The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins*

*and sequels, Catching Fire and Mockingjay

Wasn’t going to read these books, nuh uh, too much publicity, can’t relate to teenage protagonists, don’t enjoy first person narratives, and it’s about teenagers killing each other? No way. I had better things to do. Then my niece talked me into watching the movie with her and I was hooked. Surprise, surprise. Sometimes it feels good to be wrong. I read all three books in quick succession.

Here, in no particular order, are the things I liked about Katniss: she’s physically skillful, she forms strong relationships with other women/girls, she is brave, she doesn’t need or want a boyfriend, she is smart, she doesn’t like to be manipulated, she is unconcerned with her appearance, she doesn’t put up with any crap, she has empathy, and she is imperfect. Here is what I liked about the story: it’s unpredictable and suspenseful; it challenges stereotypes; it addresses complicated issues of oppression, rebellion, and civil war, of manipulation of  the masses by the media, and the uses of modern warfare; it delves into moral gray areas; and it doesn’t come to a neat conclusion/traditional happy ending. If at times Collins's language is simpler than I might like, or her points are spelled out a bit too plainly, well, that is small potatoes in the complaint department.

I am not the first to point out the connection between Katniss and Artemis, Greek goddess of the hunt, protector of young girls, expert with the bow and arrow, whose hunting companion Orion (Gale, in the books) was her only true love. It never hurts to be able to cite a bit of mythology when defending one's reading choices. But if you are still on the fence I suggest watching the movie, as I did. It’s very well done and if you like it, you will like the books, too. And if you are hung up on the fact that this is YA fiction, or girls’ fiction, or just popular fiction, I say, get over it. Katniss Everdeen is now and forever a feminist icon and if you don't read these books you won't really understand why.

(Books 35, 36, and 37, 2012)

The Girl Who Fell From the Sky by Heidi W. Durrow

I know a lot of people who read Young Adult (YA) fiction. Most are mothers of middle and high school girls who started reading it because they wanted to share the reading experience with their daughters, or their daughters recommended specific titles to them, or they were just curious about what was out there. But I know this isn’t the full story; YA is too popular among adults to be only the province of a certain group of women. I have tried to read a few popular YA books without much success (including The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins and Un Lun Dun, by China Mieville). In most cases I just found it too difficult to identify with an adolescent narrator. Yet I have no trouble with J. K. Rowling’s books, so obviously it’s not always a problem for me.

I’m thinking about this recently because I just finished The Girl Who Fell From the Sky, which features an adolescent narrator, but which deals with sophisticated issues of identity, race, substance abuse, and depression. Now I am wondering what makes a book a YA novel? Is it the age of the narrator? The subject matter? Or just the marketing plan? I don’t know the answer.

The Girl Who Fell From the Sky is the story of Rachel, daughter of a Danish mother and an African American father. Raised in Europe, where her father was a career U.S. serviceman, Rachel must go live with her African American grandmother in Portland, Oregon after the death of her mother and siblings. It is there that she learns about being biracial as she navigates middle school, then high school, with her black hair and blue eyes. She must also deal with the loss of her mother--the circumstances of her death and the deaths of Rachel’s siblings add some mystery and drama to the story.

This is a quick read. Rachel is not a terribly complex girl. The more interesting characters are her grandmother and aunt, and the version of Rachel’s mother that we see filtered through the lens of Rachel’s memories. I got a little mixed up at the end of the book – were there some loose ends? Or did I just not read carefully enough? No matter -- I still enjoyed it a lot. I don’t believe this book is marketed as YA, but it would be an excellent choice for a high school reader, and even a mature middle schooler, and a good book for a mother and daughter to read together.

(Book 14, 2011)

Frances Hodgson Burnett, Revisited

As I was writing my post about The Making of a Marchioness I found myself wondering if young girls still read books by Frances Hodgson Burnett (The Secret Garden, A Little Princess). My friend Nora answered that question when she told me that her girls (approx. ages 14 and 16) love both of these books, so that was reassuring. My boys were not terribly keen on vintage books. One loved the Little Eddie stories by Carolyn Haywood, which first appeared in the 1940’s, and the other was briefly a fan of the Narnia books, but otherwise, not so much.

Just the other day, on the radio, I heard this story about what publishers are calling multi-platform books for adolescent readers. These are books that appear in print but which also have some kind of interactive online component to draw readers in. It made me think, how can books like those by Hodgson Burnett possibly compete? Filled with arcane references to life in India, they assume an understanding of British empire class distinctions, and are sprinkled with obscure dialect (does anyone remember trying to decipher Dickon’s language?). I remember being baffled by some aspects of the stories when I first read them in the 1970’s (what was an ayah?); it must be even harder now. It seems like these books would be hard going for a girl who could instead choose to read The 39 Clues.

I am not bemoaning the popularity of multi-platform books; they sound like a lot of fun. I’m just wondering, and am encouraged that there are girls who do still want to read the older stories.

A Candle in Her Room by Ruth M. Arthur

This is the book I wrote about in this post. I picked it up from the library this afternoon and have just finished reading it, several hours later. That’s not as surprising as it sounds; it’s a young adult book, and I’ve read it before, perhaps 10 or 15 times before, if I’m remembering correctly.

This volume, from the Reedsburg, Wisconsin public library, was the only copy in the whole South Central Wisconsin library system, a system of 52 libraries. It’s a 1966 version published by Atheneum, and it has in the back the original library checkout card with due dates back to 1967. It’s probably identical to the version I read (over and over again) from the Haddonfield, New Jersey public library. I certainly recognize the illustrations, if not the orange cover. I don’t imagine anyone has checked it out in a long time.

My friend Anne, writing in the comments, remembers this book also, and how creepy she found it. But I have to say it isn’t nearly as creepy as I remember. It’s more sad, and poignant. Nina, age 12, newly released from a displaced persons camp, sent to live with her aunt in Wales after the death of her parents at the hands of the Nazis, has horrible nightmares that she attributes to the influence of Dido, the evil doll. But reading the story from the vantage point of the 21st century it’s easy to see that Nina is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, a condition common among holocaust survivors and the children of survivors. It’s interesting that Ruth Arthur came up with this in the mid-1960’s.

In a lot of ways this book is very standard-issue mid-century YA fare. People conveniently inherit money exactly when they need it, and they die painlessly of mysterious wasting diseases. They even contact each other through the personal ads! But in other ways it’s a unique look at three generations of women and girls and how they confront their demons and take control of their lives. I’m really glad I rediscovered it.

(Book 1, 2010)