The Con, James Munton and Jelita McLeod

The Con: how scams work, why you're vulnerable, and how to protect yourself
James Munton and Jelita McLeod
ISBN: 9781442207318, 2011 Rowman and Littlefield Publishers

Oh how fun!  Lots of stories (details changed to protect the innocent... ) of people falling for various types of scams and cons, lots of advice (usually pretty good: don't check your online banking on unsecured "open" wireless networks, but sometimes a little paranoid-sounding: lock your mailbox or get a PO box) on how to protect yourself, and really interesting question and answer sessions with imprisoned or reformed conners on what they were thinking about and how they chose their marks.

I think it could have been a lot more powerful if it had taken more time delving into the psychology of victims, and especially dealt with the "reloading" from the victim's perspective rather than the conners (reloading being contacting the victim of a previous scam by pretending to be law enforcement or other agencies trying to help the victim get their money back... and then scamming the poor sheep yet again).

Overall, really interesting, and information that should be part of every modern person's education.  We live in a modern world, and cons and scams are one of the most prevalent types of modern crime there is - people should be wary!

Glow, Amy Kathleen Ryan

Not really sure about how I feel on this one.

First off: (I'm going to try and start keeping these for help in tracking down books later)
Glow, Amy Kathleen Ryan
Notes: first of a series "The Sky Chasers"
ISBN: 9780312590567, 2011, St Martins Press

Generation ships Empyrean and New Horizon (roughly agnostic and religiously oriented) are swimming through a messy nebula en route to their new planet.  Empyrean has met and overcome their fertility crisis, but (unbeknownst to the colonists at large on the Empyrean (our narrator-focus-ship) the New Horizon hasn't.  Now they're aiming for desperate measures.

First off, I'm going to explain the TMG tag: It's a new one specifically thought up for this book (and I imagine other ones will be getting it also) Too Much God.  While I'm up for deep philosophical meditations on the use and abuse of religion and religious impulses and the charismatic draw of people who see themselves as prophets, divine leaders, or mouthpieces of the gods, I really really really want a bit of warning before we go there!  It's a touchy subject for me, and I have to be in a specific frame of mind to appreciate it - and I'll note, it's not a frame of mind that I really think extends to "space opera about generation ship colonists."

Maybe that makes me a bad person that I want my sci-fi to be agnostic or atheistic (or religious, just not in my face about it) and focusing on battles or culture shocks due to aspects beyond religious belief and practice.  I don't know, and I don't really care.  All I know is that that topic and the way it was handled in this particular book made me quite uncomfortable, took me completely out of the story, baffled me as to where the author was wanting my sympthy to lie (and don't give me crap about not wanting to lead the reader - I want good guys and bad guys, and I want to know who they are.  If they redeem themselves or move to the dark side, that's peachy, but they have to have an alignment beforehand.  The author's job is to provide that reference to the reader)  AND - most importantly - I don't know if I'll read the sequels because of that discomfort.  And that's a shame, because I really could see myself getting behind the whole political struggles between these two ships, and the conflicts between characters with different strengths and abilities and opinions on how to lead people.  Darnit all. 

Anyway.  Interesting, thought-provoking, just plain provoking, and strange addition to the generation-ship fold.

Going Solo, Eric Klinenberg

Really short version:

People have been forced throughout history to live together because of lack of resources and cultural freedom to break out on their own. 

That's changing with middle and upper-class people now, and it's a mostly good thing for individuals and for social interaction in large cities, but it can sometimes be a source of loneliness and depression for the poor, or for people stuck in suburbs or apartments with no socialization outlets. 

It especially sucks for older people, because living alone is the cat's meow until you break your hip and realize that none of your mahjongg buddies are good enough friends to cart your groceries in twice weekly, let alone cook all your meals for you, or help you go to the bathroom three times a day.

If countries would just subsidize people's desire to live alone, and also bankroll our dwindling ability to take care of ourselves when alone and old, we'd all totally be happy and live in our own personalized individualized bubbles and only interact with people in ways that we wanted and we'd all live happily ever after. 

The End.

/sarcastic blogging

Raiders' Ransom, Emily Diamand

This is the beginning of a series.

Set in post-apocalyptic flooded England (similar idea to Ship Breaker, but very different feel) there are 10 remaining counties of England, ruled by an idiotic Prime Minister - everything else has been lost to the sea or to Greater Scotland.  (Imagine this set in America, with everything north of the Mason-Dixon Line suddenly part of Expanded Canada.  What shock!  What horror!) 

Anyway - the poor suckers stuck in those last Ten Counties suffer mostly in silence, working fishing boats and trying to keep up with their taxes.  Technology is forbidden.  Up north, the sinful Scots use all sorts of tech, but they're in league with the devil, so that's why. 

Lilly and her seacat only want a nice peaceful fisher life - her, her seacat, and her sweetheart Andy (who will hopefully marry her and still let her go fishing!) living together until the far future.  Yeah right.

Raiders attack, stealing the PM's daughter (who was stowed at the fishing village with her exiled aunt), and Lilly sets off on a quest to retrieve the girl and save her village from impression or hanging from the asanine PM himself.  (Getting the impression throughout this book that the author isn't too fond of politicians.) 

In the alternate viewpoint, Zeph is the younger son of the boss of the Angel Isling gang of raiders.  They fled London in the great flooding, and now they prowl around, stealing from the Scots and the fishing villages alike ("no one helped us escape, so we don't owe them any loyalty" is the idea here).  Family is everything, and life is brutal, with slaves and captives galore, and turf-wars over status and position.  His dad just stole the PM's daughter!  The Boss is actually looking forward to starting a war with the PM - he can't wait to fight it out and prove once and for all that the Raiders are the true Englishmen!

By some miracle, Lilly and Zeph, along with the seacat and an intriguing "jewel," meet up with each other and have to figure out how to survive the chaos wrought by one small theft of one small girl.

Not a world-stopping read - there were some technical difficulties.  There were some really interesting characters picked up and then dropped nearly instantly (Lilly's "uncle" comes to mind) but with a series, I'm willing to give that a chance to repair itself over time (still, for a single installment, it was a bit abrupt).  The plot was strangely herky-jerky, and more than a tad unrealistic in all of the chance meetings and lucky breaks - but so is most juvenile fiction.  Even the world was strangely ad hoc - the PM and bureaucrats were described as well off, but if all they have is a tiny collection of fishing villages, where does that come from?  Likewise, despite religious protestations and enforced borders, technology from Scotland wouldn't be entirely unknown to desperate natives just a few miles down the pike.  Similarly, London itself is totally flooded - or maybe just a muddy mess, or maybe only flooded at high tide.  Lots of questions unanswered about how things work in this world. 

I did appreciate that the dual narratives were very clear and demonstrably different.  I really like knowing who is "speaking" from the very first, and clear character concepts are absolutely necessary for that sort of writing convention.  Also - seacats.  Great idea.  I love cats, and the idea of strange little grey kittens latching on to someone and helping them navigate over undersea obstacles and by forcasting weather changes - really neat concept!

Overall, pretty good - Not an amazing read, but I am looking forward to the sequel.

Entwined, Heather Dixon

Oh, I liked this one!

The Entwine is a dance enjoyed by the populace of the imaginary early industrial-revolution-era kingdom our princesses are from.  The Entwine has the couple holding the ends of a scarf, with the gentleman's goal to "capture" the lady, and the lady's goal to "escape."

Azalea, the eldest of twelve sisters (now you know for sure which fairy-tale this one is) loves that dance, and she's almost as good as her sainted and wonderful (and unfortunately dead) mother.

The girls are now in mourning, and the one thing that brings them peace and comfort is dancing.  But in mourning, you can't dance!  ( LOVED this!)  The magic of the castle brings them to a magical underworld dance hall ruled by the Keeper, who assures the bereft girls that they can dance underground with him any time they wish.  As time goes on, he gets progressively more posessive and demanding - and before their year of mourning is up, they may be in deep trouble.

This was so much fun!  Only one set of twins, the elder girls at least all had distinct personalities, and the younger had "shortcuts" that were at least fun to read.   There were even politics and the realities of romance when you are the heir to a throne!  The male leads were suitably differing and fun, and the estranged relationship with "Sir" was deftly handled.

All in all, this is the best adaptation of a fairy-tale I have read in a really really long time.  Massive kudos!

Manta's Gift, Timothy Zahn

Way back in 2002, Timothy Zahn wrote Manta's Gift, which begins with a premise familiar to anyone who has seen Avatar (James Cameron, not elemental magic). 

Matt Raimey was 22 when he had his skiing accident, and he was the only tetraplegic crazy enough to accept Project Changeling's offer - to be reborn as a Qanska, the behemoth flying/swimming alien creatures discovered in Jupiter's hurricane winds.

Unknown to Raimey, the project isn't for the purpose of creating new biological treatments for injured people, or even to promote cross-species understanding, but specifically to insert an agent into Qanskan society in order to find out their greatest secret.

I want to start out by saying that I really liked this book, and I really enjoyed the concept.  I need to say that before I start in on the criticisms:

1) The Qanskans are distressingly human.  They have a strict hierarchical society based on tolerable pressures, but despite being TOLD fairly often that they are aliens, they never seem like such - it's the 'bumpy-head' ailment from Star Trek and Star Wars.  Friendships, love, even mentoring relationships all act exactly like they do in mainstream American culture.  I know it's an established way to deal with "alien" cultures when that isn't your real focus, but I really felt that some more effort could have been expended on this, especially given the payout plotline at the end of the book. 

2) If you are 22 years old, and move to a different society, even one where you have to move and speak much differently from normal, even after 8 years, you don't forget your first language and the world you came from, especially if you have people in the back of your mind speaking to you in that language constantly for the first three of those eight years!

If you prefer the new language, that's fine, and if you forget specific terms without having to think hard for them, then ok, but you don't totally forget language and your childhood experiences so thoroughly as the main character did.  I was very taken out of the story when that happened.

3) Maybe I've read too much David Weber, but the hints and teases about the "Five Hundred" and all the things going on back on Mars, Earth, and on the Jupiter space station were a little frustrating.  I would have really liked to have spent more time with the secondary characters, and on the bad guys and their motivations.  I think a contrast between all of that going on, and the totally different conflicts down on/in Jupiter would have been really nifty.  Actually, I think I have read too much David Weber. 

That's all of the critical stuff.

Specific likes:

I actually liked an epilogue for once!  Yay! 

Arbiter Liadof was an awesome bad guy.  I liked her a lot, and really wished we could have gotten more of her.

Farraday and his team were extremely interesting, as was the concept of the Jupiter Prime station and the various projects and turf-wars going on up there as a result of politics and demagoguery.  Again, really wished to see more of that.

I liked the explanation late in the story that revealed the Qanskan reasoning for allowing this "half-breed" birth into their society - it was one of the few times they were shown as having truly alien thoughts and lives.  I liked that they recognized that as a species.

I really liked the central conceit (the secret) of the story.  That was an interesting concept, and one that would be fun to follow up on, especially considering the epilogue.

Overall, a nifty read!  

Hachiko, Pamela Turner, illustrated by Yan Nascimbene

Hachiko is pretty famous, but to summarize, Hachiko was a real dog that waited every day at a particular train station for his owner to return home on the evening train.  One sad day, the owner died, but Hachiko kept waiting daily for him.  He waited for ten years after the man's death, until his own death - at the train station.  People were so fond and proud of his devotion that they built a statue in his honor, and hold a yearly birthday celebration for him when the cherry blossoms bloom. 

Turner's credit comes in creating a small boy narrator to meet and care for Hachiko, and to tell his story through the years, making it more accessible and immediate to young people.  Nascimbene's credit is in his beautiful and simple watercolors - many of which resemble woodcuts.  A lovely story of a sweet dog, and a look at a foreign country that doesn't seem so foreign from this view.

Axe Cop; Axe Cop: Bad Guy Earth, by Malachai and Ethan Nicolle

Ok, webcomic people may know this, but Axe Cop is totally awesome!

I've got Volumes One and Two from Dark Horse, and I have to say, they make much more sense when they're all bound together in print and I can read them all in one go.  Much like Girl Genius, so much is going on, and so much of it is UTTER MADNESS, that it helps to have a chance to look back in print and go - wait, what now?  Ohhh, ok.  That's hard to do in webcomic format.

So Malachai is this kid, about 7 now, but between 5 and 6 when he came up with this.  His big brother Ethan, a cartoonist, came home for the holidays, and this is what they came up with together.  Smash internet hit, and awesome little-kid physics and causality.  Brilliant.

I don't even know where to start explaining the idea... there's a cop, with an axe, and he routinely recruits strange super-powered weirdos to be his team, and they kill a lot of bad guys, and aliens (which are always bad guys) and sharks (likewise) and sometimes robots (ditto).

I think my favorite panels are the "Ask Axe Cop" segments, and my favorite character is Uni-Man (especially after he bulks up and has his secret hideout).

For any more details, you really just need to go look it up for yourself.  Please Do NOT do so at work, or in the presence of people you don't want to see you snerk your drink out your nose. 

All Hail Eris!  All Hail Discordia!

Dark of the Moon, Tracy Barrett

This YA (and deeply gory, although totally non-sexual) novel has a subtitle: "The myth of the Minotaur as it has never been told before" and that's most likely true.

Bad stuff first: 

The narration switches between two protagonists, Theseus and Ariadne, and you can't tell the difference between them.  Your only clue is when a specific reference to places or people is given which allows you to place the reference.  For characters which are brought up and appear so very different - there should be a different narrative "voice" for each.  This is a really glaring problem, and it dragged me right out of the story each time the narrator switched.  No good.

"The Goddess."  Oh for fuck's sake, give the damn goddess an actual NAME already!  I don't CARE that Kretans don't go in for calling people by names - this is just a bad choice all around, and worse when there's multiple narrators and characters who cycle between names.  All of this "The Goddess" and "The Goddess-Who-Was" and "The Goddess-Who-Is" and "The Goddess-Who-Will-Be" dear sweet god - just name them each something allegorical or representative and get over it!  Argh!  I don't know why that pissed me right off, but it did, and by the end of the book, I practically wept with relief when a bit character said that she worshipped "Selene." 

Religion bashing?  I personally didn't care for the messages passed on about religion and worship, especially of the "Goddess:" yes, she's evil and bitchy and requires that you sacrifice all that you love, and walk in fear and trembling lest she suddenly get bitchy about something that never bothered her before but might start bothering her now, and she'll totally smite everyone if everything isn't done perfect, and even then she might just smite you anyway just because.  But seriously - love her!  She's our loving wonderful Mother Goddess!   Just a little bit... co-dependent and abusive-relationshippy for me.  Maybe that was the point, but it just didn't sit well at all.

Historical context?  Anyone?  I really was expecting some serious appendage going on at the end, to explain all the crazy-ass priestess things and the multiple cities of the Goddess, and the origins of Theseus, and basically breaking down the things the author made up out of whole cloth, the things the author based on legends and "histories," and things which were actually based on archeological findings and cultural studies.  I really really felt the lack there, as I had no idea whether the things I was reading about were in any way based on reality.  I would have liked this a lot more if there had been some background available.

Ok, enough with the bad. 

Good concepts!  Good secondary characters!  Poor, dear Minos!  I loved dear Asterion.  I loved the explanations and depiction of the bull-dancing, and the concept of the Minos and Priestess combination.  I even loved the complex succession cycle, and the complicated ties of relationship based on whether certain people were mortal or Goddess when they had their offspring.  Really really cool stuff!

I also liked that Theseus happened to be a convenient "spare" and needed to figure out what to do about himself.  I think he got gypped in his portrayal and his own character development, but it was a very clever idea.  I especially liked Medea: "dear, another one of yours?"

Finally, I enjoyed the naked ambition of Prokris, although I think that might have been a little overdone for the time-period.  She was a great scheming character, and I loved her black-hearted ruthlessness.

I even enjoyed the twist on the basic myth, and the "explanation" at the end as to why the mythos is the way it is.

Overall, an interesting take on the Minotaur legend, and not a bad story, just some really bad writing decisions.

Juniper; Wise Child; Colman, Monica Furlong

I am listing these in chronological order by events as they happen in the books themselves, as that is how I found them.  Many years ago, I read and enjoyed Juniper, but never thought to follow up on possible sequels.  Apparently, most people encounter Wise Child first.

These are set in a Northern Britain (Cornwall, Scotland, Ireland, Dalraida) where Christianity is finally beginning to take hold over the population.

Juniper tells the story of a spoilt princess who is taken in by her godmother, a local wisewoman, to learn the powers of good witchery, healing, and herblore.  The wise woman, the girl, and their young friends must rise up against the girl's evil aunt, who has ensorcelled her own child, the girl's dear cousin. 

Wise Child picks up many years later, in a distant land, where a girl is abandoned by her careless sorceress of a mother and her wandering sailor father.  When her grandmother dies, she is left to the care of Juniper, the local wisewoman (and, the good Christians of the village know) the witch.  This young girl learns that faith and knowledge can coexist and be quite powerful, but that evil and hateful people can be powerful forces also.  

Colman finishes out the series (there are indications that Ms Furlong did not have a chance to edit or revise this last volume, as she passed away immediately upon penning it).  Here Juniper, Wise Child, and their (now much more important) male companions return to Juniper's home for a final confrontation (a serious let-down) with her evil aunt and her terrifying knight companion - who are much the worse for wear in this last episode.

I wouldn't say that any of them are bad, but Colman and Wise Child both suffer greatly from a lot of fear and worry and talking up of "oh dear, the bad guys are awful, what are they going to do?" and then not being able to follow that up with any sort of equal action because these really are very Juvenile-level books. 

Done well, that can be ok - done not so well, it makes the bad guys fall flat, and makes the good guys look a bit idiotic for being so worried and worked-up when everything was obviously not so dangerous after all.  Good guys also look a lot less good and heroic when they don't have something (or someone) of worth and equal power to oppose them, and make them really sweat for their victory.

Anyway - minor complaints.  A lovely series, and one I'm glad to finally have read.  Both Wise Child and Colman are sweet stories that offer lovely counterpoints to the original tale I read as a child of the spoilt Juniper and her experiences while learning to become a wisewoman.

Dancing in the Wings, Debbie Allen, illustrated by Kadir Nelson

Sassy is tall.  She has long gangly legs, and huge feet.  She's also a ballerina, and quite proud of her height - mostly.  Her brother teases her about it, but she gives as good as she gets, and keeps on working hard at her dancing.

Still, being tallest is not the greatest thing - her ballet teacher stumbles over Sassy's feet, she can't dance partner work because she's taller than all the boys, and she can't even dance in ensemble with the other girls because she's too tall to fit in.

When a famous Russian instructor offers try-outs for a summer dance festival in DC, she's excited and proudly signs up to audition, but the snickers and cracks from her fellow dancers, and from her brother, finally get to her.  Maybe she is too tall and gangly?  Maybe her feet are too big?  Maybe - maybe it would be safer just not to try out at all...?

A pep talk from a favorite uncle cheers her up and gets her confidence back up to par, and she attends the audition in her brightest yellow leotard, determined to be noticed, and to do her best. 

I love this story.  I've read it before, and I liked it then, too.  I'll never be a ballerina (I'm pigeon-toed with weird hips) but I am pretty tall for a girl - 5'10" in my bare feet.  I'm married to a lovely guy who happens to be 6'6".  His sisters all break the 6' mark.  We were all swimmers, and we all have legs that practically reach our armpits. 

I'm gonna have me some tall kids eventually, I just know it.  Books like this one are perfect for me to keep in mind when they get a little older, because kids (and adults) can be really cruel about physical differences.  It takes a lot of repetition for someone who's always singled out for being different to realize that sometimes different can be really really good!  All it takes is one look at that picture of Sassy in her bright yellow, head bowed in disappointment (temporary) with those looooong skinny legs, and I know right where she's coming from.  This book is a keeper.

 

Gwinna, Barbara Helen Berger

As many fairy tales do, this one begins with a father and mother desperately wanting a child.

They take their request to the Owl Mother, who grants them a child, with one condition - to send it back in twelve years.

Back home, the infant grows strong and beautiful - except for the two strange brown spots on her back, which eventually (to her mother's utter dismay) bud into wings, which begin to grow larger.  Mother, desperate to keep Gwinna grounded and safe, binds them up beneath ribbons and destroys all the looking glasses. 

Despite that, on her twelfth birthday, the owls come for Gwinna, and her parents are turned to stone.  Now this precocious child must learn to navigate her wings, her deepest desires, and her memories of home in order to save both the Owl Mother, her own family, and her homeland.  Her quest takes her to a magical place beneath the center of the world, where a kindly griffin, a beautiful dryad, and a magical harp teach her to play the music of life.

Such a pretty little story, and beautiful illustrations.  The one where she and the griffin are seated beneath the dryad tree is almost biblical in style, while the one of her practicing flight on a craggy outcrop in the woods seems like it could appear in a naturalist catalog.

The Cinder-Eyed Cats, Eric Rohmann

In a strange land where sailing ships float yards above the oceans they traverse, a young boy heads off to a tropical island, where he amuses himself by creating sand sculptures - until dusk settles, the Cinder-Eyed Cats appear, and everything turns flamboyantly magical.

Fish leap from the ocean and swirl around in an aquatic version of Max's wild rumpus, and the cats gambol around with perpetually intrigued expressions.  Dawn arrives too soon, bringing the fish back to their watery home, the boy back across the water in his flying sailboat, and the cats sprawled lazily along the shore, waiting for another night of magic.

Paintings are very reminiscent of David Wiesner, especially of Flotsam and Tuesday, and the ocean-theme is especially delightful, as I am now living away from the seaside, and miss it terribly.

Kamishibai Man; The Boy in the Garden, Allen Say

Both of these by Allen Say are sweet stories of Japan that aren't set in a mythic past, or in a hectic multicultural super-technological present.  They're in that sweet spot just between, where anything can happen.

Kamishibai is an old street-performers' art, somewhat like the American idea of flannelboards, silhouette theatres, or shadow-box presentations.  Drawings on screens are placed in a box frame, with others behind them, and the progression of the drawings illustrates stories that the Kamishibai Man tells as he draws children in to get them to buy his candy and small toys so he can make a living.  A lot of Kamishibai artists moved into anime or manga when those avenues opened up, and now the art form is mainly used in schools or as a demonstration of history.

This story follows an old man who used to sell candies in a small city, before the arrival of TV took all the children inside.  In a nostalgic moment, he decides to head into town to tell stories again, and he remembers the way things were as he travels.  Once there, everything is changed, and there are no children in sight.   However, the business-people remember him from their childhood, and he even makes the evening news as he tells his story and passes out his candy as he did in the past.  Sweet and a little sad, just like all of Allen Say's work, with dignified artwork that uses a softer edge to show memories, in contrast with the clear crisp detail of the present day.

This could be really interesting to pair with an American story of similar time and culture changes, such as When I Was Young in the Mountains, by Cynthia Rylant.


With The Boy in the Garden, Say shows a little boy re-imagining the Japanese fairy-tale "The Snow Crane," where a man rescues a crane from a trap, and soon meets and marries a beautiful woman who weaves fabric that lets them become comfortable, then well-off.  When the man wishes to become even richer, and spies on his wife while she reluctantly works, she chastises him, changes back into her original crane form, and flies away forever. 

In Say's frame story, the young boy Jiro goes with his father to wish a nearby rich old man a Happy New Year.  While the adults visit, Jiro explores the beautiful gardens (seeing a sculpture of a snowy crane) and eventually finds the tiny teahouse, where he has an adventure in the snowy night with a beautiful woman.  Jiro struggles to change the fairy-tale's sad ending with his foreknowledge, and to protect the woman, but he is interrupted by his father, who has come to fetch him back home.  In the end, the father and son walk back through the garden together, commenting on the lifelike form of the beautiful crane sculpture.

I think this story would also go well with Willy and the Cardboard Boxes (Lizi Boyd), which also has a small boy entertaining himself with his imagination (and falling asleep in the process) while adults are occupied otherwise.

Monsoon Afternoon & My Dadima Wears a Sari, Kashmira Sheth, illustrated by Yokisho Jaeggi

These two are simply beautiful picture books, and the stories in each are sweet interactions between children and their grandparents.

Monsoon Afternoon is set in India, and My Dadima Wears a Sari is set in America. 

In the first, a boy and his grandfather (his dadaji) go out and play in the first rains of the monsoon season, and the boy hears all about how his dadaji also played with his own dadaji, and the monsoon came every year, and so back through time.  The love and gentleness is sweet and uplifting, and there's nothing religious or political to take away from the simple message of a child enjoying time with a loving older relative.

My Dadima Wears a Sari has a grandmother who always wears a sari talking about all of her beautiful saris and the memories she has of them with her two granddaughters, and ends with them all dressing up in her favorites.  Again, the message is simple and the story is sweet - the dadima and granddaughter talk about all the useful things that can be done with saris, but the point is also made that they are beautiful and remind her of her past, and that she enjoys wearing them for those reasons also. 

Both simply gorgeous works, and I'm very glad to have run across them. 

The False Princess, Eilis O'Neal

I tagged this as YA because the main characters are sixteen, but other than a short unpleasantness overheard early on, there isn't anything but a single set of kisses to get worked up over.

Nalia (wish that had been a different name, as I got Lion King music in my ears every time I read it) is the sixteen-year-old heir to the throne - until she learns that she's just a random commoner, bought from her father and magicked to resemble the princess.  Why?  Well, the prophecy that the princess would die young, of course! 

Sixteen having sucessfully been reached, Nalia is now revealed as Sinda (much better name), kicked out within the day to her poor relations, and poor Orianne (also a good name) is snatched from the convent where she thought she was a noble's unwanted bastard child, renamed Nalia, and given her new crown.  Surprise!

Back in the country, Sinda learns quickly that a princess education does very little to help in common life, and uses an unexpected upsurge of magic as an excuse to head back to the capital where she tries to figure out who she really is, what she's good for, and how to be satisfied with her now very common life.

A plucky (and devoted) friend helps her out, and very quickly they realize that not all is as it should be in the capital, and with the Royal Family.  Is Sinda just jealous of what she's lost?  Or has she really noticed something truly treasonous in the palace?

This is a good story, but not an amazing one.  It suffers slightly from what I think of as "magic girl syndrome"  Magic Girl is usually the heroine, but sometimes the sidekick.  She suddenly has so much magic that it's a problem, and she can never trust it to work right, except that she ALWAYS trusts it to work in a pinch, and it ALWAYS does!  Despite being "unpredictable" and "uncontrollable" and "dangerous," all of the main characters depend on it often, and it always (at least in the important plot-related bits) works the way it's supposed to, or if it goes wrong, it goes wrong in a good way to further their aims.  I really really really dislike that.  I think it's sloppy writing.  If magic is uncontrollable, then let it fail at an important moment, and add some extra conflict to the mix!  If the girl is not able to be relied upon in that way, then DON'T RELY ON HER THAT WAY! 

Think of it this way:  I have pretty good makeup skills, but I can't work makeup that looks good under direct sunlight.  So my plan is to have us all sneak past the city guards at high noon, wearing makeup so they won't recognize us!  Sounds great, right?

In any rational universe, my friends who know about my problems with makeup should mention at this point all of the sunlight that happens at noon, and how maybe we need a different plan, or perhaps a different time of day.  This never happens in The False Princess, and it is a great irritation to me.

That one pet peeve aside, this is a pretty fun (if predictable) middle-ages-style fantasy romp with a slightly snarky heroine in the vein of Alanna or Harimad-sol.  Her companions are varied and personable, and the bit characters are also drawn very nicely.  I would be interested in seeing a sequel featuring Mika, especially.

Welcome to Bordertown, editors: Holly Black & Ellen Kushner

With this new anthology of Borderlands/Bordertown stories, the source-point for modern American urban fantasy steps into a new era.  At least - I sure hope so!

I first found Bordertown a looong time ago.  I was reading Charles de Lint like a starving waif, and I didn't know where else to turn for stories of myth and magic and REAL PEOPLE.  Then he mentioned Terri Windling, and that was that.

I firmly believe that a whole generation of authors, artists, and dreamers-in-general owe a great debt to this lovely lady and her delightful world that she shared so generously with everyone - readers and authors alike.  It was like a splendid playbox where each person built on another's foundation, or riffed off of a tune that another just casually tossed out as ornamentation.  It was beautiful, and then the 80s ended, urban fantasy got passed on to another (still excellent) generation, and Bordertown quietly faded into the background inspiration pile.

Now, we're back!  The way has opened again, familiar faces are still right there, new people are pouring in, elves are stuck-up as usual, but i-pods and laptops are taking over, and I can't wait to see what happens when the haughty Truebloods encounter dubstep!

Welcome to Bordertown has a visitor's guide, stories, songs (including one rap), poems (including a jump-rope rhyme), and a black&white comic by all of the following fantastic people: Ellen Kushner, Terri Windling, Cory Doctorow, Patricia McKillip, Catherynne Valente, Amal El-Mohtar, Emma Bull, Steven Brust, Alaya Dawn Johnson, Will Shetterly, Jane Yolen, Janni Lee Simner, Sara Ryan, Dylan Meconis, Tim Pratt, Annette Curtis Klause, Nalo Hopkinson, Delia Sherman, Christopher Barzak, Holly Black, Cassandra Clare, Neil Gaiman, and Charles de Lint.

If you haven't already, go and read all of their other (non Borderlands) work.  Yes, I mean all of it.  Seriously.  You will be a better, mostly happier person if you do.

In the meantime, Bordertown LIVES!     

The Secret Thoughts of Successful Women, Valerie Young

The subtitle of this work is actually a better summary of the contents: "Why Capable People Suffer from the Impostor Syndrome, and How to Thrive in Spite of It."

The book is geared towards women mainly, but the author acknowledges up front that men do have difficulties with this sometimes as well.  There's also acknowledgement of the overlap between Impostor Syndrome and "Highly Sensitive" people (which I still think is an unfortunate name choice).

Valerie goes over what Impostor Syndrome is: that nagging, constant feeling that you're just faking it, and someone eventually will figure out that you're not actually a grownup or very good at this, and call your bluff and send you home in disgrace.

Then she talks about what may cause it:  Sensitivity to other people and to your environment, social conditioning to think that luck or "nice people" caused all of your successes, worry that past achievements are no predictor of future success.

Next up is a summary of all the ways that you are hurting  yourself professionally and emotionally by believing that: you may procrastinate or never finish projects to avoid "failing" on the finished project, you may avoid offers of promotion or of positions that you may actually want because you're afraid someone will find you out, you may help out your competitors to the point that they succeed and you don't because you don't want the stress of competition, you may just live your whole life as a miserable ball of stress. 

All that established, she throws in some CBT (cognitive behavior therapy) style assignments and questions.  Do you really think that you "lucked" your way into your high scores and previous achievements?  Do you really think that your past experiences and successes have nothing to do with how well you'll handle future challenges?  Do you really want to be a miserable ball of stress?

While there's only so much a book can do for me ( I read too quickly for "workbook" style assignments to really work, and would do much better in actually changing habits if this were a class or term-long workshop or seminar) I appreciate the insights, and especially the knowledge that I'm not the only one who feels like they're faking this whole "mature competent grownup" thing. 

Brave Margaret, Robert D. San Souci, Sally Wern Comport

The last of my current batch of "Clever Princess"- type stories, Brave Margaret is yet another one based on old folktales.

Margaret is a "red woman" with fiery hair, milky skin, cheeks that glow like embers, and eyes blue like hot fire.  She works on her farm until the day a young king comes by looking for kine to supply his ship full of adventurers. 

Adventurers, you say?  Margaret gladly grants the cows, but only if she can come with.  Despite initial protestations, King Simon agrees, and she works as hard and as long as the sailors and adventurers do.

Until the sea serpent attacks.  After that, the duo is separated, and Margaret ends up in a hovel with a weird old crone who's a bit tiched in the head.  There's a sword and ring hanging over the fire, waiting for a champion to take them up and defeat a great evil.

We all know how this is going to go, right?  But, before that, we get to see Simon taught a hard lesson (and perhaps an unfair one) and Margaret learns that she doesn't have to sit on her ass and wait for someone else to be the hero.

Stunning illustrations - all deceptively loose and "primitive" in places, but full of details and strength in colors and lines.  The story flows neatly and straightforwardly, which is a blessing to old Irish folktales which can often wander and get lost in side alleys.  The episodes aren't always explained (why did the sea serpent want Margaret?)  (why didn't the not-really-an-old-crone just get off her ass and kick the evil's butt herself?) but they're thrilling adventures and reasons aren't a strong point in fairy tales anyway.


 

Baba Yaga and Vasilisa the Brave, Marianna Mayer, Kinuko Craft

This is an ancient Russian fairy tale, similar to Cinderella in some ways with the evil stepfamily, but Baba Yaga is no fairy godmother.

Vasilisa's mother gave her a tiny doll before she died, telling the girl that it would look after her and pass on her love even beyond the grave.  Now, with her father also dead, an evil witch of a stepmother, and two hateful stepsisters, she needs that love and help more than ever.

A reason is manufactured to send Vasilisa over to Baba Yaga's house in the woods, the one standing on little chicken feet, surrounded by walls of human bones, and lit by the unearthly lights shining from bleached skulls.  She's supposedly sent to fetch a light back home, but she's really supposed to become Baba Yaga's dinner.

Between her own care and bravery, and the help of the magic doll, Vasilisa not only doesn't become dinner, but actually manages to impress the old hag.  After two days, she's sent back home with a skull lantern, and things start looking up for her after that.

I love the illustrations here.  I'm less thrilled by the pacing of the narrative, and I'm really a bit confused by the tacked-on ending involving the weaving and the young tzar.  I know it's there in the earliest versions, but it really does seem disconnected to the rest of the story. 

Despite those flaws, an amazing tale, and a good complement to The Magic Nesting Doll or to A Weave of Words.

Scarlet Angelina Wolverton-Manning, Jacqueline Ogburn, Brian Ajhar

This delightful picture book from Dial isn't exactly new - it's from 1994, but I just discovered it!

Scarlet Angelina is the only child of her doting (and fabulously wealthy) parents, scions of what must have been equally fabulously wealthy lineages; the Mannings and the Wolvertons.  She's got huge eyes, a lovely big white smile, and family pets have an unfortunate tendency to go missing around her.  She also eats rare steaks for dinner, and has to be home before the moon comes up.

She's also just been kidnapped.  Sadly, poor Ralph doesn't quite realize just what he's gotten himself into, and as the moon rises over the graveyard, he finds that he doesn't have quite as much time to count his ransom money as he thought he did.

He also learns that when a little girl has a strict bedtime - it's usually best to abide by it.

GGGGRRRRRRR!