You Will Love What You Have Killed by Kevin Lambert

You Will Love What You Have Killed by Kevin Lambert
Translated from French by Donald Winkler

End-of-the-world surrealism in the voice of a child in Chicoutimi, Quebec.

Are you up for something totally weird? Something in a macabre vein? Faldistoire, the gay boy who narrates this tale, is already jaded by the time he's in Grade 2. 

        They teach us all sorts of stupid things at Rejean-Tremblay School. They boil down the meaning of life for us and make us swallow it in little pills to calm us at lunch or when the nurse comes to see us and meets us privately to deliver her messages: don't trust anyone you don't know, get vaccinated, this is how to brush your teeth, my-body's-no-body's-but-mine, beware of Halloween candies where old perverts have hidden long poisoned needles that will send you right to your grave, you have to inspect them and throw away anything suspicious.

Children in his neighbourhood are abused by adults, they die by accident and by homicide. Toads watch over their graves in the local cemetery. Transgender folk don't have it easy in Chicoutimi either.

        Thanks to our family connection, I find pictures of Paule before her operation in the photo albums of Angele, my grandfather Fernand's sister. He had been her golden boy before he was disowned by the whole family because of his transexual lunacies. When you eat at my great-aunt's and, a bit tipsy, she starts talking about her only son abducted by the demons of sodomy because his father was never there to discipline him and to alert him to sexuality's most twisted vices, I pretend to go to sleep on the couch and I listen to her song and dance as she curses a life that always gives all good things to the same people, Mother Nature who makes families of ten children without a single one that's fucked up, while my great-aunt is there all alone to shovel the shit of the entire world.

After he has completed Grade 6, Faldistoire's father chooses to send him to the private school in town.

        The Lycee charged money for the admissions test, each year's registration, the uniform that had to be changed every two years because we grew too fast, the shorts and T-shirts for physical education because of the new logo, every extracurricular activity and the materials required for it. The Lycee, a business masquerading as a school, with all the good intentions--bogus--of the teachers who, only once a year, on the day for parental visits, made as if they gave a damn.

The students' favourite teacher in high school is Madame Marjolaine:

        We were sure that she was the queen of sexuality, we imagined that she knew everything about blow jobs, anal penetration, cunts and cunnilingus, all those things we knew the names of but didn't know what they really were, and in time we would go and check out Google and watch a video that would give us our education, the real one.

Faldistoire is expected only to "survive as one raises one's head out of murky and toxic water." But doesn't everyone have a right to more than that? To thrive? In this novel, the ghosts are bent on revenge, on blowing up the status quo, on demolishing "beautiful things prized for no reason." It's a wild ride.

Giller chances: MEDIUM - It's unusual and strangely compelling, but probably too nihilistic for the Giller.

This post is part of a series. I'm on the Shadow Giller jury this year, so I'm reading as many qualifying Canadian titles as possible in order to come up with my own longlist prediction before the official one that will be announced on September 8, 2020. To see my other reviews that are a part of this project, click on the Shadow Giller tag. Also, please visit our Shadowing the Best of CanLit website to see what the rest of the Shadow Giller jury are up to. Thanks for visiting my blog.

Coming Up for Air by Sarah Leipciger

Coming Up for Air by Sarah Leipciger
House of Anansi, March 2020

Three stories braided into an elegant novel, based on a true story.

In the prologue, we meet l'Inconnue, the unknown woman. She is a French lesbian who explains how she drowned herself in Paris in 1899. Later chapters fill in her backstory, including her arrival in Paris at 19:

        As soon as I was seated in the carriage we were underway. I stared out of the window like a baby peeking from its pram. Clermont-Ferrand was sizeable enough but this was my first city, and it was Paris. Stuck behind an endless line of omnibuses and carts and other cabs, we crawled slowly along Avenue Daumensil, towards Place de la Bastille. People were everywhere, everywhere.

The second storyline is that of Pieter, a Norwegian toymaker. He was a child in 1921:

        I used to spend the summers with my grandparents on Karmoy Island. I was salt. I was sea. I spent these languid days swimming at the beach, though the North Sea, as my grandfather would have said, was as cold as a witch's tit. I splashed and kicked and dove to the white sandy bottom where the world under the surface of the water was untold, unknowable and ever-shifting.

Anouk, born with cystic fibrosis in Ontario in 1977, is the subject of the third storyline.

        Ottawa River, Canada, 2017. It's September, Anouk's birthday. She's turning forty. Her mother Nora has come with her up north because it's a big deal for Anouk, turning forty. When she was born, doctors predicted her life expectancy to be far shorter than that. They've come north, away from the city, because Anouk would like to see the river, the place where she was born, before she's called for surgery. She's on the donor list for a new set of lungs. 

All three narratives are captivating. Swimming, breathing, and drowning are among the shared elements, but there is one special thing that links them in a more concrete way. This is a remarkable story, crafted with tenderness.

Giller chances: MEDIUM HIGH - I loved this and highly recommend it for bookclubs: lots to talk about.

This post is part of a series. I'm on the Shadow Giller jury this year, so I'm reading as many qualifying Canadian titles as possible in order to come up with my own longlist prediction before the official one that will be announced on September 8, 2020. To see my other reviews that are a part of this project, click on the Shadow Giller tag. Also, please visit our Shadowing the Best of CanLit website to see what the rest of the Shadow Giller jury are up to. Thanks for visiting my blog.

Recipe for a Perfect Wife by Karma Brown

Recipe for a Perfect Wife by Karma Brown

Penguin Random House, December 2019

Audiobook (10 hours) narrated by Jorjeana Marie and Mozhan Marno

Reasons why I enjoyed this feminist dual-timeline novel with a cunning plot:

- Two fascinating women in their respective timelines: contemporary and 1950s

- For their joint ties to an old cookbook

- For the inclusion of recipes

- For the author's exploration of gender roles in patriarchy, and dishonesty in marital relationships

- For the dark undertones, and spooky happenings that might be either supernatural or have rational explanations (they are left up to the individual reader's interpretation)

        She liked how smoking changed her voice, made it a little huskier and certainly more interesting when she sang. Nellie had a beautiful voice, though sadly the only time she used her gift was at church, or in the bath, or to coax out flower petals. Filters promised to remove throat irritation, as her doctor and the magazine advertisements told her, and Nellie wanted no part of that.

        Picking a piece of errant tobacco off her tongue, Nellie stopped at the "Can This Marriage Be Saved?" column in the magazine and scanned the three points of view: the husband's, the wife's and the therapist's. The husband, Gordon, was overwhelmed with his financial responsibilities and irritated that his wife continued to spend money on things like expensive steak for dinner, clearly not aware of his stress. The wife, Doris, felt ignored by her husband and his silent treatment and would cook him this expensive steak to try to make him happy. Nellie shifted in her chair, crossed her legs, and drew deeply on her cigarette, imagining what advice she would offer this couple who had been marinating in marriage for more than a decade. One, she'd tell the wife to quit cooking for a week and see how that helped her husband's stress. Two, she'd suggest to the husband that he might try talking to his wife rather than expect her to read his mind.

        She quickly scanned the therapist's advice, which amounted to Doris should know her expensive dinners were only making things worse for poor, worried Gordon, and therefore for her as well; Gordon should not be expected to have to tell Doris how he's feeling... she should just know. The way any good  wife would.

        Nellie -- who had been Mrs Richard Murdoch for barely a year -- snorted.

Giller chances: MEDIUM - because, after the clever balance beam performance, there's wobble in the landing.

This post is part of a series. I'm on the Shadow Giller jury this year, so I'm reading as many qualifying Canadian titles as possible in order to come up with my own longlist prediction before the official one that will be announced on September 8, 2020. To see my other reviews that are a part of this project, click on the Shadow Giller tag. Also, please visit our Shadowing the Best of CanLit website to see what the rest of the Shadow Giller jury are up to. Thanks for visiting my blog.

The Ghost in the House by Sara O'Leary

The Ghost in the House by Sara O'Leary

Doubleday Canada, July 2020

In this brief, amusing and romantic novel about grief and letting go, Fay haunts her husband Alec after she dies in their Vancouver home.

Alec can't see Fay.

        He looks straight through me. I wonder how many times I've used that expression without truly understanding how wretched it could feel.

Fay does a lot of memory surfing. In the following passage, she relives meeting Alec for the first time, in a pub in Montreal:

        My eye is drawn to a man on the far side of the room sitting at a table by himself. He's older than me, I think, and he's handsome. There's something distinguished about him, but also a little rugged. His dark curly hair looks like it's trying to escape his head. His beard is dark, reddish, and full. He's reading an old, cloth-bound book. I can see the gold lettering on the cover. The Gist of Swedenborg.

Based on this description, plus a few other clues, I assume that these characters are White. The reference to Emanuel Swedenborg, a mystic who had visions of a spiritual world, dovetails neatly with the novel's premise. 

Fay has many regrets, thinking that she has squandered her days.

        How did I go through  my life and make all these decisions without realizing they were decisions? Why did nothing ever feel final? Until now. All my choices have been made.

While I wouldn't describe myself as entirely unsentimental, romance tends to make me gag. There's a lot of yearning for physical intimacy in this book, and those parts didn't work for me. This description of being married didn't either:

        I came to realize that I really did like being married. I liked the idea that we had chosen each other. That as improbable as it all might seem, all the days before we met had been leading up to that one day that was the start of our life together.

Since Fay's death, Alec has remarried and has a 13-year-old stepdaughter, Dee. ("The only good thing about being thirteen is that unlike being dead, it doesn't last.") At the start, Fay is totally self-absorbed, but she changes over the course of the story. Much of the credit has to do with her interactions with Dee, who is the first to see Fay as a ghost.

        I am in Dee's room. I leave Frankenstein on her nightstand. I took it from Alec's study, so perhaps she will think it came from him. That doesn't really matter. What matters is that Mary Shelley will help her more through her dark days than any twee tween nonsense about the sexy undead.

        Does the fact that Mary Shelley was nineteen when she wrote Frankenstein make her a young-adult author? I open the book and read: "Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world."

        A torrent of light. I have broken the natural laws by my return. And there are, as always, consequences.

"Till death do us part" from the dead spouse's point of view gives this novel a unique twist. It's bound to provoke rumination on mortality, the loved one's we've lost, our fears of being forgotten, and about being our best selves.

Giller chances: LOW - It's wispy. The content is conducive to discussion, so this would be a good pick for a book club looking for something light.

This post is part of a series. I'm on the Shadow Giller jury this year, so I'm reading as many qualifying Canadian titles as possible in order to come up with my own longlist prediction before the official one that will be announced on September 8, 2020. To see my other reviews that are a part of this project, click on the Shadow Giller tag. Also, please visit our Shadowing the Best of CanLit website to see what the rest of the Shadow Giller jury are up to. Thanks for visiting my blog.

How a Woman Becomes a Lake by Marjorie Celona

How a Woman Becomes a Lake by Marjorie Celona

Hamish Hamilton, March 2020

Audiobook (7 hours; Penguin) read by Laurel Lefkow

The premise and puzzle of this story is a woman who goes missing on New Year's Day in 1986. The issues raised include parenting after divorce, alcohol addiction, mental health, and dealing with the unintended consequences of our actions.

It takes place in Whale Bay, a small fishing town on the West Coast, "a stone's throw from Canada."

        People thought frozen lakes were stable, and they walked out onto them. People did this sort of thing all the time. They drove snowmobiles and trucks onto lakes! Lewis had done this as a boy every winter, in his father's red pickup truck, on Lake Mendota. Even there, two or three people fell in every year, fishermen mostly, their bodies pulled out -- sometimes alive, sometimes not -- covered in icicles. That was the trouble with frozen lakes. There was no way to tell the thickness of the ice, nor the depth of the water beneath.

The narrative unrolls in shifting third-person perspectives: 

• Vera is the missing woman; her voice comes from beyond death.
• Denny, an alcoholic jewelry designer, was Vera's husband. He's arthritic and severely depressed.
• Hot-tempered Leo, flaky and ill-equipped for parenting, is also an alcoholic. His wife Evelina had enough of his violence and kicked him out. 
• Evelina is fiercely protective of her two children, worrying about them when they spend time with their father. She is addicted to lottery scratch cards.
• Ten-year-old Jesse and his little brother Dmitri are Evelina and Leo's boys. 
• Lewis Cote is the young police officer who took a call from Vera about finding a lost boy. That's the last anyone heard from her. Lewis is new in town and lonely.

Loneliness pervades this novel. Both Denny and Evelina have let their friendships lapse after marriage, leaving them with nobody to turn to for support when their spouses are no longer in their lives.

        They trudged back up the hill, and Denny watched the policeman drive off. And then he and Scout went back into the silent, empty house. He looked at the ceiling. He looked out the window.

        Who did he have left? Who was there to talk to? Who could he tell about his day if Vera never returned? What he wanted to do was tell Vera about all of this. "Vera! Vera, you'll never guess what happened!" he wanted to say. "You disappeared!"

Lewis, the police officer, feels an emotional connection to Jesse:

        He couldn't tell whether Jesse was okay or not. There was an intensity to him that Lewis hadn't seen in a child before. It reminded him of his own childhood, the constant tension in his shoulders, the way he felt that if someone bumped into him, he would shatter.

The sections with Vera's viewpoint from the afterlife didn't work for me. It's not that I object to a ghost's perspective per se. Sometimes it's a perfect way to provide a wider scope. In this case, however, I found those parts sentimental and message-y.

        No one tells her to do anything, but she knows that what she is meant to do is float. To stop dipping back down to the surface of the earth. To stop caring. [...]

        It's okay, Denny. I am up here. I am up here. We did the best we could. We loved each other so deeply at first. Think of that. Think of how hard we laughed. She feels the absence of her own eyes and her own tears, and the absence of her own mouth and her own voice, and the absence of her own arms and the absence of the warmth of another person's arms around her.

While the majority of the novel takes place over the course of 1986, the final chapter leaps ahead to 2020, wrapping everything up neatly. Too neatly.

Giller chances: MEDIUM-LOW - The title of the book is great (Celona credits Jia Tolentino for the line), the rotating viewpoints make for in-depth characterization, and the puzzle of Vera's death is interesting. Vera's ghost hits a sour note and I have reservations regarding the denouement (left vague here for spoiler reasons).

This post is part of a series. I'm on the Shadow Giller jury this year, so I'm reading as many qualifying Canadian titles as possible in order to come up with my own longlist prediction before the official one that will be announced on September 8, 2020. To see my other reviews that are a part of this project, click on the Shadow Giller tag. Also, please visit our Shadowing the Best of CanLit website to see what the rest of the Shadow Giller jury are up to. Thanks for visiting my blog.

The Glass Hotel by Emily St John Mandel

The Glass Hotel by Emily St John Mandel

HarperCollins, March 2020

Audiobook (10.5 hours, Harper Audio, 2020) read by Dylan Moore

A kaleidoscopic story of personal transformation, ethics and interconnectivity against the background of a Ponzi scheme.

This practically hits all of my reading sweet spots: careful crafting, multiple viewpoints, vivid fragments, propulsive storytelling, intriguing characters and an ending that leaves me wondering. 

It‘s fitting that this haunting novel does have actual ghosts as characters, because they help the living to reflect ruefully on their own actions. 

Perfect line for reading during a pandemic: “Me, my idea of a perfect weekend? Not leaving the house.”

Giller chances: HIGH

This post is part of a series. I'm on the Shadow Giller jury this year, so I'm reading as many qualifying Canadian titles as possible in order to come up with my own longlist prediction before the official one that will be announced on September 8, 2020. To see my other reviews that are a part of this project, click on the Shadow Giller tag. Also, please visit our Shadowing the Best of CanLit website to see what the rest of the Shadow Giller jury are up to. Thanks for visiting my blog.

The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro

There are so many reasons that I loved Kazuo Ishiguro's The Buried Giant.

• Legend of King Arthur viewed from a fresh angle
• World building: early Britain complete with ogres, pixies and dragons
• Death as a narrator
• A journey on foot
• Distinctive language
• Love story about two elderly people - I've enjoyed others lately: Etta and Otto and Russell and James (Emma Hooper), and And the Birds Rained Down (Jocelyne Saucier).

During a long period of peace brought about by King Arthur, the people of Britain have been bewitched by a mist of forgetfulness. Axl and Beatrice are an elderly couple who struggle to remember details of their shared lives, yet their love for each other remains strong. They embark on a journey to visit their son in another village and encounter many surprises along the way.

The language cast its own spell on me. There's a meditative rhythm to the prose, with lots of dialogue that moves the story along at a steady pace. The dialogue has a distinctly archaic feel, even while using only common words. Everyone is politely formal with each other, including husband and wife:

   "Who knows what goes on with Saxons," said Axl. "We may be better seeking shelter elsewhere tonight."
   "The dark will be soon on us, Axl, and those spears are not intended for us. Besides, there's a woman in this village I was wanting to visit, one who knows her medicines beyond anyone in our own."
   Axl waited for her to say something further, and when she went on peering into the distance, he asked: "And why would you be after medicines, princess?"
   "A small discomfort I feel from time to time. This woman might know of something to soothe it."
   "What sort of discomfort, princess? Where does it trouble you?"
   "It's nothing. It's only because we're needing to shelter here I'm thinking of it at all."
   "But where does it lie, princess? This pain?"
   "Oh..." Without turning to him, she pressed a hand to her side, just below the ribcage, then laughed. "It's nothing to speak of. You can see, it hasn't slowed me walking here today."
   "It hasn't slowed you one bit, princess, and I've been the one having to beg we stop and rest."
   "That's what I'm saying, Axl. So it's nothing to worry about."
   "It hasn't slowed you down at all. In fact princess, you must be as strong as any woman half your age. Still, if there's someone here to help with your pain, what's the harm in going to her?"
   "That's all I was saying Axl. I've brought a little tin to trade for medicines."
   "Who wants these little pains? We all have them, and we'd all be rid of them if we could. By all means, let's go to this woman if she's here, and those guards let us pass."

The relationship between Axl and Beatrice is characterized by their steadfast loyalty and gentleness, yet complexities remain. If the mist of forgetfulness is lifted, will that bode well or ill for them? And what about mortality, must it be faced alone?

The Buried Giant is an atmospheric and immersive reading experience.

Readalikes set in historical early Britain: 7th-century - Hild (Nicola Griffith); 9th-century - The Edge on the Sword (Rebecca Tingle); 5th-century - The Skystone (Jack Whyte) and The Lantern Bearers (Rosemary Sutcliff). I'm not sure of the exact time period of Harvest (Jim Crace) - maybe 16th-century - but it has a similar clear and meditative style of prose. See also Sir Gawain and the Green Knight: A New Verse Translation by W.S. Merwin, and/or an amusing retelling of Sir Gawain's legend that is suitable for all ages - The Adventures of Sir Gawain the True (Gerald Morris).

The Night Gardener by Jonathan Auxier

The Night Gardener contains the most evil tree I've ever encountered in children's literature. J.K. Rowling's whomping willow, Tolkein's ents, Patrick Ness' yew in A Monster Calls, and Chris Grabenstein's oak in The Crossroads have nothing on the sourwood at the heart of Jonathan Auxier's cautionary tale. Even its dried leaves are scary!

Ever think it would be great to have your deepest desire fulfilled? Read this book and think twice!

Two Irish orphans are employed to serve a formerly-wealthy English family who live on a remote, creepy estate. The family is hiding a big secret. Mysterious things happen in the night. It's all dire warnings at the crossroads, disturbing dreams, black roots and ichor. Perfect for children in upper elementary school who love a scary story.

The Night Gardener comes in an attractive package and would make a good gift. The Canadian Puffin edition that I borrowed from the library has a metallic dust jacket, patterned endpapers (black leaves on grey), decorated chapter headings (more black leaves), and black edging on the outside edges of the pages. The three parts of the story (the classic gothic format) are separated by solid black pages. The book design does a great job of setting its ominous mood.

Readalikes: A Series of Unfortunate Events (Lemony Snicket); A Tale Dark and Grimm (Adam Gidwitz; Coraline (Neil Gaiman); and Into the Woods (Lyn Gardner).

The Daylight Gate by Jeanette Winterson

Black magic, graveyard robbing, and dungeons full of rats are not the reading subjects that come first to mind at this time of year, but who knows? A deal with the devil might be what we need to get spring underway here.

Jeanette Winterson's atmospheric take on the 17th-century witchcraft trials in Lancashire includes a lesbian romance gone wrong. The Daylight Gate is entertaining, stylish and deliciously spooky.

I'm off to make a winter poppet now, and then I'll stick some pins in it.

Dance, Gladys, Dance by Cassie Stocks

Cassie Stocks' Dance, Gladys, Dance is a funny and moving novel that reminded me of Where'd You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple.

When she was six, Frieda Zweig couldn't wait to start music lessons. Her elderly piano teacher hit Frieda's fingers with a ruler if she looked down at them while playing. "Thwack. I tried to learn, but fear froze my mind."

At 27, Frieda is still stuck. She quit art college and has no idea what to do with her life. All she knows is that she wants to be normal... if she could only figure out what that means.

When Frieda moves into shared accommodation in an old house in Winnipeg, she meets a ghost named Gladys. Normal must be just around the corner...

Stocks has a wonderfully slapstick sense of humour:

The third week into her job at The Wanton Warehouse porno shop, Frieda was given this "smidgen" of advice: "Your bustier is on backwards."
"She pointed at the ridiculous red satin top I'd chosen to wear.
'Oh, the top. I wondered how to get all those laces done up in the back. I had to get the bus driver to help me this morning.'"

When Frieda's landlord, Mr. H, is told of a legendary plant in the South Pacific islands whose scent is "supposed to create overwhelming sensations of serenity," he calls it "The flower of positive stinking."

I also enjoyed encountering pop culture references dating back to my childhood, like 'el kabong,' 'pining for the fjords,' and Winnie the Pooh.

"I felt more like Eeyore than Winnie the Pooh. Eeyore's slow grey voice sounded in the back of my head: 'We can't all and some of us don't. That's all there is.'

'Penny for your thoughts,' said Norman coming out the front door.

I turned. 'Inflation,' I said. 'Thoughts are two thousand bucks now.'"

Frieda's friend Norman tells her that Leonard Cohen and Eeyore sound a lot alike. "That same mournful tone; it's uncanny."

What's uncanny is how a ghost story dealing with mental illness and self-fulfillment can be so sweet, funny and uplifting. Dance, Gladys, Dance has a whole lot of soul.

William and the Lost Spirit by Gwen de Bonneval and Matthieu Bonhomme

William and the Lost Spirit is a graphic novel with the appeal of Arthurian legends and tales about the Knights Templar. It's an adventure quest set in the late medieval period, blended with mythology and mysticism. Created originally in French by writer Gwen de Bonneval and artist Matthieu Bonhomme, I read the English translation published by Graphic Universe.

William and Helise are grandchildren of the Count de Sonnac. Their father has died and their mother remarried to a man who abuses his feudal power. Meanwhile, Helise is convinced that their father is not dead. William goes in search of the truth, accompanied by a knight, a troubadour and a mysterious goat.  It's a great story that sits comfortably between historical fiction and fantasy. Grade 5 - adult.

Readalikes: Mouse Guard (David Petersen); and Bone (Jeff Smith).

The Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo

The Ghost Bride is an atmospheric debut novel by Malaysian-born Yangsze Choo.

Li Lan is a young woman in colonial Malaya who becomes entangled in the affairs of the spirit world when an evil ghost is determined to have her as his bride. The convoluted plot reminded me of a Cantonese opera that I attended in Singapore, but without the opera's farce. Li Lan is a plucky and sympathetic character, an innocent who learns quickly to beware those around her because few are who (or what) they seem.

One of the traditional stories that Li Lan has enjoyed since she was a child is about the cowherd and the weaver girl. A comics retelling of this tale can be found in the collection Once upon a Time Machine (Dark Horse): "The Shepherd and the Weaver Girl" is by Saajan Patel and Jim Giar.

Readalikes: Half World (Hiromi Goto); Stardust (Neil Gaiman); Tea with the Black Dragon (R.A. MacAvoy); and the supernatural elements in The Hundred Secret Senses (Amy Tan) and The Woman Warrior (Maxine Hong Kingston). The Ghost Bride also has a similar feel to Miyazaki's anime film, Spirited Away.

Visitation Street by Ivy Pochoda

June and Valerie were best friends, 15-year-olds on a lark who set off from the Brooklyn waterfront on a raft one sultry summer night. Only one survives, washing up unconscious under a pier. In Visitation Street, author Ivy Pochoda slowly untangles what happened, visiting the story from the viewpoint of multiple people in the girls' community and revealing additional secrets.

Flickers from other books came pleasantly to mind as I read Visitation Street, including:
the psychic women, switching viewpoints, and cross-ethnic romance in The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (Junot Diaz);
the shape of a community as seen from different angles in The Emperor of Paris (C.S. Richardson);
the tragedy of children involved in street gang violence in Yummy (Greg Neri and Randy DuBurke);
self-harm as a way of coping with grief, as well as the street artist saviour in Beneath a Meth Moon (Jacqueline Woodson);
the currents dangerous to swimmers where the East River opens into the bay, as experienced by two college students in one of the stories in A Visit from the Goon Squad (Jennifer Egan);
and the rundown dockside bar and the ghosts in Sailor Twain (Mark Seigel).

Visitation Street is a gritty and hopeful story about the power of human connections. I loved it.

Doll Bones by Holly Black

C.S. Lewis said, "A children's story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children's story in the slightest." Holly Black, coauthor of The Spiderwick Chronicles, has written the good kind of story. Doll Bones is a horror adventure for children in Grade 4 to 7 that can be appreciated by readers of any age.

Friends Poppy, Zach and Alice have been having such a good time creating ongoing fantasy scenarios that they are reluctant to stop, even now that they are twelve and too old to still be playing pretend games with toys.

A creepy porcelain doll is at the center of their final quest. The doll that comes alive is not as scary as Chucky from the movie Child's Play, but she is still pretty spooky. Poppy has seen a particular spot in a dream:

"We look for a willow tree," said Poppy. "You know, one of the ones with the long branches and the leaves that hang down."
"A weeping willow?" Zach put in.
Poppy nodded. "I think so, but I think regular willows have leaves that hang down too, just not as far."
"Okay," Alice said. "Depressed-looking trees. Got it. If it seems droopy and miserable at all, I'm calling you to confirm its willowy status."

The three get help from a pink-haired librarian who wears yellow shoes with bows on them. (I love encountering librarian heroes!)

Doll Bones would make an exciting family read-aloud. Ethical issues that arise could fuel further discussion. An example is Zach's father's behaviour, when he throws away some precious things belonging to Zach, then later explains: "I thought you needed to be tougher. But I've been thinking that protecting somebody by hurting them before someone else gets the chance isn't the kind of protecting that anybody wants." Serendipitously, the same sentiment was expressed in the audiobook I was listening to at the time: His Illegal Self (Peter Carey), and in the ebook memoir I had on the go: A Queer and Pleasant Danger (Kate Bornstein).

Readalikes for Doll Bones: The Crossroads (Chris Grabenstein); Amy's Eyes (Richard Kennedy); and Wait Till Helen Comes (Mary Downing Hahn).

The Summer We Got Free by Mia McKenzie

A stranger comes to town and then all kinds of secrets come bubbling to the surface in Mia McKenzie's Lambda award-winning The Summer We Got Free.

The Delaney family has lived in the same house on Radnor Street in west Philadelphia for decades. In 1950, George and Regina Delaney, 6-year-old Sarah, and 4-year-old twins, Ava and Geo, were immediately welcomed into the church on their block from the first day in the neighbourhood. Something major happened after that. By 1976 the Delaneys are shunned by everyone and the grown daughters still live at home. The story shifts back and forth between the 50s and the mid-70s.

Helena, the long-lost sister of Ava's husband Paul, arrives at the Delaney house unexpectedly.

"When Helena crossed the threshold into the house, Ava felt the temperature rise. The chill that had held in the corners since the previous night's rain, that had penetrated the wood floors and clung to the gray-red wallpaper like an invisible frost, melted away in a moment. Ava felt it instantly, a sudden warming on her skin, as if she had just left the shade and was out into the sun on a hot day."

When Ava was a girl, there was something about her that enchanted other people. She was a gifted artist from a young age, and she was wild and fearless. Her unfetteredness was peculiar and yet appealing:

"Up close, the good feelings Ava inspired had been doubled, tripled in some cases. Grace Kellogg found that the little girl's laugh somehow reminded her of the pajamas she had worn as a child -- thick, feet-in pajamas that had kept her warm in the drafty house her family had lived in for many years. Looking into Ava's eyes, Jane Lucas remembered the smile of her love, her young husband, who had died in the war. When Ava tripped and fell over the edge of the rug while running by at full speed, Chuck Ellis lifted her up and in that moment he was sure he smelled morning, though it was six in the evening at the time."

In 1976, Ava is a hollow husk. A line from one of Mary Oliver's poems made me think of Ava:

"sometimes a person just has to break out and act like the wild and springy thing one used to be. It's impossible not to remember wild and want it back." (From Green, Green Is My Sister's Home in A Thousand Mornings.)

Once Ava starts remembering, it can't be stopped. Everyone in her family seems to shake off the spell they've been under. It's a wonderful thing to witness. Ghosts, secret gay and lesbian lives, and unsolved murders are all part of this intriguing story about stepping into our true selves. I loved it.

The smart and scrappy Mia McKenzie has created an activist blog Black Girl Dangerous. Check it out.

Sailor Twain by Mark Siegel

Mark Siegel's Sailor Twain or, The Mermaid in the Hudson is a haunting graphic novel for adults set in the 19th century. Elijah Twain captains the Lorelei, a steamboat owned by the Lafayette brothers. One of the brothers disappears under mysterious circumstances, and the other undertakes the simultaneous seduction of several women on board ship. Meanwhile, Captain Twain becomes embroiled in a fateful chain of events when he rescues an injured mermaid.

Ancient curses, star-crossed lovers and dangerous secrets all play a part in this unusual tale with a fascinating cast of characters. Siegel's moody charcoal drawings are gorgeous too.

Readalike: Set to Sea (Drew Weing); The Brides of Rollrock Island (Margo Lanagan).

Snake Ropes by Jess Richards

Longlisted for the Green Carnation prize, which is open to GLBT authors worldwide, Snake Ropes is Jess Richards' debut novel. A matriarchal society of about 150 people subsists on a remote island and holds its secrets close. The only outside contact is through mysterious traders who come once per month. Richards has created a quirky world where ghosts converse with the living and a Thrashing House is used to mete out punishment. Selkies search for their skins. Ropes bite with the venom of snakes.

The narration alternates between two 18-year-olds, Mary and Morgan. One steals keys and the other is locked up, so of course they will help each other. I was immediately drawn in by Mary's voice in the opening lines:

"The tall men in boats are coming. I see them through the window, close to the beach. My little brother is sat on my lap. Him puts hims hands on the table, leans round and looks up at me. Hims brown eyes have my reflection inside.

I smile at him, stroke the curls on the back of hims head where them need a wash. I say, 'Sorry Barney. I've got to get you hid, them're coming.'"

Boys have been disappearing from the island.

On the other side of the island, the eldest of three daughters chafes at being locked up for her own safety:

“I know from all the storybooks that wicked stepmothers are to be avoided if you wish to remain good or pure or ignorant. I really want one.”

Morgan has books for company, but they no longer sustain her. 

“I’ve been dancing in ashes for a hundred years with a frog that has turned from me, kissed a prince and become a toad. I’m meant to have been a much loved daughter made from snow but my parents used icing sugar so I can’t melt and leave them thinking I was always perfect.” (I was delighted to see this reference to the same folk tale that inspired Ivey's The Snow Child.)

Even though it's a Green Carnation book, Snake Ropes has no overt queer content. Look for lesbian subtext between the lines. An older woman advises one young woman to look after another, stressing mutuality. “Not have one care more than the other, but both have to care just enough. Be yourself first.” 

Jess Richards appears to have followed that final bit of advice in creating this unique and enchanting fantasy. I loved it.

Heaven is Small by Emily Schultz

If there is such a thing as warm-hearted satire, then that is the category for Canadian author Emily Schultz's quirky novel, Heaven is Small. The opening sentences reveal that readers are in for a treat:

"Moments after his death, an event he had failed to notice, Gordon Small sought new employment.
Welcome to Heaven. If you know the extension you wish to reach, enter it now."

Heaven, as experienced by newly-deceased Gordon, is more like purgatory. It's a publishing house specializing in trashy romance novels. Gordon, a failed fiction writer, gets a job in the editorial department.

Office politics in the afterlife... I loved it.

Readalikes: Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris.

A Greyhound of a Girl by Roddy Doyle

Language and character are the two doorways into Roddy Doyle's A Greyhound of a Girl. Mary is twelve, as cheeky as can be. Her mother, Scarlett, speaks in exclamations. Emer, Mary's grandmother, is close to death in hospital, but still cracking jokes. Mary's great-grandmother, Tansey, has decided to show up... even though she died when Emer was a wee girl. The older three are as tall and lean as greyhounds, and Mary shares the family resemblance. They embark on a road trip that is both literal and figurative, strengthening connections across generations.

The viewpoint shifts between the four. Tansey as a young wife lived in a farmhouse with a traditional thatched roof. "There were mice up in that thatch that had never seen the light of day. One of them fell onto Tansey's lap one night, and her sitting at the fire, trying to see the hole in a sock that she was darning. A tiny little lad, but all the same, it gave her a great big fright. The scream was out of her before she could call it back."

Tansey is a hoot, but my favourite is Mary. When she wants to show her anger but can't get a door to slam properly, she yells out the word "SLAM!" She visited her granny in hospital daily, even though the place frightened her. "Even the name, Sacred Heart Hospital, scared her a bit. The Sacred Heart, people called it. She's in the Sacred Heart. Mary imagined a huge bloody heart with a squelchy door that you had to squeeze through, and blood dripping from the ceiling."

The story is set in Dublin and on a farm near Enniscorthy. Funny that I'd never heard of Enniscorthy until recently, in Colm Toibin's Brooklyn. The Amulet Books edition of A Greyhound of a Girl has helpful maps on the endpapers.

A Greyhound of a Girl is a nonspooky ghost story about family relationships. The dialogue makes it especially attractive for an all-ages read-aloud.

One Soul by Ray Fawkes

In One Soul, Canadian comics artist Ray Fawkes chronicles the lives of 18 people, all of them born in different eras and in different parts of the world. Each double-page spread has 18 black-and-white panels, and each panel follows one person from babyhood until death. Fawkes uses the crown chakra to represent the soul at significant moments, and echoes this image in other panels with a shock of hair, a hair ornament or some other focus on the forehead. After death, that person's panel goes black. The afterlife or soul continues with occasional white text in these dark panels.

The story lines include a baby left in a basket at the door of a church, a child born into slavery, and the rags-to-riches adventures of a lucky man. There is a gay shepherd in a primitive time and place, while the most contemporary setting follows a lesbian drug addict.

You can flip through the book and focus on any one of these stories at a time. What is most powerful, however, is reading all 18 stories at the same time, as they are presented on the page. They form one multilayered portrait emphasizing the common aspects of human existence. Love, kindness, religious faith of all kinds, greed, cruelty, redemption... all of it. This is a magnificent book.