YA or STFU

Strasser, Todd (2007). Boot Camp. NY: Simon and Schuster. 256 pages.

Fifteen-year-old Garrett has been taken against his will. His parents have arranged for him to be transported to a juvenile "boot camp" facility following their discovery of Garrett's illicit relationship with his young math teacher, occasional pot-smoking, and theft of money from their purses and wallets. Their hope is that this facility, known as Harmony Lake, will provide him with the discipline they have been unable to instill. When Garrett arrives at Harmony, he is immediately led to isolation, where he is humiliated and threatened. Once released into the institution's "general population," Garrett discovers the brutal nature of the so-called rehabilitation program and resolves to fight the program's attempts at correction.

About five-eighths of this book is devoted to description of Harmony Lake: its dubious facilities, its sadistic leaders and their inmate lackeys, and its abusive methods. One-fourth of the book--the most compelling, suspenseful, and fast-moving, in my opinion--is dedicated to Garrett's attempt, with two other inmates--to escape Harmony Lake. Then (and this is a spoiler), the last one-eighth is finds Garrett back at Harmony Lake (the escape didn't work) and fully convinced of the power of the institution's discipline. What? With all the dramatic set-up, I found the abrupt turn the ending took to be completely unbelievable. No seeds were planted in the exposition to make Garrett's point-of-view shift ring true. While Strasser seems to be using this book as a way to expose some real and abusive practices, the lack of realistic follow-through was a real bust.

With its source notes and "afterward," Boot Camp is reminiscent of the problem novels of the eighties. The book's initial devotion to the brutality of camp life becomes more salacious when considered in concert with its abrupt ending. I'lll admit I got a somewhat voyeuristic thrill from reading these initial details; however, when it came down to proving how these camp corrective activities can eventually re-condition even the most individualistic and intelligent prisoner, the novel failed to convince me.

Posted by Amy P. at 02:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Bowers, Laura (2007). Beauty Shop for Rent . . . Fully Equipped, Inquire Within. NY: Harcourt. 336 pages.

Fifteen-year-old Abbey comes from a long line of troubled women: after her young mother attempted suicide, she deposited Abbey at her great-grandmother's place. Herself a young mother, "Granny Po" is haunted by a female family member of her own; her daughter--Abbey's grandmother--committed suicide at age 36. While this sounds like a pretty depressing setup for a book, Bowers' first young adult novel is actually quite charming. Abbey and her grandmother make a neat and unconventional family. The two live in a duplex next to the beauty shop in which Abbey and Granny Po both work. When a potential renter finally shows up with plans to renovate the shop, Granny Po and Abbey are a little concerned that the interloper will "fancy up" the shop where Granny Po and her friends--known as the "Gray Widows"--like to hang out and gossip. Gena, the young renter, slowly ingratiates herself and is soon part of the intergenerational clan.

The transformation of the beauty shop and the changes it brings for Granny Po and Abbey is just a small part of this story. As Abbey grows closer to Gena, she starts to compare this competent woman to her own rather troubled mother. When Abbey's mother does return to Abbey's world, the consequences are predictably tragic; however, with the help of Gena, Granny Po, and the Gray Widows, Abbey triumphs and emerges stronger.

The story is set in rural Maryland and Bowers does a pretty good job of evoking the setting. While the Southern atmosphere doesn't become as rich a part of the story as it does in Gigi Amateau's Claiming Georgia Tate (2005), it does sort of emerge as a character in the novel. A secondary plot involving Abbey's social-climbing friend and Abbey's reluctance to attend a popular boy's New Year's Eve party seemed like a bit of an add-on; however, the primary conflict--involving Abbey, Granny Po, Abbey's mom, and Gena--worked well.

Posted by Amy P. at 01:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Haddix, Margaret Peterson (2007). Uprising. NY: Simon and Schuster. 352 pages.

Is anyone besides me relieved that the "Shadow Children" series has finally concluded? I've got to say, if it was the completion of that series that kept Haddix from writing fiction like this, I blame the publisher who insisted that the series continue as long as it did for Haddix's lack of recent literary winners.

This new historical fiction title by Haddix is pitched a bit older than the "Shadow Children" and follows three young women of the early 20th century as they become involved in the workers' rights movement. While this sounds like a pretty boring premise, Haddix situates two of these characters within the group of strikers and would-be union members from the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, so our extra-textual awareness of the factory's eventual fate becomes part of the suspense that moves the story. Bella and Yetta are immigrants from Italy and Russia, respectively, who work at the factory and become involved in the labor movement. Haddix details the young women's struggles as each tries to be loyal to the union but must temper their desire to strike with their very real need for jobs and the meager paychecks factory work provides. When Jane, a wealthy debutante, learns of the workers' struggle, she becomes involved in the movement and eventually turns her back on her family and its privilege to become part of the group.

Narrated in the third-person from the alternating perspectives of each girl, this novel provides a clear picture of the time period. At times, the narrative drags a bit; since we all know what's going to happen with the factory and the fire, we kind of want it to go ahead and burn already. When the inevitable does happen, however, Haddix's description of the panic and confusion, as well as of the young women who jumped from the upper floor windows of the factory to escape the smoke and flames, evokes eerie memories of 9/11. This resemblance (whether intentional or not) brings the struggle for workers' rights to the present in what I judged to be a very effecting way.

A concluding description of Haddix's research and recommendations for further reading follow the fictional narrative.

Posted by Amy P. at 12:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Peters, Julie Ann (2007). Grl2Grl. Boston: Little, Brown. 160 pages.

Peters' short story collection features ten character sketches of young women, each of whom claim (or are beginning to claim) sexuality in distinct and (with the exception of the story entitled "Boi") womanist ways. While the quality of the collection is uneven, Peters refuses to let the brevity of the form compromise her address of some pretty serious issues including incest and abuse. The stories I enjoyed the most were the ones that implied a woman-identified audience and which didn't introduce the concept of young lesbian life and love as much as presume a sympathetic audience.

Many of the stories emphasized community and its importance--particularly "After Alex," in which a teen girl tries to get over the dissolution of her first serious relationship, and "TIAD," comprised primarily of chat logs in a lesbian affirmative chat room. Stories in which a lack of any queer affirmative community was notable--in the case of "Ouside/In," the obligatory should-I-or-shouldn't-I-join-the-Gay-Straight-Alliance story and "Boi," about a F to M trans teen--turned out to prove a need for queer community as well and suggested social action in a subtle way.

There were two things that disappointed me a bit. The first is typical (for me, anyway): I was really hoping for a more sensual collection, in part because I had read an interview with Peters in which she articulated a need for teen lesbian "erotica" and in part because of the sort of sexy cover. Don't get me wrong, my interest isn't entirely prurient. Instead, what I was interested in was a collection of relationship stories (love stories, if you will) that, in their entirety--which would include scenes of sensuality--took full advantage of the genre while casting "against type" in a way that would encourage us to think about generic expectations and how these expectations are, in part, culturally shaped. The second concern is something that a student of mine brought up: namely, why is the issue of masculinity not addressed in "Boi" (about the F to M teen) and how does the inclusion of such a story complicate or even contradict the "Grl" focus of the stories?

Posted by Amy P. at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Cooney, Caroline B. (2007). Diamonds in the Shadow. NY: Delacorte. 240 pages.

The Face on the Milk Carton (1996) probably marked the last time Caroline B. Cooney really delved into character; however, in the case of Diamonds in the Shadow, Cooney's lack of really deep characterization works. Sixteen-year-old Jared is not pleased with his family's decision to house a family of African refugees; he doesn't want to share his room or the responsibility for introducing this family from Sierra Leone to the Western world. When the Amabos arrive, however, Jared's curiosity is piqued. Not because he suddenly realizes the opportunity to expand his understanding (and misunderstanding) of the world, but because he is certain that the refugee family of four is not who they claim to be. While his younger sister Martha--known as Mopsy--eagerly takes the Amabo daughter under her wing, Jared's association with the Amabo son leads to more questions. Why don't the Amabo parents act more concerned about their daughter, a beautiful fifteen-year-old who refuses to eat or speak? Why does the family appear to know so little about their own children? How did Mr. Amabo lose his hands?

This third-person limited omniscient story of two families--the Amabos and the Finches (Jared's family)--makes subtle comparisons between the "haves" and the "have nots" while slowly revealing details of the horror the Amabos witnessed in the refugee camp they fled. At the center of the story is Victor, a fifth refugee who arrived in the States with the Amabos and who is actively searching for the group of four (related?) people whisked away at the airport's immigration counter.

Cooney weaves details of African political unrest, conflict diamonds, and child soldiers into this story of suspense and, ultimately, forgiveness. While Diamonds in the Shadow could easily have turned into a polemic, dramatic climax aside, Cooney refuses to smooth the rough edges of each of the Amabo's stories and put into order what is truly a complex and multifaceted (I know, I know . . . ) issue.

Posted by Amy P. at 10:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)