Incarceron by Catherine Fisher: Why, strangers on the Internet can find a perfect literary match for me. One of the DGLM agents ran a personalized book recommendation extravaganza several months ago, and this was my match. Featuring likable but deeply flawed protagonists, a bleak and brutal prison world sealed off from the Outside, a static politics-and-poison society stuck in the seventeenth century by royal decree, and twists aplenty (save for one which everyone could see a mile coming), this YA fantasy is a winner in my book. I’m looking forward to the sequel.

Consuming Kids: The Hostile Takeover of Childhood by Susan Linn: Documenting the pervasive and destructive influence of commercial advertising to children, this is the sort of book to raise any parent’s blood pressure. I’m so glad we live where we do (no television programming, no billboards, limited shopping outlets).

The Secret History of the Mongol Queens by Jack Weatherford: Who can resist a title like that? Secret histories? Mongol Queens? I’m all over it. Weatherford’s enthusiasm for his subject might cause him to view them through somewhat rosy-tinted glasses, but he’s written an accessible and easy-to-read book about these fascinating people from the steppes. I especially loved the cultural details, which brought this history alive to me.

Lord Sunday by Garth Nix: Good, but I didn’t like it as well as the other books in the series. It’s a bit hard to put my finger on why. Nix certainly did a good job describing the destruction of the House, the convergence of three armies on Sunday’s domain, and the ripple effects of the denizens’ meddling in Arthur’s world. Perhaps it was because Arthur was so removed from much of the action and spent a large part of the book in forced inactivity (being a prisoner will do that to you!).

Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson: Unusual magical system? Biochromatic Breath, check. Humans transformed by magic into gods? Returned, check. Twisty politics? Check. Yep, that’s a Brandon Sanderson novel all right, but don’t be fooled into thinking this book is formulaic. Sanderson throws two sisters from an austere kingdom into the tropical flamboyance of  the city of T’Tiel, right into conspiracy and moral conundrums. A satisfying read, and one that deserves a sequel.

The Lost Conspiracy by Frances Hardinge: Awesome! Unusual cultural inspirations and a mythology that is shaped by the volcanic landscape of a tropical island. I loved the concrete sensory images and the worldbuilding details. Oh, and a really *good* story, too. Hardinge packs the narrative with action and conflict and emotional turmoil.

Dumbing Us Down by John Taylor Gatto: This book surprised me by being more thoughtful than I was expecting. From the title I’d expected Gatto’s tone to be more strident and hostile. This is a rather strong indictment against school as a government institution from an award-winning teacher, but Gatto couches it in a way that shows his passion and genuine concern over an educational system that teaches a child to be a mere cog in the machine.

Did you read any good books this June?

Miss M’s absolutely favorite princess may be Snow White, but her absolutely favorite fairy tale book is Barbara McClintock’s Cinderella (a bargain for a dollar at a used store; little did I know how much she would love it). Filled with delicate illustrations and replete with details, this gentler Cinderella story ends with her family being sorry for how they treated her and her forgiving them all (and also finding suitable noblemen for her stepsisters to wed). Thanks to this book the phrase, “ran like a startled deer” entered Miss M’s vocabulary.

Jan Brett’s Beauty and the Beast is a feast for the eyes, featuring exotic animals as the Beast’s bespelled servants. Miss M and I have spent a long time poring over the pages; there is so much to discover in the pictures themselves. Luscious and courtly.

We recently discovered Trina Schart Hyman’s illustrated retellings of Snow White and The Sleeping Beauty. These are darker, featuring medieval costumes and architecture in a palette of earth colors. Be warned that the text of Snow White references cannibalism (the Queen eats what she believes are Snow White’s liver and heart) and death by unusual punishment (being forced to dance in red-hot shoes), both of which I smoothly edited out. The Sleeping Beauty also has one rather grim double-spread of illustrations depicting skeletons and corpses of young men pierced by thorns (I hurried past that one because it bothered me).  From an adult perspective, these illustrations feel truer to the original stories, evoking dark magics, wild forests and stone castles. The princesses also come across as more real than your usual sanctified versions; Snow White is childlike in her fear, innocence and exuberance and Briar Rose is downright mischievous and outgoing.

Miss M. also enjoyed Paul Zelinsky’s Rapunzel, which sets the story in sun-drenched Renaissance Italy. I love the architectural details of this one.

Moving on from traditional princesses (who are a tad too passive and victimized for my tastes), we have another one of Miss M. favorites: The Paper Bag Princess. After her castle is smashed and her princessy clothes burned by a dragon, Princess Elizabeth dons a paper bag and sets off after him to rescue her fiance, the proper Prince Ronald. The puffed-up-with-pride dragon is no match for the clever princess.

In Snow Princess by Susan Paradis, a young girl playing in the snow imagines she is a royal princess awaiting the return of her father, the king. Beautiful beautiful pictures of ice castles, a court of animals, and the girl’s princess alter ego watching for her father on a magnificent white horse and leading him home on a dragon. Just lovely.

Any other fairy tale picture books that you’ve enjoyed?

• The Double Comfort Safari Club by Alexander McCall Smith: I love this series. These are comfort books for me; a chance to experience a slower simpler lifestyle, to immerse myself in the deep calm still thoughts of a middle-aged African woman. I love being transported to a land of dry and wet seasons, of red bush tea and charming store names, a land both exotic and familiar.
• The Ruling Sea by Robert V.S. Redick: The sequel to The Red Wolf Conspiracy finds our young heroes, tarboy Pazel and ambassador’s daughter Thasha, still very much in danger. The machinations of the Arquali empire to provoke war and theambitions of dark mage Arunis only suffered a setback at the end of the previous book. In this sequel, as the enormous Chathrand sets off into the Ruling Sea for her date with destiny, the youngsters try to find allies to help stop the conspiracy. It’s hard to compress the various convoluted subplots into this short review, but if you like sprawling multi-layered plots, you’ll like this series. My biggest complaint about this book is that the main characters didn’t do much more than react for a large part of the book (after Thasha’s spectacular deception at the very beginnning). I also have conceived a passionate loathing of Sander Ott and at this point mere death is too good for him. Grrr. Horrible man.
• Smith by Leon Garfield: Backstory on how I came to acquire this book in the first place: When I was a kid one of my favorite books was this fat volume full of excerpts from somebody’s list of great (Bristish) children’s literature. Since the Internet was unheard of at the time, and the state of libraries in Pakistan is dismal (ie: there are no public libraries—I had access to the meager collections at my school and the British Council libraries, and my mom had a membership to a privately owned library that mostly had romance books), this volume was my ticket to books I wanted to read. It introduced me to Joan Aikin’s Midnight is a Place, Ruth Park’s Playing Beatie Bow and Margaret Mahy’s The Haunting (“Barnaby’s dead, Barnaby’s dead. I’m going to be very lonely”–never fails to send a shiver down my back). It also included the first chapter-ish of Smith, in which a child pickpocket in eighteenth century London witnesses the murder and search of a man who he has just divested of an important document—that he can’t read. I never forgot that excerpt, nor my desire to know what happened next, even though I was never able to find the book. Fast forward to a couple months ago and I was reminiscing to my husband about the books I read as a child and mentioned Smith as the one that got away. He was obviously taking notes, because he tracked a copy of the book (it’s out of print) for my birthday (he is so wonderful!). It was weird reading this book, because it kept tugging me back to my childhood memories of poring over that volume, but cool, too! Hang in there, my ten-year-old self–you will get to read this book when you’re 30!
• Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians by Brandon Sanderson: This, along with Warbreaker, was another one of my birthday presents. David obviously feels that we need to own and read every book Sanderson has written (with the exception of the Wheel of Time ones). Very different from his adult fantasy, like Lemony Snicket, but more upbeat. It certainly makes me giggle to think that ninja Librarians secretly run the world, but I suppose I have been deluded and brainwashed like the rest of the Hushlanders. I’ll have fun sharing this one with the kids when they’re older.

• A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin: This book brought out my Goldilocks complex. It was a shade too epic, too gritty, too populated. In the end, while I was pulled into the story and the characters, I hated that some characters were Too Noble to Live (ie: they died for being naive enough to think that others were honorable like them), and that Martin could make me care enough about them to feel horrible when bad things happened to them. Plus, this is supposed to be a seven-volume epic that is not yet complete with lots more death along the way. My nerves will not take it, so I end with the first volume.
• Reading in the Brain by Stanislas Dehaene: Ah, I finally finished this rather academic and densely-written book. It was certainly interesting, but I wish it could’ve been lighter on the technical jargon. The term “occipito-temporal” will forever be branded in my brain.
• For all the Tea in China by Sarah Rose: This was a very accessible and quick read. It chronicles one the earliest incidents of industrial espionage, when Great Britain stole both tea plants and the knowledge of tea making from China in order to bring both to their Indian colonies and break the Chinese monopoly on tea. Fascinating, and duly filed away for future inspiration for a story!
• Fire by Kristin Cashore: This companion novel to Graceling takes us to the eastern lands, beyond the mountains. Here, instead of graces, you have monsters—beautiful captivating creatures. Fire is the last of the human monsters, able to read minds, with a beauty that everyone desires. She is caught up the political turmoil of the kingdom–fomented in large part by her monster father–to help the young king keep his throne. Fire struggles to understand her own role in the kingdom’s future, to put limits on her power, to find love and acceptance and belonging. The novel got off to a slow start, but Cashore conveys the desperation and danger and tension very well. So many of the characters—the king, his commander and brother, Fire herself–were so heartbreakingly young (in their twenties at most) that it made their story–the bold plans, the military slogs, the battles–all the more poignant. All these kids taking on the roles of adults! I think being 30 has started to affect me.

I feel it a little unfair to Sanderson that I read his debut novel Elantris after being swept away by his splendid Mistborn trilogy. While Elantris suffers (but only a little!) in comparison, it has all the trademarks of Sanderson’s writing: an unusual magic system, political intrigue, and a preoccupation with religion.

Elantris was the city of god-like mages, ordinary people transformed via the Shaod into silvery-skinned creatures of great beauty, capable of great magic. Then, ten years before the start of the story, Elantris fell, its shining towers grimed and blackened, its streets turned into sludge, its inhabitants turned into demented and deformed creatures (sez David,”I didn’t know this was going to be about zombies!”). Magic is gone, and the Shaod is no longer a blessing, but a curse. The people of Arhel now look to their merchant-king and nobility as rulers.

When Prince Raoden succumbs to the curse, he is sent secretly into Elantris where he goes about helping his new people and trying to figure out what caused the city’s magic to fail. Meanwhile, his fiancee Sarene arrives to find her husband supposedly dead, and her new country ready to implode due to the King’s feckless policies. She sets about to sort things out, but matters are complicated by the arrival of Hrathon, a Fjordell high priest whose orders are to convert the heathen nation of Arhel to the worship of Jaddeth in three months or else the entire nation will be overrun and put to the sword by his countrymen.

Sanderson deftly handles the three strands, weaving them together to provide a satisfying conclusion. Raoden comes across as genuinely likeable, and he really is a good leader (as opposed to the reader just being told so). Sarene is a complicated and generally enjoyable package of political acuity, bossiness and vulnerability. She does have her moments of being over-the-top, and I can understand why so many of the men in her homeland were intimidated by her! I was all set to despise Hrathen, but Sanderson handled his character sympathetically. Of all the cool magical things that happen in the climax, the ones that resonated with me on an emotional level involve Hrathen.

And, also amazing to me in a genre filled with series, Sanderson packs all this magic and war and political turmoil into one standalone novel. There is always wiggle room for more sequels in the Elantris world, but this particular story is complete. I would recommend this to all fantasy lovers who enjoy detailed worldbuilding and a plot that is both fast-paced and intricate.

This is the book that I have been eagerly anticipating since last year. Megan Whalen Turner’s stories abut Eugenides, the Thief of Eddis, now King of Attolia, are among the most delightfully surprising I’ve ever read, delving deeply into character and politics. I especially love Turner’s treatment of Irene, the Queen of Attolia, but then I’m a sucker for stories of redemption.

I liked A Conspiracy of Kings, but more because it’s part of such a fantastic series than for its own sake. The Thief was told from a the tight first-person POV of Gen; the next two books moved even further from Eugenides’ point-of-view. This book focuses almost exclusively on Sophos, Eugenides’ friend and heir to the kingdom of Sounis, who (we learnt in The King of Attolia) had been abducted by rebels. Now we learn what exactly happened to Sophos, and his coming-of-age from being the disappointing heir into the young king desperately trying to keep  his country together and out of the Medes’ hands. Sophos is a very different sort of character from Eugenides, less interesting, more passive, and prone to self-doubting introspection. I had really hoped that Sophos would be more of a foil to Eugenides, just as compelling in a different way, but he is not quite there yet.

This feels like a bridge book to me, uniting the kingdoms of Attolia, Eddis and Sounis into allies before the Medes  launch the next step of their plans to conquer the three countries. The Medes–represented almost exclusively by three interchangeable ambassadors (they must have a factory in their capital where they roll out urbane, smarmy diplomats) and hordes of faceless soldiers–having failed to gain a foothold in the countries through alliances, will probably try something new. I’m sure Eugenides has some equally bold and desperately loony plan up his own sleeve to counter them.

This solid installment lacks the sparkle of the other three books, though it does include at least a couple neat twists. It did not satisfy me so much as whet my appetite for the next book, and a hope that we will see more of Eugenides and find out what Costis has been up to.

• The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (my review here)
• Drive by Daniel H. Pink: Subtitled ‘The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us”, this book confirms what I’ve always suspected as a writer and mom. Pink explains that the carrot-and-stick approach taken by businesses to get the most of their employees only works under very limited circumstances. Instead, what motivates us all are intrinsic desires for: autonomy (do what we want to do), mastery (to do it well), and purpose (do something of significance). This book is more geared towards businesses, but the principles can be applied to other areas.
• The Mermaid’s Madness by Jim C. Hines: Danielle (Cinderella), Snow (White) and Talia (Sleeping Beauty) are back in this dark version of the The Little Mermaid, featuring lust, betrayal, murder and madness. I was not wild about this book, partly because of nautical fantasy fatigue and partly because the fairy tale has never been my favorite. Danielle came across as subdued and Talia (even though she is deeply sympathetic) kept striking the same angry note . Snow was the one who sparkled in this book.
• Soulless by Gail Carriger. I wanted to like this book more than I did. Vampires and werewolves in Victorian England? Cool! The voice of this book is so delish, full of wit and wryness and tongue-in-cheek humor (just check out an excerpt if you don’t believe me). Unfortunately, none of the characters drew me. I’ve seen the sharp-tongued bluestocking spinster many times (and I admit Alexia’s superior airs got on my nerves at times) and Macon was just another Alpha Male (albeit one who becomes hairy and drooly at the full moon). Their didn’t seem much to their relationship aside from “You are boorish brute/waspish on-the-shelf spinster, but our mutual physical attraction is so overwhelming we need to make out right now!” Pity, because the premise and the voice were so good.
• Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins (my review, along with that of the prequel, here)
• The Affinity Bridge by George Mann: A steampunk detective story, featuring airships, automatons, a Queen Victoria kept alive past her time by machines and a plague that turns its victims in shambling zombie-like creatures. The plot was okay, but neither of the two detectives appealed strongly to me, The mid-book change of Newbury’s character from that of a bookish academic to a criminal-chasing, bad-guy-fighting, running-on-trains daredevil left me quite bemused.
• Kindred in Death by J. D. Robb
• Hero of Ages by Brandon Sanderson: Really good. Really very good. I love how Sanderson continued to put new spins on his magic systems and opened the scope to show more about the non-human races of his world. The fight scenes (using magic) are so visually appealing–they would look great on screen.  I didn’t find Ruin as compelling of a bad guy as the Lord Ruler, and the ending was not the one that suits my personal preferences, but it was right for this trilogy. I’ve already got Elantris—which I will read once I figure out where I misplaced it!
• Sylvester by Georgette Heyer: I’ve been hankering to re-read this book for a while. I read a vast amount of Heyer’s regency novels in my teenage years and this was my favorite. I was pleased that the book read just as well to me at 29 as it did at 19. It was a bit disconcerting to be closer to (actually, passed!) Sylvester’s age than Phoebe’s. Instead of viewing the book as a young girl/older guy match, I viewed it with the matronly air of an almost-thirty-year-old seven-years-married veteran. Those young whippersnappers! I loved the prose, the witty dialog, the appearance of several secondary characters, the way Heyer weaves some pretty improbable events into her narrative. I was always fond of Phoebe–she rides horses and writes novels, she’s not beautiful and often shy, but she has spunk. The only let-down is that I’ve already read my favorite Heyer, so the next one I pick up to reread will be a step down!

Read any good books recently?

Katniss of District 12 has supplemented her family’s income after her father’s death in a mining accident by (illegally) hunting and trapping in the woods surrounding her district. When her 13-year-old sister Prim’s name is drawn during the selection of the tributes, Kat volunteers to take her place. Kat and her fellow tribute, Peeta (the boy who has had a crush on her forever), are taken to the Capital where they are dined and styled and interviewed before being thrust into the arena.

I won’t spoil the ending for you, but Kat does reappear in the second book, a survivor of the Games. She has hardly put the Games behind her before she goes on a victory tour to districts simmering with rebellion against the Capitol. As she becomes a symbol of revolution, the Capitol’s malignant leader, President Snow, has her and her family in his cross hairs.

Much is to be made of books that I found hard to put down, even though they include a plot device that is a personal non-favorite–the love triangle. Even worse, we don’t know (after 2 books) how this will be resolved (I like to know which guy will get the girl so I can root for the right one ). But I’m so caught up in the story I don’t care. The world is changing, revolution is brewing, her survival is at stake–of course Kat isn’t sitting around plucking petals of daisies going, “I love him, I love him not”.

What does bother me is how evil is embodied in President Snow and his oppressive Peacekeeper goons. We are not told whether Snow is an elected limited-term president or a dictator for life, but the role of ultimate villain falls to him, even though the Hunger Games and the oppression of the districts started seventy five years ago. They seem to me to be an institutionalized evil, not merely a personal one. The Capitol dwellers are portrayed as hopelessly flighty, shallow, and twittery; charming children who aren’t—but should be—held to account for their role in watching, encouraging and indulging in the Hunger Games.

I should also very much like to know how this system was set up in the first place (and why someone thought taking tributes every year to fight to the death was such a good idea, seeing that it might inflame the populace of the subject districts). I hope the final book will provide answers.

But these books surprised me, given how much I don’t love dystopian SF. The last book, Mockingjay, comes out in the fall. Yet another book to look forward to!

Brown looks at play through many different lenses, including research done in animal behavior, neuroscience and child development. He explores what play is, why play is ingrained across species, and what happens when we are deprived of play. In our world, play is considered childish, selfish, and unimportant; not pertinent to the serious business of having a job, raising a family, making a contribution to society.  Brown argues instead that play is a vital component of human development and healthy psyches.

There’s a lot of thought-provoking material in this book, so I’ll highlight those things that stood out for me.

Play is hard to define, but Brown narrows play down to a handful of properties. For him, play: is apparently purposeless; is voluntary; has inherent attraction (no one needs to twist our arms to do it); gives freedom from time (I was having so much fun I forgot what the time was!); diminishes our consciousness of self (we are too  involved to care what a spectacle we’re making of our selves); has improvisational potential (let’s try this a different way this time…); and provides continuation desire (when can we do this again??).

What is most interesting to me about his definition is that he doesn’t tag certain activities as inherently playful. Rather, play is a state of mind. For example, some people run because they want to be in shape. Others run because their friends do, or because it’s part of their training for something else. And some people run for the love of it, because that is what they want to do, because running itself is an end, not a means. In an example closer to home, for some of us writing is sheer joy, for others abject misery (yes, there are people out there who feel that way, strange as it might seem to me and you ).

In discussing the role of play in child development, Brown emphasizes the importance of rough-and-tumble play, strangely enough in preventing adult violence. He cites a study which found a striking lack of rough-and-tumble play in the childhoods of a group of murderers in Texas (pg. 26). So, as the mother of three youngsters who have a often disturbing tendency to want to wrestle, poke, grab, and tickle each other–whew!

Brown emphasizes that not all of us play in the same way, and presents a few different play personalities: the Joker, the Kinesthete, the Explorer, the Competitor, the Director, the Collector, the Artist/Creator and the Storyteller. Most of us probably fall into a number of categories. I can safely put myself in the Storyteller category, probably with some overlap in Explorer (this refers to not just physical exploration, but intellectual, too). Competitions just make me foul (unless I win ), and I’m too much of the sedentary and serious type to fit into the first two.

Brown then goes on to describe what play-deprivation looks like, and how we as adults can recover play in out lives. Our children are luckier in that they have a stronger drive to play, but overscheduling and the cutting out of “extras” like art and music in schools make it difficult for our youngsters to play. The opposite of play, says Brown, is not work, but depression. Where work and play meet, Brown finds creativity, springing out of an amalgamation of purpose and spontaneity.

How can we recover play, then? Brown recommends several methods, the biggest one being movemnet. Movement is the original play, the proto-play, the things that babies first engage in. Physical activities get past mental defenses. Since my play personality is more of a sedentary one (reading in bed, writing on the computer), I forget to get up and get moving when I get stuck. Taking a play history–remembering the moments of pure fun and play–is another. We can also make time and space for play, and give ourselves permission to try things and fail.

Brown also delves a bit into the dark side of play, such as video game addiction and the beatings of homeless persons by laughing hoodlums. He is, I feel, too quick to dismiss those as not being really play. I also don’t buy into Brown’s conclusions about play as the answer to all the world’s evils—it does get a bit over-the-top. But he does bring into focus the importance of play in our lives.

Since having read this book, I am more mindful of what activities refresh me, make me loose track of time, where I take more pleasure in the process than the product. These include: playing piano; meeting a friend at a cafe in the evening after our husbands put the children to bed (how free and yuppie-ish we felt!); making a movie using goofy photos of the kids, complete with soundtrack and story; putting on music and dancing with children; getting lost in a book, or two, or more; and (this may sound bizarre) doing revision worksheets in Excel for Quartz (hey, even Left Brain wants to play–in its own way!).

How have you played recently?

Now I’m back to post my reading roundup for February. I managed to squeeze in six full books and two half-books. Not bad for a short month!

Here they are:

• The Red Wolf Conspiracy by Robert V.S. Redick (my review here)
• Knowing and Teaching Elementary Mathematics by Liping Ma (I’m a homeschooling mom. ‘Nuff said.)
• The Magicians and Mrs. Quent by Galen Beckett (This secondworld fantasy of manners combines elements of Jane Eyre and Pride & Prejudice. Good, though sometimes the pacing lagged, some of the characters were underdeveloped, and the antagonists were not well-defined. There’s a sequel coming out later this year, which I will check out, but I’m not on pins-and-needles for it, either).
• Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination and Invigorates the Soul by Stuart Brown, with Christopher Vaughan (review forthcoming)
• Napoleon’s Buttons: How 17 Molecules Changed History by Penny Le Couteur and Jay Burreson (I read this book in bits and pieces since last November. This is fun stuff, appealing to both the chemistry geek and the history/worldbuilding buff in me. I appreciated the writers’ balanced views of some of the more controversial molecules (like CFCs and DDT) they covered. Now I feel nostalgic for my organic chemistry classes!)
• Fantasy in Death by J. D. Robb (The speculative element of a futuristic New York appeals to me, especially since it’s not unremittingly dystopian and grim. I like how the mystery, and not the romantic relationship, is paramount in the books I’ve read so far in this series. These are fast, gripping reads.)

Two books made it to my BLITS list this month. Both were non-fiction and there wasn’t anything egregious about them. I just wasn’t as interested in the subject matter to keep going past the halfway mark. You just can’t please everyone. *grin*

Edited to fix typo in one of the titles.