Salt & Gool, by Maurice Gee

Maurice Gee is a New Zealand author who had escaped my notice despite his impressive body of work.  He's written books for adults, teens, and children.

This month I read the first two novels of his yet-to-be-completed Salt trilogy.   I loved the first one.  It's situated in a dystopian colonial society where the native population are kept in squalour and used as slave labour.  These two ethnic groups are reminiscent of the British and the Maori, although Salt takes place in an alternate world with its own history, technology, and native species.

Salt brings together Hari, a grimly single-minded native boy, with Pearl, a privileged girl from one of the ruling families.  She is escaping a forced marriage to a despicable but powerful man, while he seeks to save his father from Deep Salt, the most mysterious and dreaded of the work sites.  What they discover is worse than they could have imagined.

Gool is an unusual sequel.  It picks up sixteen years after Salt left off, with (SPOILER) Pearl and Hari's children.  A new threat has entered their world, and they are sent on their own quest to avert what amounts to the end of life.

I wasn't as fond of Gool as of Salt.  I was quite attached to Hari and it took  some time for me to adjust to new protagonists who weren't as interesting as he had been.  I found the story itself less compelling as well.  Certain plot elements felt contrived, with answers coming too easily.  It involved less exploration of society and emphasized more of the mystical and fantastical elements of the story than its predecessor.  This might please some readers, but it wasn't what had attracted me to the first novel.  Nevertheless, I'll be keeping my eyes open for when the third book hits the market.

Footnotes in Gaza, by Joe Sacco

Joe Sacco may be the graphic novelist I most admire, no less for there being nothing novelistic about his work.  Sacco's intricately-researched books are more accurately described as graphic journalism.  They centre on first-hand interviews with residents of war zones and survivors of horrific events, transforming news headlines into human stories.  The best known are Palestine and Safe Area Gorazde, both powerful texts with lasting value. 

With Footnotes in Gaza, Sacco aims his pen to the past, delving into two massacres that occurred in Gaza in 1956.  These events in Khan Younis and Rafah were lost as historical footnotes, barely noted in  contemporary UN reports.  The book intersperses Sacco's interviews with elderly residents about 1956 with details of daily life in these Palestinian neighbourhoods.  In 2002 and 2003 when Sacco was conducting research, the second intifada was active, home demolitions were a regular occurrence, and Israel had not yet withdrawn from Gaza.

There is a gentleness to Sacco's writing.  He is a compassionate journalist who tries to get as close to the truth as possible without endangering or exploiting his assistants or interviewees.  I found this book more painful to read than his previous work, whether due to the graphic depictions of violence and abuse, or merely because I have forgotten the details of his previous books.  I may need to reread Palestine and Safe Area Gorazde. 

I'd recommend these books widely to adults and older teens.

Alvin Ho: Allergic to Camping, Hiking, and Other Natural Disasters, by Lenore Look

My love for Alvin Ho continues.  Reading the first novel was a revelation.   Last month I presented it at a booktalking workshop with other childrens' librarians, and post-talk feedback suggests that my joy was emanating from me in waves.  I'm pleased that I've succeeded in spreading the word to a few locally-influential folks.  I want to see these books in many little hands.

This second outing is like easing into a warm bath.  I know what to expect, but still leave the book warm, happy, and refreshed.  Alvin is still afraid to speak in school, but less afraid of girls (or at least his friend Flea), still cries regularly (and feels better afterward), still hilariously afraid of just about everything (school, heights, night, camping, bears, aliens, etc), and still makes a few humorous misinterpretations with his siblings (like the nature of credit cards).  Alvin's tough little sister Anibelly features prominently in this book, to great effect.  I wouldn't be surprised if she earns herself a spinoff series in a couple years.

There are a few stylistic differences between Alvin's banter in this book and the first novel.  I found his repeated phrases charming the first time around, and I miss them here.  However, I imagine they could have grown old quickly and Lenore Look may be attempting to avoid that.

I expect I'll talk these books up a fair amount as Summer Reading Club progresses, and will be looking forward to the release of the third episode in September

Uh-oh, Cleo, by Jessica Harper

First chapter books need to be very well done, or else they bore me tremendously.  There's nothing wrong with Uh-oh, Cleo.  It's a simple story about a little girl with a big family, and a trip to the emergency room for stitches.  The author does a fair job at laying out distinct personalities without relying too heavily on stereotype, but it's not the book for me.  I feel like I should appreciate the little songs and rhymes the mother invents for her children, but Frances just does that so much better.

I'll keep it in mind in case a parent asks me for a story about going to the doctor or the hospital.

Pretty Dead, by Francesca Lia Block

Francesca Lia Block has made her contribution to the body of current teen vampire novels, and it's a fair effort; surpassing most in the genre.  I still think Scott Westerfeld's Peeps is the best of the bunch, but it's low in romance which a lot of vampire-fiction readers demand.

Pretty Dead's Charlotte Emerson is one of the loneliest creatures you've ever met.  Turned at age seventeen, she's spent the last hundred years in regret, longing for a real human life. Then one day things begin to change.  She's writing again, feeling emotions and sensations more intensely, able to cry again, and even falling in love.  What could have happened, and does it have anything to do with her manipulative creator re-entering her life?

As most of the modern vampire stories do, Pretty Dead selectively interprets vampire mythology, and introduces a new element to shake up an old idea.  The tone of the novel is one of wistfulness, alienation, and desire.  Block is good at writing stories that feel dreamlike.  Her Weetzie Bat books are some of my favourite bright surreal re-imagine-my-world stories, but this one is much more haunting.   I doubt it will get as much notice as the superficial high school vampire series I've been seeing in my library, but it will attract some devoted readers.