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Book Review: Rage by Jackie Morse Kessler (Series, #2)
Summary:
Melissa Miller is your typical 16 year old–mom, dad, annoying sister, a jerk of an ex-boyfriend–with one small difference. She deals with her emotions by cutting herself. She keeps a razor in a locked box in her closet and pulls it out when she gets overwhelmed. One night she accidentally cuts too deep, and Death shows up with an option. Either die now or become one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse–War. Missy chooses the latter option, and as she gets to know the other Horsemen and her job as War, she starts to realize she needs to face the rage inside her.
Review:
Speaking as someone who knows a lot about mental illness, self-injury is one of the illnesses that people who don’t have it have the most difficulty understanding. It seems bizarre to those who don’t self-injure, even as for the self-injurer those moments of cutting or burning or whatever chosen method are the best coping mechanism they can come up with. It’s not easy for those who don’t self-injure to understand, which is why I am so impressed at how well Morse Kessler has grasped the inner workings of the self-injurer in order to write such a well-rounded, sympathetic character as Missy.
Missy is simultaneously relatable as a typical teenager, for instance she gets horribly embarrassed at a party one night, but she also has this deep, dark, misunderstood secret. Gradually other teens find out and are either concerned or lash out at her due to their fear and lack of understanding, but Missy feels that she can’t confide in even the sympathetic ones. In perhaps one of the most powerful passages, the reader gets to see exactly why Missy cuts, while she simultaneously explains why she can’t explain it to her sister.
She could tell her that she turned to the blade because she wanted to live and sometimes pain was the only thing that kept her alive. She could tell her that she was terrified of things she couldn’t even begin to name, that friends could be fickle and lovers could be false. She could try to explain all of that and more, and maybe her sister would understand. But trust was as fragile and cutting as a crystal sword. (page 100)
That is perhaps the most clear, succinct explanation of self-injury I’ve seen outside of nonfiction clinical books. Missy’s reasons for cutting are clear, even as it becomes more and more evident to the reader that this coping mechanism is not truly addressing Missy’s real problems.
Of course, the fantasy element comes to play here again, and it works perhaps even better this time around. Giving the fantasy personas for Missy to talk to and express herself to gives her a safe space to think out her emotions instead of cutting them out. There are also a few cameos from Famine, which is fun to see after reading the first book. The fantasy also works here because it helps give the book a distance that makes it less triggering. There are intense emotional moments, but then Death shows up with a humorous quip to lighten the situation. It addresses the real problems without getting bogged down in over-emotionality.
This book will give self-injuring teens a way to see themselves reflected in literature and accepted and loved for who they are. It will give them a chance to maybe address their own emotions and issues. Similarly, non-self-injuring teens will hopefully become more empathetic to their peers who struggle with it. It’s a book that is simultaneously enlightening but not preachy. I highly recommend it to teens and those who work in mental health or with teenagers.
5 out of 5 stars
Source: Amazon
Previous Books in Series:
Hunger, review
Book Review: Hunger by Jackie Morse Kessler (Series, #1)
Summary:
Lisabeth Lewis thought it was just a nightmare. Death coming to her when she tried to commit suicide with her mom’s antidepressants and offering to make her Famine–one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse–instead of letting her die. It’s just all way too ironic, her as Famine. After all, she’s fat. She has to watch what she eats very carefully. The Thin voice tells her all the time exactly how many calories each bit of food is and how much exercise it’ll take to burn it off. Yes. Lisabeth Lewis is fat. So why would Death assign Famine to her anyway?
Review:
When I heard the concept of this new YA series–each horseman of the apocalypse representing and dealing with a mental health issue relevant to teens–I was incredibly skeptical. Writing about mental illness in a way that teens can relate to without talking down to them as well as in a responsible manner is difficult enough without having a fantasy element present. Toss in the fantasy and I was worried this would either read like one of those old 1950s cautionary films shown in highschools or would miss dealing with the mental illness entirely. Boy was I wrong. Kessler has found such a unique, creative way to address a mental illness yet cushions it in the fantasy so that it isn’t too in your face. It’s the ideal scenario for teens reading about it, but it’s also enjoyable for adults.
The fantasy element is very tongue-in-cheek. It strongly reminds me of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in style. For instance, Death resembles a heroin-chic dead rock star, and he speaks in a mix of classic English and mocking teen speak to Lisa.
“Thou art Famine, yo,” Death said. “Time to make with the starvation.” (Location 661)
It quickly becomes apparent that Death and the Horsemen aren’t entirely what they initially seem to be. Indeed, they seem to function to get Lisa out of her own head and problems and to look at the greater world around her. She literally travels the world on her horse and sees real hunger, and it affects her. It doesn’t make her feel guilty for being anorexic, but it makes her want to be better so she will be strong enough to help others. That’s a key element of any mental illness treatment. Getting the person to see outside of themselves, and Kessler has personified it through the Four Horsemen.
She, Lisabeth Lewis, seventeen and anorexic and suicidal and uncertain of her own path–she’d done something that mattered. She’d ignored her own pain and had helped others. Maybe she wanted to live after all. (Location 2007)
Of course the non-fantastical passages dealing with Lisa’s anorexia and her friend’s bulimia are incredibly realistic. If they weren’t, the book would immediately fail as the whole thing would ring false to the teens reading it. Her anorexia is dealt with as a very real thing even as the Four Horsemen are presented as either truth or hallucinations of her starved mind. This is key. The anorexia cannot be presented as an element of fantasy.
I was concerned the ending would be too clean-cut. I won’t give any spoilers, but suffice it to say, Kessler handles the ending in a realistic, responsible manner. There are no easy solutions, but there are solutions to strive for.
Overall, Hunger takes the incredibly real problem of anorexia and presents it with a touch of fantasy to help bring the reader not only into the mind of the anorexic but also outside of herself to look at the bigger picture. It is an inspiring, fresh take on YA lit dealing with mental illness, and I highly recommend it to fans of YA lit as well as those interested in literature dealing with mental illnesses.
5 out of 5 stars
Source: Amazon
Counts For:
Book Review: Battle Royale Ultimate Edition Volume 1 by Koushun Takami (Manga) (Series, #1)
A Note on Me and Graphic Novels:
This, believe it or not, was my first foray into the world of graphic novels. I was spurred into this new territory by my intense love of the movie Battle Royale. I know that there’s also a traditional book out there, but I’d heard the manga is what the author feels really fulfills his vision of the story. I received the first volume of the ultimate edition, which contains the first three mangas in the series, for Chrismukkah. I wasn’t sure if I’d enjoy reading a graphic novel. I tend to associate them with superheroes, and I’m not generally a fan of superhero stories (except Ironman. Robert Downey Jr., *swoon*). But this. This was a story I already knew I liked, so I came at the genre with a much more open mind than the once or twice I flipped through a superhero graphic novel. You guys, I absolutely love the feeling of reading a graphic novel. I could literally feel different parts of my brain working at it than that work when reading a regular book, playing videogames, writing, or watching a movie. It’s like a portion of my brain was like “Oh hai. You finally remembered I exist!” I love that I’m only reading dialogue, because I hate extensive descriptions in books. I love that the drawings are art that I actually enjoy looking at the fine details of. I love it that when I flip back to show scenes to other people, I notice things in the drawings I didn’t see the first time around. I’m officially a convert to the genre, but you still won’t see me reading about superheroes anytime soon.
Summary:
In an alternate history of Japan, Japan comes under the rule of a totalitarian, isolationist government after WWII. The government rules through terror, and part of that terror is selecting, supposedly via lottery, one 9th grade class every year to compete in a televised game where it is kill or be killed. Shuuya never expected to win this lottery, but when his class goes on a field trip, upon arrival they discover that they are this year’s participants on an island location. They discover collars on their necks that will detonate if more than one is left alive at a certain point and also if they wander into the randomly assigned and changing forbidden zones. As the teens attempt to survive the game through various methods, flashbacks tell the story of the 9th grade class members.
Review:
I absolutely love this story. I love violent, gory stories, and there are creative deaths galore here. For instance, the weapons include a scythe, and that scythe gets used. In one particularly memorable scene, a girl desperately attempts to stuff a boy’s brains back into his skull. It’s freaking amazing. There’s also graphic sex, ranging from rape to love. I don’t like my books to pretend like sex doesn’t happen in the real world, because um, it does. The fact that sex can be wonderful and about emotions or horrible and about power is wonderfully depicted.
The manner of introducing these characters tossed together in a horrible situation then expanding on who they are via flashbacks is very reminiscent of Lost. Of course, here the characters knew each other, at least somewhat, before the game. The flashbacks fit in perfectly with the action of the game, and they reveal just enough about the characters without revealing too much. From a cooking class that solidified a friendship to crimes committed to lessons learned from an activist uncle, the flashbacks are endlessly fascinating.
Seeing these characters in what most certainly feels like a hopeless situation orchestrated by a powerful government far bigger than they are is truly powerful reading. It leaves the reader wondering not only what makes people do bad things, but also how to define what is good and bad given various situations. Is it actually good to team up and attempt to buck the system or will that just cause more pain in the end? Is suicide a bad thing when it’s kill yourself or kill others?
If you enjoy Lost, The Hunger Games, violence, psychology, or even just graphic novels, you will enjoy this book. I highly recommend it and can’t wait to read the next volume!
5 out of 5 stars
Source: Gift
The Problem With the Twilight Series
This week there’s been a bit of internet commentary that librarians can be a bit elitist when it comes to books. They’re saying that librarians scorn the likes of Dan Brown and attempt to force-feed works like Catch-22 to patrons.
Now, I personally know some librarians who harbor a hatred of Dan Brown, but I also know that they bought multiple copies of The Lost Symbol for their library. Similarly, I’m a librarian, and I read my fair share of “trashy,” easy literature. Hell, I’m currently reading the Sookie Stackhouse series. Given these facts, I’d prefer it if the commentators said *some* librarians try to force patrons to read what they want them to read. There probably is one out there somewhere who does that. What really pisses me off, though, is the people who’ve accused me of being elitist due to my loathing of one particular series.
I’m looking at you Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer.
The minute I say I hate this seriese, people accuse me of being elitist. Judging it for being “light” reading. They’ve even told me something is wrong with my taste when 40 million other people love it. Well, you know what? My problem with Twilight has nothing to do with the writing style. Like I said, I’m reading Sookie Stackhouse. I like romance novels, and they aren’t exactly known for their Shakespearean style.
My problem with the series has nothing to do with the writing style. It’s the content. I’m sure many of you have heard teen girls say how they’d love to have an Edward all their own. The problem with this is that Edward is an abusive boyfriend.
Let’s start with the fact that Edward stalks Bella. He repeatedly watches her sleep at night from her window without her knowledge. This is how the relationship starts.
It progresses further. Once they’re dating, he tells Bella who she can hang out with. He verbally abuses her, saying things like “I’ve seen corpses with better control,” “You’re utterly absurd,” and “You are a terrible actress–I’d say that career path is out for you.” In a health relationship, a significant other is supportive, loving, and on your side. Even if s/he disagrees with you, s/he expresses this disagreement without attacking who you are as a person.
Let’s not forget the whole plot sequence in which Edward first threatens then attempts to carry out suicide because he claims he can’t live without Bella. This is abusive, because people should be in a relationship out of love, not fear the other person will harm himself.
Bella doesn’t only fear for Edward’s life, she’s also legitimately afraid of him. Some people would say this is because he’s a vampire, but that’s no excuse. She should feel safe with her boyfriend, not afraid.
I’m not saying abusive relationships shouldn’t ever be in a book, but Meyer presents this as a good thing! Edward is supposedly Bella’s knight in shining armor, but he is controlling, possessive, and demeaning of her. She is afraid of him, but she loves him so supposedly that’s ok? No. It’s not ok, and it is not ok that Meyer is glorifying this in her books. Not ok at all.
The themes I hate in the book go beyond the abusive relationship being glorified, however. When Bella and Edward break up, there are four nearly blank pages in the book. These are supposed to represent how empty Bella’s life is without Edward. Yes, let’s tell the teenagers reading this book that their entire life is their romantic relationship. This is obviously an unhealthy perspective.
Meyer also demonizes sex. I’m not saying books should swing the other way and tell teenage girls it’s cool to go suck a new dick every night, but Meyer is totally on the sex is evil side of the fence. First there’s the fact that Bella wants to do it with her steady boyfriend (*gasp* the horror), and Edward insists they wait until they are married. It’d be fine for them to wait until they were married, if it was what they both wanted. However, Edward looks down on Bella’s desire to sleep with him and insists waiting until marriage is better. No. Waiting until marriage isn’t “better,” it’s just “an option.” An option among many options, and one that I feel leads to impulsive young marriages and divorce or a life-time of misery, but I digress.
Then, when they finally do get married, having sex with Edward seriously injures Bella. Apparently having sex with a vampire in Meyer’s land is like having sex with a marble statue. That sparkles. So now teenage girls are not only being told sex before marriage is evil, but also that sex is scary, and it really hurts! This hearkens back to the days of old when engaged women were told by their mothers that sex with their husband was something to “be endured” for the joy of having children some day.
Speaking of children, the last plot theme that I hate in Meyer’s series is that Bella becomes pregnant with a fetus that is literally eating her alive and killing her, yet she chooses to bring it to term anyway. This is, naturally, glorified in the series. Because we want to tell our girls that it’s better to die giving birth than to abort and save your own life. What the hell, Meyer?! Making a choice like that is, essentially, suicide. She knows she’s dying. She could stop it. She chooses not to.
So in one series Meyer glorifies abusive relationships and suicidal behavior and demonizes sex.
I am horrified that a FEMALE writer wrote such a misogynistic series. I am also saddened as it is evident that Meyer has internalized the harmful patriarchal culture she grew up in. She’s a self-hating woman and doesn’t even realize it. Unfortunately, she’s now helping to spread that internalized misogyny to the next generation of young women.
This is why I hate Twilight. It isn’t because I’m supposedly an elitist. It is because I am a feminist.