The Nature of Horror and Kid's Lit

Horror is a tricky genre... As a child, I didn't particularly appreciate horror. The Creature Double Feature on Channel 38, featuring those awesome B movies of the 50's and 60's - from Godzilla to a space movie where the astronauts, stranded on a hostile planet, eat mushrooms that in turn transform the unsuspecting cast into giant people-eating mushrooms, perpetually gave me nightmares.

But many kids do appreciate horror - the vicariously felt fear, the curiosity appeased, the adrenaline rush. My sister loved those movies that I couldn't stomach. And lots of kids turn to horror fiction.

I've been reassessing the genre myself lately - trying out a few different titles. I finished Rick Yancey's Monstrumologist, which reads like a strange combination of Mary Shelley and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The book is the first episode from the young protagonist's journal of his life as an apprentice to a monster scientist. The narration is well constructed, clever, funny at some moments, and certainly horrific as we follow Will's escapades in hunting down a "pod" of man-eating Anthropophagi. The book left me queasy....

I've also been listening to Anthony Horowitz's Gatekeeper series (Raven's Gate is the first book). This is probably more of a thriller than horror, though the distinction is hard to clarify. Matt, as orphan like Will, is being held captive by a coven of witches who hope to sacrifice him. There's plenty of murder and mayhem here too. And this one also left me uncomfortable... though not as much as Yancy did.

So what draws one person, and not another, to horror. And how much violence is too much for young readers? And why did I feel compelled to finish both of these books without particularly liking either? I've got to keep thinking about this one.

I Think It's Boccali's Pizzaria

While we lived in California (the second time for me from 1998-2003ish), every December, we would pile our pack of toddlers into the car and drive away from the coast up into the hills beyond Ventura to Ojai. The two lane road would take us away from the arid, drier areas into the lusher, pine forested region. The view was beautiful - the ocean could just be seen in the distance through the backwindow, while ahead the peaks and valleys beckoned.

The end of our journey was the Boccali tree farm, where we would cut down a little Charlie-Brown-Christmas style tree (the choosing and cutting of which were ordeals on their own). By the end of the afternoon, the kids would be exhausted, and sticky with sap and they, like our car, would smell of pine.

As we wound our way back down the hill, as the sun was setting, we would stop at Boccali's pizzaria, which was just west of the tree farm and owned by the same family. The pizza was delicious along with a pitcher of rootbeer, eaten outside on the patio, where we were a little cold, but the warmth of dinner would keep us cozy.

I think Marla Frazee must have been to Boccali's too. Her illustrations in Liz Garton Scanlon's All the World (which just won a Caldecott honor, thank you very much) transported me back to Calfornia, despite the 20 degree weather here in Joliet. Her images, of family and friends, smell of pine and good pizza and warm, sticky toddler hugs to me.

Not What I Expected...

I've read Eoin Colfer's Artemis Fowl books. Like Rick Riordan and Suzanne Collins, Colfer can write quick-paced action and snappy-dialogue. His AF books are fun, though a little dark. They feature a highly intelligent kid who interacts with fairies and trolls and other fantastical creatures. When I checked out the Listening Library version of his Half-Moon Investigations, I expected more of the same. It wasn't just that the CD case cover image suggested another hip take on classic fantasy, but the title itself made me assume this one was a werewolf story, or perhaps yet another take on vampiric teens.

I was wrong, I was wrong. Colfer uses the same hard-boiled detective tone that is the hallmark of his AF books, but this time, it is coming from the first-person perspective of Fletcher Moon, a junior high private investigator in his Irish hometown. For the first few chapters, I waited anxiously for the supernatural to sneak in, but once I realized that this was a cut and dry mystery, I began to really enjoy the narrator's gritty take on principals and bullies and girls. The plot falls apart a little in the end, but Fletcher and the Sharkeys (a local family known for being on the wrong side of the law) are so well-developed that I didn't mind. The recording features Sean Patrick Reilly's Irish brogue, which made the story even more enjoyable.

On a side note, I'm curious about both the webcomic and the BBC live-action version of this one. The actor playing Red Sharkey (the taller of the two boys) is a dead-ringer for my brother-in-law Brian....

Greek Life (or an over use of parenthese)

Okay fantasy fans - forget Potter and Twilight. The big series now is Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson books. Riordan's landed on that perfect formula, beloved of Disney and Warner Brothers alike. His books feature a cheeky protagonist (able to make puns while running for his life) who is the child of separated parents (for those tear-jerker scenes), plenty of fantastical events (a cornacopia of special effects - perfect for today's movie preferences), a rocket-paced plot, and a thinly veiled moral message about the importance of family. It's no wonder Chris Columbus (did his parents really name him that?) is directing the movie version of the first book, The Lightening Thief (see the trailer here: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0814255/ ).

Don't get me wrong - the books are a fun, fast read and the integration of Greek mythology into modern life is entertaining. But I'll take a fantasy with rich, complex characters and difficult questions of right and wrong (think Llyod Alexander, Madeline L'Engle, or J.R.R. Tolkein) over fantasy fluff any day.

A Gaiman Conundrum

Sigh...


It is to no avail.


I can't find a copy of the book I want.


Sigh....


Here's my conundrum:




I've read Neil Gaiman's Newbery winner, The Graveyard Book, and enjoyed it immensely (as did Aitana, age 13, and Paolo, age 9, and if these two both approve, it has to be a winner in my eyes). I won't gush more about this title, since there are plenty of professional critics who do so much more eloquently that I could.




But the version we've all read is the one illustrated by Dave McKean. This is the HarperCollins version with the optical illustion image on the cover. At first glance, one sees a strange, angel-wing tombstone, but on closer examination we see the silloutte of a boy. It's a wonderful cover (which I like more and more each time I look at it).




Dave McKean's work is wonderful too, from his blending of digital and paint, to his surrealistic and warped images, to the dark strain that runs through all his work. He and Gaiman are an impressive team, and I find it hard to think about Gaiman without thinking about McKean's images too. I'm not sure I like McKean's work - his images leave me a little queasy - but I am a fan, nonetheless.




His illustrations in The Graveyard Book. They are smokey, and ethereal, and well-paired with the text, especially the opening image of the man Jack's wicked blade (I get a shiver just writing that).



But the images are less appealing as the book moves on, and the three heads and the pizza at the end are an utter disappointment (sorry for the spoiler).



So what's the conundrum?


There is another.

The U.K. version of the title features illustrations by Chris Riddell, whose light-handed line seems the perfect pairing for this title. Just look at the cover! Silas' arched eyebrow, the muddled-mix of headstones in the background, and the clever look on Bod's face.




Why can't I get a copy of this version? The only place I've been able to find it is on amazon.uk.com.


Oh and those tantalizing pics to be found on the web, like this...



















and this...


Sigh...

Diddled

"Hey Diddle Diddle" is not my favorite nursery rhyme. It doesn't even make my top ten list. It can't hold a candle (even a Jack-jumping-over-the-candlestick candle) to "The Three Little Kittens" or "Hickory Dickory Dock" or the best of the best - "Pop Goes the Weasel".

Really... "Hey Diddle Diddle" just can't compare. It's verse is more confusing than the usual nursery nonsense, and the rhythm doesn't quite work (I find myself trying to make laughed a two syllable word to follow the pattern of the preceding long line), and the ending is a let down. Why, oh why, does the dish run away with the spoon?

That is the question that Mimi Grey answers in The Adventures of Dish and Spoon - but this title falls flat for me in comparison to her Traction Man books (which are too funny to miss).

And even David Wiesner's (my hero!) tribute in The Three Pigs isn't enough to save this rhyme for me.

But Rachel Vail has succeed in redeeming the "Diddle". In Over the Moon which features clean-lined, hep-cat illustrations by Scott Nash, we are seated in a theater, observing a dress rehearsal of a soon-to-open production. Cat (in his too cool yellow glasses and black turtleneck - can you dig it?) and Dog are ready to perform, but Cow is having some problems with the stage directions, to the frustration of the beret-wearing monkey director . The snappy, dialogue - all in squared off speech bubbles - is funny for adult and kid readers alike:

Cow (shaking the director's paw): Mr. Diddle Diddle. I'm a great fan
of your work.

Monkey (surprised): Are you? Well... Call me Hi.

Cow: Call me Cow.

Monkey: Thanks. So anyway, small point, but - the Cow jumped OVER the
moon.

Cow: Uh-huh. And boy am I sore.

Monkey: No! You jumped under! That was the cow jumping UNDER
the moon. See on the instant replay?

I'm sure you can see where this is going - but it is a lot of fun trying to get there with this cast.

Summerland

I've only been in three baseball stadiums in my life.

When I was a teen, I spent an entire night with my mom and sister at Fenway Park, where A Field of Dreams was being filmed, with 100 other extras. The directors moved us from one section of the stands to the next to create a pan shot of a full stadium. I think the sleeve of my bomber jacket can be seen in the corner of one of the closeup shots with Kevin Costner.

Three years ago, I saw my first professional baseball game - the Joliet Jackhammers at Silver Cross Field. I couldn't tell you the name of the opposing team, or who won, or anything about the game itself, really - though I enjoyed the fireworks at the end of the night.

Two years ago, I saw the Seattle Mariners play the Oakland A's. I didn't even know that there really was a team called the A's.

All this goes to show that I know nothing about baseball. I didn't play it when I was a kid, my children don't play it, and I rarely watch it on tv - unless I'm keeping my husband company.

But I love Summerland.

The reviews for Michael Chabon's novel were unanimous - the critics adored it. It was a true-blue American fantasy. This is rarity in children's fiction. There are plenty of fantasies that rewrite fairytales (like Ella Enchanted) or play with myth (like the Percy Jackson books) or rely yet again on The Lord of the Rings cast of characters (et tu Eragon?). But an American fantasy is a rarity.

I was so excited when I read the reviews - until I realized that this, drat, was a baseball book. I didn't think I could bear to read a baseball book, especially such a long baseball book. So I didn't quite get around to reading it.

I was a fool to have waited. Because this isn't a book about Mariner baseball or Jackhammer baseball or even Kevin Costner baseball. This is a book about the joys of a summer day (and the tight knot in the stomach when stepping up to home plate hoping this time, this time, the bat will connect with a thwack that vibrartes through palms and up to the elbows, and that ball will sail silently into the blue expanses) mixed with an age old tale of order versus chaos and creation versus destruction. The plot is packed with the characters of our own American lore, la llaronna, Paul Bunyan, Big Foot, and Coyote - just to name a few and tells a truly American story, of a man who has a bright idea that could change the world, of a girl who pitches as well as any boy, of a Negro League player, and a Cuban refugee.

All that wrapped up into nine innings.

**** Check out the recorded book version of this one - Chabon himself reads the novel, and he has excellent voices! I could listen to his Ring-Finger Brown voice over and over and would grin every time I heard it.

Post script: Mercedes (now 12!) is listening to Summerland on playaway and is complaining that I don't write about her enough in my blog (petulant, isn't she?). Here's what she has to say about this one: "Ummm.... Ummmm... it's good... it has good girl characters like Jennifer T, so it doesn (shudder) focus just on the dumb boys."