book review

BookBin2011: Escape from “Special”

~ lobablanca

I feel as though I am already turning against a newly acquired friend before our relationship has even had a chance to take root.

Oh well.

I very much wanted to like Miss Lasko-Gross’s graphic novel Escape from “Special.” I was instantly convinced to check it out from the library after reading the following line from the description:

Subjected to the whims of her bemused parents and, as the years pass, rejected by her peers, the opinionated Melissa copes by watching horror movies, psychosomatically vomiting to get out of temple, and making comics.

This is a girl to whom I can relate (minus the psychosomatic vomitting part…that’s kind of…no). Lasko-Gross offers readers a semi-autobiographical telling of protagonist Melissa’s development from off-center child to ostracized-and-unconcerned-about-it adolescent. She presents Melissa’s story through surrealistically drawn vignettes that lack any form of “prettification.” The artwork is rough and the writing is coarse. Then again, so is the subject matter. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: There isn’t enough money in the world to convince me to relive my adolescence. It was awkward and uncomfortable and strange and, while I wouldn’t change any of it since it turned me into the Wonder Geek I am today, I definitely wouldn’t want to go through it again.

That’s kind of what it felt like at times when reading this graphic novel, which left me feeling decidedly displeased. At other times, it felt like I was witnessing something completely removed from anything my brain could properly process. Melissa’s attempt to create a protective second skin out of her own snot is one of the more outlandish moments. It was also one of the moments that left me rolling my eyes in such a cartoonish way that I’m sure they made clickety noises that others could hear.

The bottom line is that I think I’m well beyond the target age for this particular graphic novel. I think it’s something that someone closer to the age of the protagonist could better relate to; I’m old and clickety in places other than my rolling eyes. Would I recommend this as reading for a high schooler? I think it definitely has redeeming qualities for someone in that age bracket who was feeling marginalized by their peers and looking for someone to whom they could relate. So, yes. Yes, I would.

Would I recommend it for someone beyond the high school wasteland? Probably not. As I mentioned in my last review, there is definitely not a dearth of graphic novel memoirs out there to be enjoyed, so spending time on one like this when there are several other better ones to experience? No, I’d not choose this one over those others. Right off the top of my head, I’d name Alison Bechdel’s Fun House as a holistically superior coming-of-age tale.

Final Verdict: Add another graphic novel to the return pile.

BookBin2011: The Alcoholic

~ LobaBlanca

One of the most fascinating things that I have discovered about the graphic novel is how many depict writers’ attempts to plumb the depths of their (or their families’) souls in poignant and uncomfortable ways. Uncomfortable for them. Uncomfortable for us. Sometimes, the best literature is the kind that leaves us feeling unsettled afterward.

When it leaves you feeling somewhat apathetic, that’s either a sign that you haven’t done something correctly…or that your audience reads too many disturbing memoirs.

I think Jonathan Ames’s The Alcoholic falls mostly into this latter category. I’ve read several graphic novel memoirs of darkly revelatory natures. I’ve also read several regular memoirs that deal with similar issues and vices as those of Ames’s protagonist (admittedly, though, Ames is the first one to feature an “octogenarian dwarf” in his storyline). Ames falls somewhere in the middle of these previous reads. His story about his submersion into alcohol and drugs is compelling, his writing style is engaging, and the accompanying artwork by illustrator Dean Haspiel is clean and sometimes clever. However, I think the cover art is the most appealing design work from this book. I love the components of the bar scene used in such a tantalizing tableau.

I don’t mean to come across as so dismissive of Ames’s novel. If you aren’t like me and make a habit of picking up similar works on a regular basis, you might find this to be a provocative memoir. Ames is honest and oftentimes quite funny in that self-deprecating way mastered by the damaged. The ending is patently predictable, but that can be forgiven in light of a solidly and entertainingly told story preceding it.

Final Verdict: Again, it was an interesting diversion, but not something that I foresee purchasing for my library.

BookBin2011: A Sickness in the Family

~ lobablanca

Our beautiful library’s graphic novel section just keeps getting better and better each time I visit. It’s a ploy, denizens. They know what to do to foil my desperate attempts to read only books from my own library. If only I was strong enough to resist the clarion call of all those beautiful books, just waiting to be mine, if only for a little while…

During this recent trip, I tried to limit myself solely to the graphic novel section. These are always faster reads, which means that I can quickly get back to whatever non-pictorial literature I was reading before the latest graphic divergence. Also, I’ve really enjoyed the graphic novel discoveries that I have made this year. There’s something so uninhibited about this particular medium of storytelling. Plus, there’s the doubled delight when you discover a brilliant story depicted by an incomparable artist (see Blacksad, which remains one of my favorite BookBin2011 reads).

I ended up leaving with five books from this section (and two from the nearby short story section, but we’ll get to the them when the time is right). First to be cracked open? Vertigo Crime’s A Sickness in the Family.

Written by crime novelist Denise Mina, this is the tightly wound tale of a family that moves at Mach-5 speed from the realm of marginally dysfunctional to irrefutably broken. Of course, being a crime comic, the end result of this damaging downgrade is death of diabolical proportions.

The Usher family finds their numbers dwindling a notch at a time after the father opts to purchase the downstairs apartment so he can increase the size of the family home. Of course, the downstairs came to him for a song after its previous tenants killed each other in a gruesome holiday-fueled domestic disturbance.

Is the ill will that’s now befalling the Ushers the remnants of a curse that haunts the land on which their home is built? Or is something far less spectral…and far more sinister that is causing the Fall of the House of Usher?

Ah. I was waiting this whole time to squeeze that one in. Edgar Allan Poe, FTW.

Artwork by Antonio Fuso is clean and concise, but not really much to write home about. Fuso’s done a lot of illustration for G.I. Joe comics. Let that be whatever you wish it to be.

Final Verdict: Interesting side trip of a read, but not a book that I feel I need to add to my library any time soon.

BookBin2011: The Girl Who Played With Fire

~ LobaBlanca

I do believe this is a first for my BookBin entries, denizens: This is the first book I’m refusing to finish.

I didn’t even refuse to finish Stranger in a Strange Land, even though Heinlein’s unapologetic misogyny and startling lack of enlightenment made me want to crotch punch him.

I didn’t even refuse to finish Twilight! And anyone who knows anything at all about me knows that I want someone to suffer for the scourge of the Twilight saga. Someone Mormon.

But I just can’t finish this one, denizens. I made it halfway through The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson’s sequel to The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, and I reached yet another mention of the “impromptu” tattoo that Lisbeth Salander gave her advocate…and I realized, I just don’t want to know anymore about this world that these characters inhabit. It’s an ugly, brutal world and its primary targets are women.

You know what? I already know how dangerous the world is for women. In fact, I daresay there aren’t very many women out there who need to be reminded of all the potential dangers waiting out there for us. Therefore, I don’t need to have this fact hammered into my head (in oftentimes highly disturbing ways) by the likes of Larsson’s novels.

I already spoke my thoughts on his goals for his Millennium series in my review of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. They remain strongly in place. Do I think that there are people out there who might not understand the truths that Larsson was trying to convey with his books? Yes. They’re called men.

I’m not trying to be sexist or flippant with that statement. I have found, however, that men often do not understand why women seem so paranoid or skittish when they are in certain situations. I’m reminded of one of the “death” openings from the series Six Feet Under (which I still think is one of the most brilliant things to come out of Hollywood in many moons).

Each episode began with someone’s death. This particular episode started with a young woman walking alone down a dark street when suddenly she finds herself being followed by a group of men. They start verbally harassing her and when she begins to walk away faster, they take chase. The woman breaks into a full run, heading straight into the middle of the street where she’s hit by a car and killed.

Turns out the guys who were chasing her were her friends. They thought they were being funny. They didn’t understand why what they were doing would in any way be frightening enough to cause their friend to run out into traffic just to get away from them. They weren’t being intentionally malicious. They were just sadly clueless.

Sorry for spoiling that opening for you, but that’s the first thing that came to mind when I was trying to understand why Larsson would feel so compelled to write these descriptively violent books. As obvious as the existence of these things are to women, they apparently remain a mystery to many men. Perhaps something good could come from these readers wrapping their brains around these stories.

Of course, the jaded, pessimistic side of me says that all these books will really be is titillation for explicitly dark-minded souls.

Whatever they may be to others, they are no more for me.

Final Verdict: Library book, so it goes back tomorrow. As much as I do still like the character of Lisbeth Salander, I just don’t want to read anymore from this series. Also, I am now no longer “unsure” about the future of my copy of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I have already moved it to the donation box.

BookBin2011: It Could Be Worse, You Could Be Me

~ lobablanca

Behold the wonder of teh Interwebz, denizens. Earlier this year, one of my amazing British ImagiFriendsTM suggested that I might like It Could Be Worse, You Could Be Me, a collection of journalist Ariel Leve’s essays that appeared in her Sunday Times’ column, “Cassandra.”

I’ve trusted his recommendation before (for a book that has already appeared in my BookBin adventures), so I happily added Leve’s book to my wishlist…where my lovely friend Z saw it and selected it as a birthday present for me this year.

Oh, the awesome power of teh Interwebz!

So let me show you the lines that made me fall madly in love with this book and know with all certainty that I was going to keep it:

I can’t imagine a life without coffee. The way some people can’t imagine a life without children.

This is the kind of line that only a deliciously warped person could write. Leve fits this description perfectly. Of course, I already suspected that she would; anyone who would name her column after (I’m assuming) the tragic figure Cassandra of Greek mythology, she who could predict the future with unflinching accuracy, but who was cursed by Apollo himself so that no one would ever believe her…well, she’s going to be my cup of tea, indeed.

I will say this: The book is a bit much to consume in one sitting (which I practically did while flying cross-country last week to San Francisco [more to come on that]). There’s a certain degree of repetitiveness as well as an overwhelming pessimism when you read all these essays in one massive chunk. They definitely have more appeal in smaller, weekly doses.

That, however, simply means that this is the perfect book to pull off the shelf and peruse on those dark days when you just feel like staying on the couch in your jammies (I believe Leve would call those moments “days that end in y”). Actually, though, I suspect that Leve uses her journalistic endeavors, such as “Cassandra,” as her own personal Portrait of Dorian Gray-esque venting outlets. I bet she’s quite upbeat and lively in real life. Maybe?

Final Verdict: Definitely a keeper. I’m delighted to have a literary-minded ImagiFriendTM who knows me so well as to recommend such a perfectly suited collection for me. Of course, it does worry me that Leve’s rather pessimistic outlook reminded him of me…

BookBin2011: Reach for the Summit

~ LobaBlanca

See? I did warn you in my last review that I’d finally gotten my hands on a copy of Coach Summitt’s first book, didn’t I? Okay then.

Reach for the Summit is pretty much equal parts business-minded motivational pep talkery, behind-the-scenes glimpses of Summitt’s coaching style, the extensive work and research that goes into each Lady Vol basketball season, and autobiographical side trips along the way. I think I liked the autobiographical tangents the most. Summitt is extraordinarily interesting, not just as a coach but as a person (although I suppose one could argue that one feeds into the other feeds into the other). I think, however, that this might be the closest thing we will ever get from her to an actual autobiography. She doesn’t strike me as the type of person who would willingly participate in just talking about herself.

However, for the purposes of this book, she was willing to allow readers in to see those private sides of herself as a means of understanding the “Definite Dozen System” that she uses with her players and staff and that she and co-writer Sally Jenkins outline as a course of action for those looking to be motivated and inspired in whatever they are doing in life.

I’m not really a touchy-feely, motivational speaker, “Just Hang In There” poster kind of girl. Luckily, neither is Summitt. She is fierce. But with the most successful record of any NCAA coach? She also obviously knows what she’s doing and what she’s talking about. And what she’s defining through this book isn’t some miracle elixir program. She outlines hard work, focus, practice, preparation, and a willingness to change and to also admit when you’re wrong.

But never to readily admit defeat. I don’t really think that’s a word that gets much use in her vocabulary.

I’m not going to tell you what the “Definite Dozen System” includes, because I actually think that this book is worth the read. I even found it to be (gasp!) motivational. And, seriously, denizens, I hate motivational books.

Final Verdict: Keeper. Right next to my copy of Raise the Roof. Woots.

BookBin2011: Raise the Roof

~ LobaBlanca

Bit of a nostalgia break this time, denizens. I read Coach Pat Summitt’s book, Raise the Roof, back around when it was first published. I was a student at the University of Maryland at the time, which meant that my transformation into the anti-sports crusader I am today was nearly complete (nothing will turn you against sports, especially college sports, quite like watching the free rides and preferential treatment the athletes receive from some colleges while you struggle to hold onto academic-based grants barely large enough to cover each semester’s book fees).

Still, there was something about Coach Summitt and her Lady Vols that kept me hanging on just a little while longer. I already knew Summitt’s style was anything but the “free ride” variety (one of the many reasons why I continue to respect her). She demands excellence from her players both on the court and in the classroom. You play for Summitt, you go to every class, you sit in the first three rows, you earn high grades, you graduate. Period. I’d seen the HBO documentary, A Cinderella Season: The Lady Vols Fight Back, which followed the UT team through a record-setting low season that ended with them pulling out of their nose dive in time to clinch a second NCAA championship win in a row. Some might think a win is a win is a win. Not Coach Summitt. She refused to have that year’s 29-10 record engraved on their championship rings.

And then the 97-98 season began. Win. Win. Win. Win.

Win.

All the way to very last championship game.

Nothing. But. Win.

You bet your ass Coach Summitt had that record engraved on her team’s rings. Third NCAA championship win in a row, this time with a perfect 39-0 record, with the point differential between teams averaging 30 points in favor of UT. This was one of the finest seasons ever played by an NCAA team, all done with determination, strength, finesse, fire, and quite possibly one of the greatest line-up of players that has ever been brought together to play the game.

Raise the Roof is their story.

Summitt’s Lady Vols that season consisted of only one senior, Laurie Mulligan. The rest were juniors, sophomores, and four of the most audacious freshmen imaginable: Tamika Catchings, Kristen, “Ace” Clement, Teresa “Tree” Geter, and Semeka Randall. Not to be outdone by this foursome, Summitt also had in her pocket two powerhouse juniors: Chamique Holdsclaw and Kellie Jolly.

Holdsclaw will go down in the history books as one of the greatest basketball players to ever run the boards. She is the fifth highest scoring player in NCAA Division I women’s basketball, a first-round pick for the Washington Mystics upon her graduation from UT, and an Olympic gold medalist.

Jolly (now Kellie Harper) spent a year with the Cleveland Rockers right after her graduation and is now the head coach of the N.C. State Lady Wolfpack, obviously a Loba-approved team.

In Raise the Roof, Summitt tells the story of this team’s season-long coalescence, which began even before practices did, during an impromptu pick-up game upon the freshmen’s arrival on campus. I don’t read a lot of sports-related books for obvious reasons, so I don’t have a frame of comparison for this book. I can tell you, however, that Summitt and sports writer Sally Jenkins came together to tell an amazing story. They showcase both the frenetic energy of this team as well as the poetry and passion of the games being described.

I’ve always thought that a top-notch squad of players can rival the beauty and choreography of a ballet when they’re out there on the floor. Summitt and Jenkins capture this essence perfectly, along with insightful character profiles for each of the players and the struggles and successes that brought them together for this perfect team and this perfect season.

Even if you aren’t a sports fan, there is something so inspiring about these hard-scrabble young women and the iron-willed coach who led them to record-breaking victory. Plus, Summitt and Jenkins combined their skills to tell a captivating and eloquent tale that even the sports-disinterested might find enjoyable. I remember loving this book the first time I read it, and I might have loved it even more this time. Don’t think this means I’m going to start watching sports. But even I can recognize that sometimes, some teams transcend the boundaries of all that is negative about sports and elevate themselves to a positive playing level all their own.

Final Verdict: I’m so glad that I’ve finally added this book to my library. I’m just sorry that it was Summitt’s recent upsetting health news that reminded me that it was still missing. Oh, and if you’re wondering, I also recently added Summitt’s book Reach for the Summit to my library as well. I thought that I had read this one, too, around the time I first read Raise the Roof. I was wrong. I’m currently rectifying that. You have been warned…

BookBin2011: SexyChix

~ LobaBlanca

I actually finished this comic anthology a little while ago. Is it a reflection of my opinion of this collection that it then completely fell off my reviewing radar?

Yes.

True, I did get a bit…excited by the arrival of my last BookBin entry and pretty much everything else fell off my radar. But, seriously, can you blame me? I thought not.

Anyway, it wasn’t until I saw SexyChix sitting atop a pile of books that were waiting for me to either find space for them on my shelves or to donate them that I remembered, hey! I read that! Can I remember anything else about it?

Kinda sorta. I do remember a few high points. I also remember a few WTF points. However, there is a desert of meh resting between those two summits of emotional response that is probably more damning than anything else.

It’s a shame, really. First, this was the other purchase I made from that really groovy used book store we found while in Toronto, so technically I could claim to have traveled a great distance for this collection. Second, I like being supportive of my gender, especially when I’m supporting the activities of said gender in a forum that is typically male-dominated (such as the comics industry).

That being said, “supporting my gender” cannot be the only thing going in favor of any product. I feel, however, that that’s really the only thing that’s even remotely consistent about this collection. It’s also the major thing making me feel slightly guilty about giving it such an unsupportive review.

Then again, I pride myself in being an equal opportunity whiny hater.

SexyChix is an unfocused mash-up of styles, stories, and skills, the end result of which is discordant and disappointing. Were these short stories only, perhaps the range of plots and topics wouldn’t be so jarring. However, the wildly divergent artistic approaches and talents create a constant visual reminder that this is not a cohesive collection at all. It’s the literary equivalent of a dogsled team in which there are a few very strong, very fast dogs pulling along several dead dogs.

Yeah, I went for the disturbing visual just then. Is it any wonder I hate the Iditarod?

As I said earlier, there were a few bright spots, whether they were for exemplary writing or entrancing artwork. Are these enough to convince me to hang on to this collection?

I want to say yes. I really, really do.

But I can’t.

Final Verdict: Be gone to disappoint someone else.