Posted in Reviews, Sarah Reviews Required Reading

Sarah Reviews Required Reading: “The Great Gatsby”

Posted on by Sarah S.

My high school does not like classic literature. We’ve read a few of the books a school practically CAN’T skip over – “Romeo and Juliet” and “To Kill a Mockingbird” when I was a freshman, “Things Fall Apart” and “Julius Caesar” as a sophomore – but most of the books that students at other schools mention having to study are simply absent from the syllabi of my English classes. Therefore, this miniseries about popular required reading books might seem pointless and will certainly only be updated intermittently. But…why not?

That said, we begin this series with the reason for its existence: I, like every high school junior in America, finally read The Great Gatsby. Since this is a different sort of review from my typical ones, it’s going to be in more of a Q&A format – if that format grates on you or somehow looks pretentious, please let me know! I am to please. 🙂

Also, unnecessary disclaimer: if my opinions on this sound like BS, it’s probably because I’m…um, a teenager. Totally aware that nothing I say about classic lit is valid due to my age and relative lack of knowledge of how to properly read it, but I love it, so I’m taking a stab at it anyway.

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SPECS

Title: The Great Gatsby

Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald

Page Count: 180 (bless)

Q&A

Having read this book, why do I think is it required? Should it be, or is it a waste of  students’ time?: 

Yes, definitely. It takes a lot of effort to fully appreciate “Gatsby” – such is the way it’s written – but if anything, that makes it a great challenge for a generation of readers (including myself) who are probably not accustomed to that sort of deep contemplation of a novel. No one in this book says or does what they actually mean, everything is a symbol, and the prose makes it incredibly unclear what is actually going on; its length is deceptive in that it gives the appearance of ease when in reality it’s not an easy book to get your head around.  Schools typically assign books that they think will make students think (although, as I’ve discovered, they usually can’t – almost no one even reads the assigned books, sadly). I think “The Great Gatsby” is so commonly required because of its wealth of opportunities for analysis/discussion, the light it sheds on its era in history, and the fact that it’s, quite simply, a masterclass in prose. HOLY HECK, SO MUCH PRETTY WRITING. It sort of reminds me of “To Kill a Mockingbird” in that once you’ve read it, almost no other book seems well-written (in terms of the actual…well, writing…you know what I mean). Good writing works by osmosis – take enough in and you’ll start seeing your own writing improve. In that light, “The Great Gatsby” is a fantastic piece of writing to absorb. Clearly, given my gushing, I am COMPLETELY okay with this book’s place in the Super Overused Required Reading Canon.

Is this book accessible to an average high school student? Having read this book through teenage eyes, what do I think of it?: perhaps. Prose-wise, not really. I’m in an honors English course, so my view is a little different because most people in my class are most likely more adept readers than their regular-English counterparts, but if a completely average student read this, they’d probably find it very difficult by virtue of the writing alone. A lot of students just don’t read, so throwing this book full of insanely gorgeous but very difficult prose (I had to reread sentences quite often) at them is a recipe for confusion. Many people also argue that “The Great Gatsby”‘s themes of the futility of the American Dream, etc. are completely irrelevant to high school students, which I can understand. However, I would argue that there is a lot students can see of themselves here. Many of the characters are young, restless, and have no clue what he want, and no one understands that feeling of disillusionment and lack of clarity better than teenagers. We’re thrown into high school, given four years to figure out who we are, and told to know exactly what we want to spend the rest of their lives doing by the end of that time, and for a lot of us, that answer isn’t as cut-and-dry as adults want to make it seem. That sense of purposeless drifting, so evident behind all of the glamor and wealth in this story, is much like our own. However, 96% of students would immediately hone in on the fact that LITERALLY EVERY CHARACTER, OBJECT, AND EVENT THAT HAPPENS IN THIS BOOK is a metaphor for the American Dream, declare it “irrelevant,” and wouldn’t bother trying to find anything they related to in the story. So…maybe. But for myself, and other students who enjoy reading and are willing to put in the work, it’s perfectly accessible and even enjoyable.

Did I enjoy this experience? Did I even understand what was being said?: enjoy = yes, understand = maybe. As I said, I often had to reread sentences I didn’t get, and I didn’t pick up on nearly all of the symbols or implications until either my teacher, other students, or thought-provoking discussion questions brought them up. But I loved it. The writing was beautiful, and there’s something so intriguing about watching people with few redeeming qualities ruin their own lives on-page. (I sound like a psychopath. Oops.)

CLOSING 

Short Summary: everyone reads it, few get it, makes you work.

Rating: 5 out of 5 Confused Llamas

Does this book earn its required-reading status?: absolutely.

NOTE: I hope my repeated characterizations of high school students as unenthusiastic readers doesn’t offend anyone. I am 100% aware that there are many exceptions to this rule (I am one, clearly) but in my experience, even the smartest of students don’t always enjoy reading. The girl who’s most likely our valedictorian – one of my best friends, whom I adore – hates reading with a passion, and she isn’t alone. So there ya have it.

Posted in Reviews

Book Review: “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before”

Posted on by Sarah S.

I’m not the first book blog to review “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,” nor will I be the last. But as I just finished it and have many thoughts, I figured I might as well be one of the many…

 

SPECS 

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Title: “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before”

Author: Jenny Han

Page count: 355

Genre: YA, romance

REVIEW 

Everyone seems to have read this one, and for good reason. The protagonist, sweet, shy hopeless romantic Lara Jean Song Covey, is sort of an “everygirl” – I don’t know many teenage girls who couldn’t relate to her longing for a meaningful relationship or her family and friendship struggles. It’s easy to root for her; when a set of love letters Lara Jean wrote to every boy she’d ever liked are sent, it’s hard not to want one of them to result in true love, because she’s (speaking as a teenage girl and a hopeless romantic) all of us. The plot is at once feels unique and overused; basic gist: Lara Jean is in love with her sister’s ex, Josh, and writes love letters to past crushes. The letters are sent out. Peter, the recipient of one of the letters, agrees to fake-date Lara Jean in order to convince Josh that she doesn’t love him and make his ex jealous. Things predictably go awry. I loved the  letter idea, as I actually confessed to two past crushes via letter, and gave another letter to a guy who rejected me to explain some things (loooong story), but the rest of the plot was…meh. It didn’t really do much for me. This story’s clear strength is in its characters, certainly: from Lara Jean herself to her sisters, capable Margot and sassy, full-of-life kid sister Kitty (oh, how I love her); boy-next-door Josh, Margot’s ex-boyfriend and Lara Jean’s best friend; and popular jock Peter Kavinsky, who agrees to fake a relationship with Lara Jean in order to make his ex, mean girl stereotype Gen, jealous. Their interactions and relationships are really the heart of the story, making up for a rather watery plot. And the bond between the Song-Covey sisters is by far the best part of the novel. Tight-knit siblings in fiction make me extremely happy and that was one area in which “To All the Boys” delivered beyond a doubt.

The romance, though, fell a bit flat. For a novel that relies so heavily on it, “To All the Boys” didn’t manage to make Lara Jean and Peter’s relationship anything special. There were several moments when it pulled off the romance well (the estate sale scene was ADORABLE), but – don’t shoot me – I actually thought the relationship was better handled in the film adaptation than in the book itself. I nearly always say that a book is better than a movie, and in a lot of ways, this one is – the movie doesn’t mention Lara Jean’s Mom Skills™, which were central to the book and made me want to bake things (which I appreciated), nor does it have the same emphasis on the sisters’ relationships that the book does – but in terms of the romance, I’m beginning to realize that it’s far easier to carry off a romantic subplot onscreen. (Back pocket spin, anyone?) If you want the romance, watch the movie. If you want the characterization and substance, read the book. Peter and Lara Jean were vaguely cute but ultimately kind of meh. Speaking of substance: in the book, we spend a lot of time inside Lara Jean’s head, making her character more fully realized than movie!Lara Jean. One of the things I liked about her characterization in the book was that it really delved into her wariness of going too far in the physical aspect of  a relationship. Lara Jean seemed to understand how much gravity what one chooses to do in a relationship can have (she won’t let Peter kiss her, for example, out of a desire to save her first “real” kiss for a more genuine relationship), which I HUGELY appreciated because I rarely see a teenager portrayed in fiction who understands that their actions might have consequences. Lara Jean is thoughtful and responsible, and that’s something I wish would be portrayed more in fiction. Not all teenagers give no thought to the consequences of their actions! I applaud Jenny Han for realizing that.

Overall, this was a cute, light read, but not one for those who are looking for a well-realized romance. Oh, and also, it has one of the vaguest endings I’ve ever read. But I think the pluses outweigh the minuses.

CLOSING

Six-Word Summary: come for romance, stay for characterization.

Recommended For: any teenage girl who’s ever felt the pain of unrequited love; anyone with a soft spot for loving, supportive siblings; people who spend their free time watching the Food Network and/or HGTV.

Avoid If: you’re only there for the romance.

Possible Objectionable Content: quite a bit of strong language, references to adult situations (none of which happen on-page). Lara Jean is repeatedly characterized as very innocent and the worst she does is kiss, but that is the exception rather than the norm in this story; nearly everyone *does things,* even though nothing is shown.

Rating: 4 out of 5 Confused Llamas

Posted in Reviews

Book Review: “The Duke of Bannerman Prep” by Katie Nelson

Posted on by Sarah S.

Hey guys! Apparently I’ve got a thing for retellings, because my latest read is yet another retelling of a classic. Today I’ll be sharing my thoughts on a high school debate team-themed retelling of “The Great Gatsby.”

SPECS

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Title: “The Duke of Bannerman Prep”

Author: Katie Nelson

Page Count: 307

Genre: YA

REVIEW

As someone who’s trying to become more well-read, it pains me to admit that I’ve never read “The Great Gatsby.” I know. Every high school student in the United States of America has read that! What am I doing? (Actually, I’m just trying to save it because my English class is reading it next semester and I want it to be fresh…but still.) That said, it seems rather counterproductive to read a novel that takes “Gatsby”‘s plot and transfers it to a prestigious California prep school. But, background knowledge or not, “The Duke of Bannerman Prep” is a compelling novel that had me on the edge of my seat – and not always in a good way.

The novel centers around a the debate team at Bannerman Prep, an affluent private high school. The protagonist, Tanner McKay, comes from a lower-class background and attends the school on scholarship for his remarkable skill as a debater. While navigating a world of unimaginable privilege entirely unlike his own, he becomes entangled with the abnormally shadowy characters who call Bannerman Prep home. The titular Duke, alias “Andrew Tate,” is a mysterious, mind-blowingly wealthy Bannerman student and Tanner’s debate partner. He can talk his way out of anything, engages in endless dubious dealings to cover up for his rule-skirting ways, and is utterly mysterious: no one knows where truth begins and ends when it comes to the Duke. The situation is further complicated when The Duke falls for Tanner’s beautiful-but-taken cousin, Abby, and increasingly falls back on Tanner to cover for him in front of Abby’s possessive boyfriend. The situation becomes increasingly more intense as Tanner approaches the tournament that will decide if he gets the debate scholarship that will give him a way out of his dead-end life, the Duke’s activities become even stranger and more illegal, and a beautiful teammate named Kelsey begins to reciprocate Tanner’s feelings for her. At some point it sort of becomes normal for these insanely privileged kids with everything to lose to casually break the law at the Duke’s behest (?) and everything spirals, leading to *spoiler* the Duke’s unexplained disappearance.

This was an intense read, no doubt. It gripped me (at least in the second half – first took a while to get going), but I increasingly felt secondhand discomfort for Tanner as he became so entangled in the Duke’s dealings that no distance seemed too far to go to win his favor. It may just be me but I personally find it incredibly hard to sympathize with morally-gray characters, so I didn’t find myself liking Tanner; I thought Kelsey, who had no idea what was going on but always encouraged Tanner to leave his mistakes behind, was much more likable. But for its purpose – to retell “The Great Gatsby,” which is (I think, if the movie is anything like the book) a gritty story – it worked. “The Duke of Bannerman Prep” was a bit gritty for my tastes, but it was certainly well-executed, and I found myself sucked into its world.

CLOSING 

Short Summary: nothing makes sense – until it does.

Possible Objectionable Content: occasional strong language, illegal and otherwise morally-dubious activity, underage drinking (the main character and his closest friends make a point to call this out), a rather explicit kiss, and a handful of crude but vague references.

Recommended if: you enjoy retellings or The Great Gatsby; “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” is your favorite TV show; you are or were on a debate team.

Avoid If: you find all of the above to be boring and/or morally incorrect.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 Confused Llamas

 

Posted in Uncategorized

What My First “Year of Classics” Taught Me

Posted on by Sarah S.

Last December, when one of my best friends insisted that I read Pride and Prejudice, neither one of us knew what she was starting.

It was her favorite book, and I’d lately been thinking that, for someone who loved to read as much as I did, I was shockingly ill-read. I’d barely touched a classic, other than the few I’d read for school and the ones my mom had made me listen to on audiobook during long car rides as a kid. So after I finished Pride and Prejudice (and loved it), I proposed a means to become the well-read, cultured human being I wanted to be: a two-man, classics-only book club. It was a simple setup: one classic novel, which we’d select in advance, for each month of 2018. She agreed to participate but didn’t have time; I finished out the year. And I’m incredibly glad I did. Each of the twelve selected books taught me something and, on this first day of my second annual classic lit challenge (books to come! I’m still waiting for my first to come via library request because I’m a diva and can’t read an 800-page book on a screen – sorry, can’t), I thought it might be nice to reflect on the reading I did this year.

  1. January: The Scarlet Letter

The Lesson: the trick to finishing a book is to convince yourself that you love it until it’s over.

When I was reading “The Scarlet Letter” – which my friend chose, not me – I thought I liked it. I convinced myself that I loved Hawthorne’s obsession with run-on sentences and describing everything in mind-numbing detail because it was “evocative” and pretended I didn’t care that reading ten pages made me want to sleep. And that was good. It allowed me to get through a book that I would later openly acknowledge that I’d hated.

Perhaps I’m too young for things like this. I know someone’s probably going to yell at me in the comments about how I’m a disrespectful heathen youth who should have more reverence for the classics. (*slinks into the corner* I’m sorry, I’m trying!) Even so, I just did not enjoy this. The value in my reading it? I learned early on how to finish a book I didn’t like – and I had to do that a lot this year.

2. February: The Count of Monte Cristo

The Lesson: classics aren’t inherently unlike any other books – you can love them just as much as you would anything else.

IT HAS BEEN ELEVEN MONTHS AND I AM STILL IN LOVE WITH THIS BOOK. Perhaps my experience was altered by the fact that I read the only copy my school library had, which was abridged by half its length, but still. Page count excepted, “Count” has such a compelling story that it’d easily be my first recommendation to anyone who’s never read a classic and thinks they don’t want to. I finished the 500-page version I read in about a week during an incredibly busy part of the school year because it sucked me in. I’d never felt that way about a classic novel and I didn’t even know I could. I always sort of assumed you were supposed to read them coldly, detachedly, admiring from afar without getting attached. Boy, was I wrong.

This is my best friend’s favorite book, which was part of the reason we chose it. Not only can I see why after having read it, but (as you know if you’ve seen the About page) I think I can safely say that it’s one of mine as well.

March: My Ántonia

The Lesson: don’t let your past reading experiences determine your book choices.

I thought that I hated pioneer books.

This is because, when I was a small child, my mother tried to make me read “Little House on the Prairie” OVER and OVER and OVER, and also homeschooled us with a curriculum that included a great deal of snore-inducing middle grade novels about pioneers. So when my friend (who picked, I’m pretty sure, every book on here except The Moonstone and Les Mis) selected this book, I had to physically try not to groan. I thought I’d hate it. I did not hate it. Conclusion: Child Sarah is not a reliable source of opinions about books.

If I had allowed my bias against pioneer books to prevent me from reading “My Ántonia,” I would have missed out on what has to be the best feel-good classic I’ve ever read.

(Is it bad that I shipped Jim and Ántonia, thought…?)

April: Les Miserables

The Lesson: there’s nothing scary about long books once you’ve actually read one.

I was the one who chose this book. I love the musical version of Les Mis more than life itself so I wanted to check out the book, not realizing how long it was. (I read the Barnes and Noble version, which cut out about 400 pages of what it said was “sociological analysis,” but it was still 800 pages!). This was unfortunate because the month I had to read it, I was in a play (which means tech week, ew) and had to prepare for my AP Exams, which were in early May. Busy month + the longest book of the challenge = very bad idea, clearly. So I was a bit intimidated.

But I survived, and I enjoyed it, and I’ve never been prouder of myself than I was when I finished an 800-page book during the busiest month of the year only two days too late. (May 2nd, I think.) And most of all, I learned that I CAN read a long book if I plan it well. They’re not scary, they just need to be approached correctly.

May: Sense and Sensibility

The Lesson: you won’t always like all of an author’s work equally, no matter how much you enjoy that author.

I loved Pride and Prejudice. Naturally, not having read any other Jane Austen books, I thought that meant I loved Jane Austen. I do still enjoy her work, but not all of it is equally enjoyable to me. “Sense and Sensibility” bored me half to tears. And it was then that I learned that I won’t always enjoy everything an author writes – and that’s fine. Really, one of my biggest takeaways for the year was that it’s perfectly fine not to like every book you read; this is no exception.

June: Northanger Abbey

The Lesson: opinions change – sometimes very frequently.

I was not optimistic about this third Jane Austen novel after finishing S&S. But I loved NA. It was incisive and funny and I LOVED Catherine. (She’s a morbid, melodramatic bookworm! ME!) I don’t have a lot to say about it, but it was a great time. And it definitely showed me that my opinions will change more often than I ever expect them to.

July: Wuthering Heights

The Lesson: finding your least-favorite book is just as important as finding your favorite.

I DESPISE this book. (Sorry! I know it’s probably someone’s favorite and I just desecrated it! But I did!) I don’t know why but once the Scarlet Letter Technique of pretending to like it until it’s over got me through this (mostly read on a plane flight to Wisconsin), I just could not stand it. It was so not my thing that I quite literally wanted to fight a book. I’ve got nothing – no excuse. I just. Could. Not. Stand. It.

And for that, it stuck with me as much as any book I’ve ever loved. (This also happened with “The Name of the Rose.” More on that later.)

August: Jane Eyre

The Lesson: the amount of variation in works within a narrow genre can be astounding.

Wuthering Heights didn’t leave me with a rosy view of Gothic romances. I was surprised, then, when I found myself enjoying Jane Eyre. Thinking back on it, that was probably due in large part to the fact that Jane is a fantastic protagonist. I adore Jane and that is just a thing that I have decided. She’s independent and has a brain, and I love that. I also love that her prudence and bright intellect drive so much of the story. And yes, the romance is problematic in many ways, but coming on the heels of Wuthering Heights (I read this one early, on the same trip on which I read W.H.), it looked downright blissful – and that made it VERY romantic. It’s amazing how different two supposedly “similar” books can be – don’t judge a book by its Goodreads “you might also like” suggestions…

September: A Room With a View

The Lesson: “meh” is okay, as long as the book is short.

I neither loved nor hated A Room With a View. It was…there. However, since it was less than 200 pages, this was okay. It had its bright spots: Lucy Honeychurch is an adorable smol for whom I would willingly die, and THE VIOLET FIELD KISS, AH. Someone get me a 16-or-17-year-old male who is willing to kiss me and a field of violets so I can reenact that, pleeeeease? It was pleasant in an entirely forgettable way, hence the “meh.” And I was okay with that. You don’t have to passionately adore a book to like it.

October: The Moonstone

The Lesson: it’s okay to be disappointed by a book you thought you’d love.

I chose The Moonstone and eagerly waited for ten months to read it because I thought it would be the kind of riveting adventure/mystery that I adored. It was a good book, I’ll give it that, but I didn’t like it as much as I thought I would. It was a quiet, peaceful stream where I’d been expecting the Amazon River. In a class-five rapid. I did like it, but my high expectations dampened the eventual reality of the book. I have to say that the most anticipating book on my list being rather meh was a disappointment, but then again, so was “The Name of the Rose.” (Again, more on that infamous weekend binge later…)

November: The Phantom of the Opera

The Lesson: even if you’ve seen the movie, there’s no substitute for reading the book.

I LOVE Phantom-the-musical. It is just about my favorite thing ever. My first crush in high school was essentially a haze of 9th-grade me pining over a senior (love ya, Sergio!) to “Think of Me” while doing nothing about it, and then confessing long after the crush had died, and finding out it was mutual all along-

Anyway. Enough about that. The point is, I chose this book not expecting it to live up to the musical. But it did, in its own way. It was at least six times weirder, but that lent it its own Gothic-horror charm that was largely missing from the far more lavish and palatable musical. I would never have understood the vibe of the story had I only seen the musical. So, even if you’ve seen the movie…

Read the book, kids.

December: A Tale of Two Cities

The Lesson: you probably don’t hate that author as much as you think you do.

I read half of Oliver Twist. Couldn’t finish. So depressing, sigh. (I know that was the point, but I was having a hard time and didn’t need to be further dragged down by a book.) Thus, I thought I hated Dickens – but I didn’t. “A Tale of Two Cities” is slow-moving, but it has to have the single most beautiful ending in all of literature. The whole book is poetic as heck and it especially comes out in the denouement – both in the writing and in the timelessness of the events themselves. People, when in doubt, go with the Jesus ending. Tragic self-sacrifice gets me every single time. 

 

BONUS ROUND: Other classics I read this year, briefly described!

A Passage to India (Feb.): lovely, if a bit stale. I like that period in history, so that helped.

Much Ado About Nothing:  makes me almost IRRATIONALLY happy. (The film is delightful too.)

The Name of the Rose: I’ve taken ten years of Christian theology and I STILL UNDERSTOOD ZERO OF THE RELIGIOUS REFERENCES IN THIS INCREDIBLY LONG-WINDED BOOK ABOUT MONKS. (Sorry, religion teachers…you never really covered tiny details of the history of the papacy or obscure Medieval heresies.) IT SPENDS SIX PAGES DESCRIBING A DOOR. SIX. AND THEN TEN DESCRIBING A VISION THAT ACTUALLY ENDS UP BEING FROM A BOOK THAT’S CRITICAL TO THE STORY SOMEHOW. AND LIKE HALF THE BOOK IS THIS BLIND SPANISH MONK YELLING AT EVERYONE ABOUT HOW LAUGHTER IS A SIN. HELP ME. WHY ON EARTH DID I READ THIS BOOK? I THOUGHT I WAS SMART, THAT’S WHY. I THOUGHT I WAS AN INTELLECTUAL. I AM SO, SO, SO NOT. AND I WON’T EVEN START ON THE ENDING… *MANIACAL DESPAIR LAUGHTER* help…

(I read this in a single weekend, because I had nothing else to do at a family event in the most boring city on earth. Bad idea. But hey, it made me think.)

Crime and Punishment: I also hated this one, but at least I’m not using caps…

This one has a story too. I read the last 313 pages on a 13-hour car ride in 106-degree heat. The car had no air conditioning. We only stopped for food and water once in the entire day. I sweated through a pair of shorts so thoroughly that it felt like I’d bathed in them when I got up. And a ratty used-bookstore copy of Crime and Punishment was my sole source of entertainment. I was sort of set up to hate this book even if I didn’t find it relentlessly depressing and dull. Oops.

The Age of Innocence: poetic and boring.

The Scarlet Pimpernel: so much fun. Also, Marguerite Blakeney is the hecking love of my life. It’s not Wednesday, but Marguerite is my WCW every day of the week.

Anna Karenina: long, but rewarding. I vastly preferred Kitty and Levin to Anna and Vronsky, though.

Posted in Reviews

Book Review: “Parade of Shadows” by Gloria Whelan

Posted on by Sarah S.

A few days ago, I raided the library, picked up several random books from the YA section, and have been feverishly reading them the past few days; this review is a result of that endeavor. In this post I’ll be sharing my thoughts on “Parade of Shadows,” a historical novel by Gloria Whelan.

SPECS

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Title: “Parade of Shadows”

Author: Gloria Whelan

Page Count: 293

Genre: YA (could be middle grade), Historical Fiction

REVIEW 

I’m a history geek – always have been, always will be. However, I have issues with the majority of history curriculum I’m exposed to due to the fact that, as a homeschooled elementary student, I was lucky enough to be taught a curriculum that put particular emphasis on non-European (Asian, African, Oceanian) history. I grew to love those regions of the world and was always more drawn to Eastern Hemisphere history than I was to that of Europe or the U.S., but aside from ancient China, India, and Mesopotamia, I have seen little of it either in historical fiction or in my high school history texts. So this book – a historical novel set in the Ottoman Empire at the turn of the century – immediately intrigued me for that alone. I thought it might interest me, and I was not wrong.

“Parade of Shadows” had its flaws, certainly. The story is a bit lacking in a strong plotting: it’s more of a series of related, sequential events as seen by a British teenager, Julia, accompanies her father on a business trip of sorts to the Ottoman Empire, than it is one continuous story. It moves very slowly and reads more like a leisurely armchair-reading travelogue than the adventure I was expecting, so the narrative drags a bit in parts. The plot clearly takes a backseat to the setting and characters, but in this case, I was okay with that. Even though I’ve read quite a bit about this time period (Period 5 for all you AP World History folks out there!), I learned more about the various cultures and peoples of the Ottoman Empire than I have in any class I’ve ever taken. That part was fascinating. And, although I imagine others may have seen her as a dull heroine, I loved Julia. She’s bored and naive as a result of the constraints on her freedom back in England, and she has immense curiosity and a great desire to see the world. I related to her for that, though for someone who did not identify with her it might be a bit harder to root for a character who generally does nothing until the very end of the book.

This wasn’t the most spectacular book I’ve ever read, but I greatly enjoyed it. I learned about the history and culture of the Ottoman Empire through the eyes of someone who, I imagine, saw the journey the way I probably would have had I been there. And the supporting characters – botanist Edith Phillips, antiquities dealer Paul Louvois, revolutionary Graham Geddes, guide Hakki, and Julia’s father, Carlton – were all well-realized and full of surprises. The characters were rather trickily written to look flat and completely unremarkable (if affiliated with governments notorious for colonizing every inch of ground they could get their hands on), inasmuch as a half-nomadic botanist or an attractive young dude looking to start a revolution can be unremarkable. But beneath their facades,  every single one had an underhanded or otherwise secretive ulterior motive; none of them were trekking through the Middle Eastern desert just for the fun of it. While it was at least acknowledged that most of the characters had government ties and were there to further the interests of their countries, the single personage responsible for stirring up the most discord was written in such a way as to make them seem innocent of any possible underhandedness. That may not even have been intentional, but I thought it made the final reveal all the more effective. And of course, Julia, while the only person without a seedy motivation, developed over the course of her journey from a naive, sheltered teenager to a decisive young woman with the newfound life experience to process the events around her and to start making her own decisions independently of her father’s influence.

“Parade of Shadows” wasn’t my favorite book of all time, but I enjoyed it a great deal. It had, like any book, its weaknesses, but its strong sense of setting, likable protagonist, and educational value (I know, ew, but I liked it) made it a worthwhile read in spite of them.

CLOSING

Six-Word Summary: charmingly informative, if slow, historical novel.

Recommended For: history buffs and anyone with interest in the Ottoman Empire, imperialism, or Middle Eastern culture.

Avoid If: you tend to fall asleep in history class or you don’t have much patience for slow-paced books.

Possibly Objectionable Content: nothing incredibly serious but there is an attempted murder by poisoning (non-graphic), shady or otherwise deceptive behavior by nearly every character, and very mild flirting between the 16-year-old protagonist and a young man who is more than likely quite a bit older than her (it isn’t said but I’d put him in his 20s).

My Rating: 4 out of 5 Confused Llamas

Posted in Reviews

Book Review: “The Only Thing Worse Than Me is You” by Lily Anderson

Posted on by Sarah S.

Hello, denizens of the internet, and welcome to my first review! In this piece I’ll be reviewing a new favorite, Lily Anderson’s absolutely delightful YA novel “The Only Thing Worse Than Me is You.” I hope this encourages all of you to go out and grab a copy 🙂

THE BASICS

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Title: “The Only Thing Worse Than You is Me”

Author: Lily Anderson

Page Length: 339 (if you only count the story itself)

Genre: YA

NOW, FOR THE FUN PART (THE ACTUAL REVIEW)

I was once called a “grade-grubber” and couldn’t deny the charges; the day I found out that I would get a B+ for the semester in my Calculus class was one of the worst of my life; I love Marvel more than I love myself; “Much Ado About Nothing” is my favorite Shakespeare play by a landslide. These unrelated facts don’t mean anything out of context, but they do help to sum up why I adored “The Only Thing Worse than You is Me,” a retelling of Much Ado About Nothing reset at a competitive high school amongst a group of overachieving seniors, all of whom are massively nerdy (in the best possible way) and obsessed with their class rankings. Its fast-paced plot, likable but flawed characters, snappy writing, and endless comic book references made it an instant favorite and one of the most enjoyable books I’ve read this year. I finished in a single sitting – and as much as I love to read, that NEVER happens. Read this book, kids. I’m not kidding. It’s 339 pages of perfection.

At the story’s outset, our protagonist, geeky reference-spouting, grade-obsessed Trixie Watson, is determined to snatch the third-place class rank at prestigious Messina Prep (“The Mess”) from her longtime rival, Ben West. Their acerbic banter makes up much of the first half of the book, along with the various exploits of Trixie’s two best friends, psychologically-minded, outspoken Meg and level-headed salutatorian Harper (who is described repeatedly as “blond Spock,” if that gives you any clue as to her characterization). Harper’s slow-burn romance with valedictorian Cornell Aaron (gee, he’s even named after an Ivy League…) takes up a good deal of the first half; it’s sweet, and will later be important – for those of you who’ve read “Much Ado About Nothing,” they stand in for Hero and Claudio, so it plays a role later on – but not quite as interesting as the nonstop geeky banter among the trio of female friends or between Ben and Trixie. That aspect may lose you a bit if you’re not a hardcore geek, but it doesn’t make the story in its essence too impossible to follow (even if you might have to Google Daleks to understand what the heck Trixie is alluding to). Meanwhile, a series of cheating-related student suspensions aids in building tension in the opening half that, while relatively inconsequential at first mention, becomes extremely important later on. The second act (an arbitrary classification, but I’m calling it that anyway, because nyeh) begins in earnest at the school’s winter dance, when Trixie and her group learn that Harper has been expelled for tampering with the suspended students’ grades. As the accusation against Harper begins to tear the group apart, Trixie and Ben begin to realize that perhaps they don’t want to annihilate each other as much as they pretend to, and the two (along with supporting characters like the school gossip, Mary Anne, and precocious freshman Brandon Calistero) search nonstop for a way to clear Harper’s name. I can’t say a lot about this act without spoiling anything but suffice to say that all the tension that’s been slowly built up throughout the novel comes trickling out throughout about the last 30 pages – the pace is quick but every major revelation isn’t dumped on the reader at the same time, which I appreciated. It gave me time to fully grasp the emotional significance of each event before having to process another one.

The character development throughout was well-done as well. Trixie, as she should be, is by far the most dynamic character. She comes off as a jerk in earlier chapters – it was difficult for me to love her as much as her references made me want to for quite a while –  but an overheard conversation forces her to realize the effects of her often-poor treatment of others. She makes a concerted effort to be kinder to those around her after that revelation and I loved that Trixie’s development was clearly a result of her efforts to better herself rather than some sort of “the author needs this character to be likable and will thus suddenly change her personality completely for no discernible reason” turnaround. Ben’s character development follows that pattern to an extent but because he was never shown as mean the way Trixie was, his development is less dramatic.  By the closing, Harper and Cornell are still lovey-dovey grade grubbers, Meg still treats life as a psychological experiment, Brandon is still madly in love with spreadsheets, and Mary Anne is still a spoiled genius poet. I didn’t see that as a flaw, per se – few high school students I know would change dramatically in the span of a semester, so it works. But it’s interesting to note the parallels between the novel and its source material here: as in “Much Ado About Nothing,” the character’s opinions change frequently as each of their friends falls in and out of favor, but the characters themselves, other than the main couple, don’t.

I guess I could say that “The Only Thing Worse Than Me is You” is what might result if an author looked inside my brain and wrote a novel based on what they saw. It takes a world I wish I lived in (I’ve ALWAYS wanted to be surrounded by geeks! And in an environment where caring about school isn’t ‘weird’!) and plops my favorite Shakespeare play down in the middle of it. And I loved every word. So do yourself a favor and run (teleport?) out to buy this book. You won’t regret it.

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Six-word summary:  a nerd-fest from my dreams.

Recommended for: everyone, but especially overachieving types (teenage or otherwise), lovers of all things geeky, and suckers for a good high school rom-com.

Avoid if: I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to read this book, but if you are like my mother and think that superhero films are for people without brains, I doubt you’d like it very much. If that is, in fact, the case, I feel very sorry for you.

Possible objectionable content*: scattered instances of strong language. Several kisses – not explicit.

My rating: 5 out of 5 Confused Llamas

 

*I include this because, as a reader who wishes to adhere to her values when choosing books, I often want to find out about any such content before I decide to read a book, but usually can’t find any information about it unless the book is very popular.