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Showing posts with label The Immigrant Experience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Immigrant Experience. Show all posts
Monday, April 11, 2022
Effective, But Misleading Marketing + Long, Plotless Story = Dull, Disappointing Read
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Generally, I write my own plot summaries for the books I review. I'm going to make an exception in this case, though, in order to make a point. Here's the back cover blurb for The Edge of Lost by Kristina McMorris:
On a cold night in October 1937, searchlights cut through the darkness around Alcatraz. A prison guard’s only daughter—one of the youngest civilians who lives on the island—has gone missing. Tending the warden’s greenhouse, convicted bank robber Tommy Capello waits anxiously. Only he knows the truth about the little girl’s whereabouts, and that both of their lives depend on the search’s outcome.
Almost two decades earlier and thousands of miles away, a young boy named Shanley Keagan ekes out a living as an aspiring vaudevillian in Dublin pubs. Talented and shrewd, Shan dreams of shedding his dingy existence and finding his real father in America. The chance finally comes to cross the Atlantic, but when tragedy strikes, Shan must summon all his ingenuity to forge a new life in a volatile and foreign world.
Skilfully weaving these two stories, Kristina McMorris delivers a compelling novel that moves from Ireland to New York to San Francisco Bay. As her finely crafted characters discover the true nature of loyalty, sacrifice, and betrayal, they are forced to confront the lies we tell—and believe—in order to survive.
That first paragraph really pops, doesn't it? It's exciting, it's intriguing, it's compelling. It's pretty much irresistible if you're a historical fiction lover who's fascinated by Alcatraz. Between that opener and the novel's glossy prison-themed cover, I didn't stand a chance. I eagerly snatched up a copy of The Edge of Lost, threw my money at the cashier, and rushed home to read. Imagine my surprise when the story turned out to have very little to do with the prison. It's only in the last 100 pages or so that Alcatraz even comes into play! Needless to say, I felt ripped off by the publisher's clever but misleading marketing tactics. Yes, the most interesting part of this novel does take place at Alcatraz, but that's only at the end and the rest of the book drags and drags without much action or plot until it finally gets there. Had I known this, I would not have bothered with this novel at all.
That being said, the book does feature a cast of warm, likable characters. None of them are super fresh or original, but they are the kind of story people to whom you want good things to happen. I became invested in Shan Keagan/Tommy Capello's plight, although my interest definitely waned the more his story went on (and on and on). After a very far-fetched finale, he does get a somewhat happy ending, although it didn't feel completely satisfying to me.
Overall, then, this book was a pretty meh read for me. Not only was I disappointed by the misleading marketing, but I also found the story overly long and mostly plotless. I did continue to read until the last page (even though I couldn't stop counting the remaining pages because the novel seemed endless), so I guess that means something. I just wish McMorris had focused on the most interesting part of the story (Alcatraz) and built a tighter, more exciting/suspenseful plot around that.
(Readalikes: If you're interested in reading more about civilian life on Alcatraz, definitely check out Gennifer Choldenko's middle-grade Al Capone series. It's excellent.)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language (no F-bombs), violence, blood/gore, and mild sexual content
To the FTC, with love: I bought a copy of The Edge of Lost with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Mystery/Courtroom Drama Intriguing, But Still Just an Okay Read for Me
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Not everyone is on board with the idea of hyperbaric oxygen therapy (HBOT), but that's the business Pak and Young Yoo run out of their garage. Using a submarine-like chamber, the Korean immigrants offer the treatment to patients suffering from everything from infertility to cerebral palsy to autism. While some tout the miraculous healing power of pressurized oxygen, others are skeptical, while still others will stop at nothing to get the Yoos' operation shut down. When their "Miracle Submarine" explodes, killing two people and leaving Pak paralyzed, the Yoos become the center of a fierce legal battle to determine who was at fault.
As the trial progresses, revealing ugly secrets about everyone involved, it provides more questions than answers. How did the explosion happen? Was it an accident or the result of the Yoos' negligence? Did someone purposely rig the submarine to explode? If so, who? And why? Did the Yoos do it in order to collect the insurance money needed to send their daughter to college? Were the protestors on-site that day desperate enough to risk people's lives to prove their point? Or was it Elizabeth Ward, the exhausted mother of a little boy with too many problems, trying to put them both out of their misery? At the heart of the matter is one very big question: How far will parents go to save their children? When the truth finally comes out, it will shock everyone, changing lives forever.
Miracle Creek, a debut by Angie Kim, is an absorbing novel that examines some very intriguing questions. It's depressing as can be, but also compelling and thought-provoking. Most of the characters are empathetic if not exactly likable; it's their stories that really bring the novel to life. Parents, especially those of children with disabilities, will identify with characters like Elizabeth Ward, Teresa Santiago, and Kitt Kozlowski—all of whom are fervently seeking ways to deal with kids with severe challenges. Readers may not agree with their individual choices, but they can at least understand the motivations that propel them. In the end, while I found Miracle Creek engrossing and its storyline interesting, it turned out to be just an okay read for me. I liked it, didn't love it.
(Readalikes: Reminds me of novels by Celeste Ng)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for strong language, violence, blood/gore, sexual content, and disturbing subject matter
To the FTC, with love: I bought a copy of Miracle Creek from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Saturday, December 29, 2018
Far-Fetched Front Desk Still An Appealing, Empowering Story for Kids
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
When 10-year-old Mia Tang arrives in Anaheim, California, her head is filled with the same visions as any other kid—screaming happily on a roller coaster at Disneyland, splashing in the cool water of a hotel pool, and basking in the brilliant sunshine, warm and content. That's not exactly what she gets when she lands at the Calivista Hotel. For starters, she's not a guest. She's living there because the room comes with her parents' housekeeping/hotel management jobs. Also, the mean owner has banned employees from using the pool. As for Anaheim being a happy, joyous place? Apparently, that doesn't apply to Chinese immigrants whose English needs a little help. Anaheim might be the setting for other people's dream vacations, but it's not turning out so dreamy for Mia.
Then, Mia starts working the front desk when her parents are too busy to manage that and room cleaning. Suddenly, she has a purpose. As she organizes the office, takes care of guests, and gets to know the hotel's permanent residents, Mia's gloom starts to dissipate. She still has to deal with the greedy, dishonest hotel owner and his snooty son; worry over her parents' secret hiding of illegal immigrants; and deal with demanding guests; but at least she has a purpose. Will her growing skills be enough to help her family survive in a hostile new environment? Will she be able to keep the Calivista Hotel running? Or will the Tangs be forced to start over once again or, worse, turned over to the authorities?
Inspired by her own experience working at a California hotel with her immigrant parents, Kelly Yang's Front Desk is a bright, engaging book about using your talents to help people. It's got plenty going on to keep readers engaged and wondering how everything is going to turn out. While I enjoyed the story overall, I had trouble believing a 10-year-old would be giving as much responsibility as Mia had or that adult guests would trust a child with handling money, fielding complaints, and dealing with check-in/check-out. I realize that Yang was an exceptionally bright 10-year-old (she entered college at 13, started Harvard Law School at 17, and graduated at 20), but still ... Mia talked and acted like no 10-year-old I've ever known. That major suspension of disbelief tainted the book for me. Still, Front Desk is an appealing story that young readers will find entertaining and empowering. I didn't love it, but that's okay.
(Readalikes: Reminds me of other MG books about immigrant families trying to find their way in America, although no specific titles are coming to mind.)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for violence and scenes of peril
To the FTC, with love: I borrowed a copy of Front Desk from the library at my child's elementary school.
Wednesday, October 03, 2018
Immigrant Tale Poignant, Thoughtful
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
"We're the unknown Americans, the ones no one even wants to know, because they've been told they're supposed to be scared of us and because maybe if they did take the time to get to know us, they might realize that we're not that bad, maybe even that we're a lot like them. And who would they hate then?" (237)
After falling off a ladder in her native Mexico, 15-year-old Maribel Rivera is left with a traumatic brain injury that changes everything for her and her family. Desperate to get their daughter the medical care she needs, the Riveras start driving across the border. They end up in Delaware, where Arturo finds work at a nearby mushroom farm and Alma tries to make sense of a new language and culture. When beautiful, vulnerable Maribel catches the eye of Mayor Toro—a bullied Panamanian-American high schooler who lives in their apartment building—the Riveras worry about their budding romance. Mayor only wants to prove to their parents that his intentions toward Maribel are honorable, but when he unwittingly causes a panic in their neighborhood, Mayor sets in motion a chain of events that will have terrible, tragic consequences.
The Book of Unknown Americans, a slim but poignant novel by Cristina Henriquez, takes a sharp and affecting look at what it means to be an immigrant in The United States. While it doesn't offer a lot in the way of plot, the story features strong prose, interesting characters, and enough conflict to keep the tale chugging along. While the novel is definitely thought-provoking, it's also sad and depressing. Overall, I didn't love The Book of Unknown Americans. I didn't dislike it either. In the end, I just feel ambivalent about what turned out to be only a so-so read.
(Readalikes: Hm, I can't think of anything. Can you?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for strong language, violence, and sexual content
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
Gripping YA Novel Brings Historic Workplace Tragedy to Vivid, Mesmerizing Life
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Until 9/11, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire had the dubious distinction of being the worst workplace disaster in New York City's history. And yet, I knew little about it. Uprising, Margaret Peterson Haddix's excellent novel about the incident, changed that. The affecting tale puts a very human face on the fire—its causes, its effects, and the disastrous toll it took on the city's most vulnerable citizens. It's a fascinating story based on horrifying true events.
Uprising features three very different young women: Bella Rossetti, a starry-eyed Italian immigrant whose dreams of a shiny new American life are quickly being shattered by the grimy reality; Yetta, a 14-year-old Jew from Russia, who attends union meetings in an attempt to create a better working environment for her and the other girls at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory; and Jane Wellington, a bored society girl who seeks illicit excitement at the front of the picket line, only to find herself sucked into a cause that will change her forever. The fates of the three intertwine in the days leading up to the tragedy.
On March 25, 1911, Bella, Yetta, and Jane are all inside the Asch Building when fire breaks out in its upper floors. Through their eyes, we see the panic that ensued. Workers, who were regularly locked inside the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory to prevent theft, struggled to get out of the burning building. With bulky sewing equipment to dodge, one fire escape for the whole structure, and few other safety features, it was a death trap. The blaze spread rapidly, ultimately leading to the deaths of 146 terrified employees. In grim detail, Haddix brings these events to vivid life, creating a picture that will linger in readers' heads long after they finish Uprising. It's no wonder this preventable tragedy continues to haunt us—even 100 years later, the horror of it all is difficult to process. Haddix recounts it brilliantly in this mesmerizing, compelling tale featuring a trio of brave, resilient young women who symbolize the real people who suffered poverty, pain, and privation in pursuit of the American dream. If you're up for a gripping, very affecting historical novel, look no further than Uprising.
(Readalikes: Reminded me of These Shallow Graves by Jennifer Donnelly and of A Fall of Marigolds by Susan Meissner)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for violence, sexual innuendo, vague references to prostitution, and scenes of peril
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Poignant, Heartbreaking Inside Out and Back Again Based on Author's Unique Immigrant Experience
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Kim Há loves Saigon, where she's lived for all of her ten years. She adores the bustling marketplace, all of the city's familiar sights and tantalizing scents. Most of all, she loves her mama and her papaya tree. But as the violence of war tears Saigon apart, it becomes necessary for the family to flee. As Kim sails across the sea, bounces from refugee camp to refugee camp, finally landing in a strange land called Alabama, she experiences every emotion—anxiety, fear, wonder, and excitement.
Life in America is vastly different from Kim's experience in Vietnam. There, she felt smart. Here, people think she's dumb just because she can't speak English. There, she had lots of family nearby. Here, she's lonely. There, she ate familiar food, chatted in her native tongue, understood her world. Here, everything is different, everything is new. Does she have any hope of fitting in? Will America—a place so foreign—ever feel like home?
Based on the author's own experience as a child, Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai offers a uniquely authentic perspective on immigration. Written in verse, it's a spare narrative, but one that's nevertheless vivid, poignant, and heartbreaking. It's a story that will resound with anyone who's ever felt out of place, while teaching all of us a valuable lesson about acceptance. Inside Out and Back Again proves that everyone has a story worth knowing—if only we'll take the time to listen. A beautiful, award-winning book, this poignant novel-in-verse should not be missed.
(Readalikes: Reminds me of The Girl in the Torch by Robert Sharenow and other stories about immigrant children)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for violence
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Friday, January 29, 2016
Middle Grade Historical Perfectly Captures the Immigrant Experience
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
As violence against Jewish people grows increasingly worse in her European village, 12-year-old Sarah holds fast to her one beacon of hope—a postcard from America showing the grand Statue of Liberty. The edifice symbolizes everything for which her family yearns: freedom, peace, the chance for a new life. But it's only Sarah and her mother who cross the great ocean to see the face of the Lady. And Sarah, alone, who survives Ellis Island. Unable to stay in the country by herself, Sarah is on a boat back home when she makes the daring decision to jump off. Dragging herself to the shores of the Lady's island, the young girl takes refuge inside the magnificent statue.
Although the Lady offers her relative safety, Sarah still has to figure out a way to eat, to dodge the nighttime security guard, and to find a way into Manhattan. Even when she receives help from some surprising sources, she still has to struggle in order to survive. Life in America is difficult and strange—will it ever feel like home to a lost, lonely foreigner? Will the land that promised so much make good on its lofty vows? Or will Sarah find America just as unwelcoming as the country she left behind?
Like Sarah, I dream of someday seeing the Statue of Liberty in person. Maybe that's why stories about immigrants flocking to her feet intrigue me so much. The Girl in the Torch by Robert Sharenow is no exception. Not only does the book tell an exciting adventure tale, but it also captures perfectly the wonder and fear immigrants must have felt upon arriving in a new land. With plenty of vivid historical detail, Sharenow brings turn-of-the-century New York alive. As Sarah navigates her way through that forbidding landscape, readers get a glimpse of the kind of pluck and courage it took for an immigrant to survive the experience. Atmospheric and engrossing, The Girl in the Torch kept me completely engaged. I enjoyed it.
(Readalikes: Reminded me a little of The Fire Horse Girl by Kay Honeyman)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for brief, mild language (no F-bombs), brief nudity, and vague references to alcoholism and prostitution
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Monday, August 31, 2015
Atmospheric Old San Francisco Mystery Leaves Me Satisfied. But Begging for More
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Celia Davies knows what it's like to feel lost and alone. Seven years ago, she left a prosperous life in England to come to America with her handsome Irish husband. With Patrick now missing at sea, 29-year-old Celia is "not quite a wife, not quite a widow." Thanks to a small inheritance left to her by a beloved uncle, she's able to fill her days with worthwhile, though controversial work. Celia, a nurse who served in the Crimea, operates a free clinic for indigent women out of her dead uncle's home. With the help of her orphaned, half-Chinese niece and their outspoken Scottish housekeeper, she serves San Francisco's most helpless residents: the poor, the hated "Celestials," and women of ill repute. As prejudice against the city's Chinese immigrants comes to a violent boiling point, Celia's choice of patients makes her a target for criticism from some of the city's most influential residents.
When the body of a young Chinese prostitute is found floating near the docks, Celia is shocked to discover that she knew the dead girl. As Celia helped Li Sha create a better life for herself, the two became friends. Now, the pregnant young woman has been murdered. Outraged, Celia vows to bring Li Sha's killer to justice.
Detective Nicholas Greaves has seen his share of corpses. This one, however, tears at his heart and conscience, for he failed to save his younger sister from a similar fate. Determined to figure out what happened to the girl, he begins to investigate everyone who knew Li Sha. Clues lead him not just to the bars and brothels of the Barbary Coast, but also to the highest echelons of San Francisco society. They also bring him in contact with the captivating Mrs. Davies, whose brother-in-law has been brought in for questioning. Forming an unwitting investigate team, Nick and Celia follow the sinister trail of a vicious killer, hoping to unmask the murderer before they become the next victims.
No Comfort for the Lost, the first book in Nancy Herriman's Old San Francisco mystery series, introduces us to a vibrant historical setting filled with equally colorful characters. Both Celia and Nick are brave, admirable souls trying to do some right in a city filled to the brim with wrong. Rooting for the smart, capable pair is a no-brainer. What the novel's plot lacks in originality, it makes up for in slow, steady construction, which creates an even-paced story that remains compelling from its first page to its last. While No Comfort for the Lost comes to a satisfying conclusion (and no, I didn't guess the killer's identity—at least not accurately!), it leaves plenty of intriguing questions to be explored in subsequent novels. I thoroughly enjoyed this engrossing, atmospheric series debut and am not entirely sure I can wait for the next installment (No Pity for the Dead comes out in August 2016)!
(Readalikes: Hm, I can't think of anything. Can you?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for mild language, violence, and frequent (though not graphic) references to prostitution, adultery, and the excessive use of alcohol and opium
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of No Comfort for the Lost from the generous folks at Penguin Random House. Thank you!
Wednesday, January 08, 2014
Heart-Tugging Paper Daughter A Clean, Compelling YA Mystery
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Maggie Chen has always wanted to be a reporter like her dad. So, the 16-year-old is thrilled to be interning in the newsroom of his paper, the Herald. Even if her dad is no longer there, even if the smell of newsprint makes her miss him so badly it hurts, even if maybe she's not really cut out for the profession her dad loved so much. If only she could talk to him about it all. But, she can't—her father's dead, killed by a hit-and-run driver just before Maggie's internship began.
Determined to do her father proud, Maggie throws herself into learning the ropes at the newspaper. It's tougher than she expected, but soon, she sniffs out a real story. As the teen heads into Seattle's Chinatown to investigate, she discovers that things—not just with her assignment, but also with her dad's death—are not exactly what they seem. Wading through all the secrets and lies, many of them told by her own parent, Maggie must figure out what's true and what's not. What kind of story was Mr. Chen investigating in Chinatown? How did he really die? And what connection does Maggie have to a Chinese peasant girl named Fai-yi Li? Finding the answers means facing the (sometimes ugly) truth—about her father, her family, and herself. Is she strong enough? Or will unraveling all these mysteries just bring more hurt to the already-grieving teenager?
Paper Daughter, a new YA novel by Jeanette Ingold, offers up so many of my favorite story elements: compelling characters, an intriguing mystery, tight plotting, vivid prose, and, at its center, a teenager's heart-tugging search for self. And it's a clean book, to boot! That's a rarity in and of itself. This winning combination made for a story I enjoyed immensely and recommend without hesitation. If you happen to belong to a mother/daughter book club, this would be a perfect pick.
(Readalikes: Reminded me of The Dragon's Child by Laurence Yep and The Fire Horse Girl by Kay Honeyman)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for some violence
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Paper Daughter from the generous folks at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Thank you!
Thursday, January 17, 2013
YA Immigration Novel as Exciting and Powerful as, well, a Fire Horse Girl
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Everyone knows that girls born in the Year of the Fire Horse take on that animal's worst traits—stubbornness, willfulness, independence. All are qualities guaranteed to bring shame upon her family. With such a portentous zodiac sign, 16-year-old Jade Moon Chang doesn't stand a chance. Every move she makes in her little Chinese village is watched, judged. Finding a man willing to marry such an unlucky girl is the worry of her father and grandfather. Jade Moon fears the same, but for different reasons. The last thing she wants is to remain in her tiny town, leashed by a husband who controls her every step.
Then, a stranger arrives, changing everything. Sterling Promise, Jade Moon's adopted cousin from Hong Kong, comes bearing an amazing opportunity: a chance to live in America. It sounds too good to be true, especially coming from the smooth-talking Sterling Promise. Still, Jade Moon can't contain her excitement. Not only is she leaving Jinjui Village, she's going to America! A Fire Horse is sure to be welcome in that modern, enterprising world.
But, it's 1923, and Chinese immigrants aren't exactly welcomed to the U.S. with open arms. In fact, they're held at Angel Island, near San Francisco. A survey of her fellow detainees confirms that Jade Moon could be held there for days, weeks, even years—as long as it takes to determine she qualifies to stay in America. If she doesn't pass muster, she'll be deported. Jade Moon can't let that happen, but as the weeks roll by, she knows she can't remain on Angel Island either. What is a Fire Horse girl to do? Take matters into her own hands, of course. As Jade Moon takes command of her own destiny, she steps right into San Francisco's ugly underbelly. It's an adventure, sure, but not one anyone—even a Fire Horse girl—is likely to survive.
The Fire Horse Girl, a debut novel by Kay Honeyman, brings the Chinese immigrant experience to vivid life in a story that's as exciting as it is heartfelt. Jade Moon is a sympathetic heroine, likable because of both her bravery and vulnerability. Her adventure doesn't gloss over the harsh realities faced by Chinese immigrants in the 1920s—it celebrates their courage. The Fire Horse Girl kept me thoroughly engrossed, totally entertained and thoroughly charmed. I loved it.
(Readalikes: Reminds me of other books about Asian immigrants coming to the U.S., especially those by Amy Tan and Lisa See)
Grade: B+
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for mild language (no F-bombs), violence and references (brief and not overly graphic) to prostitution
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of The Fire Horse Girl from the generous folks at Scholastic. Thank you!
Monday, May 28, 2012
Things That Make Me Go Meh
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Lula, a 26-year-old immigrant, is living the American dream. At least, she thinks she is. She's not sure. All she knows is that her new life in the U.S. beats her old one in Albania any day. In fact, Lula's got a lot to be grateful for: she lives in a wealthy New Jersey suburb; she earns money by looking after a 16-year-old boy who really doesn't need a babysitter; and thanks to her employer, the kind Mister Stanley, she's now legally able to stay in the country. She really can't complain about it all, even if her new American life is a little bit dull.
That all changes when three Albanian men come knocking, asking Lula to do her "brothers" a dangerous favor. Lula knows she shouldn't oblige them, but she's been waiting for a little excitement and here it is. Plus, there's Alvo. He's good-looking and seems as interested in Lula as she is in him. So what if he runs with a sketchy crowd? She wanted a thrill—now she's getting one. But, as things get complicated not just with her new "brothers," but also with Mr. Stanley's family, Lula must decide where her loyalties really lie. What does she owe her countrymen? Her employer? Herself? Who is she and what does being an American really mean?
The ho-hum plot summary above reflects my disappointment in Francine Prose's latest novel, My New American Life. As you can probably tell, it's not big on plot. Which wouldn't have been a huge problem if the author had managed to make me care about the characters in the story. Didn't happen. Why not? Well, none of them are particularly likable, least of all our heroine. Lula lies to the people who have been kindest to her, disregards all of her employer's rules, and selfishly puts an already hurting family in jeopardy to satisfy her own lustful urges. Annoying. The rest of the cast irritated me, as did the story itself, which just got duller and more depressing as it prattles onward. Without an interesting plot or engaging characters, this book just kind of goes nowhere. It's not that Prose doesn't write well—she does—it's just that I didn't connect with My New American Life at all. If I hadn't promised to review it, I wouldn't have bothered to finish it.
(Readalikes: Hm, I can't really think of anything. Can you?)
Grade: C
If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language, depictions of underrage drinking and sexual content
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of My New American Life from the generous folks at Harper Collins and TLC Book Tours. Thank you!
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Italian Immigration Story a Fine First Novel
(Image from Indiebound)Life in Opi is difficult even in the best of times. Nestled high in the mountains of So
uthern Italy, the tiny village offers little besides breathtaking vistas. Especially for a woman as poor and plain as 20-year-old Irma Vitale. When her brother emigrates to America, urging her to join him, Irma considers leaving, too. But her mother always warned her that people who leave Opi are destined to die with strangers, a horrifying thought for someone who's never been away from home. It takes a stunning betrayal to push her on the journey, but Irma finally flees her hometown, bound for Cleveland.It's 1891, a time when the whole world seems to be flocking to the shores of America. Irma's heard enough stories to know that few return from this great journey across the North Atlantic. Some are robbed and beaten as they travel, others are buried at sea, and still more vanish into the vastness of America, completely forgetting to send money home to Italy. If Irma can just make it to Ohio, she knows she can make plenty of money sewing for wealthy ladies, enough to live on and send home to her family.
It doesn't take long for Irma to realize how naive she's been in her planning. Nothing - from her voyage across the sea in the cramped, smelly bowels of the Servia to her lonely arrival in New York City to her years of backbreaking sewing work in the land that was supposed to be full of grand possibility - goes the way she hoped it would. She learns much along the way about hope, about friendship, about heartache, about love. When the opportunity arises to return to Opi, it's time for Irma to decide: Should she return to her mountain home or risk fulfilling her mother's prophecy and dying among strangers?
When We Were Strangers, the first novel by playwright and short story author Pamela Schoenewaldt, is a sweeping saga written in lush, lovely prose. Even when Irma's experiences are brutal and her outlook bleak (which is often the case), Schoenewaldt's writing is tender, gentle. While the novel doesn't have much of a plot, what does happen keeps the tale moving enough that I never found myself growing bored. With rich period detail; colorful, realistic characters; and a brave, plucky heroine, When We Were Strangers is an admirable first novel. It didn't blow me away, but it definitely kept me reading. You better believe I'm looking forward to more from the talented Schoenewaldt.
(Readalikes: Reminded me of The King of Mulberry Street by Donna Jo Napoli and other stories about Italian immigrants)
Grade: B
If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for mild language (no F-bombs), violence and sexual content
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of When We Were Strangers from Harper Collins and TLC Book Tours, for whom this review was written. Thank you!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Tiger Mother Infuriates This Rabbit Mommy
(Image from Indiebound)
What do you call a mother who forces her 10-year-old to practice playing the violin seve
n hours a day, then screams at her, says she's "trash," and accuses her of shaming the family if she dares to complain? I'll tell you who I'd be calling - Child Protective Services. But, according to Amy Chua, author of the new memoir Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, the scenario I described is just another day in the trenches for a Chinese mother (which she defines as someone who parents in a Chinese manner, regardless of ethnicity or nationality). What we Westerners would label abuse, they identify as "parenting." Lest you think Chua is exaggerating or making assumptions based on cultural stereotypes, let me tell you straight up: the mother I'm talking about is her. And, although her parents immigrated from China (via The Philippines) in 1960, she's American. Having been reared in a strict Chinese household herself, she chose to bring her daughters up in the same unyielding manner, a process which included bullying them both into becoming musicians. Honest and unapologetic, her book chronicles the years she spent trying and - in the case of her youngest - failing to make her girls into exactly what she wanted them to be.
n hours a day, then screams at her, says she's "trash," and accuses her of shaming the family if she dares to complain? I'll tell you who I'd be calling - Child Protective Services. But, according to Amy Chua, author of the new memoir Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, the scenario I described is just another day in the trenches for a Chinese mother (which she defines as someone who parents in a Chinese manner, regardless of ethnicity or nationality). What we Westerners would label abuse, they identify as "parenting." Lest you think Chua is exaggerating or making assumptions based on cultural stereotypes, let me tell you straight up: the mother I'm talking about is her. And, although her parents immigrated from China (via The Philippines) in 1960, she's American. Having been reared in a strict Chinese household herself, she chose to bring her daughters up in the same unyielding manner, a process which included bullying them both into becoming musicians. Honest and unapologetic, her book chronicles the years she spent trying and - in the case of her youngest - failing to make her girls into exactly what she wanted them to be.
Chua, a Yale law professor and author of two previous books, is married to Jed Rubenfeld, also a law professor and writer. Although Rubenfeld had the gall to believe kids should enjoy childhood, he allowed Chua to rear their young daughters in a traditional Chinese way (whether or not he is in real life, Chua portrays him as a spineless doormat). This, according to Amy, involved pushing their girls into not only getting perfect grades but also playing the piano and violin. A weekly lesson or two was not enough for Chua, who aimed to get her daughters into Julliard and beyond. While Sophia, the eldest of the girls, practiced more or less willingly, the youngest wanted nothing to do with music. Stunned by the child's rebellion, Chua yelled, screamed, threatened, mocked, shamed, bribed and otherwise coerced young Lulu into playing the violin. And not just at home, but on vacation, in intense lessons with world-class musicians, in auditions before stern judges, during "wasted" school periods - for hours and hours and hours every day.
As a result of Chua's constant pushing, the girls did become accomplished musicians, collecting awards, honors and accolades that bought their mother's affection. Chua remembers Saturdays, which the girls spent taking lessons at the Neighborhood Music School, as "the highlight of my week" (45, emphasis added by me) and the Spring her daughters performed to great admiration as "some of the best days of my life" (49, emphasis added by me). When Lulu finally breaks down, an event which causes Chua to (very reluctantly) let her quit violin, Chua recalls how she, not Lulu, "wandered around the house like a person who'd lost their ... reason for living" (213). As much as the author insists that "everything I do is unequivocally 100% for my daughters" (148), it's pretty obvious from the descriptions of her obsessive, controlling, self-serving behavior that the only person she does anything for is herself.
Considering the subtitle of the book ("This is a story about a mother, two daughters, and two dogs. This was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising kids than Western ones. But instead, it's about a bitter clash of cultures, a fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen-year-old."), I expected Chua to experience the kind of epiphany that makes her realize she's ruining her life with her own ridiculousness. And it is. Kinda. Because her daughter's unhappiness does eventually wake Chua up, but not enough to make her admit that by stubbornly insisting on perfection, she might have destroyed her child's life. There's no self-deprecating humor here, no humble admittance of mistakes, just a half-hearted acknowledgment that Chua's dictatorial parenting style might not work for every child.
Since I can't stop ranting about this book, you might think I detested it. Not so. I found it fascinating. Fascinating in the same way I think TLC's My Strange Addiction is fascinating, but still ... It's always interesting to get a glimpse into someone else's psyche. Plus, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is inarguably compelling, well-written and provocative. So, no, I didn't hate it. I just have issues with the behavior and conclusions Chua discusses in the book. While I do agree with Chua that American parents are often alarmingly overindulgent, I also don't think saying, "All decent parents want to do what's best for their children. The Chinese just have a totally different idea of how to do that" (63) is enough to excuse Chua's monstrous behavior. She may be Chinese (-American), but she is also (presumably) human (not that you'll see much evidence of that in her book). This, in the end, was what I found most disturbing about the book - not the writing, the editing, the construction, the content, or even the cover art, it was the author herself. I couldn't stand her. What I really wanted to do was rip the "It's All About Me" sticker off her forehead, crush her rose-colored glasses under my heel and force her to face reality. Call me a consummate Westerner, but I can't stand people who willingly shred a child's self-esteem in order to bolster their own. I guess I'm just American like that.
(Incidentally, I was born in the Year of the Rabbit which, according to the ultimate authority [i.e. Wikipedia] means I am sensitive, flexible, and amiable, pretty much the exact opposite of a Tiger. Might that have something to do with my strong reaction to this book?)
(Readalikes: Although I've only ever read her fiction, Amy Tan's books come to mind.)
Grade: B
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for one use of strong language (no F-bombs) and the verbal/emotional abuse of children
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother from the owners of TLC Book Tours, for whom this review was written. Thank you!
Friday, October 22, 2010
Dear Kirby Larson, I Love You
(Image from Barnes & Noble)If you've read Hattie Big Sky by Kirby Larson, you know how well the author brings history to life for young readers. It's no wonder, then, that she has been chosen to kick-off the return of Scholastic's beloved Dear America series which was originally published between 1996 and 2004. Written in diary format, the books delve into America's history by allowing readers to see events through the eyes of children and teens like themselves. With upcoming books by reknowned writers like Lois Lowry, Kathryn Lasky, Karen Hesse, and more, the series is sure to win the hearts of a whole new generation of historical fiction fans.
Larson starts things off with The Diary of Piper Davis: The Fences Between Us, the story of a 13-year-old girl whose world turns upside down when Japan attacks Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Before that fateful day, Piper's life is as typical as any other American teenager's. If that teenager happens to be a preacher's kid whose father expects her to be a Goody Two Shoes who gets high marks in school, never paints her lips with Tangee lipstick (even if she bought it with her own money), and wakes up at the crack of dawn to deliver Thanksgiving baskets to the needy. It's not that tough, really, it's just that she wouldn't mind a little freedom once in awhile. She also wouldn't mind having her father around more often. Piper admires his devotion to the congregation of Seattle Japanese Baptist Church, but sometimes, she wishes he would spend less time doing the Lord's work and more time paying attention to his family. Ever since Piper's brother, Hank, enlisted in the Navy, it's just been Piper and her older sister, who's always busy with homework or tending house.
Then, the radio blares terrible news: Japan has bombed Pearl Harbor. Not only are American ships sunk, but thousands of lives are lost, and the U.S. is forced to enter WWII. With all the chaos, it's days before the Davis' hear any word of Hank. In the meantime, things are getting difficult for the residents of Seattle's Japanese community, many of whom attend the Davis' church. There have always been people who looked down on the Japanese, but now they are getting yelled at, injured, and refused service at shops and restaurants. Piper can sort of understand people's anger - after all, her brother was on the U.S.S. Arizona - yet, these are people she's known all her life, good people. Why are they being treated so badly?
Things only get worse when the U.S. government decides to "relocate" anyone of Japanese descent. Piper's friends are being taken away, her father's congregation has dwindled to nothing, and worst of all, he wants to follow his flock to the internment camps. Piper hates the injustice as much as her dad does, but isn't moving to the middle of Idaho to perform his duties a little extreme? Can't he do good from the comfort of the Davises Seattle home? Piper can't stand the thought of leaving her friends and family behind - can she convince her father to let her stay in Washington or will she learn firsthand what it's like for the Japanese people incarcerated at Minidoka?
The Diary of Piper Davis: The Fences Between Us is a quick-moving, compelling story that will instruct, enlighten and inspire. Piper's a believable (though fictional) girl, her character a perfect blend of strength and weakness. The diary-style novel allows an intimate glimpse at what life must have been like in the early 40s, making the events feel contemporary even though they happened almost 70 years ago. The fact that Pastor Davis is based on a real person (Reverend Emery "Andy" Andrews) makes the story all the more incredible. Although there are a few details which are never explained in the book (like why Davis [Andrews] was leading a Japanese church in the first place), I enjoyed this satisfying middle grade novel.
(Readalikes: Earlier Dear America titles; historical novels in the American Girl series; also reminded me a little of Jericho Walls by Kristi Collier)
Grade: B
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for intense scenes and mature themes (racism, war, death, etc.)
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of The Diary of Piper Davis: The Fences Between Us from the generous folks at Scholastic. Thank you!
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Unique Coal Mining Story Deserves Better
(Image from Barnes & Noble)Life in The Patch is not easy - not for the men and boys who spend their days mining coal, not for the wives and mothers who pray constantly for their safety, and not for the children who swallow toxic coal dust with their every breath. For the McCaffertys and the other immigrant families, ekeing out a living in northeastern Pennsylvania beats starving in their native Ireland. But only just. Not only are the patch families barely scraping by, but the miners' jobs are becoming more and more dangerous as wealthy mine owners scrimp on safety precautions in order to fill coal carts more quickly. The shriek of the breaker whistle comes too often - "accidents" maim, kill, and orphan.
Call Me Kate, Molly Roe's debut novel and the first book in a projected trilogy, starts with the siren's wail. When her best friend charges into the schoolroom one morning, 14-year-old Katie McCafferty knows it can mean only one thing - her father has become the mine's newest victim. Although he survives, his injuries leave him bedridden. Although she loves school, Katie has no choice but to leave the classroom and find work as a servant. When she lands a coveted position in the household of Ario Pardee, a rich mine owner, Katie must prove herself to the demanding houskeeper. Any missteps could mean termination, which will equal no income for her family back in The Patch.
Although Katie works in Hazleton, Pennsylvania, her thoughts are never far from The Patch. With the enactment of the Northern draft (October 1862), tensions are running high between the immigrant miners and the nativists. Rumors of her best friend's involvement in the resistance movement alarms Katie enough to risk her job - not to mention her life - to save him. Can a young lass like her really make a difference in the increasingly dangerous conflict? Can she rescue her friend from his own hard-headedness? Does she have the strength, the courage, to carry out the subterfuge necessary to accomplish the impossible task?
Call Me Kate brings this tumultuous period of history to life, blending period detail with the fictional (but historically accurate) adventures of Katie McCafferty. It's a fascinating glimpse into the stark realities of life as a miner in the late 19th Century. The story's compelling in and of itself, which is a very good thing since Roe's characters leave much to be desired. With little personality; stiff, unnatural conversations; and no real depth, Roe's story people might as well be cardboard cutouts. It doesn't help that the author spends most of the novel telling rather than showing. The tale is rich, exciting, compelling - the characters and storytelling need to be equally so. Flat characters and lackluster prose weigh down what could otherwise be an excellent novel. Molly Roe has a unique story to tell - let's hope the next two novels imbue it with the richness it deserves.
Grade: C
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for some violence
To the FTC, with love: Tribute Books send me a complimentary copy of Call Me Kate for my review. The "price" of the book didn't influence my opinion in any way.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Marketing Schmarketing: Evolution Is What It Is ... Fascinating
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
I prefer my family sagas thick and juicy, so reading Diya Das' "fictional family history" was a bit of a departure for me. The Evolution of an Identity isn't thick (it's a slim 72 pages), it's not really fiction, and it's not all that juicy (dang it). It is interesting, though, and definitely a unique read.
Das began researching her family tree as part of a project for a high school American studies course. She wanted to chronicle her own experiences as a first-generation immigrant in the United States, but found the task wouldn't quite fulfill the requirements of the assignment. So, she began digging into her family's history. Although Das was born in India, her parents emigrated to the U.S. when she was still a baby. They left all family behind. At least, that's what Das believed until a discussion with relatives in India led to the discovery that she did, indeed, have some family living in the United States. Communicating with long-lost kin gave Das a much broader sense of her family's history. Finding the writings of two ancestors was especially helpful, as they shed much light on the experiences of early Indian immigrants. For the school project, Das used the diaries she found as well as excerpts from her own journal to offer glimpses of Indian-American life over three generations. Like every story, hers had gaps - she filled the missing spaces using research and her own imagination.
Even though some parts of the book are fictionalized, The Evolution of an Identity is not a novel. It's basically a memoir - although all the details don't come from direct familial experience, they are generally truthful. Most importantly, the accounts Das presents provide a meaningful snapshot of the Indian-American experience. It shows the changing face of Indian immigrants - from poor, uneducated migrant workers in the early 1900s to wealthier, better educated career people in the 1960s and '70s to today's Indian-American teens. It examines more than just the evolution of an identity, but also the evolution of an attitude. Das explains how the earliest Indians put up with low-paying jobs, racial slurs, and great ignorance about their religion and culture, focusing only on returning to their native land with money in their pockets. Years later, young doctors and scientists entered the U.S. because their knowledge and skills were in high demand. Along with them came a wave of non-professionals who set up shops, restaurants and services specifically designed to cater to this wealthy new class of Indian-Americans. Unlike their predecessors, these immigrants practically shouted, "We're putting down roots. We're here to stay." Representing Indian-Americans of the 21st Century, Das describes her own attitude toward her "double heritage" (60). Since Das dwells in both worlds, she must assume a split-personality disorder, acting more Indian in the Indian community and more American with the outside world. She accepts both sides of herself while at the same time admitting to feeling intruded upon by "Americans" (read: white non-Indians) who come to Jackson Heights (New York's "Little India") to gawk during religious festivals. She acknowleges the irony, saying, "It is somewhat hypocritical that I wish for the acceptance of Indian culture but have an aversion to explaining it to others ... I do not feel as if I have the patience or the time required to explain what it is to be Indian American to someone who cannot possibly understand conflicting value systems and cultural behaviors" (58). A bold statement for someone whose peasant ancestors spent their time kowtowing to the kin of these same American "intruders."
The Indian immigration experience isn't something I've read much about, so I found Das' account fascinating. It's a quick read, but one that inspires a great deal of thought. My biggest complaint about the book has little to with the book itself and more with the way it's being marketed: The Evolution of an Identity is not a historical novel for teens. Young adults are not going to grab this one off the shelves. I'm not saying they shouldn't, I'm just saying that this marketing tactic is not going to work. The book is a serious work, with a personal, but very non-fiction-y feel. If you're interested in Indian history and culture, or just in another perspective on the immigrant experience, pick it up. But don't expect a novel, or a rich family saga. It is what it is, and what it is is fascinating. It's a quick, thought-provoking read that will appeal more to adults than teenagers. And that's okay.
Having said that, I have one suggestion for 18-year-old Diya Das: write a real novel. In a lot of ways, I think a nice, thick saga based on her family's unique history would have been more compelling and satisfying than this thin, essay-type volume. I would definitely be interested in a more fleshed-out, historically-rich story exploring the plight of the Indian immigrant from the early 1900s until now. Indian-American authors are sorely underrepresented in popular literature. It's just a suggestion, Diya, but I think it's a pretty good one.
Until Das becomes a best-selling novelist (who owes all her fame to moi), you can purchase her work here on Tribute Books' website.
Grade: B
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for themes of persecution, revolution, and racism
To the FTC, with love: I received a copy of this book from Tribute Books in exchange for this review. The fact that I got it for free didn't influence my opinion in the least.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Poetic Home of the Brave Will Make You Cheer
You may have noticed that I don't read a lot of poetry. Scratch that. I don't read poetry. At all. Correction - there are poems I enjoy, but most of them are straight forward and rhyming, a la Henry W. Longfellow. As for vague, abstract, brain-taxing verse, count me out. So, when I first picked up Home of the Brave, a YA novel by Katherine Applegate, I almost put it right back down. After all, it's written in stanzas, so it greatly resembles a poem. A few pages into the book, however, I was hooked. That's about when I realized the story offered all the things I like about poetry - impactful imagery; lyrical writing; and engaging subject matter - without being abstract or difficult to understand. If it is poetry, it reads like a novel - the words are just prettier.Applegate's lovely words can't erase the horrors that have befallen Kek in his native Sudan. Before boarding the "flying boat" to America, he lost his father and brother to bloodthirsty soldiers. He survived because his mother screamed at him to run. Because he was so frightened, he clutched her dress - now all he has left of her is a piece of blue and yellow fabric. Kek knows the odds are against it, but he's certain his mother will come for him.
In Minnesota, Kek is overwhelmed by strange and baffling sights. With the help of his new friend Hannah, he discovers the wonders of washing machines, chocolate milk, and the grocery store with its "answers to prayers on every shelf" (156). Still, Kek gravitates to the one thing that is familiar - a cow he spies at a ramshackle farm. He has always had a way with cattle - his father owned many in Sudan - and the animal is the one thing he understands in his confusing new life. Kek uses his own ingenuity to make his way in his world, but he's still haunted by the loss of his family. Although his friend Dave is checking for his mother in refugee camps, he cannot find her. Kek knows he has to be brave, but sorrow weighs him down. Without taking part in his tribe's ceremony, he doesn't know if he can find the strength to be a man.
Although the story sounds depressing, Kek is nothing if not hopeful. He's a sympathetic and engaging narrator, whose determination and ingenuity make him an interesting and inspiring character. His wide-eyed wonder will make readers smile, his misadventures will make them laugh, and his undying hope will make them root for brave young Kek. The immigrant experience has been addressed many times before, but Home of the Brave seems fresh somehow. Whether or not it adds anything new to this crowded genre, it's a quick, touching story that will leave you cheering for a brave young boy named Kek and a tired old cow called Gol.
Grade: A
(Book Image from Barnes & Noble)
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