The Anti-Twilight?: "Team Human"

Book: Team Human
Authors: Justine Larbalestier and Sarah Rees Brennan
Pages: 344
Copy: another advanced reader copy (and this one was a mess; I'll explain below)
Read: finished July 27
Spoilers: eh, some-ish, but I don't give anything too major away

So two things before I really start reviewing this book. 1) My copy is missing 17 pages and from what I can tell, those 17 pages were fairly important.  I don't think this will have too intense an influence on my review, but it does mean I have an incomplete understanding of this novel.  Bear that in mind.  2) I only read this book because of this review, which means I started this book with fairly high expectations.  I think that might have been a mistake.

Despite the title of my post, don't pick up this book thinking it's going to be the anti-Twilight.  A human (in this case her name is Cathy) still falls in love with a vampire (named Francis) (and, SPOILER, they end up together!) and neither the human nor the vampire is particularly interesting.  The narrator, Mel, is feisty, which is a relief, and she actually does stuff, rather than sitting around pathetically.  So far so good.  But there is one big issue with this book.

I would argue that Mel is adamantly racist (speciesist?) against vampires.  I know that is a ridiculous statement, but given the logic of the world created by Larbalestier and Brennan (vampires live alongside humans peacefully enough, governed by laws and such), Mel is unapologetically racist.  She hates vampires, hates them without reason (she doesn't even have the excuse that someone in her family has been negatively impacted by vampires and she admits that she has never spent much time with vampires herself).  She eventually latches onto an excuse (her friend Anna's dad potentially ran away with a vampire), but even that excuse doesn't really explain it.

This book is basically Mel's excruciatingly slow journey towards the realization that maybe vampires are okay.  However, she never really makes it.  The novel ends with Mel's firm declaration for her "team" (i.e., Team Human).  I'm not going to be a vampire apologist, because that's not really necessary, but I do want to call out Mel's racism.  I imagine the authors just want a reason for Mel to want to break up Cathy and Francis, but I'm not sure racism is the best way to accomplish this.  Everything in the novel comes down to the fact that Mel hates vampires and wants vampires to be completely separate from humans.  Perhaps the inevitable sequel will do more to upend Mel's racist streak.

Other than this rather immense stumbling block, this novel is okay.  Mel is fairly engaging, when she isn't on an anti-vampire rant, and she's a young woman of action.  That Mel actually does things and seems capable of taking care of herself makes this novel fairly worthwhile, especially to those readers disturbed by Bella in Twilight.  Despite the presence of two authors, the writing doesn't veer wildly between two different styles, but stays consistent.  It takes a little while for the mystery to get going (at first I was worried this was going to be 300-plus pages of Mel's painful attempts to break up Cathy and Francis--thankfully she ends up more interested in the mystery).  The mystery is well thought out (I'll admit I figured out the answer early, but I've been on a huge Sherlock Holmes kick lately so perhaps I'm just primed) and the resolution is thoughtful.

I'd recommend this book to anyone who hasn't succumbed to the "Paranormal Romance" YA genre yet.  I think this is a better place to start than a book like Twilight, primarily because the female characters seem stronger and more interesting.  I don't think this book is really going to convert anyone, so don't have someone who hates the "Paranormal Romance" fad read this.  I think it will only give them more ammunition for the next debate.  I also don't think this book is going to help anyone get over Twilight.  It's not really as romantic and I doubt anyone is going to make a movie out of this one.  This is one that I'd recommend borrowing from the library or a friend.  Maybe the authors' next book will be a keeper.

--Benvolia

Woman Director: "The Tempest"

Film: The Tempest

Director: Julie Taymor
Running Time: 110 minutes
Copy: DVD borrowed from Yolo County Library
Watched: July 14

Spoilers: It's a famous Shakespeare play--I'm not going to be able to spoil much

I'm going to cheat a little today and review a film.  I feel justified since Mercutia and I are devoting July to female authors. This film was adapted and directed by Julie Taymor (who is perhaps best known right now for the mess that was the Spider-man musical), one of the very few female directors working in cinema right now. (I challenge you to name five other female directors--once I get past Sofia Coppola and Kathryn Bigelow, I start struggling. There are plenty, but female directors don't get quite the same attention that male directors get. Cinema, even more than writing, needs to have its female directors better represented.)

I want to start with the costuming in this film.  (The costume designer, Sandy Powell, was nominated for an Academy Award for her work on this film.) At first glance, most of the clothing seems appropriate, but the details reveal a more rebellious attitude. The first detail I noticed was the zipper on Ferdinand--I couldn't help but ask myself, "Did they have zippers back then?" It took me a little while to understand that everyone is wearing zippers. As the film progresses, the zippers become more central and more obvious, until we arrive at Prospera's final outfit, which uses zippers as decorations (Antonio's outfit is similarly decorated with zippers, but I didn't notice this until after I had seen Prospera's dress).

Perhaps most interesting is the outfit of Trinculo. No attempt is made at historical accuracy, which is completely appropriate. The bright, wildly patterned clothing pays homage to the motley worn by fools, but in a way accessible to modern viewers. Importantly, he wears no zippers, suggesting that zippers in this film is a complex marker of class (a suggestion somewhat undermined by the loose, zipperless clothing of Miranda, who is the only noble without a zipper). Trinculo's outfit is an expert costume, but I think half of its success is Russell Brand, who plays an exceptional Trinculo. (I'll admit I was worried Russell Brand would completely destroy this film, but his natural personality is close enough to Trinculo's. In the end, I think his may have been the best cast part. Chris Cooper as Antonio is a little mystifying to me.)

Because "July is for the Ladies," I want to dwell briefly on Taymor's major change to the script. Casting Prospero as a woman is an interesting move, with intriguing ramifications. The relationship between Ariel and Prospero changes dramatically because of this shift. In the original, the relationship between Prospero and his most loyal slave has dark undertones, undertones that are emphasized by the much more twisted relationship between Prospero and Caliban. By casting Prospero as a woman, the relationship between Ariel and Prospero becomes more of a parent/child one, stripping away a layer of Prospero's contradictory nature. The film shows Prospero's relationship with Ariel as much healthier and much more straight-forward, while the play emphasizes the complexity of this relationship.

In the film, the relationship between Prospero and Caliban is much odder and rather less important than in the play. I feel that many of the issues this slave/master relationship raises in the play have somehow been lessened by the change of Prospero's gender, rendering the relationship a much more traditional struggle between savage man and civilized woman. Somehow, just by changing Prospero's gender, Caliban has been rendered superfluous. I think the film could function just as powerfully without the Caliban sub-plot, though such an omission would spark controversy. I can't figure out why a mere change of gender so drastically changes Caliban's position; I'll have to continue to ponder that.

There are many other thoughtful elements to this film, but I won't discuss them all.  However, I want to draw attention to the use of Shakespeare's songs.  Too often the strange songs that are interjected into Shakespeare's plays are omitted; I was happy to have The Tempest's songs retained.  In addition, the character of Ariel deserves an entire essay.  Taymor has made Ariel into an intriguing mystery, though I do think she went a little overboard.  Finally, I was interested to hear the final monologue rendered as the song that plays over the credits.  I'm sure this is partly due to the fact that monologues don't work well in film and partly due to the fact that the monologue itself is so theatrical.  The lines work well as a song, though it is a rather strange change.

Overall, I liked this film.  It raises interesting questions about The Tempest and challenges some of the more difficult aspects of the play.  That being said, I think this film requires some knowledge of Shakespeare.  A film like Kenneth Branagh's Much Ado About Nothing is more accessible, and more fun.  Watch this film, but know what you're getting into.  This isn't an escapist film.  It requires all your attention, especially if you want to comprehend what's being said.  (I watched it with the subtitles on so I could more easily follow the language, a choice that has the unfortunate side-effect of missing the scenery to some degree).  I think this would be a fun film to watch with something akin to a book group.  The discussion that followed would be lively and, I think, lengthy.

--Benvolia

Body Parts: "Breasts"

Book: Breasts

Author: Florence Williams
Pages: 283
Copy: advanced reading copy from Readers' Books (my copy is therefore different from the actual hardcover that was released in May)
Read: July 5-7

Spoilers: another non-fiction piece...

Prior to August 2009, I'd never given my breasts much thought.  As a young woman uncomfortable with the trappings of traditional femininity, breasts embarrassed me.  But when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, when my mom lost one of her breasts, I began to think about my own differently.  I'm still not entirely comfortable with my breasts, but I certainly don't hate them like I use to.

This is a round-about way of opening a review of this book, but I think it's important for me to admit that I read this book because I have a history with breast cancer.  I knew perhaps half of what Williams wrote about and the other half had more to do with society and evolution than with breast health.  I don't know how groundbreaking her book really is, no matter how groundbreaking she considers it.  For instance, much of her discussion of chemicals can be found in other places, particularly in any writing that looks at chemicals in the environment.  That being said, anyone unfamiliar with the topic of chemicals in the environment and the body will find this book an informative start.

In some ways, this book makes it appear that any woman living in the United States is going to get breast cancer.  Caught between the chemicals in our food and possessions and our medical habits, breast cancer has become more and more likely.  If you add genetic history to the mix, getting cancer seems inevitable.  I doubt that this was Williams' intention, but I certainly finished the book wondering when I was going to get cancer--not if.  Perhaps this is the greatest weakness of the book, that Williams never offers any sort of solution or way forward.

Overall, this book is fairly good.  It's informative and scientific without being overwhelming.  Williams is certainly channeling Mary Roach's style of non-fiction (personal anecdotes, involving her family and herself in experiments, occasional humorous asides, and so on), but Williams doesn't do it as effectively.  Perhaps her next book will be able to effortlessly capture the spirit of Mary Roach, but in this book Williams comes off as trying too hard.

I would suggest this book to anyone who is distantly connected to breast cancer--perhaps a friend of a friend or a distant cousin has been diagnosed and you want to learn more.  It's a good introduction to the topic and all the different ways that breast cancer can arise.  It's possible this would be a good book for someone who has gone through breast cancer, but I think anyone who has been through cancer knows much of this information already.  I worry that anyone who is closely connected to breast cancer would leave this book fearing for their lives--so be prepared for that.

--Benvolia

Update: September 17, 2012

The New York Times recently ran a review of Breasts.   Like most NYT book reviews, this one fawns a bit, but it certainly gives a better overview than my own.  The reviewer also makes some interesting points.  "I hope," the reviewer writes, "men will read this book — not because it will make them less inclined to drool over bizarre, artificially enhanced, porn-star cleavage. But because the dangers that Williams details are not exclusive to women. They threaten our entire species."  At any rate, if you want another point of view, here you go.

Lady Essayist: "Slouching Towards Bethlehem"

Book: Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Author: Joan Didion
Pages: 238
Copy: a friend’s
Read: June 30-July 4

Spoilers: this is non-fiction—can you really spoil non-fiction?

One evening, as my friends were otherwise celebrating, I had this book, open to the essay "On Self-Respect," thrust into my hands.  (The same friend had previously tried to explain Didion's point about putting a paper bag over one's head, but the exercise didn't really make sense until I actually read the essay.)  I was instantly enamored of Didion.  I read "On Self-Respect" twice before I was dragged back into the festivities.  Joan Didion has a fantastic writing style, rivaled only, I think, by George Orwell.  Her writing is crisp and direct, much like Orwell, and she has the most wonderful turns of phrase.  Some of her sentences read more like poetry than like journalistic prose.  (I think Orwell is slightly better because he can handle tangents so dexterously.  Didion doesn't venture into such territory often, and when she does she keeps it to a sentence or two.  Only Orwell could write 5-10 pages on some topic entirely unrelated to the main body of the essay and still make it important.)


I went into this book thinking I hadn't read any Didion before, but I realized when I read "Marrying Absurd" that I'd read at least one of her essays before.  Surprisingly, I can't for the life of me remember where I encountered this essay before, but I do remember reading it.  I will undoubtedly read more Didion, just as soon as I can get to the library.  Didion is one of those authors I can easily see myself reading every word of.  Her mastery of the essay-form is just too amazing to pass up.


While "On Self-Respect" is still my favorite of her essays, "On Keeping a Notebook" is also exceptional, as is her essay on the Central Valley, "Notes from a Native Daughter."  Some of her essays are uneven and many end surprisingly abruptly, but even her unexceptional essays contain beautiful sentences and perfect images.


Despite the fact this collection is uneven, I'd highly recommend reading it in order.  There's something about reading the pieces in near-chronological order that is simply amazing.  Her first essays are interesting and certainly contain the seeds of the genius that is to come—but they just aren't the same.  However, when they are read as early essays, their shortcomings aren't as visible.  While most collections of essays can be flipped through willy-nilly, this book rewards a straight-forward, linear read, at least the first time.


I also think that any aspiring woman writer, especially if she aspires to write essays, should buy this book and read it daily.  (I think any aspiring male writers should do the same, but female essayists are so few and far between that Didion will perhaps have a deeper impact on women.)  "On Self-Respect" should be read by every young person, especially those that are struggling with internal issues—shyness, loneliness, what have you.  Her points are true, even if they feel a little painful on the first reading.  By the second reading, her points will feel less like accusations and more like coded advice.


—Benvolia

July is for the Ladies: "The House of the Scorpion"

Book: The House of the Scorpion
Author: Nancy Farmer
Pages: 380
Copy: Mine; see Librarything
Read: 1 July 2012; read it as soon as I bought it at Green Hand Bookstore in Portland, Maine.
Spoilers: a few, but none that should cause problems

So this was unexpectedly amazing. I don’t know why it should have been amazing--after all Nancy Farmer is pretty awesome and this thing is plastered with awards. I guess the amazing part was the fact that I hadn’t read it before. I actually even recall rejecting it! Rejecting a futuristic sci-fi young adult book with clones and zombies? Why?

Because the main character is a boy, of course. There were so many futuristic sci-fi or classic fantasy young adult books (though none with clones) with girl characters to read, why read this one?

This is something of a shame. The House of the Scorpion has combined the huge scientific morality questions--are clones an ethical means of medical research? what happens when science and technology begin to destroy humanity?--with the simplicity and grace of language that examines the human condition without being obnoxiously philosophical. This is a novel about science and drugs and politics, but it is also a novel about families and human relationships.

In The House of the Scorpion, Farmer creates a new country out of the borders of the US and Mexico, a country that has existed under the power of an ancient despot, El Patrón. Matteo Alacrán is his clone, grown from skin cells and harvested from a cow. Matt is the child of technology, but he is more human than the Alacrán family that surrounds him. Matt’s self-discovery guides the reader through a book half fairy-tale and half sci-fi.

This is pretty nearly a perfect book. My only regret is not reading it when I was younger. Please, please read it, so I can talk about the ending!

-Mercutia