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The second book in a trilogy can be a difficult thing to enjoy, I think, and I am sure it is a challenge to write. When you begin an exciting story, readers are always eager to know how it ends, and the author must have to struggle with writing a satisfying story on its own merits, along with something that leaves the reader hanging for the last book. I think that Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy was successful in bridging the first and third novels, and in terms of movies The Empire Strikes Back and The Dark Knight were as well. The Song of Ice and Fire series are not as successful for me, as I have discussed previously – while I am desperate to know how the story ends, the middle books sometimes feel disconnected and unsatisfying. Suzanne Collins is successful with Catching Fire, I think. It is a well written, self contained story in its own right, with great development of the characters and a cliffhanger ending. I am glad I picked these up as a group, and did not read them as they were published, because it has a very emotionally fraught ending.

This book picks up a few month after the Hunger Games have ended, and both Peeta and Katniss are having trouble adjusting to their new circumstances – new homes, newly awkward relationships, and the threat that President Snow presents. Much of the beginning of the book refreshes the reader on what has occurred in the prior book and demonstrates how isolated how the victors, Katniss in particular, has become. This portion of the book is a bit slower than both The Hunger Games and the second part of this book are, but it is important because it demonstrates how Katniss has changed as a character and introduces the reader to the wider political struggle the Hunger Games and it’s most recent victors as political liabilities. The reader is made more familiar with other districts in Panem, and is shown more of the Capitol and it’s residents, which serves as a rich backdrop for the 75th Annual Hunger Games that makes up the last half of the book.

Catching Fire is a good middle book for an exciting trilogy – the characters change and are are made more familiar to the reader, it refers back to the first story while being exciting all on its own, and ends on a many layered cliffhanger. It certainly left me desperate for the last in the series.

We3 was a miniseries by Grant Morrison, an author whom I have seen referenced but not read before, as he seems to generally write with superhero graphic novels. I received this as a gift, as the website my husband was reading highly recommended it. While I really enjoyed the art, and appreciated the story, I can’t say I particularly enjoyed this book.

The plot centres around three lost pets who are used as test animals by the military, attempting to replace human soldiers with animals in cybernetic suits, basically. The dog, cat and rabbit are able to communicate with each other and are successful soldiers, so the military decides the experiment is a success and they are no longer needed. Survival instincts kick in and things start to get violent as the animals search for home. The story is complex, really, dealing with how humans treat animals, the morality of the military, and the need for home. However, the story is so violent and sad that it is hard to really enjoy. Each of the three issues included a MISSING poster for each of animals, they try to look after one another as best as they can, and the dog berates himself as he attacks the humans trying to hurt him and his friends. The special feature at the back of the deluxe edition indicates that Morrison and illustrator Frank Quitely were trying to create a dynamic way of presenting the action scenes. They are almost photorealistic, and are shown in distinct, disjointed panels that are intended to show that the animals experience time at a different rate than do humans. The violence is very graphic, and is incredibly well done as well as being disturbing.

I can appreciate that the story is complete, as would be a finely written short story. The art is dramatic and well thought out, and the novel is both moving and exciting, but it isn’t one that I would ever read again. It just made me feel a bit sad and uncomfortable, which may be the point of such a story, but doesn’t make for a relaxing and enjoyable reading experience.

It felt like I was the only person left in the world who had not read the trilogy, but the movie looked great so I made certain to read The Hunger Games in advance of the movie, because that’s how big of a nerd I am. I finished the first book at 2 am, the same day as borrowing it from a friend. We were both on the world’s longest wait list at the library for the next two, so I went out and bought the boxed set for us to share. I’m a grown up, I can impulse purchase a complete set of YA novels if I like, yes indeed.

It is hard to add anything new to the discussion of the novel, but I will throw out a few ideas anyways, largely related to how the movie is tied to the book. I recall that when the film was first announced, there were many concerns about the casting, particularly with the three leads. Having not read the books and not being overly familiar with the actors, I did not pay an enormous amount of attention to the discussion, but I now wonder how my perception of the characters as I was reading was coloured by knowing which actors would play them. Having seen the movie, I do not have any complaints about the casting, but was kind of disappointed by the depiction of the Capitol, strangely. For the most part, it seemed like a lot of concrete and just not shiny enough, but perhaps that is something that will seem a little more glamourous in the sequels. Overall, I really enjoyed the movie, as did a friend I took who has not read the books, not being a fan of YA books on principle.

Like most people, I really loved the character of Katniss. I of course admire her selflessness and her courage, but also her focus. Once selected as a tribute, she struggled and fought and strategized. She is often compared to Bella from the Twilight novels, most notably in how Bella is nothing without her boyfriend (admission: I am generalizing as I have little familiarity with the series) and how Katniss does her best to rid herself of any romantic complications, but I think the more interesting distinction is how Bella is both so self absorbed  and has such little self regard that she deliberately and repeatedly puts herself in danger, but also seems to sit back and wait for people to act around and for her. In contrast, Katniss carefully considers her actions and their repercussions on the survival of both herself but those she is responsible for. While not perfect by any stretch, Katniss is smart and self-reliant, and is able to see herself as part of a whole.

The story itself is also very exciting, with a strong narrative that moves quickly. Collins does excellent work in constructing an interesting story with some fairly heavy themes in the background, including the strangely unreal nature of reality television, as well as showing how fear is used in a totalitarian political system. Those ideas are not presented in a heavy handed manner, but woven into the plot as both background and as a driver of events. As mentioned above, I was very eager to continue reading the series, in much the same way as I felt about Harry Potter and The Sandman graphic novels, which is an excellent recommendation in itself.

I had initially intended to review each of these volumes individually, but it has been a few months since I first started this review, so my impressions are a bit fuzzy now. I read the first trade paperback a few years ago, and then the series fell of my radar. My trusty local library has since purchased the deluxe editions, which encompass a few trade paperbacks in each book, which is much more satisfying anyways.

For those who are not familiar with the series, the concept is that an evil creature known only as the Adversary has killed, enslaved or driven famous fairytale characters from their homeland over a period of years, and those individuals have taken refuge in our world. Some of them are hiding in plain sight in the “mundie” (mundane people = us) world in a New York neighborhood, while those who cannot pass as human live on The Farm, an enchanted tract of land in a rural area, isolated and protected from normal people. The characters have been living here for centuries.

Willingham does a nice job of carrying the main story arc throughout all of the collected stories, carrying the momentum while still creating individual and discrete tales for the characters. I understand that the fairy tale characters used in the book were chosen on the basis of their being in the free domain, but that includes the major characters like the Big Bad Wolf  and Jack (from a number of stories), Snow White, Cinderella, etc. I was unfamiliar with a few of the characters, such as Baba Yaga and her chicken-legged house, and several of the participants featured in the last stand taken in the Homelands. All the characters were interesting, though it was most fun to read about those that have been Disneyfied in popular culture but have a quite different portrayal in the graphic novels, particularly those princesses in the current Disney Princesses marketing campaign. I have kept most of that from my daughter, but reading about Snow White, Cinderella and Briar Rose all complain about their philandering con man ex-husband Prince Charming is very satisfying. Many of the stories are quite dark, and the majority of the characters are not very storybookish at all. Even Little Boy Blue, who has a very simple nursery rhyme and is a good character, has a tragic back story in the graphic novels.

The artists throughout the varies, although as the series progresses the art seems to have been handled largely by Mark Buckingham. It is likely less obvious when reading the stories as originally issued, but when they are bundled into the deluxe volumes, the change in style is kind of jarring. I noticed this particularly in the change in which Snow White is drawn throughout the series – I preferred the earlier, more adult looking Snow to the later Snow, who is much more delicate looking and always has hair in her face. A few of the stories are drawn completely differently, with the Barleycorn Brides and the Last Castle issues springing immediately to mind. I am not sure which style I prefer on the whole, but I think I prefer it when the art is more consistently drawn (a notable exception being The Sandman series, but Gaiman is an entirely different kettle of fish).

I have enjoyed reading the series, and am looking forward to reading the remainder of the books once they are added to the library’s collection, but I do not feel compelled to buy them as I did The Sandman, Y: Last Man Standing or The Unwritten.

I have been waiting to read this collection for some time. I won it in an online charity auction last summer, and waited eagerly for my signed edition. I am still waiting, so I borrowed it from my library’s ever expanding collection of graphic novels. I loved this book – it reminds me of David Small’s Stitches: A Memoir and even a bit of Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, although I did not really connect Stitches and Persepolis when I reviewed Small’s book last year. I think the similarities are that the stories seem so personal, so sparely drawn in black and white, and able to express so much through the art that dialogue is not necessary.

The Collected Essex County is a collection of three intertwined stories (with a few small one-offs added at the end) set in a rural farming community in Essex County, Ontario. Given that the community is so small, everything and everyone are interrelated, but Lemire’s drawings of the wide open spaces of the land contrast nicely with the way the character’s lives seem so bound and limited. The first story is about a boy going to live with his bachelor uncle on the farm after losing his mother. The two of them struggle with their sadness and fear, and the uncle’s awkward attempts to connect with his young nephew only makes the boy angry and look elsewhere for understanding. The second story is about two brothers pursuing their shared dream to play hockey, but their partnership is severed when dreams change and mistakes are made. The last story is about a home care nurse trying to care for her patients in the community and in a care home. She knows these people and their histories, and tries to nudge them into reconnecting, with some nudges being more subtle than others. Each of them is trapped in grief and secrets and regrets, but they are all trying to reach out in some way.

The characters in these stories seem to be some of the loneliest people I have ever read about; it made me ache a bit to read about them because they seemed like people I would know in real life. The book has a melancholy tone, but is quietly hopeful that the people can connect with a little assistance. When I was in the midst of reading the book, I was thinking that it seemed so quintessentially Canadian, with so many dreams and connections tied up in hockey, but with some some reflection I now think that the book describes rural life in general beautifully. The isolation of a household in a giant landscape, but a place where everyone knows each other and secrets are hard to keep – it can be a hard lifestyle to live in, as I have learned through experience. Lemire rooted the book in his childhood hometown, and the books seems sincere and heartfelt. I loved this book as I did Stitches, and recommend it to all, even those who would normally not read graphic novels.

Francine Pascal’s Sweet Valley Confidential was reviewed a few times in #CBR III, and there was a fun discussion in Ashley’s review last year. I already knew what happened in the story, I knew that the Sweet Valley books aren’t quality literature, but still… I saw it on the shelf at the library and snatched it up right away. The librarian told me she had decided not to order it last year, but a mint condition donated copy came in so she shelved it. Apparently it has been very popular, so at least I am not alone in my shame.

As is evident from the cover, Sweet Valley Confidential takes place 10 years after Wakefield twins have graduated from high school. This was a bit jarring at first – how could the twins be a decade younger than me when I started reading the books when I was twelve or thirteen and they were (perpetually) sixteen years old? Given that I have not read or even thought of these books in over twenty years, it was a strangely depressing to find out how much of my mental real estate was seemingly devoted to the novels.

The story begins with the twins separated, alluding to some type of catastrophic event that had separated the sisters. Because this is a Sweet Valley novel, of course the girls are fighting over a man. Sweet Valley remains an insular community, with most people continuing to live there after college, and generally everyone being attractive and wildly successful. Much of the book is devoted to Elizabeth and Jessica’s interior monologues, which are kind of repetitive. Jessica’s monologues reflect her speech, using “like” and “so” repeatedly, the informal speech still emphasizing how Elizabeth is the smart twin. It is a vaguely more adult version of the books that focused on the characters as archetypes – Jessica generally means well but makes mistakes that outrage the tiny busybody community of Sweet Valley, Elizabeth is perfect and a martyr that everyone loves, Todd is the jock with a brain, the especially rich kids are careless, the ugly people are the endearing class clowns, people just can’t help but give in to their feelings, etc. The interesting changes from the early series is that there is homosexuality, several people “go all the way” (of course, they are making love and it is amazing, but still), and some of the nice characters turned into bitches for no good reason at all.

Of course it is all wrapped up all nicely at the end, but it was kind of fun, if only for the nostalgia of it all.

The Sisters Brothers has won numerous literary awards in Canada, including the Governor General’s Award, but I must have been living under a rock, because I had not heard of it until it was recommended by another CBR participant at the end of CBR III. There were some mixed reviews on Pajiba, so I was curious about how I would like it. When I picked it up by the library, I was pleased by the cover art – I think the design is quite striking and clever.

The title does not have a grammatical error – the story is about Eli and Charlie Sisters, brothers who are killers working for a criminal called the Commodore. The travel from Oregon to San Francisco to do a job, following the lead of another Commodore employee already watching their target in gold rush era San Francisco. There is a lot of hard riding, wanton killing, and witty repartee on the road, as one might expect. Charlie yearns to be a criminal mastermind like the Commodore, but Eli would like to leave the murdering business and run a store instead.

The description of their surroundings are brief and matter of fact, and much of the book is spent in dialogue. The story is told largely from Eli’s point of view, and he seems to be reflecting on the meaning of his life and his relationship with his brother. Once the Sisters meet up with their target, the book starts to more explicitly examine the motivations that people have for doing what they do.

I know the novel is supposed to be satirical, but I think that I do not know enough about Westerns to truly understand the satire. I also did not find it particularly funny, although I had heard that it was “darkly humorous.” I did think the characters were interesting, the story moved quickly, and I can appreciate how well written the novel is, but I did not love it.

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