The Prince and the Dressmaker vs Shout

The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang

I'll preface this by saying I'm not one for feel-good stories. I hate that crap. Hallmark? Blech. Holiday movies? Double blech. Disney channel movies? Ugh, the worst. I don't like neat and tidy, because life ain't like that. I like raw. I like to read real stories with real pain. If a book is happily-ever-after, I'm just NOT into it. And guess what folks, this falls into that category.

Despite that, it was a good book. I really think reading the art allowed me to enjoy the story. It was very feel good without being too candy sweet. A delicate balance. Reading this book was the equivalent to a carefully crafted cup of cha on a cold winter night. It just felt right. Of course, that opinion is coming from a cis-womxn reader. After reading two novels that dealt with rape, this was definitely a light yet still very meaningful read. It goes by super fast. Sometimes, it felt too fast. I wanted it to slow down and I wanted to spend more time with Frances. 

The story itself was at times predictable but there were also a few spots where I was pleasantly surprised. There is a neat and tidy ending which may not everyone's cup of tea (definitely not mine, remember the blech?). However, taking into consideration the vibe of the book, it seemed like it was going there. Thus the closure was appropraite. Point blank, it was a good LGBTQ2+ graphic novel to have in your school and classroom libraries. I would recommend this book to Div 2 and above. As a sidenote, I had a lot of trouble holding the book. My hands were in pain as it was quite heavy. Any students/persons with joint or muscle pain, especially in their hands, may also struggle with this.

I have to say that I absolutely loved the artwork. Coming from a deep love of Batman graphic novels, I didn't expect that reaction. But there were frames that stood out and were so powerful. I think what made it powerful is the focus on emotions, and the layering of subjects in the frame. It showed movement and added an extra special something to the book. It just worked. As well, I really appreciated the illustrator's note at the end about their artistic process. As someone who enjoys pretending to be artist, that was a cool bonus I wasn't expecting!

All compliments aside, it's worth analysing how skin tones were presented in the novel. This would also make for a great upper level IB book to analyze through a post-colonial or even a Marxist lens.

Highly recommended to my LA 7 and 8 classes, in fact, one student has already "borrowed" the book off my desk. The best kind of thievery.

Shout by Laurie Halse Anderson

I'm torn.

After reading this book and letting it settle in my mind, I feel... conflicted. I feel like I should love it based on the subject matter and that something is wrong with me.

The author did a great job with speaking her truth and uplifting the message and hearts of survivors. Giving them a voice and amplifying their stories. At the end of Speak, an author interview was included and at that time of publication it appears she had not spoken about her experience (correct me if I'm wrong). So the fact the author was catapulted into delivering her truth based on the reaction of Speak was empowering. I appreciated the punch of her words.

However, after the first half I stopped liking the book and in fact, really started to dislike it. By the end I was no longer invested. Repeatedly seeing the word 'bitch' used to describe other womxn put a very toxic taste in my mouth. In fact, it made me angry. Here I am, reading poems that are raw and speaking to the collective silencing of survivors. Then the poems supposedly morph into a rallying cry for the #metoo movement. And now the same person is bashing womxn without regard for the power of her words?#baffled Whatever message was trying to be delivered, was poorly executed and lost. When I read Speak, I had an issue with lack of inclusivity in the book. I chopped it up to a book written a long time ago. However, I expected a little bit more visibility in this one. Especially interesting since the #metoo movement was started by a black womxn and here I am reading an effective battle-cry. Hmmm. Unpack that.

With regards to the poetry, it felt all over the place and not in a "let me disjoint the reader so they understand how disjointed a survivor of sexual violence feels" but rather in a "let me ride the waves of what's popular, aka poetry and the #metoo movement by packaging a few great poems with fillers to sell to the same people who liked Speak." Is that harsh? Yeah. But I guess that’s Smackdown life. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The first half of the book was great. There were heavy hitting lines anchored with great metaphors and imagery. I wasn't reading many duds. The poems had meaning and connection. They felt alive. However, when it sectioned into the 'rage poems' in part two I was less than impressed. It was angry, derisive, borderline polemical, and all of a sudden AAVE popped up. It all felt inauthentic.

I guess I'm not that torn, I just didn't want to admit that I didn't like the poetry of a rape survivor.

Would I recommend this book? Begrudgingly, yes. For mature junior high students, high schoolers, readers interested in poetry, readers who want to read about survivors of sexual violence, and adults who like decent YA poetry books.

In the end, do I pick Shout as my Smackdown champion?

Nope. That crown belongs to Frances and the Prince.

The House of Salt and Sorrow will not Soar On

With this one our team was unanimous from the start, bare knuckle boxing not needed.  We went with Ghost Boys, a realistic fiction about racial police brutality in the states.  The book follows a boys ghost that was shot by a police officer.  It shows the aftermath of the shooting and how it effected the boys family, the police officer's family and the entire community. We did not all agree on whether or not this was something we enjoyed reading because for some of us  the style of writing was jarring and very simplistic.  However, the topic was relevant and engaging so we agreed that the book would be perfect for young adults that want to read about real world situations but may not necessarily have the reading skills for most books with a mature theme.  Overall, we want this book in our junior classrooms.  Kid are going to eat it up.

The House of Salt and Sorrow on the other hand was A LOT.  Overall written quite well, it was a retelling of the fairy tale, The Twelve Dancing Princesses.  It worked to expand on this story by adding many elements and embracing a darker horror style to the narrative.  In some elements this worked as it created a great tone for the genre they were going for.  However, it seemed to bite off more than it could chew as many story elements seemed disjointed.  It could have used some serious editing to shift the focus and increase in engagement.  One of our reader's read it during hour 13 of a 24 hour readathon and could not remain engaged in it at all.  We had a few students read it who adored it but it was much more niche of an audience compared to Ghost Boys.

SO in the end, Ghost Boys for the win!

Good Enough vs What the Night Sings

Tristin: 

Of course, just as I think I’ve figured Smackdown out...I’m literally smacked down.  I thought for sure, What the Night Sings would be moving onto the next round.  So my post is going to be in support of What the Night Sings, not Good Enough.  Books about the Holocaust are abundant, but I thought this book was unique.  Not only was I taken into the horrors of the Holocaust, but I was shown the recovery process after the war ended.  I haven’t read many books that show us the treatment of Jews post-war and how they were reintegrated into society.  How the gained back their lives.  Some pulled into their faith, some ran from it.  Some went home, some fought for a new life and country.  

Gerta was an intriguing character because she didn’t even know she was of Jewish heritage prior to the war.  Her father had kept it a secret from her.  When she is picked up the Gestapo she is confused and has to come to terms with her father’s lies.  Unlike many in her situation, she didn’t have her faith to lean on throughout the coming years, she only had her music.  I also found Gerta’s struggle after the Holocaust to be thought-provoking.  After being told who she was and that she should be ashamed of herself, Gerta wanted to define who she would become after her rescue.  She was a girl when she was taken to the camps, and she was released as a young woman.  She’s confused and struggling to find her voice.    She was once again told what her role was as a young woman and a Jew.  When I spoke to others in my group, they found Gerta marrying was against what she said she wanted.  But I disagree, she wanted a partner to walk through the coming struggles with.  A companion.  Yes, she would have to compromise certain aspirations, but I think she finally realized that just because the Holocaust was over, didn’t make the world a safe place.  The war ending didn’t end discrimination and hatred towards Jews.  She couldn’t go back to her old life or her hometown, so she needed someone to take a leap of faith with.  To start an entirely new life with.   Overall, I loved the book.  It made me think and was a unique take on a story that has been told multiple times before.  

Good Enough...is a perfect title.  Because the book was just that...good enough.  I thought the idea was interesting.  Riley’s internal dialogue was interesting  because I was able to see inside of her decisions and her disorder.  Riley’s struggle was intriguing and would relate to many students in my classroom.  But I thought her recovery was too tidy.  That she had only a few setbacks on her journey to a better relationship with food.  I didn’t hate the book, but I didn’t love it either.  It was okay.  I sigh to think What the Night Sings isn’t moving forward, but that’s how Smackdown goes...

Hey, Kiddo  vs A Heart in the Body in the World

A compilation of thoughts and reflections from Eastglen.

It is so wonderful to begin Smackdown with two novels that are really engaging reads. Both of these novels, in their own ways, would be very appropriate to use in upper Div. III and Div. IV classrooms, but our vote went with the emotional graphic memoir by the author, Jarrett Krosoczka, entitled Hey, Kiddo.

While A Heart in the Body in the World by Deb Caletti is a compelling read, it did take time to become invested in Annabelle's story of her run across the U.S.A. and what traumatic event motivates her. Some of us felt the author's choice to withhold details of the trauma and feed them to us slowly along the way was a bit  dishonest and diminished the passion Annabelle was putting into her run as we did not know what she was running from, or for. The unveiling of the climax was highly traumatic, especially in this political climate where gun laws are debated everyday and the #MeToo movement is still so relevant. Even though we did not choose this one, it is certainly one to include in our library.

Both novels were strong for various reasons, but our vote this time around is for Hey, Kiddo. A well-structured narrative with character development in a graphic novel is a bonus. There is much darkness in Jarrett's life. He doesn't know his father, his mother is a heroin addict, and his grandparents are heavy smokers and drinkers. However, his grandparents' commitment to taking care of him, after raising their own five children, is impressive.  His mother's letters are very heart warming; they truly show that she loves and cares about her son, but her addiction is just too powerful.

We also enjoyed the personal notes at the end, meeting the author, and learning about his process. The inclusion of the artifacts was a nice touch. The author's example of using his sketch book as a journal or a means of expression and working through life's challenges was very instructive, and something that we hope students would connect with and use as an outlet for themselves. It's a great little book, and could be used for extension activities with journal writing in an ELA class or a collaborative crossover activity with an ELA class and art class.

So Hey, Kiddo moves forward.

Anger is a Gift vs. The Prince and the Dressmaker

Krieger
My vote is for The Prince and the Dressmaker. I enjoyed the characters and the luxurious setting and illustrations. I also appreciated that the setting isn’t contemporary and I think there’s value in seeing gender fluid characters in other locations and other times. This is a subtle way to acknowledge that nonbinary identities aren’t “new” things and there is a rich, if imagined in this story, history of this way of being. Frances as an ambitious young designer who wants to be a good friend is easy to connect with, and I felt for the prince and the familial and national pressures that end up highlighting his own character flaws. I wasn’t sure at the end however, that I needed them to fulfill a love story. I think I might have been more satisfied if they remained friends who understood, accepted, and supported each other. Overall though, I would see myself recommending The Prince and the Dressmaker to more of my students over Anger is a Gift, keeping in mind that I teach grade 7.
I did find Anger is a Gift rather relentless, which in turn made me realize my own privilege as I read it. To be able to say that it felt like too much, or that Moss faces too many challenges, then to be able to put the book down for a while for a break, is a privilege that many readers, children, students do not have because Moss’s reality is their reality. That being said, I found the main characters unevenly developed and even near the end of the book sometimes their actions or responses confused me. The diversity of the minor characters really is the strength of the book for me and Moss’s friend group seems to be written with an ease and veracity that Moss himself lacks from time to time. I appreciate Anger is a Gift for representing the intersectionality of all the issues that affect youths like Moss and his friends and the ways they rely on each other to navigate their circumstances and carry the torch forward for social justice, but I think there are better written books that do similar things that I would recommend to my students ahead of Oshiro’s novel.

Mac Lean
My vote is for Anger is a Gift, but it doesn’t have my whole-hearted support. I think the story overall could have been much tighter and faster paced. Character development is important when you are trying to build a complex backstory for the protagonist and create a universe, but I could have done with 50-75 less pages of that and more focus on the school protest at the end. It felt way too rushed and I wanted to know more about that part of the story and the aftermath, but by then my attention was fading and I just wanted the book to be over. That being said, I loved the side characters. They were interesting people that had full lives, not just foils or plot drivers. I kind of wish that Shamika was my bff. I read her lines in the voice of Lizzo. :) As for The Prince and the Dressmaker, I wanted to like it, I really did, but it just didn’t hook me. I think it would be a good story to include in your bookshelf if you teach Division 2, but for YA I expected the characters to have learned deeper lessons about life. I didn’t find the Prince to be a sympathetic character because he was using the Dressmaker to fulfill his fantasies, not considering her needs, and treating her like his dirty little secret, so I wasn’t emotionally invested in him having a happy ending. I also found the ending to be predictable and trite. For a younger reader, it ties the story up with a nice little bow, but they could have given the ending real depth for the YA category. We’re big kids. We can handle it.

Jarvis and Chinn

Our vote is for The Prince and the Dressmaker. Here’s why. While Anger is a Gift was an explosive, emotional rollercoaster ride, and Mark Oshiro described Moss’ anguish and anxiety in a relatable way to many of our students, the overwrought drama without so much as a space to breathe is so difficult to digest. It is an important story. Representative of a perspective that needs to be heard more, but as we picture our own students and what we imagine they gravitate towards in the books they might choose, we realize that they are looking for escapism and fantasy, while still thinking about important issues in their world. While it was relatively surface level, we felt that The Prince and the Dressmaker hit tones on both sides. Sometimes kids just want a good little story that doesn’t hang over them, that they can recognize themselves in the characters a bit, enjoy the beautiful illustrations, and move on. We are ALL for emotionally charged stories that paint a bleak-but-real picture, but we also love the fluffy ones too.


Looks like Team 10 votes for The Prince and the Dressmaker!

I Can't Believe I Can't Make a Snappy Title Out of These Two Titles

I am pretty sure that I traditionally spend a bit of my first Smackdown blog of the year decrying the challenges of trying to choose books that often feel jarringly dissimilar. I’ve come to realize, however, that it is one of the charms of the Smackdown and it really showcases the ever increasing diversity in YA. These two books offer profoundly different reading experiences in two different genres, but I think they do share a larger ethos and I’m glad I had the chance to read them in juxtaposition. 

So, even though I am Canadian and was just a toddler when the tragedy of Vietnam lurched to an end, I am of that generation that has been profoundly shaped by that war. No, I didn’t have any real skin in the game, but when all those broken people came home to their even more broken country and started to process things through art, I was a part of their audience. I think there is a pretty good chance that I’ve consumed more film and text relating to Vietnam than almost any modern event (although 9/11 is probably running a close second), so I’m either the perfect reader or the worst reader for Elizabeth Partridge’s Boots on the Ground. And while I think I brought that ambivalence into my reading experience a bit, ultimately, it won me over. If you have a pretty good grasp of the Vietnam experience, you’ll still enjoy reading this book; and if you have little to no knowledge of this event, I don’t think you could do much better in establishing foundational knowledge than you will after you move through these tight 200 pages. There are emotional nuances here that resonate through both the political and personal narratives woven through the text and while I’m not sure I emerged with any jaw-droppingly new realizations, I was left feeling like I’d experienced something and met some interesting and important people. One of my barometers for any Smackdown book is taking stock of who the kids are that I would give this book to. Now, certainly, as a classroom teacher, I would have loved to have this as a resource when teaching Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, and as a dad, I’d love to be able to have my kids sink into this before they watched Apocalypse Now, Born on The Fourth of July etc. I struggled, however, to think of a kid I would give this to (Although I did find one on Monday morning, oddly enough. Thank you Daniel Liu!), but I think that almost any kid could read that prologue and be captivated enough to keep going for at least a bit. It is a perhaps surprisingly crafted piece of non-fiction and I’m sad to see it go so early in the contest as it does deserve a broader audience.

But go it must, as we need to move We’ll Fly Away on to the next round. As I noted above, these books are not as different as one might expect; they both have soul and share an abiding concern with how systemic failures of the heart and the imagination can destroy our young. The plot of We’ll Fly Away, were I to describe it, would appear to be befitting of a more traditional YA novel, but when I finished it on Sunday night I realized that it is not ultimately a YA book. Let me explain: as with the previous book, I struggled mightily with who I would give this book to, and ultimately, I don’t know that I could give this book to a kid with a clear conscience. Now, it is not ultimately as disturbing as a laundry list of other books that have appeared in The Smackdown over the years. (Brad - Was it Nothing that shook us up so bad a few years back?) Here’s the thing, I could give this book to a hundred kids who would not recognize the characters in this book except as characters - bad dad, jock with heart of gold, etc. - and they, even if they had that same heart of gold and the social conscience to appreciate what Bliss called his “death penalty book” they will never really understand how true this book really is. On the flip side, there are kids who would read this book with a sense of profound recognition; as if someone has cracked open something inside them and peered into a place they thought they had locked down. I could not give those kids this book, because at their age I do not believe they could read it and see anything resembling hope in it. I do believe that you can read this book as an adult and find a deep sense of hope both for the characters in it and - as trite as it sounds - for a far better society than the one we have crafted. That’s pretty heavy, I acknowledge, and even as I struggled to write that, this is the line from A. S. Byatt that was running through my head: “What literature can and should do is change the people who teach the people who don’t read the books.” 

Ultimately, what sold me on this book was not the compelling plot, the well-crafted characters, evocative imagery and symbolism or the profound understanding of trauma that bleeds through these pages. Those are all good reasons to read the book and move it on to the next round, but what Bliss recognizes throughout this novel is the profound power of the unfinished. Each of these characters contains multitudes - and here, I think not even so much of Luke and Toby but more, of Lilly and Annie - and it is here that the hope lies in this novel. There are no happy endings in this novel: Luke will not find his Bryan Stephenson (whose voice echoes throughout this novel) coming to save the day and Lilly will not look wistfully up to the sky on a rainy day in Seattle. In spite of that, however, this is a novel that testifies to the only real hope that matters: to see each other not only as we are, but as who we can be.

So, yes, we were all in agreement that We’ll Fly Away will move on, but I have not vetted these near midnight ramblings and want to acknowledge that my argument – that even our best and brightest might have to wait a bit to truly appreciate this novel – does not necessarily represent the thoughts of all our group.

"The Benefits of Being An Octopus" reaches for the win, knocks "Born to Fly" out of the sky

Hey everyone, it's Ben here, blogging for the very first time for Mighty Smackdown! I am honoured to be able to wax profound about two great novels, "The Benefits of Being an Octopus" by Ann Braden, and "Born To Fly: The First Women's Air Race Across America" by renowned youth historical fiction writer Steve Sheinkin, on behalf of my fellow group members Arlene, Lil, Angie, and Andrew.

Where to start...?

At the risk of sounding cliche, I suppose one of the prevailing maxims to come out of this first round of Mighty Smackdown would be: 

                                             "good things come to those who wait."

And certainly, all in our group agreed that Ann Braden's "The Benefits of Being an Octopus" certainly took its time in getting to the 'heart and soul' or 'good part(s)', but boy, did it eventually deliver. The novel lays out a painstaking and heartbreaking picture of the protagonist Zoey, who has to deal with, on top of the regular middle school pressures, ever-encroaching poverty, a mom who greatly struggles with self-esteem and the balancing act of single motherhood, and her mom's emotionally sadistic boyfriend. 

I think it would be safe to say that all of us have had a student like Zoey, and Lil reminds us that "it is important to make connections with all students and provide a safe spot for them...and not scurry away, camoflaged like the elusive octopus." Arlene, in her wisdom of all things literary, was quick to point out that this book might be more compelling choice for our young readers, with Andrew specifically suggesting an ideal audience of fifth and sixth graders. Meanwhile, Angie noted that kids would build their sense of awareness and empathy for their peers who don't enjoy things most of us take for granted. 

And me? I was personally surprised and emboldened by the advice that Zoey's teacher offered to her, when it came down to flicking that switch going from hopelessness to tenacity: "suck it up." Not exactly the height of eloquence or sensitivity, but certainly poignant and, if taken well, inspiring. All in all, we were all taken with the main character and the message of the book, despite the slowness of the beginning.

And then there was "Born to Fly."

Everyone seemed to enjoy aspects of the book...

- It spoke to my early love of planes and attending air shows at CFB Lancaster (as it was then called)

- Arlene couldn't put it down and reminded her of an elementary research project on the Wright Brothers

-  Lil recognized the power of a story that buoyed female courage and determination, often in the face of very harsh and cruel resistance, and continues to inspire in modern-day female pilots and leaders

- Andrew read a whole bunch in one sitting—which evidently is hard for him to do. 😉

- Angie admitted there was some pretty valuable information in it (can anyone say Grade 6 Flight unit, haha?)

...and yet, no one was able to give a ringing endorsement. Lil was convinced it would only appeal to a limited audience, while Andrew did not enjoy the novel's lack of plot and predictable recalling of events during the race. Arlene was surprised that no one had selected the book, even after a positive book talk with her students. Angie found it straight up boring. I rather enjoyed it overall, but I think it paled in comparison to the personal and emotional connection that "Octopus" was able to inspire in all of us.

So, with that...

                                             "close, but no cigar."

FINAL VERDICT: "Octopus" by a tentacle (or a country mile).

On The Lighter Side...

Andrew, ABM's venerable junior high educator of all things political, sociological, and historical, was all too eager to point out the fact that "the social studies teach is the bright light in the story [The Benefit of Being an Octopus] is...not lost on me." Which brings me to my final maxim of the entry:

                                                            "there's always one."