meghan rose allen

I continue my quest for middle grade novels that I love to read to Tesfa as much as Tesfa loves having them read to her.

So here we have a book of female pirates, who kidnap the Bland Sisters, to take them on their pirating adventures. The writing is full of quirk and cleverness and sort of nonsensicalness that recalls Pooh and Piglet’s conversations.

“…And then we can swim until we find land. There must be land
within swimming distance, in some direction.”

“There’s one problem,” said Jaundice.

“What’s that?” asked Kale.

“We don’t know how to swim,” said Jaundice.

“Excellent point,” said Kale.

And, as one sees above, the sisters are named Jaundice and Kale, which I appreciate, having once told Tesfa she had two imaginary sisters named Strawberry and Pumpernickel who lived in our back shed. And Tesfa was happy, asking, as we ended the book the two questions that always mean she enjoyed the story (Is this our book? as opposed to the library’s, which means she can read it whenever she wants; and Is there going to be a sequel? so she can read more set in this world.)

I love middle grade novels. I love clever writing. I love girl power stories. But then The Jolly Regina has a whole vexing bullying subplot that made me uncomfortable. I had a Feeling as the Bland Sisters would say. I’m not great with bullying subplots, or people being mean to other people, or shunning subplots, to begin with (for example, Harriet the Spy upset me quite a bit and I’m not reading it to Tesfa ever), and I’m never happy with platitudes like “they bully you because you’re special” or getting back at bullies by being mean to them in turn. Plus the fat-shaming that started the whole bullying in the first place makes me a sad panda. Additionally, why can’t people be fat without having to be all I’m going to eat well and exercise as a resolution to their story? Sure the message — don’t be mean to people, exercise and healthy eating are A-Okay — is fine, but as sound as the message is, the presentation is problematic and sloppy. It soured the whole experience for me, and, clearly striking a nerve, I can’t get past it to focus on anything else that happened in the story. My mind is stuck there.

I still feel uncomfortable thinking about it. I guess that says more about me than about The Jolly Regina.

The Jolly Regina by Kara LaReau went on sale January 10, 2017.

I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

The Good:

1. I like the lack of articles in the title. It isn’t A History of Wolves or The History of Wolves. There’s something solid about a title that doesn’t need the emphasis on articles. I don’t know — it stands on its own two feet or something.

2. I’ve never been to Minnesota. History of Wolves isn’t chock-a-block overflowing with description. But everything, every place mentioned, the high school, the lake, the cabin, the summer house, the court house, the motel in Duluth, the apartment, every single place our narrator goes, I could see it. Perfectly. Crisp as a fresh cold apple. Fantasy or sci-fi world-building authors, take note: Fridlund’s judicious descriptions are what you should study. No one likes being drowned in adjectives. No one needs it.

The Bad:

1. Take a suitcase. Stuff it full. Zip it up. Now unzip and put twice as much in again. Zip it up. But still, unzip and add more. And more. And more and more and more and more.

History of Wolves is this overstuffed suitcase. There’s too much in this book, for plot and background and just general stuff. Then, for a book that overflows with possibilities, it reads so slowly, so very close to tediously. And then the background may be more interesting than the story up front. The commune. The relationship with her mother. Lily and the pedophile. In filling out the background world of the story, too much wants to bubble up to the surface. The zipper strains. The suitcase explodes going round and round on the luggage carousel. The story needs a trim back on all the wonderfulness of the background. Then maybe give the background its own story.

The Ugly: There’s nothing ugly here. But to not have The Ugly would unbalance my review. So The Ugly. Empty. Null set.

So I liked History of Wolves and I didn’t like it. But I wish for Fridlund the best. I think she deserves it. But I also think she’ll be improving as she writes more. I think her potential is somewhere in the stars.

History of Wolves by Emily Fridlund went on sale January 3, 2017.

I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

I feel badly calling a true crime book forgettable. There’s an implication that the victim, in this case, Brigitte Scholl, was forgettable, which seems a heartless assertion. But, really, The Scholl Case is not much more than a newspaper article run long. It’s interesting in a mildly benign way, somewhat infuriating in that Brigitte Scholl is definitely presented more in a bitches be crazy style than her husband Heinrich, who frequents sex-workers, cheats on his wife, abandons a child born out of wedlock — so it’s hardly like he’s an upstanding gentleman either. But while Brigitte’s flaws are hammered home almost to the point of inanity, Heinrich’s get side aside with a shrug. Oh well the book seems to say Product of his upbringing. Because, clearly, Brigitte just sprung up fully formed in the GDR fully formed with no outside influences whatsoever *rolls eyes*.

So there’s no grand reveal here. No new evidence. Even Reich-Osang’s interactions with Heinrich are bland, polite letters and visits where nothing much happens. The Scholl Case is refreshingly un-lurid for a true crime book, but that makes it seem more academic than anything else, and, in a sense, a bit purposeless.

The Scholl Case by Anja Reich-Osang went on sale December 29, 2016.

I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.