Even More John Green Awesomeness

Christmas has come ten days early to the Guerilla Librarian. A few days ago, I posted a video of John Green reading the first chapter of his upcoming The Fault in Our Stars and may have mentioned how excited I am for the full book to be released. The phrase "pants-peeing" may have been used.

Well, double your pleasure double your fun, Green's publishers have allowed him to release the second chapter of Stars as well. To see him reading it, check out the video below and bask in the awesome, adorkable charm of one of the hottest YA authors since Judy Blume.

Review Time: The Manga Guide to the Universe

When I was a kid, I seriously loved The Magic School Bus Lost in the Universe. It wasn't just Miss Frizzle's wacky hair or that LSD-inspired shape-shifting bus, it was the way that the book incorporated a story into a science lesson in a way that was fun and informative. And I ended up learning a whole mess of information about our solar system through Ralphie and Arnold and Amanda Jane and that crazy lizard, Liz. In The Manga Guide to the Universe, Kenji Ishikawa and Kiyoshi Kawabata attempt to do the same thing with a little more information thrown in. What Magic School Bus did for third-graders, Manga Guide is meant to do for high school and college students.

Yamane, Kanna, and their American friend Gloria explore the cosmos as they attempt to put on a school play. Of course, the story of that play involves a moon goddess, a stalk of bamboo, and an elixir of immortality set ablaze on the summit of Mt. Fuji. Semantics. All fairy tales are strange and this one, the story of Kaguya-Hime and the Bamboo Cutter is apparently much beloved in Japan, similar to our Thumbellina. Whatever the reason, the rest of the book follows these three friends on an educational journey through the universe. They learn a bucketload about the whole heliocentric/geocentric debate that gave the Church so much trouble, the shape of the universe, the Big Bang, and pretty much any other information that would be covered in an Introductory Astronomy textbook.

Essentially, that's because Manga Guide is a text book. It's divided into five chapters of major ideas, has an index, and includes countless charts and diagrams to explain the theories being discussed. Where was this series when I was taking physics? If my textbook had included big-eyed manga girls with buoyant bosoms and long legs, I can guarantee that a much larger percentage of my class (about 50%) would have scored significantly better on the exams. And the easily understandable text and clear explanations would have helped the rest of us, too.

Though it's not exactly leisure reading (unless the disc-shaped galactic model floats your boat, in which case, play through), but this teen-friendly guide to the universe is a must-have for any science classroom. Think of it as "The Universe for Dummies" with a better storyline.

Final Grade: A-

New Video from John Green

I love me some John Green. I may in fact have a tiny author crush on John Green. He's just so cool! In addition to being a fan-freaking-tastic voice in the YA community with books like Looking for Alaska and An Abundance of Katherines, he releases regular videos with his brother, Hank, and happily acknowledges the fact that he is a huge nerd.

His next book, The Fault in Our Stars will be released January 10 and I've already pre-ordered my copy but being a huge book nerd, I'm not sure I can wait even that long. So I was pants-peeing excited to see that he has released the first chapter of Stars in the following video.

So happy Monday, people! Enjoy!

Review Time--21: The Story of Roberto Clemente

Roberto Clemente was a seriously fascinating dude. In addition to being the first Latino baseball player in the Baseball Hall of Fame, getting over 3000 career hits, twice winning the World Series, and being named MVP of the 1971 World Series, he spent a large portion of his time involved in charity work. Essentially, he was an incredible human being with a ridiculous amount of talent who never lost touch with his humble roots. In a tragic twist of fate, he was killed in a plane crash in 1972 while on a humanitarian mission to Nicaragua to deliver aid to the victims of a recent earth quake. Since his death, the MLB has created the Roberto Clemente Award, several sports arenas have been built in his name, and he's won dozens of honorary awards, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

In 21: The Story of Roberto Clemente, Wilfred Santiago tells the story of Clemente's life, from his childhood in impoverished Puerto Rico to the racism he endured in the 1950's and 60's, from the frustrations of his early career to his 3000th hit. Santiago has clearly done his homework, too, touching on the death of Clemente's infant sister and his relationship with his wife, Vera. It's an in-depth glimpse into the life of an important figure in the history of America's favorite pass-time. Santiago himself saw Clemente hit his 3000th ball and frames this biography with that recollection. This adds an interesting dimension to the story and personalizes it beyond mere biography.

However, I found Santiago's style of storytelling a little distracting, at best. Often, he skips from event to event without explaining what was happening or why. I had a very hard time with the chronology of the story, which sometimes jumped entire decades forwards or back. I kept waiting to get used to this style of writing but I never did. It felt a little like watching a post-modern movie where you know all of the pieces should connect but they never quite do and you're left feeling vaguely unsettled. Readers already familiar with the life and legacy of Roberto Clemente may not have a hard time following the story but I felt like I spent the entire 200 pages struggling to understand the story to the point that I couldn't quite enjoy the ride.

Final Grade: B-

Review Time: Drawing from Memory

Alan Say is kind of incredible. He's won the Caldecott Medal, for crying out loud (for those of you who don't get that that's a Big Deal, Caldecott isn't usually italicized, that's my just enthusiasm talking there), and he's been honored by countless other award committees and reviewers before so my effusive praise isn't all that exceptional. Many of his works have touched on personal history and have been semi-autobiographical. Grandfather's Journey (for which he won the Caldecott) tells the true story of his grandfather's journey to America and back as a young man. But in his fourteenth book, Drawing from Memory, Say tells the most important story of his life--how he came to become a cartoonist.

In Drawing from Memory, Say remembers his childhood in Japan and his strained relationship with his father, who did not view art as a respectable profession. He recalls meeting his hero, Noro Shinpei, a famous Japanese cartoonist who became Say's sensei (or teacher). He also touches on the political unrest in Japan, notably when his friend and fellow student, Tokida, attends marches and riots despite the danger.

This one isn't a typical graphic novel in that the story isn't told through panels and speech bubbles. Instead, Say incorporates illustrations, photographs, old cartoons, and rough sketches with the text of his story. It read more like a picture book than a graphic novel, albeit a very heavily illustrated picture book.

The illustrations themselves, however, are gorgeous. As always, Say is on top of his game. He draws figures carefully and lovingly, which makes sense when you read how difficult it was for him to learn the human form.

The story is sweet but a little rambling, as real life always is. I kept expecting Tokida's demonstrating to come back into the story since Say himself was so opposed to it but if anything ever came of it, he never mentions it. There were a few little threads of story that I felt could have similarly been further developed but since this is the story of a real life, we can't expect everything to tie up in neat little bows. All in all, a nice addition to Say's sizable body of work and a must-read for any aspiring artist.

Final Grade: B+

Review Time: The Amulet of Samarkand

Graphic novel adaptations are everywhere these days. I could go on for pages for that but I'll spare you all my ranting and theorizing. Today's adaptation is The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud and Andrew Donkin and illustrated by Lee Sullivan. Seeing as Stroud is the author of the original, this one gets bonus points for authenticity. Seeing as it's a very action-packed story, it also converts well to this new format.

Nathaniel is a magician-in-training. Impatient for more responsibility than his master gives him, he summons the djini Bartimaeus, expecting the djini to actually do what he asks him to do. That's Nathaniel's first mistake. His second mistake, a far more serious one, is sending Bartimaeus to steal the Amulet of Samarkand, which is currently owned by proud and ambitious magician Simon Lovelace. Nathaniel suddenly finds himself in very much over his head as he unveils a dangerous plot rife with political intrigue and murder. Now he and Bartimeus and Nathaniel must work together to save both of their lives.

It's an exciting and well planned fantasy in a world almost exactly like the one we live in, the only difference (maybe...) being the existence of magic. Stroud clearly thought this one out for a long time and the result is fantastic. Like all of the best mysteries, there are hints along the way in this one that you only pick up on a second or third reading. He also creates two very likeable creatures. Despite the 5,000 year age difference, Bartimeus and Nathaniel are friends. They squabble over fault and try to trick each other but neither one really wants to hurt the other. It's actually kind of sweet.

The real triumph here, though, is the artwork. You can tell by looking at the panels that Sullivan had fun with this one. The explosions and magics are so gorgeous that I stopped to stare at them. In particular, the use of color was brilliant, which is likely why Nicolas Chapuis got a rare cover nod for color. As a shape-shifting djinni, identifying Bartimeus may have been a problem in this format as he often goes from beetle to raven to human from one panel to the next. But the Sullivan/Chapuis team sidestepped that potential pitfall by giving Bartimeus a yellow aura regardless of his form, making it much easier for the reader to follow the action with minimal confusion.

As far as adaptations go, this one may in fact be better as a graphic novel than it was in it's original format. A must-read for any fantasy fanatic.

Final Grade: A-

Review Time--The Good Neighbors: Kind (Book Three)

As I've mentioned, I'm a big fan of the fantasy genre. There was a time when read high fantasy exclusively and though I have expanded my go-to genres since eighth grade, I will always harbor a fondness for elves and orcs alike. Holly Black, author of The Good Neighbors: Kind (Book Three)is the queen of modern fantasy. She has written a whole bucketload of great fantasy books for children (The Spiderwick Chronicles) and young adults (Tithe) and has enjoyed great success. And beyond that, she just looks like she'd be really cool to hang out with.

In this latest book, we meet Rue, a half-fey girl living in a frightening world. The lines between the mortal and fey worlds have collapsed and the fey have taken over Rue's home. As a half-fey, she is torn between both worlds. On the one hand is her father, her friends, and the world she grew up in. But on the other hand, she is strangely drawn to her fey half--her ethereally beautiful but terrifying mother, her connection to the earth, and the strange and wonderful fey realm. As tensions mount between the humans and the fey, violence breaks out. Can Rue fix the divide between the two races or is it already too late?

Okay, if you're like me, you're going to skip straight to the end of this review and see the grade before bothering to read anything else I write. Go ahead, it'll probably save you a bit of time.

Back? Okay, so here's the thing: I haven't read Books One or Two of The Good Neighbors series. I was completely lost from the start because the author and illustrator (the inimitable Ted Naifeh) have spent the last two volumes explaining the world they have created to their readers. They waste no time in jumping into the action without preface or backstory. Some novels take a chapter to explain everything that's led the reader to this point. This is not one of those. That isn't necessarily a criticism, just a warning to those who think to jump into this series in the middle. Don't.

All of that isn't to say that I didn't enjoy the parts of Kind that I actually understood. Black has a talent for taking the light and fluffy things we loved in fairy tales and showing their darker sides. Her fey have teeth and claws. Her mermaids feast on human flesh. I love that she doesn't rely on any pre-existing notions of what a fairy should be or how an elf should behave. What's more, by exposing the dark side of things we take for granted, she forces us to take a look at the dark parts of ourselves that are sadistically drawn to flesh-eating mermaids.

Naifeh's illustrations are perfect for that. His fey are creepy but beautiful, simultaneously beautiful and terrifying. They're the stuff of very sexy nightmares. My one criticism of his style was that I sometimes had a hard time telling characters apart. Most of the human faces were drawn with androgynous, exaggerated features that reminded me a little of Mila Jovovich (who is scary beautiful). He did such a great job creating variety among the fey, I would have liked the same attention to be paid to their human counterparts.

Final Grade: N/A
Sorry folks, I know this is totally anticlimactic but I don't feel qualified to grade this one yet because I don't have the background I feel would be necessary. It's not fair to judge one book in a series, especially one that relies so heavily on the previous volumes, without knowledge of the entire story arc. It'd be like trying to read The Return of the King with no foreknowledge of the rest of the trilogy. I wouldn't have reviewed this one at all except that it's a Cybils nominee. I'll revisit it when I've had time to read the other books in the series.

Review Time: The Last Dragon

I love a good fantasy story. Dragons, fairies, wizards, and elves: they all have a special place in my heart and have since my mother first read me The Hobbit aloud when I was ten years old. Perhaps because of my long history with all things Tolkien, I hold the fantasy genre to a fairly high standard. So I had pretty high expectations of Jane Yolen's new book, The Last Dragon, illustrated by Rebecca Guay.

The dragons have been gone from Ingeland for over two hundred years, the people have wiped them out. Or have they? In the roots of one of the great mother-trees, a long dormant dragon egg cracks and a tiny dragon emerges. Meanwhile, in the nearby town of Meddlesome, Tansy and her family gather herbs and go about the general business of being medieval. But when the dragon begins to wreak havoc on the townspeople, they must find a hero brave enough to take on the dragon and save their home. Enter Lancot, a muscular young man from across the sea who seems just the hero to rid the town of Meddlesome of their pesky dragon problem.

Here's my beef with this one: it can't seem to make up its mind about what kind of story it really is. First of all, I couldn't decide how I was supposed to feel about the actual dragons. The introduction to the story describes the history of the dragons and the way they were driven out of the lands they inhabited. Then Yolen tells us about the hatching of the Last Dragon, the way it grew and developed. But suddenly the dragon was a fearsome monster who devoured Tansy's beloved father. And yet I felt sympathetic towards the dragon. I mean, they had their homes taken away by urban sprawl. Sound familiar? That's because it's everywhere, from "Pocahontas" to "Avatar" and it's usually the ones being driven out that we sympathize with.

But it wasn't just the story line that struck me as inconsistent. The language was strange, too. On one page, Yolen uses archaic, old-fashioned language and two pages later the characters are calling things "cool." Some of the sentences ("The youngest was the one who was a trouble to her mother," p. 23) seemed strangely awkward and much more complex than necessary.

Finally, the illustrations were beautiful, they reminded me of traditional English folk tales. But the inconsistencies are pervade even there. Most of the characters are dressed in nondescript peasant garb but there are random do-rags thrown in and the hero, Lancot, is inexplicably dressed in a toga. And speaking of Lancot, I never found myself liking him at all. In his first panel, he's standing shirtless in a tavern belching. He only agrees to help the town for the money. He doesn't actually have any hero experience. In fact, it's a little like the plot for "A Bug's Life" except without the plucky sidekicks and upbeat soundtrack.

Final Grade: C-

Review Time: Ozma of Oz (Graphic Novel Adaptation)

Graphic novel adaptations of classic books seem to be very vogue right now, I've reviewed three of them this week alone. This latest is L. Frank Baum's beloved Ozma of Oz, adapted by Eric Shanower and illustrated by Skottie Young.

Ozma is the third book in the Oz series and the second one to feature Dorothy. In this one, Dorothy gets blown over the side of a ship in a terrible storm and washes up on the shores of Ev with Billina, a yellow Hen. Billina and Dorothy set off through Ev, which is separated from Oz by a deadly desert, meeting a mechanical man named Tik Tok and the Princess Langwidere, who has twenty-six interchangeable heads. Ozma, the new princess of Oz, shows up shortly after that, accompanied by Dorothy's old friends, Tin Woodman, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion, along with several new friends such as the Hungry Tiger and Ozma's army (twenty-six officers and one private). Together with friends old and new, Dorothy sets out to rescue the true Queen of Ev and her ten children, who were all sold into slavery to the Nome King by the evil King Evoldo, who then drowned himself in the sea. Hijinks ensue.

It's kind of a convoluted story and it's very difficult to summarize; I'm sure I'm leaving bits out and confusing details but that's the general gist. All good fairy stories ramble a bit, just look at Alice in Wonderland. That one's a bundle of confusion dipped in crazysauce and seasoned with a health dash of Huh? but it's great fun. Ozma is the same. You don't question it, you just hang on and try to enjoy the ride.

Ozma transitions very well to this format. In particular, Skottie Young's style was absolutely perfect for this adaptation. His drawings are a bit Tim Burton-esque, with sharp angles, trailing swirls, and exaggerated expressions but that was the perfect compliment to the kooky, fantastical story. Just take a look at some of the alternate covers. They're awesome, right?

There's also a lot of action and a lot of really interesting characters that translate well to the illustrated page, making for a very exciting read. Rather than a lot of talking heads, which you get in many classic adaptations (cough, Emma, ahem), the characters are dashing past giant robots and fighting armies of nome people armed only with chicken eggs. It's great fun that will appeal both to young readers and older readers nostalgic for the stories they loved as kids.

Final Grade: A-