Archive | book review

My children discovered Dav Pilkey’s Captain Underpants books when my son was in second grade. Cuddling together on the sofa, I read the stories to the kids, complete with vocal effects. I often found myself laughing out loud at Pilkey’s more subtle expressions of humor and getting surprised glares from the kids. They got the potty jokes, the superhero flying about in his underwear battling lunch ladies and purple potties. I enjoyed the chapter headings, the fast pacing that poked fun at the reader’s expectations, and the constant, somewhat crazed use of alliteration.

The eighth Captain Underpants was published in 2006, and I was excited when I discovered that the ninth book, Captain Underpants and the Terrifying Return of Tippy Tinkletrousers, was about to come out in August. I got the book from netgalley and started to read.

Pilkey’s omniscient narrator is never far from the action, watching, tongue in cheek, as the plot progresses through expected and unexpected twists. He starts telling a story and then remembers: “But before I can tell you that story, I have to tell you this story.” Pilkey used time travel in the series before, but in this one he goes back in time to tell the story of how Harold and George met and got to be friends. Time travel is the main source of tension in this book — the narrator tells us that Tippy’s jump back in time is going to create the famous Banana Cream Pie Paradox. If you have not heard of this famous paradox, do not be alarmed. All is explained, complete with illustrations.

Like the rest of the series, the ninth installment contains George and Harold’s comic books, filled with age-appropriate illustrations and spelling mistakes. There’s also the usual amount of slapstick comedy and potty humor. I personally love it. I wanted more of the chapter headings that I enjoyed in the previous books. In this book some titles just signaled the passage of the days, but I can see how this style works better for a book about the unreliability of time.

I am not fond of back stories, and I was not crazy at first about following the difficulties of George and Harold as kindergarteners, but as the book wound up to its dramatic end, I realized that Pilkey created the perfect Banana Cream Pie Paradox. I cannot wait for the tenth book to come out. I want to know how he’s going to get his characters out of the perfectly funny and ridiculously insane mess in which he left them.

People refer to the Captain Underpants series as a good choice for reluctant readers. I agree, but I think there’s something in them for everyone to enjoy. Even, or perhaps especially, for adults. If you do not laugh enough in your daily life, pick one of these up, remember what it was like to be a child, and get a good hearty chuckle at some of those potty jokes. It’s healthy for you.


Do you have an age-inappropriate book that makes you laugh?

On the way back from Los Angeles, I started reading Jennifer A. Nielsen’s The False Prince. I had read a raving review about the novel on the Book Smugglers blog where Thea compared it favorably to Megan Whalen Turner’s The Thief, which I had also loved. And so I had high hopes. Contrary to my expectations, I was not blown away. Instead, I learned a lot as a writer.

The False Prince is written in short paragraphs and easy-to-read language. The chapters end with cliffhangers which tempted me to keep reading. Sage, the protagonist, is a likable character, strong, smart and rebellious, just like I’d expect a fourteen year old boy. And I loved the story: four boys competing to be the next prince of a fairytale-like country.

There were several things which disappointed me about the novel. There is a beginning of an internal conflict: Sage is not certain he wants to be king and is not sure that he will make a good king. But this moral dilemma did not unfold enough. I was not convinced that Sage believed either of the other boys would make a better king, and I could not understand his reasons for thinking he would not be good enough. He certainly seemed the obvious choice, if only because he is the narrator. To me, the other boys felt under-developed and bordering on stereotypical: the sick, the strong, and the smart.

The internal conflict especially seemed to me hampered by the fact that Sage hides a secret which is only revealed to us by the end of the book. After a chapter or two, I suspected what this secret is. After five chapters, I was sure. I think this secret, which I won’t reveal just in case you plan to read the book, is what most prevents the novel from fulfilling its potential. It is the greatest block to revealing Sage’s thoughts, prohibits him from truly growing as a character, and diminishes the suspense of the novel.

The lack of suspense also arose from the fact that the villain is an obscure character who barely appears in person in the book. Veldergrath’s notoriety perhaps received some credibility because his name resembles Voldemort’s, but the assurances within the novel that he is evil come from Conner, a character who I did not read as reliable and who clearly had ulterior motives. None of the characters challenge the certainty of Veldergrath’s villainy anywhere in the novel, and he is removed, without proof or trial, from his position by the end.

Adam Gopnik from The New York Times Book Review, called The False Prince a “page turner, not a page earner.” The book did help me pass the time of the drive back from LA, and in the end it did make me think a lot about writing techniques and editing. For being entertained for a few hours, and for this opportunity to learn as a writer, I am always grateful. For these two purposes, it was a fabulous book.

A few months ago I read Kristin Cashore’ Graceling. I loved the fantasy world Cashore created, the strong characters, the danger that bubbles below (and above) the surface. Graceling enchanted me, whole and complete from beginning to end, so much so that after I read the last word, I knew I was not yet ready to revisit its world. All around me, however, readers were raving about Cashore’s second novel, Fire, and so finally, expecting to plunge back into the world of Graceling, I began to read.

While reading Graceling, I wondered again and again how Cashore would challenge Katsa, the powerful fighter she had created. After all, what could possibly stop a woman so strong that none, neither man nor force of nature, can defeat her. When the challenge came, it was complete. The stakes were high, and I trembled and read faster, wanting to find out if and how Katsa will win the day. I cheered for her, because despite her immense strength I could see her humanity, her frailty, her dependence on the other characters which I knew would not help her when the moment came to face her test.

I had a harder time empathizing with Fire, the heroine of Fire. She appeared to me a passive heroine, floating through the novel, experiencing rather than causing the action around her, engaged mostly with her own inner turmoil. With mind reading abilities and the capability of altering people’s behavior and thoughts, Fire ought to have been a powerful character. And yet because she never fully acknowledges her magic, or because she is always surrounded by her bodyguards, I felt she never fulfilled the promise of her potential.

Fire limits the physical and mental manifestations of her powers. Since the sight of her beauty causes people to lose their self control, she covers her hair and downplays her physical appearance. She refuses to touch people’s mind unless for self defense, and even after the royal family convinces her to work for them as an interrogator, she reads the prisoners’ minds with a gentleness and kindness that attests to her distaste for any form of violence or invasion.

Though Fire deals with war, it is as calmly written and as introspective as a ride down a tranquil river. I think, after Graceling, I imagined something more like a class five white-water rafting trip. I wonder if I read the novel too quickly, with an eye for the action and plot rather than the intricacies of character development and relationships. Perhaps I ought to have taken the time to enjoy the thought process that turns Fire into the heroine she is. Fire, I think, is a novel to read slowly and carefully, not a race to the end.

Maybe my expectations were at fault, but far from feeling discouraged, I plan to approach Bitterblue, Cashore’s third novel, with fewer beliefs, to luxuriate in her poetic prose and enjoy her perfect building of character and world.

As a child, I was fascinated by books about the holocaust. I read about the life of Hannah Senesh, the Israeli paratrooper who parachuted into Hungary and was caught and eventually executed by the Gestapo. I read accounts of children in Treblinka, the Diary of Anna Frank, and The Island on Bird Street by Uri Orlev. But when the film Schindler’s List came out, I went to watch it and discovered that my tolerance for the horrors of the holocaust has come to an end. Ever after, I concentrated on comedies, fairy tales, and other, mostly feel-good books, creating a bubble of good will and peace for myself in our crazy world.

Despite my “life is good” tendencies, however, I found it impossible to ignore Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein, which came up again and again in reviews since it was published in February 2012. Marjorie Ingall says in The New York Times Book Review: “Code Name Verity, by Elizabeth Wein, is a fiendishly plotted mind game of a novel, the kind you have to read twice.” Thea, in her review on the blog “Book Smugglers,” calls it: “a phenomenal read” and “beautifully, painfully executed.” Ana, the other Book Smuggler, gave the book a rating 10 for perfect and wrote: “If you decide to read this book, keep a box of tissues at hand. There will be tears, and they will be sad ones. But it’s worth it, it is SO worth it.”

So of course I had to read the book. How could I avoid it?

Code Name Verity tells the story of two British girls at the time of World War II. Queenie, the narrator, parachuted into France to be a wireless operator and was caught and tortured by the gestapo. The story she writes is her confession and the story of her friend Maddie, the pilot who had flown her to France and had, so Queenie fears, been killed when her plane crashed.

Code Name Verity is not an easy book to read. Jumping between Queenie’s past in England and her present in the gestapo jail, the book moves slowly, inevitably, towards its end. Queenie is trying to buy herself more time, a little more life, before what she knows is a certain execution. The reluctance of all reviewers to give any hint as to what happens in the end (except that it is shockingly different from anything the reader expects and turns the entire novel upside down, making you want to read again to see the hints that underlie every sentence) forbade me from leaving the novel unfinished.

Poetry in prose, every word and turn of phrase important. Elizabeth Wein is a master story-teller and a superhuman plotter. The canvas she has created is as rich as life itself, the characters real and breathing. Looking back at it now, I see the novel in a series of sepia photographs, slightly faded around the edges, the truth yet surreal, and I wonder — did I really read it or was it only a dream?