ways.
There are also literal fire and brimstone demons, which would have scared me if I read this as a kid. Blame it on the Catholic upbringing. Demons occupy an interesting place in Marius’s world. They’re not monsters that Marius would hunt, but they’re not good, either. Humans, even normal humans, can make deals with demons. Some of these deals affect Marius personally.
If all that doesn’t make you want to read the book, I’ll add this: the ticking time bomb. Marius had two years to earn the Mystic Coins he needs to bring his mother back, and his window of time to earn them is rapidly closing. I’ve also read some books where the hero ultimately decides not to bring their deceased love one back to life, and I didn’t know how this one would go. Without giving away the ending, I honestly didn’t know if he was going to make the deadline…or choose to not bring his mom back to life.
Brick Dust and Bones was such a fun book, especially after reading The Lost Year. For a book full of monsters, it still has very human themes: loss, grief, responsibility, and friendship. There are some scary sequences, so I would recommend this book for ages 10 and up. It’s a great introduction to horror/urban fantasy for kids and an absolute blast to read.
The questions I wrote for this book are more trivia than discussion questions. Here they are (contains spoilers):
1. Marius is an orphan, but he has adults who look out for him. How do these adults act like parents to him?
2. Marius’s mother tells him that he’s “so much older than you ought to be.” What did she mean by this?
3. Rhiannon says that she doesn’t understand “the in-between stuff” of human relationships. What does she mean by “in-between stuff”?
4. Most monster hunters would have captured Rhiannon. How does Marius benefit from having her as his friend instead?
5. Why has Marius avoided sleeping in his bed?
6. Why does Marius pay off Mrs. Pine’s debt?
7. Why does Rhiannon help Marius find the rougarou, even though she doesn’t want him to hunt it?
8. Other than math, why does Marius dislike school?
9. How does Marius’s job as a cemetery boy help him in the story?
10. Why doesn’t Marius want the adults in his life to know that he’s monster hunting?
11. Why can children see ghosts and monsters, but adults can’t?
12. Why do the High Mystics tolerate demons, but not monsters?
13. How does Marius know that he can trust Rhiannon, even if she is a monster?
14. Why does Mildred let Marius get away with stealing from Madame Millet?
15. Why does Marius give Henry a rosary and worry beads after he captures the boo hag?
Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited.
It took some time, but I’m back! I have lots of literary-based goals for 2026. I’ve already started one of them: The OKayest Travel Blog. I spent two weeks in Japan last fall, and I wanted to share stories about my trip. Right now there are only a couple posts, but I aim to get one up once a month. I’m also in the early stages of starting a BookTok, so I’ll be sharing that when it finally happens. I’m doing plenty of writing, and even more reading. Which brings us to our first book review of the new year…
Every year, the Sunshine State Young Readers Award (SSYRA) Program in Florida names several lucky books Sunshine State books. These books have been voted on by schools across Florida as “the best” books for K-12 students. Alongside students’ and teachers’ votes, these books are “selected for their wide appeal, literary value, varied genres, curriculum connections, and/or multicultural representation.” As soon as the annual list gets released, your friendly Florida public librarians scramble to get them onto the shelves and into kids’ hands ASAP. The Sunshine State books make up the bulk of summer reading lists, and they fly off the shelves. There have been many books that I would just love to read, but I hold off until winter or the next summer. The demand for these books is just too high, especially in the summer and fall, and I want to make sure that the kids who need them for school have them.
But this year was different. A local school reached out to the public libraries and asked for help with their annual Battle of the Books. The librarians who signed up had to read two books from the Grade 6-8 list and write fifteen open-ended comprehension questions about them. A chance to read cool kids’ books on the clock? I jumped at the opportunity.
The Lost Year by Katherine Marsh is the first of the two Sunshine State books I read. Here’s the SSRYA summary of the book:
Thirteen-year-old Matthew is miserable. His journalist dad is stuck overseas indefinitely, and his mom has moved his one-hundred-year-old great-grandmother in with them to ride out the pandemic. Matthew is stuck at home during the early days of the pandemic, and he would rather play video games than hang out with his great-grandmother, GG. But Matthew’s mom has other plans. Forced to unpack GG’s storage boxes, Matthew finds a tattered blackand-white photo in his great-grandmother’s belongings that serves as a clue to a hidden chapter of her past, one that will lead to a life-shattering family secret.
One of the reasons I wanted to read this book was because it took place, in part, during the COVID lockdown. It’s not a time that I look back on fondly, but I was one of the lucky few that was comfortable during that strange time. It was an unexpected break from a job I hated, my husband was still working, so we still had an income, and I was taking a young adult literature class in grad school. I spent most of my lockdown reading YA books, writing poetry, and playing Monster Prom. I wanted to see COVID from a kid’s perspective. I also wanted to see this modern historical event in fiction. It’s one thing to read about World War II in a novel, but another to read about an event you actually lived through.
The other reason was that I wanted to know what the family secret was. I assumed that it was something World War II related. World War II is practically its own fiction genre at this point. I was wrong.
The novel is still centered around a major historic event in the 20th Century, but one I didn’t expect: the Holodomor. The Holodomor was a human-made famine in Ukraine from 1932 to 1933 which resulted in the deaths of millions of Ukrainians. I knew a little bit about the Holodomor, mostly because I’d read about Walter Duranty’s infamously inaccurate reporting of the famine. I’ve never seen it in a fiction book before. I’m sure that many young readers had never heard of the Holodomor before picking up The Lost Year either. While you should stick to non-fiction resources when you’re doing research, I think novels are a really good entry point for kids to learn more about history. Case in point: I wouldn’t be nearly as interested in Revolutionary War history as I am today if not for Felicity from the American Girl franchise.
Despite what the summary led me to believe, most of the story is not about Matthew. It’s about three cousins leading very different lives in 1933, until they all brought together by the famine. Matthew’s chapters largely act as framing devices as he learns their stories from GG. He’s not as well developed as the cousins, but his character arc has a satisfying conclusion that works beautifully with the book’s theme.
The cousins Matthew’s learns about are Helen, Mila, and Nadiya. Mila lives an easy life in Kyiv, the daughter of a high-ranking Soviet officer. Nadiya is from the Ukrainian countryside, and everything changes when she knocks on Mila’s door. Nadiya claims that she is Mila’s cousin, which Mila denies. To Mila, this girl is a kulak, an enemy of the State, and has to be lying about Mila’s father. When Mila discovers that Nadiya really is her cousin, and people are starving to death all around her, she has a choice to make. Can she protect Nadiya? Should she?
Helen lives with her family in New York City and strives to be a normal American girl, not the child of immigrants. When she reads Walter Duranty’s infamous “Russians Hungry, But Not Starving” article about the famine, she knows that it isn’t true. According to her parents, her family in Ukraine is struggling to survive. After some urging from a new friend, Helen sets out to collect the stories of friends and neighbors about the famine their relatives are experiencing. As she records history, she’s determined to help her relatives across the sea any way she can.
My short review: The Lost Year is really good and you should read it.
It isn’t always easy to read. It obviously deals with a heavy subject matter, and some readers may not be ready to revisit COVID. As I got to the end of the book, I even put off reading it for a few days because I was so worried about one of the characters. Even so, it became one of my favorite books that I read in 2025. To me, it’s comparable with Out of the Dust or Number the Stars. All three books take place during a troubled time, and they don’t shy away from the dangers and tragedies of those time periods.
There are those who think children need to be shielded from tragedy, and I understand that. I even agree, to a point. But I also believe that children are often more robust than we give them credit for. I also think that fiction is a safe way to introduce children to hard things. For example, one of the picture books I had growing up was called I Had a Friend Named Peter by Janice Cohn. In it, a young girl’s friend, Peter, dies. The book uses a narrative to teach children about death, and help facilitate conversations between children and their caregivers on the subject. In my opinion, the narrative makes it easier to engage with these topics. While I Had a Friend Named Peter is pretty didactic, I believe this is true of many books. There are so many great books that deal with tough subjects, whether they be historical events like the Holodomor, or things that are universally relevant to all of us: loss, love, friendship, jealousy, navigating relationships.
I think this is true of books that are not strictly meant to teach as well. There are so many books that deal with tough subjects that are relevant to everyone’s life. Fiction can be a shield. It allows us to experience things through the eyes of characters. We can share their feelings, but also put the book away when we need to. When we encounter hard times, we have someone we can relate to, and even look to for comfort.
There were a lot of things that I loved about the book. I’m very picky when it comes to historical fiction, but Soviet Union history is something that I have a lot of interest in. I also really like the small details of everyday life in historical settings when they’re interwoven in the text. I really hate a research dump in fiction, which was one of the problems I had with Magic Lessons. Here, those little details come naturally, like Mila’s favorite candy being Bumble Bears, or the characters playing the Russian card game Trust, Don’t Trust.
Even the 2020 timeline has this. Maybe the COVID shutdown isn’t far enough back to be considered historical fiction, but someday it will be. Ten, fifteen, twenty years from now, those details of school over Zoom, only being able to see your friends if they walk by your house, and the anxiety and monotony of lockdown will be one way that kids will learn about what that strange time was really like.
I really liked the character arcs for Helen and Mila. Helen just wants to be a regular American girl. She doesn’t want to stick out, and wants to hide what makes her different from all the other kids she goes to school with. After she learns about the famine, and her family’s personal connection to it, she starts to change. Over the course of the novel, Helen learns how to find her voice and takes pride in her Ukrainian heritage. She takes an active role in preserving history, even if she doesn’t see it that way at the time. Her clever thinking helps save Nadiya’s life, and she pushes the adults in her life into action.
The character who goes through the most change is Mila. She starts the novel as the spoiled daughter of a high-ranking Soviet officer and has an easy life full of luxuries the rest of the Soviet people do not have. Mila is ignorant of the things happening all around her, and sees the world in a black and white way. You are either a good Communist, protected by Papa Stalin, or you are a kulak, and deserve whatever happens to you. When Nadiya knocks on her door, Mila doesn’t believe that a kulak could be her cousin, or that the famine is even real. Instead of staying in her comfortable world of piano lessons and propaganda, she chooses to learn more and discover the truth for herself.
The other thing I loved about the book was the overarching theme of storytelling. Storytelling plays a significant role for each of the three POV characters. In 2020, as GG tells Matthew her story, he discovers that there’s so much more to her than he ever knew. He also learns that her whole story has never been told, not even to her daughter or her cousin Helen. Matthew records GG’s stories, but ultimately gets her to share her story with the world, so that the truth of what happened to her won’t be forgotten.
Mila’s father tells her stories every day. Instead of fairytales, though, he tells her stories of Soviet heroes and the greatness of the Soviet Union. Mila eagerly absorbs these stories and never thinks to question them. Those stories form the basis of her beliefs about the Soviet Union and her own life. When Nadiya forces her to confront the truth, Papa’s stories become just as fanciful as Baba Yaga. The book also shows how it’s hard to let go of the things you believe, even when it’s staring you in the face.
Helen collects personal stories about the Holodomor at first to write to The New York Times with a rebuttal to Duranty’s reporting on the famine. These stories help her become engrained in her community and spur her into action. As we see in the epilogue, Helen’s dedication to sharing the truth about the Holodomor shapes her entire life. Her work helps preserve the true history of both her family and the famine, but it also guides her into the future.
When we read about historical events, it can be easy to get lost in the numbers. Storytelling and oral history puts a face on the survivors. I can read facts about the Dust Bowl, but it won’t make me feel anything as much as my grandma’s stories about living through it did. Stories are entertaining, of course. But they can also be used to teach, to put a face on history, and to keep the memories of our loved ones alive. The Lost Year does all of these.
If you’re interested in learning more about the Holodomor, you can visit the Holodomor Research and Education Consortium (HREC) website. The section Witness Accounts contains links to oral history collections and other primary resources. Author Katherine Marsh and her cousin, Andrea Zoltanetzky, share their family’s memories of the Holodomor and the Ukrainian immigrant experience in the book’s backmatter, and in this YouTube video:
The discussion questions I wrote for the book:
1. What do you think The Lost Year refers to for Matthew? What does it refer to for Helen and Mila?
2. Helen’s mother and Matthew’s mother warn them that they’re upsetting people by asking for their stories. Why did GG and the people Helen interviewed share their stories, even if they’re upsetting?
3. What role does storytelling play in the story for Mila, Helen, and Matthew?
4. Ruth says that Helen is a good leader. In what ways is she a leader?
5. How does Mila deal with losing faith in her father, while at the same time loving him very much?
6. How does meeting Nadiya change the way that Mila understands the world?
7. How is Mila’s friendship with Nadiya different from her friendship with Katya? How is it similar?
8. Why did GG hide her true identity for so long?
9. Why does Helen want to be seen as a normal American girl?
10. The main characters’ parents all guide them in different ways through the novel. How does their parents’ guidance shape them at the start of the book? How does it shape them by the end of the book?
11. What similarities does the book show between the COVID-19 pandemic and the Holodomor?
12. How does Mila see Dasha at the beginning, middle, and end of the book? How does Dasha see Mila?
13. Anna Mikhailovna says that Mila is either foolish or lucky. How is she foolish, lucky, or both?
14. Why did Helen think that she couldn’t write to The New York Times?
15. How did Mila’s and Nadiya’s roles reverse by the end of the novel?
Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited.
Quick announcement before we begin: I’ve decided that I will not be doing book recommendation lists in 2026. Making these lists has been a great experience, and I’ve read a lot of excellent books that I might not have picked up otherwise. They’ve really helped me diversify my book shelves and read outside my comfort zone, and I hope they’ve done the same for you too.
It’s also a lot of work. I don’t just read two books a month – I “sample” several, which usually means reading at least 100 pages. Most of the reading I’ve done for the past two years has been just for these recommendation lists, and it’s time to take a break and read…well, whatever I want. Maybe I’ll finally get around to Sunrise on the Reaping. This doesn’t mean that the blog is finished, though. I’ll still be doing “books I didn’t pick” and “dusty” titles, and hopefully more. I’d really love to do something about literature and theatre, and Shakespeare adaptations. (But have you ever read Shakespeare? It’s hard.)
Let’s get into the final book recommendation list: Just Stuff I Liked. These are books that are worthy of sharing, but never made it onto a list before. Here are some of my favorite books in the last few years that never made it to the blog.
Nonfiction
Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting by in America by Barbara Ehrenreich
First published in 2001, Nickel and Dimed has remained scarily relevant for over twenty years. Between 1998 and 2000, writer Barbara Ehrenreich voluntarily joined the ranks of the working poor. She worked as a maid, nursing home aid, waitress, and Wal-Mart associate to understand the lived realities of millions of Americans below the poverty line. This book documents her experiences and struggles, such as working through pain and finding housing within her budget. The experiment ended when Ehrenreich faced homelessness, or, as she put it, she could no longer afford to work at Wal-Mart. Along with issues with housing, she also looks at food insecurity, the impact of manual labor on employees’ health, and hiring practices that veer into discriminatory. While the numbers have changed since this book was published, the facts have not. Nickel and Dimed remains a revelatory must-read for Americans today.
Her Space, Her Time: How Trailblazing Women Scientists Decoded the Hidden Universe by Shohini Ghose
Women have long been involved in scientific fields, but have rarely gotten acknowledged for their work until recent history. Her Space, Her Time finally gives some of these brilliant women their much overdue credit. In the late 19th Century, astronomer Annie Jump Cannon helped create Harvard’s Classification Scheme, which is still used today, while being paid less than her male counterparts. Lise Meitner and her nephew Otto Frisch published the first paper on nuclear fission. Meitner’s longtime collaborator Otto Hahn was awarded the Nobel Prize for this discovery, and Meitner was left in obscurity. We all know Marie Curie, but what about Harriet Brooks or Bibha Chowdhuri? Each chapter focuses on a different scientific top, such as astronomy, physics, or chemistry, and the women who helped revolutionize their fields of study. Ghose explains complex scientific concepts in an understandable way, perfect for science lovers who chickened out of taking physics in high school (read: me). I learned so much from this book, not only about science, but also about the phenomenal women who helped shape our understanding of the universe, from the smallest sub-atomic particles to the Big Bang.
The Soul of an Octopus: A Surprising Explorating Into the Wonder of Consciousness by Sy Montgomery
The intelligence and physiology of octopuses1 make them among the most fascinating animals on the planet. Naturalist Sy Montgomery was intrigued by octopus consciousness before she had the chance to meet one in person. At her casual visits to the aquarium, she felt that they were watching her as much as she was watching them. Montgomery first met the Pacific Octopus Athena, who eagerly latched on to Montgomery’s arm. Athena was strong enough to pull Montgomery into her icy tank, but instead was playful and curious. Thus began a series of octopus friends that Montgomery got to observe from their youth to death: Octavia, Kali, and Karma. Octopuses are highly intelligent animals that require toys and stimulation to keep them occupied; a bored octopus can be dangerous to itself and its handlers. They also have distinct personalities (Montgomery notes that Kali was aptly named) and strong emotions. Soul of an Octopus offers a compelling look at octopus consciousness both like and unlike our own.
Patriot: A Memoir by Alexei Navalny
This story of Alexei Navalny’s life begins when he nearly died. While flying from Tomsk, Siberia to Moscow, he was poisoned with the nerve agent Novichok. He spent 18 days in a coma, and spent several months recovering in Berlin. Navalny knew who his would-be assassin was: Vladimir Putin. Navalny has been an outspoken critic of Putin’s regime and leader of the opposition party, the Anti-Corruption Foundation. He began writing his memoir while recovering from the poisoning, and ended it in prison. First is Navalny’s biography, where he recounts growing up before and after the fall of the Soviet Union and his education and early years as a lawyer. He writes about how he became the Russian opposition leader, and the dangerous and life-altering consequences for him and his family. One chilling chapter details Navalny returning to Russia after his poisoning, despite knowing that he will likely be arrested once he returns. The second half of the book is Navalny’s prison diaries and social media posts. He shares his experience in prison, including a hunger strike when he was denied medical care. The entries become sparser as his punishments in prison worsen, and Navalny would be killed in a prison above the Arctic Circle. Despite bleak circumstances, his writing never veers into self-pity or nihilism. Instead, he writes passionately about his work and condemns the invasion. Navalny also never loses his sharp sense of humor, adding some surprising moments of levity. While not an easy read, it is a powerful memorial and a stark reminder of how important it is to stand against authoritarianism.
Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain by Oliver Sacks
Ah, music! Who doesn’t love a great song that you can sing along to? Well, if you have amusia, a symphony may sound like pots and pans banging together. Musical hallucinations are real, too, and can cause a great deal of distress. But many of us love music, and our brains do, too. Oliver Sacks, best known for his work The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat, takes a look into the good, the bad, and the utterly strange ways that music affects our brains. The book opens with the case of Tony Cicoria, a man who never had more than a casual interest in music. Then he was struck by lightning. Cicoria survived, but was struck by another passion: classical music. Within three months of his recovery, he was spending almost all of his time playing piano and composing music. His new obsession lasted decades. This is only one of the stories about the mysterious relationship between music and the human brain. Others include a man with amnesia whose memory lasts only seconds, but can still read and play music, a musician with severe Tourette’s whose tics diminish greatly only when he performs, among others. The therapeutic effects of music on people with Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s is shown as well. Sacks never turns these narratives into freak shows, but writes compassionately about the power of music and the mysteries of the human brain.
Fiction
Gravity by Sarah Deming
Gravity Delgado is a force to be reckoned with. This young woman is a fierce, undefeated boxer, preparing for the 2016 Olympics in Rio. She’s been training since she was twelve, but her biggest challengers are the ones that she faces outside the ring. Her alcoholic mother, responsibilities for her younger brother, and a heady romance all threaten Gravity’s rising star. She still has her supportive aunt and cousin, as well as her found family at the gym in her corner. Still, Gravity’s biggest obstacle might be herself. The boxing matches are exciting to read, and include both the physical and mental aspects of a bout. Gravity makes mistakes and occasionally stumbles, but you’ll be cheering for her in and out of the ring. A novel that pulls no punches in the best way.
The Truth About Everything by Bridget Farr
Fifteen-year-old Lark knows how to drive, fix an engine, and catch her own food, but she can barely read. She and her parents know the end is coming, and they’ll be the only ones left standing after the inevitable downfall of America. Raised by two doomsday preppers, Lark has never questioned the conspiracy theories that she was raised on. Then Lark gets her period for the first time. She thinks that she’s miscarrying, something that has happened to her mother many times before, but doesn’t know how she could have gotten pregnant in the first place. After her mother explains what her period is, Lark starts to wonder what else her parents haven’t told her? Lark secretly enrolls herself in high school, where new knowledge conflicts with everything she’s been taught at home. She’s hungry to learn, even when it means uncovering painful truths. But soon, Lark finds herself at a crossroads. What is the real truth? And what will Lark have to sacrifice for it? Pairs well with Educated by Tara Westover.
Uprooted by Naomi Novik
Once every ten years, the Dragon takes a village girl into his tower in the corrupt Wood. When she leaves a decade later, with jewels and finery, she is irrevocably changed and leaves the village forever. But the Dragon isn’t a scaly creature that breathes fire. He is a seemingly ageless, enigmatic wizard. Agnieszka has no fear of being taken. The Dragon only takes the most remarkable young ladies, and she’s nothing special. Though no one says it, everyone believes that Kasia, Agnieszka’s best friend, will be the one he picks. Yet it is Agnieszka the Dragon, reluctantly on his part. She is a witch, and her newly-found powers could be devastating if the corruption of the Wood reaches her. Agnieszka and the Dragon have a rocky start, but their mutual dislike of each other must be put aside when the Wood threatens her home. The well-developed characters, rich, Eastern European-inspired setting, and fantastic storytelling will leave you spellbound.
The Tea Dragon Society by K. O’Neil
Half-human, half-goblin Greta is an apprentice blacksmith in a world where the old crafts are fading. Greta helps a lost tea dragon – a small dragon that grows tea leaves – find its caretakers, and she is introduced to the Tea Dragon Society. Like blacksmithing, the care and cultivation of tea dragons is a dying art. The Tea Dragon Society is made up now only of Hesekiel, his partner Erik, and a shy girl named Minette. As a year passes, Greta learns to care for the dragons alongside Minette, assuring Hesekiel that the Tea Dragon Society will go on. I’ve enjoyed O’Neil’s other graphic novels, and The Tea Dragon Society embodies so much of what I love about their work. The artwork is soft, with no heavy outlines, adding to the whimsical feel of the world. It features a diverse cast in a simple but visually beautiful story. The Tea Dragon Society is the graphic novel equivalent of sliding into a warm bubble bath…maybe with a nice cup of tea.
Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds
Will’s older brother, Shawn, has just been murdered. Will knows the rules of his neighborhood: don’t cry, don’t snitch, always get revenge. Will takes Shawn’s gun, and take the elevator from his eighth-floor apartment down to the first floor. The doors open on the seventh floor, and Shawn’s friend Buck gets on. Except Buck shouldn’t be here – he was already shot to death. On each floor, another ghost gets on. All of them played a role in Will’s life, and all of them were victims of gun violence. Each tells Will their stories, challenging his resolve. Can he kill his brother’s killer? Should he? This is a short, intense novel in verse that will stay with you long after you turn the final page.
Yes, that is the correct pluralization. Octopodes is acceptable, octopi is right out. ↩︎
I had a different post planned for today, but in light of recent events, I need to focus on a topic – and books – that aren’t as heavy as the one I planned on reviewing here.
A couple weeks ago, I found a piece of literary history on a cart of donated books:
The jokes inside are as corny and as un-funny as you would think.
Okay, I would use the “is it broken?” line.
Why is a paperback joke book from the late 80s so important? Look again at the author: “Jovial Bob Stine.” You probably know him from some of his other “jovial works,” like….
Goosebumps Books: Welcome to Dead House, Night of the Living Dummy, and Monster Blood
How did Jovial Bob Stine become R.L. Stine, whose very name struck terror into the hearts of every 90s child?
Pre-Harry Potter, a lot of children’s literature was treated like a content mill. Series like The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew were written by conglomerates of authors, which meant new books could be produced fast. There also wasn’t a lot of love and care put into the physical books themselves. A lot of these mass-produced books were paperbacks, printed on cheap paper – you can probably smell the wood pulp now. Children’s literature created in this “content mill” fashion include perennial favorites like The Baby-Sitter’s Club and Sweet Valley High, though the former was only written by one person, Anne M. Martin. I myself was a fan of Pony Pals by Jeanne Betancourt.
These weren’t the only types of children’s books being published in the 80s and 90s, but they were ubiquitous in our schools, libraries and Scholastic Books Fairs. And kids devoured them. They were fun to read, but I don’t think they really began as passion projects for a lot of authors.
So, where does Jovial Bob Stine fit into this? He never planned to be a horror writer. Stine’s writing career began with humorous comics for magazines, Bazooka Joe comics, and of course, joke books. In 1985, Stine went to lunch with a friend and editor of Scholastic Junior, Jean Fiewel. Fiewel was having issues with an author that had been hired to write a horror novel for teens, called Blind Date. She pitched the idea to Stine, who wrote it in a week.
Yeah, well, I just thought, you know, the first one did so well, and then the second one was a number-one bestseller. I thought forget the funny stuff. I’ve been scary ever since.
Now, it’s confession time: I’d never read any Goosebumps book until last week.
We had plenty of them in the house. When she was in third grade, my sister won the first 40 Goosebumps books from a school raffle. Being brave, she read a couple of them, and then decided it was too scary to read all forty. I never even attempted, but I loved/hated to look at the cover art: green monster blood spilling down the stairs, haunted houses, a creepy green hand with plants growing out of it, coming out of the basement door. The scary covers would get the books relegated to the attic, and thus our bookshelves felt safe once again.
But, after holding Jovial Bob Stine’s work in my hands, I decided it was time to read some of the work that had terrified and entertained so many kids for decades. I picked Say Cheese and Die! because that was the cover that scared me most as a kid.
Spooky, scary skeletons at a barbecue
In this book, Greg and his friends break into the neighborhood haunted house. There, Greg finds a strange camera. When he takes a picture with it, the photo shows something bad happening to the subject, like his dad’s new car being totaled. What will happen when he takes pictures of his friends?
Here’s a few observations about my first Goosebumps book. First of all, the suspense is pretty good. When Greg and his family take their first drive in the new car, for example, Greg’s dad drives recklessly. I knew that Greg wouldn’t be killed, but I was bracing for impact. That scene would have been really scary if I was eight years old, along with others later in the book. The ending where Greg learns that the camera can’t be destroyed would have terrified me. Because it could still be out there.
In another interview, Stine talks about balancing humor and scares in his books.
I don’t really want to terrify kids. It’s not what I really want. If I think a scene is getting too scary, too intense, I throw in something funny.
There is some humor in Say Cheese, mostly courtesy of Greg’s friend Bird. It didn’t work for me as an adult, but I’m sure Bird’s jokes earned giggles from younger readers.
There’s also a lot of things in the book most kids deal with. Greg and his friends keep the camera a secret because they’re afraid of getting in trouble. They’re scared of goonish high school bullies. Greg’s plan to return the camera to the neighborhood haunted house is delayed because it’s almost dinnertime. Along with the familiar trappings of childhood, every chapter ends on a cliffhanger. Kids are going to want to keep reading, no matter how spooky things get.
Which brings me to my last point: it’s all surface. It’s a fast-paced scary story with no deeper meaning than what you read. If there’s a moral, it’s “don’t steal,” which is pretty basic. There was some ambiguity if the camera predicted that bad things would happen, or if it caused bad things to happen. By the end of the book, we learn that the camera is the cause. These aren’t books that have deep meaning or complex characters. They’re popcorn flicks in book form.
And you know what? That’s okay. Books like this are Doritos for the brain. Not the most nutritious or filling, but damn tasty. There’s nothing wrong with reading and enjoying books like Goosebumps, but I hope everyone gets some full, rich meals in their reading diets as well.
But for the start of spooky season, have yourself a nostalgic snack, or forty.
Overlooked Books 