In Darkness (by Nick Lake)

In 2010 Haiti, one of the poorest countries in the world, fell victim to a catastrophic natural disaster that affected an inestimable amount of people. With a death toll ranging anywhere between 92,000 and 316,000 people, the Haiti earthquake got the doubtful honor of being the 2^nd deadliest earthquake ever. It is in the aftermath of this devastating tragedy that Nick Lake’s In Darkness – the 2012 Michael L. Printz Award Winner – is set.

In the days after the earthquake, 15-year-old everyboy Shorty – his real name is never mentioned – is trapped in darkness in the rubble of a hospital room where he was recovering from a bullet wound. At 15 Shorty’s life could indeed have been any slum boy’s life. Shorty is growing up in what is often called the most dangerous place on earth – the slums of Site Solèy. This is the type of place where you see your father brutally murdered in front of your eyes and where your twin sister is kidnapped by gang members when you’re 8, where you kill your first man at the age of 12 and where babies are left behind in the trash.

Slowly dying of hunger and thirst Shorty, without any prospect of being rescued, is recollecting the events that led him to the hospital room. Like so many other children in the shanty towns of Port-au-Prince, Shorty’s childhood was one of violence with (almost) no chance of escaping a life of drugs, gang wars and (political) corruption. After his father gets killed and his twin sister Marguerite is taken away Shorty even wants to be initiated into the gang of the pro-Aristide chimères of Route 9 and the notorious Dread Wilmè to get his sister back. Trapped in the darkness of the quake rubble he also starts dreaming of (or getting visions about…) the legendary Toussaint de l’Ouverture, who will provide the other voice in this dual narrative.

While Shorty’s story is a story of a boy losing his innocence in Haiti’s present, and a descent into the darkness of violence, brutality and even murder, Toussaint de l’Ouverture’s story (set more than 200 years earlier) is that of a man who wants to achieve a free Haiti, a Haiti free of the darkness that is slavery, in this in the least bloody way possible. Shorty and de l’Ouverture are linked in a spiritual way, be it through dreams or visions, or by vodou. It’s a device in which Nick Lake uses his poetic license to the full, and it is at the same time a clever incorporation of Haitian culture and religion (which takes the novice some getting used to). Through de l’Ouverture Shorty experiences what it means to set a country on track to hope and the light. De l’Ouverture, on the other hand, gets visions of a future of his country – one in which freedom from slavery does not equal happiness and riches, but violence, poverty, rivalry, corruption and in essence just another type of darkness.

In Darkness draws heavily on the Haitian vodou culture – Shorty and Marguerite are marassa,  the metaphor of the zombi is used throughout the two narratives – and Nick Lake uses Krèyol phrases and expressions all through the book (which are often but not always translated). This obviously serves to immerse the reader completely into this other world, but it might have been a good idea to add a glossary with some of the most commonly used Krèyol words and expressions. The cat found herself interrupting her reading to look up certain things, consequently losing some of the reading flow…

However, notwithstanding this minor squabble, the strength of Nick Lake’s novel is obvious. Lake doesn’t deal in pleasantries and states the ugly brutal truth of a country that longs to be free but has as of yet not found the right way to make itself truly free: politics invariable turns to corrupt governing, international aid does not reach its intended goal with aid workers often adding to the corruption, violent gangs recruit the illiterate and most vulnerable… The result is poverty leading to violence leading to more poverty leading to more violence. It’s a terrifying idea, and it’s hard to believe that any form of hope for recovery and true emancipation is still possible in places like this. Considering how desolate the circumstances still are in Haiti – 2 years after the earthquake – the cat is not as convinced as Nick Lake himself seems to be that redemption is still possible. Maybe with a couple more stories of people like Shorty and we’ll start to see a few glimmers of hope here and there… maybe…

In Darkness was the 2012 Michael L. Printz Award winner… an unexpected winner for sure, and it would not have landed on the cat’s desk if it hadn’t won the Printz. Many had bet on Code Name Verity or The Fault in Our Stars for a variety of reasons. To be honest, I don’t think that In Darkness has more or less literary merit than either of those two novels. The Printz committee does, however, seem to like “atypical” narration. But these three books are so completely different that any form or comparison is sort of mute. It all boils down to personal preference in the end of course, and if historical and cultural awareness rocks your boat on top of that “unusual” narration, then obviously In Darkness or Code Name Verity will be your top picks. The cat, however, wants to add an additional dollop of awesome to the mix…

Charles and Emma: The Darwin’s Leap of Faith (by Deborah Heiligman)

2009 marked the 150-year anniversary of the publication of Charles Darwin’s momentous work On the Origin of Species as well as the 200^th anniversary of the author’s birth .  In that year a slew of works were published not just to commemorate the theory and the man himself, but also to show how controversial Darwin’s theory of evolution still is today in a lot of (religious) midst. Indeed, religious groups often get into all sorts of knots to dismiss the man’s work as that of a heretic, and despite an almost absolute scientific consensus about Darwin’s evolutionary theory, the idea that life wasn’t created by a divine being was/is a step too far for many a religious person.  Charles and Emma: The Darwin’s Leap of Faith, Deborah Heiligman’s YA-publication about the great scientist, shows that it’s just too easy to dismiss Darwin’s work as a that of a vehement non-believer.

Deborah Heiligman was the first to talk about Darwin’s theory in relation to the most important person in his life, that of his cousin and wife Emma Wedgwood. Contrary to Charles Darwin – who did not, by the way, describe himself as an atheist, but rather an agnostic towards the end of his life – she firmly believed that leading a good Christian life would be rewarded by a place in heaven. Throughout the book Darwin is consciously aware of the impact his theories will have on not just the scientific but also the religious Victorian community. That is one of the reasons why he worked on it for over 20 years. He wanted to have as much evidence-based proof as possible, he didn’t want there to be any loopholes – e.g. the evolution of the eye, for instance, into this complicated structure – which is why he also had all of his work read by his most careful and most critical reader, Emma, which she then edited “for clarity and diction”, even for his “atrocious use of commas”. Even though Darwin never compromised on the essence of his theory because of her, it seems obvious from the research, the many letters etc. that part of the reason why it took Darwin so long to publish On the Origin of Species was due to the thoroughness he wanted his work to have – a thoroughness almost imposed on him by living with Emma. It’s clear that both didn’t just love each other very much, but respected each other’s views of the world greatly.

Heiligman doesn’t want to show us the Giant of Science that Darwin came to be. She wants to show us Darwin as the man with doubts of his own. It starts off with the now almost famous list Darwin made “to marry or not to marry”… Once the decision “to marry” is made, Darwin is one of the most devoted (Victorian) fathers and husbands imaginable. In that way, Heiligman’s book is clearly a good alternative to the many other biographies about Darwin out there. She also repeatedly mentions Darwin’s doubts and fears, but maybe she doesn’t really let Emma speak often enough. The 3^rd person narrative voice still favors seeing things through the Charles Darwin-lens, rather than the Emma Wedgwood-lens, hence still making this into a “Charles Darwin” book, rather than a “Charles and Emma” book.

The book is chronological and very anecdotal, following the “biography”-format fairly standard. But by focusing on a lesser known aspect of Charles Darwin’s life, it will still provide many (doubting) high school students with a good literary counterpart to Darwin’s scientific theories.

Blood Red Snow White (by Marcus Sedgwick)

By his own admission, “a sense of place” is what often inspires Marcus Sedgwick’s storytelling. Combined with Sedgwick’s almost gothic flair and often Unheimlich and atmospheric way of writing, this has resulted in a couple of gems. In Revolver, for instance, that setting is the Arctic, suitably evoked in an almost claustrophobic way. The 2007 novel,  Blood Red Snow White, is quintessential Sedgwick too: a unique setting (Russia during the Russian Revolution) and a mesmerizing  style (especially in parts 1 and 2 of the book) contribute to draw in the reader like a magnet.

Blood Red Snow White is a fictionalized biography of the writer Arthur Ransome during his extended stay in Russia. However, it is not like any other biography you are likely to read: part fairytale, part spy story, part romance we do not only follow Arthur Ransome, writer, journalist and potential spy but also the fate of the Russian bear in its rebellion against the regime of the Tsar.

This story is told in three distinct but clearly connected parts. Part one tells the story of how Ransome – disillusioned by a loveless marriage – sets off for Russia, leaving behind a daughter, Tabitha, who he loves very much. At the same time, Sedgwick introduces us in the most allegorical of ways, almost mimicking traditional Russian folklore, to the key players of the Russian Revolution who manage to send the great Russian bear out of the forest and into Tsarist territory: “One was a Russian, the other a Jew, and they were firm friends, though they spent much of their time arguing. They would argue about all sorts of things, but each would listen politely to what the other had to say. First, the Jew, whose name was Lev, would argue that the people of Russia should be its true masters, and while he did, the Russian, whose name was Vladimir, would stroke his small and excellent beard. Then they would swap, and Vladimir would argue that while what Lev had to say was true, they should not forget that people needed guidance from enlightened minds. And Lev would stroke his own small and excellent beard.”

If part one reads like a classic Russian folktale, then Sedgwick switches voices in part two to introduce us to Ransome as a potential spy, recruited by his friend Lockhart, when it becomes obvious that Ransome clearly has questions about some of the actions of the Russian revolutionaries. This part almost reads like a spy thriller, with each chapter also suitably time-stamped. When Ransome decides against helping out Lockhart, because he feels the future of Russia is nobody’s business but the Russians, we get to part three in which the romance between Ransome and Evgenia, who also happened to be Trotsky’s secretary, is the main focus. Ransome returns to England, but because of his previous sympathies for the Russian Bolshevists he finds himself out of a job and fearing for Evgenia’s safety.

Parts one and two are stylistically clearly the strongest parts of this sophisticated and captivating read. This is mainly because the language is so fittingly haunting. Part one is dark and sparsely told, as any good fairy tale should be. Part two bears all the typical spy story elements:  it’s tense and threatening with an acute sense of betrayal to keep you at the edge of your seat. That is why it is a bit of pity that a novel that is so good loses much of its tension in the last third as we return with Ransome to England and then follow him into Sweden so he can go and get Evgenia.

That being said, Blood Red, Snow White is still one of the best historical novels slash biographies you will encounter. Sedgwick is one of those authors who effortlessly crosses the artificial boundaries between children’s, young adult and adult literature.  This should come as no surprise because anyone who can write this compellingly, and has such a distinctive voice deserves the largest audience possible. About Revolver, Sedgwick said: “[…] that’s what makes writing teenage fiction so exciting: you can do almost anything, unconstrained by the obsessions with style and genre that plague adult fiction.” Restrictions of any kind, though, are obviously in the eye of the literary critic (in most cases), and luckily for this reader, Sedgwick is not one to be bound by them.

Flygirl (by Sherri L. Smith)

Ever since she was first taken up in her father’s Jenny at age 10, Ida Mae Jones has loved flying. After her father’s untimely death, Ida has pretty much taken over his crop dusting at their farm in Louisiana. Ida has been saving up to go to Chicago to obtain her freedom ticket (flying license). When her younger brother Abel shows her a newspaper clipping about the WASP – the Women’s Airforce Service Pilots – she realizes that not only can she support her brother Thomas (who has enlisted) and the war effort this way, but it might also be her only chance to accomplish her dreaming of flying. The two remaining obstacles, though, are her missing flying license and the fact that Ida Mae is black in a thoroughly segregated society. Ida resourcefully scams her way in, exchanging her father’s picture on his license with hers.  And because she is very light-skinned, she decides to try to ‘pass’ as white.

The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, Vol. 1: The Pox Party (by M.T. Anderson)

In Bookland, there’s nothing as satisfactory as picking up a book with no prior knowledge or expectations regarding its plot or style, and being completely dazzled by the entire experience once you’re through it. Such was the case with M.T. Anderson’s The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Vol. 1. M.T. Anderson gained some notoriety after publishing (the sadly not readily available on Amazon)  Feed, a YA cyberpunk novel and a National Book Award Finalist, but I’m sure there weren’t too many people who saw this one coming!