David Patneaude's Blog: Different Worlds - Posts Tagged "ya"
The Buzz
I've said it before and I've probably written it before, but the "buzz" thing is an ongoing puzzle to me. In other words, how does one book, maybe good, maybe not so good, maybe awful, get tons of attention, and another, maybe very good, go largely unnoticed?
I don't know exactly how much notice Conrad Wesselhoeft's Adios, Nirvana received when it was published in 2010, but I don't recall seeing it featured on bookstore shelves or lauded in reviews or given awards. Those things should have happened, though. The book has flawed and wounded but likable and memorable characters who change and grow, a believable narrative, credible language, conflict, humor, and a strong voice. What else do you need?
Overall, Conrad's writing is excellent, and he does a fine job of balancing the various elements he has going on in the story. And then there's the feeling that this could be real, that these are real people, kids and adults, that you want to get to know better. This is the kind of fiction that involves you enough that you want to know what's going on with the characters now, now that the ending has been written. Jonathan, Conrad's main character, is a smart kid, but he's believably smart. He's a kid, not an adult in kid's clothing. He behaves like a kid, feels like a kid, hurts like a kid, takes risks like a kid.
This kind of verisimilitude is what is missing in some of the stories I've read (yes, even those that get "buzz") that are written about and for young adults. But this story gets it right, and the author should take a deep bow, even though his show may not have attracted a full house.
I don't know exactly how much notice Conrad Wesselhoeft's Adios, Nirvana received when it was published in 2010, but I don't recall seeing it featured on bookstore shelves or lauded in reviews or given awards. Those things should have happened, though. The book has flawed and wounded but likable and memorable characters who change and grow, a believable narrative, credible language, conflict, humor, and a strong voice. What else do you need?
Overall, Conrad's writing is excellent, and he does a fine job of balancing the various elements he has going on in the story. And then there's the feeling that this could be real, that these are real people, kids and adults, that you want to get to know better. This is the kind of fiction that involves you enough that you want to know what's going on with the characters now, now that the ending has been written. Jonathan, Conrad's main character, is a smart kid, but he's believably smart. He's a kid, not an adult in kid's clothing. He behaves like a kid, feels like a kid, hurts like a kid, takes risks like a kid.
This kind of verisimilitude is what is missing in some of the stories I've read (yes, even those that get "buzz") that are written about and for young adults. But this story gets it right, and the author should take a deep bow, even though his show may not have attracted a full house.
True To Yourself
At an annoyingly young age (compared to me, anyway) Gavin Extence has written a nearly perfect book. What is it about British writers, anyway? Is there some kind of gene that makes them wise and talented beyond their years? A gene that for me--even though I'm twice his age and have that one-fourth Irish thing going--still hasn't quite kicked in?
But enough about me. Enough whining. Let's talk about THE UNIVERSE VERSUS ALEX WOODS, which is, I guess, if it has to be genre-ized, a coming of age story that's about a kid who gets hit in the head with a chunk of meteorite, his mom, astrology, tarot cards, his friend (a girl), an American curmudgeon who befriends him, epilepsy, the nervous system, the universe, Kurt Vonnegut, his books, a book club, disease, death, dignity, religion, bullying, libraries and librarians, overcoming adversity, persistence, adults who are jerks, adults who are gems, revelation, good laws, bad laws, progress, regress, learning to drive, loyalty, heartbreaking sadness, unbridled joy, single-mindedness, empathy, cleverness, courage, being true to yourself, and doing the right thing, no matter what the consequences.
I don't think the story would have had an easy time finding a home here in the good old US of A if it hadn't already had a lot of success across the pond. The main character's a guy. There's no romance to speak of, thus no beautiful couple (mysterious, sensuous beauty; muscled, dangerous dude) on the cover. No fantasy. No "chosen one" theme (unless you count being conked on the head by a meteorite). And there's no editing (self or institutional) to "cleanse" the story from its viewpoints on various sacred cows that could have publishers and some members of the book-reading (or book-burning) public flogging themselves in dismay.
Mr. Extence and his characters aren't afraid to discuss the futility rather than the glory of war, the hypocrisy of religion or at least those who practice it, the shortcomings of not only George W Bush, who was (and is) a favorite whipping boy, but also Ronald Reagan, a minor saint in the eyes of some Americans who went through much of his presidency in a fog. Also mentioned, and not in unfavorable terms: single parenthood, homosexuality, agnosticism, atheism, suicide, assisted suicide. Did I mention generalized swearing and the use of the word fuck and its variations and a one-time appearance of "the worst word in the world?" But American publishers and audiences seem to be okay with swearing (and violence, and war, and infantile, starry-eyed romance, and mediocre writing, even. It's those other things, sacred or in their eyes the opposite--profane--that give them the chilly-willies.
My overwhelming feeling is that in the end, the author was true to his story. He included what he felt had to be included to tell the tale well and completely, and his editors not only let him keep it in, but embraced it. Over there, that was simply being, like Alex himself, true to your beliefs. Here it would be brave, and unlikely.
You should get to know Alex. You won't forget him.
But enough about me. Enough whining. Let's talk about THE UNIVERSE VERSUS ALEX WOODS, which is, I guess, if it has to be genre-ized, a coming of age story that's about a kid who gets hit in the head with a chunk of meteorite, his mom, astrology, tarot cards, his friend (a girl), an American curmudgeon who befriends him, epilepsy, the nervous system, the universe, Kurt Vonnegut, his books, a book club, disease, death, dignity, religion, bullying, libraries and librarians, overcoming adversity, persistence, adults who are jerks, adults who are gems, revelation, good laws, bad laws, progress, regress, learning to drive, loyalty, heartbreaking sadness, unbridled joy, single-mindedness, empathy, cleverness, courage, being true to yourself, and doing the right thing, no matter what the consequences.
I don't think the story would have had an easy time finding a home here in the good old US of A if it hadn't already had a lot of success across the pond. The main character's a guy. There's no romance to speak of, thus no beautiful couple (mysterious, sensuous beauty; muscled, dangerous dude) on the cover. No fantasy. No "chosen one" theme (unless you count being conked on the head by a meteorite). And there's no editing (self or institutional) to "cleanse" the story from its viewpoints on various sacred cows that could have publishers and some members of the book-reading (or book-burning) public flogging themselves in dismay.
Mr. Extence and his characters aren't afraid to discuss the futility rather than the glory of war, the hypocrisy of religion or at least those who practice it, the shortcomings of not only George W Bush, who was (and is) a favorite whipping boy, but also Ronald Reagan, a minor saint in the eyes of some Americans who went through much of his presidency in a fog. Also mentioned, and not in unfavorable terms: single parenthood, homosexuality, agnosticism, atheism, suicide, assisted suicide. Did I mention generalized swearing and the use of the word fuck and its variations and a one-time appearance of "the worst word in the world?" But American publishers and audiences seem to be okay with swearing (and violence, and war, and infantile, starry-eyed romance, and mediocre writing, even. It's those other things, sacred or in their eyes the opposite--profane--that give them the chilly-willies.
My overwhelming feeling is that in the end, the author was true to his story. He included what he felt had to be included to tell the tale well and completely, and his editors not only let him keep it in, but embraced it. Over there, that was simply being, like Alex himself, true to your beliefs. Here it would be brave, and unlikely.
You should get to know Alex. You won't forget him.
Chime
I don't read books--even great books--more than once. There are too many good (and great) ones out there, and as the T-shirt says, too little time. But I'll make an exception for Chime. I'm certain I'll be reading it again. Maybe not cover to cover, but whenever I get hungry for something special, I'll sample a taste--rich, sweet, bitter, unexpected, nourishing, enlightening, inspiring, appetizing--from somewhere in this feast of imagination, preparation, and writing prowess.
I heard Franny Billingsley speak at a conference in the spring. She considers herself a slow writer, and I suppose if you judge her on her output, she is. She took probably a dozen years between her last novel and this one. But the time she takes isn't spent twiddling her thumbs. The time she takes in this case resulted in a near-perfect book where every word, phrase, passage, scene is engaging and magical and evocative and poetic, the pieces all fit, there's no fat that should've been cut out but wasn't, the characters are authentic, and the ending is satisfying and sticks to your ribs like Mom's slow-cooked stew.
Don't like fantasy? Read it anyway. It's about much more than fantasy.
I heard Franny Billingsley speak at a conference in the spring. She considers herself a slow writer, and I suppose if you judge her on her output, she is. She took probably a dozen years between her last novel and this one. But the time she takes isn't spent twiddling her thumbs. The time she takes in this case resulted in a near-perfect book where every word, phrase, passage, scene is engaging and magical and evocative and poetic, the pieces all fit, there's no fat that should've been cut out but wasn't, the characters are authentic, and the ending is satisfying and sticks to your ribs like Mom's slow-cooked stew.
Don't like fantasy? Read it anyway. It's about much more than fantasy.
