And now for why you can call me Doc…

‘All of his [Poe’s] books were burned in the Great Fire. That’s thirty years ago – 2006.’
‘Ah’ said Mr Bigelow wisely, ‘One of those!’
‘Yes, one of those, Bigelow. He and Lovecraft and Hawthorn and Ambrose Bierce and all the tales of terror and fantasy and horror and, for that matter, tales of the future were burned. Heartlessly. They passed a law. Oh, it started very small. In 1999 it was a grain of sand. It began by controlling books of cartoons and then detective books and, of course, films, one way or another, one group or another, political bias, religious prejudice, union pressures; there was always a minority afraid of something, and a great majority afraid of the dark, afraid of the future, afraid of the past, afraid of the present, afraid of themselves and shadows of themselves’

– Ray Bradbury (1950) The Martian Chronicles

Luckily for us, Ray Bradbury’s future didn’t eventuate. Now that we’re inundated with comics and graphic novels, I wrote a thesis on them (and it swallowed way too many years of my life). Cos my baby Graphic novels: Enticing teenagers into the library is out in the world, googleable for all, you can read it. I don’t recommend you read it all, just dip into the bits that take your fancy. There is a table of contents, but sadly no index.

This is a nice short summary:

This thesis investigated the information habits of teenagers, including their recreational reading and internet use, and means of encouraging library use among teenagers, particularly through graphic novel collections in public and school libraries in Australia. A mixed methods approach was used which included focus groups with teenagers, a survey of public libraries, and interviews with public and teacher librarians.

This is a longer (boring) Abstract:

This thesis investigates the inclusion of graphic novels in library collections and whether the format encourages teenagers to use libraries and read in their free time. Graphic novels are bound paperback or hardcover works in comic-book form and cover the full range of fiction genres, manga (Japanese comics), and also nonfiction. Teenagers are believed to read less in their free time than their younger counterparts. The importance of recreational reading necessitates methods to encourage teenagers to enjoy reading and undertake the pastime. Graphic novels have been discussed as a popular format among teenagers. As with reading, library use among teenagers declines as they age from childhood. The combination of graphic novel collections in school and public libraries may be a solution to both these dilemmas.

Teenagers’ views were explored through focus groups to determine their attitudes toward reading, libraries and their use of libraries; their opinions on reading for school, including reading for English classes and gathering information for school assignments; and their liking for different reading materials, including graphic novels. Opinions on school reading can impact feelings on reading in general and thus influence views and amount of recreational reading.

A survey of public libraries determined the incidence of graphic novel collections throughout Australia and how collections are managed, with the intention of comparing libraries from different states and territories and metropolitan or rural areas. Interviews with selected librarians who collected graphic novels provided insight into their attitudes to the place of graphic novels in public and high school libraries and a more detailed picture of how the format is managed. This included use of graphic novel by the libraries’ teenage users or students and problems encountered, such as complaints about specific titles.

Graphic novel collections are widespread among surveyed Australian libraries, although a metropolitan location led to a greater likelihood of collection of graphic novels, and librarians were passionate about the format and its popularity among teenagers. The teenagers investigated were not as universally positive about graphic novels or libraries. The necessity of inclusion of all formats of reading matter in library collections will enable teenagers to discover for themselves what provides enjoyable reading experiences, so these become the norm, and lead to a greater enthusiasm for reading and more undertaken in their free time.

This is the Bone brothers talking bout why comics b good (they are in my thesis):

BONE® is ©2011 Jeff Smith

And this is my thesis Graphic novels: Enticing teenagers into the library. The link is to the record for my thesis on espace@Curtin Curtin University’s Research Repository. To download my thesis you have to find the teeny tiny PDF icon and click. Ooh a 2M file, nice. At least the link is at the top of the page, but could they make it less conspicuous!?

Now that you’ve downloaded that way too big file, please don’t think about printing the whole 280 pages. For starters there’s a pile of spacer blank pages at the beginning cos I double-sided it for the hardcopies (yes I had to print numerous copies, kill numerous trees). If you happened to print it all, I would have to send the forest fairy to empty your ink/toner cartridge, repeatedly.

The forest fairy and I would prefer you use the table of contents to decided what you are interested in, then print those parts, but only if you double-side or use 2nd hand paper with printing mistakes on the back. I’m glad we understand each other :P Sadly for ease of moving around the PDF, I used a crap pdf converter and my beautiful headings, figures, etc. are not included as bookmarks in the PDF (stupid computer). On the day(s) I finalized my thesis there were many gremlins, thus crap pdf converting was the least of my worries. If, hypothetically, you were to find a wrong page number in TOC or other strangenesses, please tell me and I will send gremlin killing fairy* to fix.

Also on espace@Curtin you can find articles I wrote on aspects of my research while thesis was in progress. They are much shorter and perhaps not quite so boring to read. I’m writing more articles from my thesis which will be published and accessible online soon.

Citation

Snowball, Clare (2011) Graphic novels: Enticing teenagers into the library PhD Thesis. Curtin University

*Note: I may have fairies on the brain. I went to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream last night. It was quite dreamily divine. The fairies had fairy lights in their skirts – I want!

“Fie, where is my skirt? When I find that canker-blossom Helena…” or was it the fairies that snitched it?

Things happened. Things changed. A girl full of light could get that light snuffed out, and when everything around her was dark, she could roll up in a ball and ignore the whole world, starting with her best friend.

I decided to read Shine by Lauren Myracle (Amulet Books, May 2011) because a few years ago I read ttyl and liked it. I hadn’t even read the blurb of Shine and expected something light and fun, um no. Since I’d only read one of LM’s books I wondered if her books were diverse, but someone on twitter said Shine was very different from LM’s other books. And I agree, Shine is amazing. It’s more like the books I usually read, full of angst and heartache, so I was quite at home, despite initially expecting something different. And Lauren Myracle has quite a way with her words, my favourite kind of author.

It was delicious telling secrets in the hushed privacy of the forest, where not even the sunlight could cut a path to the leaf-covered ground.

Shine is the harrowing tale of the brutal beating of Patrick because he’s gay. He’s left for dead at the Come ‘n’ Go gas station where he works, with a gasoline nozzle shoved in his throat and the words “Suck this, faggot” written on his chest in blood. Patrick’s friend Cat narrates the story of her search for who did this horrific crime. During her search for the truth she has to face the demons which have plagued her for the last three years. The story encompasses a myriad of issues: growing up gay in a small town with its ingrained homophobia; poverty; domestic violence; rape; drug abuse; as well as the mystery of who attacked Patrick. There’s even a slice of romance on the side.

Patrick and Cat grew up best friends, but when Cat’s narration begins a week after the crime, she’s been estranged from Patrick and her other friends for three years. Why, Cat is unwilling to admit, but it becomes apparent something awful happened to her when she was thirteen and she felt she lost everything.

I lost the strength to face the world head on. I lost my friends, I lost my brother, and I lost Patrick, which was like dying, since losing Patrick was nearly the same as losing myself. And what if Patrick never woke up? What if I’d lost him for good?

Cat finds it hard to even think about the event, thus can only allude to it in her narration,

it lurked in my heart…snapping its sharp teeth when I least expected it.

At one point Cat calls the little brother of a friend an unreliable narrator, but he proves more truthful than Cat. Her unreliability is not intentional but caused by her psychological distress at that past event and never having shared what happened with anyone, not even her Aunt Tildy, her main carer. Her mother died when she was two and her father loves his “sweet pea,” but he’s an alcoholic and lives in a trailer out the back.

LM weaves the past and present flawlessly. Despite being in a coma for the whole story, Patrick comes to life in the past episodes Cat recounts. I was constantly surprised by what she reveals, bit by bit, about her younger life as she talks to each member of the “redneck posse,” her name for Patrick’s group of friends which includes her brother Christian and the leader Tommy, who Cat hates. They were with Patrick on the night of his beating, but told the county Sheriff they left him at 1:30am, prior to the attack. Cat is sure they know more than they’re letting on, and she’s right, it’s just their lies aren’t quite what Cat expected, the truth being a lot more complicated than she (or I) imagined. I did wonder why what seemed such an easily solved crime took 350 pages.

LM paints a bleak picture of the tiny town of Black Creek: its dwindling population since the paper mill closed, the grinding poverty of most of the inhabitants, and the boredom leading to gossip among older residents and teenagers behaving badly. The drug use and its invasiveness came as much of a shock to me as to Cat. Being more worldly than Cat I know teenagers everywhere look for fun wherever they can get it.

I’d heard a saying about meth, that it took you down one of three roads: jail, the psych ward, or death.

Having a friend last year follow the third road, with meth a contributing factor, I found the story hard to read from this point and this review very difficult to write. But teenagers need the opportunity to read about drug use and the terrible consequences which may result. (Although I’m not sure the average teenage reader is as likely to become a tweaker as her classmates who don’t find reading appealing. Of course, I shouldn’t make assumptions.)

Shine includes characters who are straight edge, as well as those who overcame their addictions in different ways, thus the fourth road available is getting clean. While Cat is vehemently straight edge, one character had “gone clean for Jesus” (his ex-girlfriend rolled her eyes) and another saw how bad things were and wanted her life back. She still partied, “just no more hard stuff.”

Homophobia in all its hateful forms is insidious in Black Creek, including passing from one generation to the next. An 11 year old boy calling his older friend a faggot made me wince in horror, but the truth of children following those they look up to is sadly apparent. Patrick’s friends jokingly taunt him. At his work when he won’t sell alcohol to college kids with fake ID, they respond with abuse, “calling him a fag, telling him not to be so gay.” A gossiping church-goer says of the comatose Patrick in the hospital, “they didn’t stick him with them sick kids…He’s got a room all to hisself.” Cat knew she meant, “What if he turned those kids into faggots?” Even Gwennie, who has a crush on Patrick, calls clothes he wore “faggy.” Cat is deeply religious and is a welcome change to the stereotypical Christian who believes being gay is punished by God. Cat has known Patrick her whole life and knows he is a good person, her God would not send a person to hell for who they loved. She says,

I just don’t believe God would do that.

The denouement was a bit melodramatic for my liking, but it certainly ratcheted up the tension and I couldn’t put the book down once this scene began. The conclusion was very neat, leaving no messy consequences, which real life would have thrown up. I really should stop wanting absolute reality in my fiction, especially as there was a bit too much for me in the drug use.

The word shine and shining light are a recurring motif, cleverly interwoven in the story. LM’s dedication is to Sarah Mlynowski and Emily Lockhart “Your love is so bright, I have to wear shades.” A church-goer had hoped Patrick would “take a shine” to Cat and Cat’s favourite benediction is “The Lord bless you and keep you. May He lift His face to shine upon you.” “Goodness, rather than meanness, shone through” one character and another’s “smile shone on his face.”

Meet Maria T. Middleton

The book design of Shine mesmerized me. Before I read a word, I was an ardent admirer of Maria T. Middleton’s work. In the proof copy I read I saw the internal design and black and white version of the cover before the final cover and initially preferred the internal design to the cover. (I know this is backward. The internal design comes from the cover design, but this is how I came to the book.) The photos of a derelict house and empty road surrounded by grassy scrub looked so eerie in black and white and coloured what I thought the story would be; more spooky than its gritty reality. As I read, the photos reminded me of the (psychological) desolation of Black Creek and also the spaces empty of people that surround the town. I loved the repetition of these photos at the break between every day of Cat’s narration.

The bare branches of a tree with the single blossom from the cover adorn each chapter. This is the flower Cat will blossom into and on the black and white version of the cover in the proof copy, the flower shines with light. When I first saw the actual cover, I really disliked the colouring. I think it’s growing on me because I now notice the flower isn’t just red, but it’s shining with a golden glow at the petal’s gold edges. Now I just have to get used to the background colours. I want a bluer sky, it almost seems aqua to me, but I’ve never seen an NC sky, so what do it know?

I also love the font of the title, days of the week on the photo pages, and chapter numbers, Gor Light (was it chosen for its name?) The 2 is an upside down 5, but the 5 is slightly different from that 2 turned over, a little more squiggly at the top than the bottom of the 2. The last text in the book acknowledges Maria T. Middleton’s design and discusses the history of the text font, ITC Century Light (more with the shining light!?) I liked reading about its history and it’s not something I often see in a novel.

I just discovered MTM blogged about the design process for Shine yesterday. (So that’s why I waited til today to finish my review.) I didn’t know Shine started it’s life titled “Speechless,” the change in title was a good idea. Despite Cat being shy and in her shell for three years, during the story she had so much to say. MTM’s comps just got better as they went along. The final cover is definitely the best and I love it even more now, colours and all! And *swoon* the dust jacket is tactile, with a case foil stamp. Oh, I want it! (see below for why I don’t have this embossed delicitude *sob*)

My first ebook

I read Shine on my ipad as an ebook of the proof from NetGalley. All those things I could do! that a paper book doesn’t let me. I could search, although this wasn’t as helpful as I wanted because I had to know the exact words written in the book.

I could highlight quotes and write notes about them – no more lost-their-sticky-post-it-notes falling out and me wondering where they came from. At a certain point I highlighted too many and bringing up the Bookmark list became a lot slower. Bookmarks could be ordered by date I last changed them or page number. I often added more to a bookmark’s notes as I read more, because I was constantly reassessing what I thought was going to happen – all those surprises Cat kept dropping in my lap. What I didn’t like about the bookmarks was when I went from the Bookmark list to the text and then back to the list; it showed the beginning of the list, not the bookmark I was up to. With 214 bookmarks, this caused a lot of scrolling to find where I was up to in the Bookmark list while writing the review. Also I couldn’t work out how to highlight a phrase across a page break and I had to write in the notes, “includes sentence on page before” or some such.

I thought ebooks didn’t allow pictures but because the proof was a pdf it had all the pagination and design elements of the hardback, including the newspaper articles about Patrick’s beating and photographs dividing the days. The publisher told me the Kindle edition also has all the design elements.

Due to the amazing book design I almost felt I held the actual book in my hands. I wouldn’t feel that so much with a book designed without pictures and beautiful fonts, but then I wouldn’t care about holding such a book in my hands. The distressing part is I will lose this beautiful piece of writing and art in two weeks *more sobs* I kind of wish I reviewed that truly divine hardcopy, so I could put it on my bookshelf (and then take it down to marvel at) but because I got the review copy from a US publisher, I wouldn’t have got to review it if the ebook wasn’t available.

And regarding Australia, I laughed out loud when (a younger) Cat said there was “no such place as Tasmania.” Guess they didn’t have a map of the world in class.

She gazed through the shivering leaves. Pale stars glittered in the darkening sky and a huge yellow moon hung on the horizon. It was Christmas Eve.

When cousins Jelly, Gino and Pik the annoying little brother find an injured angel in the creek behind their house, it’s only the start of a downward spiral into learning the care and feeding of a baby angel. Clingy, petulant, and not at all used to being locked in a tin shed with summer’s “heat pressing down,” who would have thought a baby would entail so much work!?

Looking after an angel was turning out to be nothing like looking after a bird.

The kids aren’t allowed to go down to Merri Creek, but its one of two places Jelly likes about her new house, as she waits out the holidays to start at a new highschool without any of her friends. Jelly, Gino and Pik escape a stupid Christmas party to investigate the creek. A tunnel swallows up the water as it winds under the road and Jelly and Gino dare each other to follow it into the darkness. Gino spots a pile of white feathers trapped behind a rock in the water. What they first think is a bird that might not be dead, turns out to be a very live angel, which clutches Jelly when she pulls it from the rubbish and refuses to let go.

That’s when their troubles begin. Where do you put an injured angel for safekeeping? (and Jelly isn’t even sure if it’s more human or animal)

It was hard to tell. It looked like a human, but it sure acted like an animal.

With no better ideas, the kids decide the safest place to hide an angel is a tin shed at the school, conveniently unlocked. In the dark of a summer evening the school’s an eerie place, but they’d just walked through the pitch black creek’s tunnel, so this was nothing.

As Jelly and Gino (with unwanted “help” from Pik) try to keep the angel fed and happy in the shed, while evading the notice of their parents and the local bullies, strange things start to happen. Firstly, Nonna is rushed to hospital that evening.

Her heart, which Jelly thought would have been about the biggest, healthiest part of her body stopped working right between the Christmas cake and coffee.

With their parents watching over Nonna at the hospital and Maureen the neighbour looking after the cousins, Christmas is cancelled for now. Jelly’s so worried about her Nonna, but elated that “their” angel needs food, water and care, acceptable only from Jelly, despite Gino’s fruitless attempts at joint care. They discover the angel is rather partial to grapes, even learning to peel them.

What was the point of having something magical happen if you couldn’t share it with with your best friend?

In the days following, Jelly and Gino bicker about whose friends will be allowed to see the angel; a huge branch falls from the old the gum tree in front of the house, denting Zio Mario’s prized Alfa Romeo; and baby Sophia comes down with measles.* Did the angel have something to do with these things?

No one had ever just stumbled across an angel in the wild. This made Jelly wonder: had their angel been on its way somewhere when it got caught up in the creek rubbish?

Jelly has awful nightmares about monstrous angels and on waking unexpected storms wreck havoc in the neighbourhood surrounding the creek.

Usually thunder didn’t scare her but this was so loud it shook their house like it was made of paper…The closeness of the storm made her skin crawl.

Jelly and Gino realise perhaps their angel needs to go home. The bullies cause more problems but Jelly makes an unexpected friend (who’s had some experience with angels) and the cancellation of Christmas isn’t indefinite, just postponed. Their presents include something quite special that no one anticipated.

Text Publishing has adult and YA lines, but Angel Creek is for upper primary children rather than teenagers. I don’t read so many children’s books, but when they are as delectably designed as Angel Creek I have to. Then I remember all those enthralling stories I must miss. There just isn’t enough time to devour them all *sigh* W.H. Chong made Angel Creek’s cover so sumptuous to my eye, and with sparkly bits! The title is gold (I’m pretty sure beaten gold leaf). The lettering is tantalizing, sometimes going over or under the line it follows, just as Jelly, Gino and Pik don’t quite follow their parents’ rules, but get away with it nonetheless. The reeds rustle beside the creek, dark in the gloaming, and brilliant angel wings light up the murky waters. Inside the covers Susan Miller adorned every chapter with angel’s wings and the chapters have names! so much more fun than just numbers. To start it all, there’s a table of contents, not often found in the land of fiction, but a nice touch, especially with the lone feather heading the page. This feather has particular significance in the story’s denouement.

Merri Creek tunnel by Proper Dave on Flickr

Please note, every time Text provides a pic of their book covers they miss out the sparkly bits. Why do they do this to me? Don’t they realise sparkly isthe best part!? Perhaps not everyone shares my love for sparkly (i know some of my fellow book clubbers don’t) but surely the rest of the world isn’t like that – I live in hope.

Sally Rippin’s son made her a book trailer for her birthday. If I haven’t convinced you to read Angel Creek, Gabriel Stibio’s book trailer will.

RIP Mikaël Rohan 1996–2010

Notes

*When Sophia got measles, “that’s all,” I wondered why she hadn’t been vaccinated. Measles can result in death. Her mother did rush her to hospital, but I guess Sophia was one of the lucky ones.

Diana as a child

Vale Diana Wynne Jones 16 August 1934 – 26 March 2011

Only thin, weak thinkers despise fairy stories. Each one has a true, strange fact hidden in it, which you can find if you look – Fire and Hemlock (1985)

Diana with Dorabella

It’s been a month since Diana Wynne Jones’ sad passing. I haven’t read many of her books, but as a child and teenager what I read captivated my imagination and left lasting impressions into my adulthood. There was much internet writings on her passing and JudiJ compiled a useful list.

I met Diana Wynne Jones somewhere on the boundaries between worlds and she showed me some astounding places. I’m not sure when this was, sometime in the late 80s when I was 10 or 11. I visited those boundaries many times. It was one of the books I read over and over as a kid. I wanted to live there, hiding behind my hair, with an arm which may or may not have been inhabited by a demon. My boring existence didn’t even come close. Despite the innumerable times I read The Homeward Bounders, I couldn’t remember the title when I thought of it in the middle of a sleepless night the week after DWJ died (btw I wasn’t sleepless because of her death. I just get really bad insomnia sometimes). I do remember Prometheus living his painful day over and over, the shadowy strangers playing war games with real peoples’ lives, the dirty, nameless cities Jamie found himself in, no matter how many boundaries he crossed, and the constant fear of running from Them. [1]

That’s the trouble with boundaries you often don’t have time to catch your breath – The Homeward Bounders (1981) [1]

When I was 14 I met Cat at the school library where I spent my lunchtimes (yes, I was a loser to the umpteenth power). I can’t remember the book I read him in, but thinking about it now it was probably Charmed Life. I was intrigued by his name. I’d only known girls called Cat (or Kat) and thought it strange for a boy to have that name. In Cat’s story I remember the seventh son of a seventh son and of course the parallel worlds, which became fodder for countless imaginings and never-to-be-finished stories. At the end of every lunch I put Cat back on the shelf, to pick up again the next day. No one ever took him off that shelf and away from my visits to his worlds. He was mine alone. The librarian wondered why I didn’t want to borrow the book, but I ran away as fast as I could, what was she talking to me for!?

No witchcraft of any kind to be practised by children without supervision. Is that understood? – Charmed Life (1977) [2]

There’s a place in Perth called Scitech where kids go to learn all about how fun science is. What do they want that for, when there’s Diana Wynne Jones!? Scitech helped with my investigations into parallel worlds, mainly closer to the realm of Diana Wynne Jones than of science. Altho I’m not sure parallel universes are a practical branch of science – if only. At Scitech there was a pyramid where you opened the door and stepped into a mirrored and very triangular world. The closed door was also mirrored so the mirrors went on forever on every side. I loved stepping into that mirrored haven (I went to Scitech quite a bit as a kid). Inside the pyramid wasn’t very big and if someone opened the door when occupied, they shut it again cause it was a bit squishy for more than about two.

Lili Wilkinson's bookshelf © LW

One of my many imaginings when younger (which I tried to write as a story, but it was more story in my head than on paper) involved a tiger and those endless triangular mirrors. Every triangle was a parallel world and there was a tiger and a girl. I can’t remember if the tiger and the girl inhabited the same world, or if the girl was a tiger in a parallel world. But I do know that she and the tiger were not repeated in other worlds, like Cat in the Chrestomanci series. [1]

Lili Wilkinson also blogged about her childhood memories of visiting DWJ’s worlds, although she read a bit more extensively than me.

Five-ish years ago as a children’s librarian I read The Pinhoe Egg (2006). How I loved the bike powered by a taxidermied weasel/ferret/what was it? I want one for the impossible hills around my house (I live on top of one). The Chrestomanci family and all their quirks came rushing back to the front of my memory – that memory key being not quite so rusty anymore. I thought if I acquired the bewitched horse (I have a back paddock) I could have calmed him and we’d become friends. [1]

Last year I read Enchanted Glass and was entirely enchanted. I love stained glass and the stained glass cover (by the very talented David Wyatt) had me in raptures. Then there was Rolf’s golden bounding within the window and his exuberance on the title page. (Have I mentioned my love at first sight of any book with a dog in it? um, that wld be fifty million times.) I want a golden bounding were-dog (tho I prefer wherehound). When I go to the dog refuge in June to find a friend (although she will never replace my silver princess Sheebie) I will ask for their best golden wherehound.

He wants to stay here and I want to keep him. Please? – Enchanted Glass (2010)

stained glass by Sam at the Union Hotel © Dave

I told my friend SpiderSam many times of my love of stained glass and his last legal piece was the “stained glass” windows of the Union Hotel on Chapel Street, Windsor in Melbourne. The colours are actually painted on the wall behind the windows and when the sun shines in they transform into stained glass with the colours reflecting on the floor. SpiderSam designed and painted the wall, with help in the latter from his friends and fellow writers. I’ve only seen photos of this amazingly creative piece, but when I go to Melbourne for Reading Matters I’m visiting his masterpiece to smile at his memory and admire SpiderSam’s talent as an artist. If you’re in Melbourne (pls note: Cath Crowley, SnarkyWench, Leanne Hall, Lili Wilkinson) go there on a sunny day and marvel at what graf writers are capable of. They make beautiful art, not vandalism. Of course you guys know this, esp Cath Crowley, who has just been shortlisted for the CBCA Older Readers Book of the Year 2011. Congratulations! Graffiti Moon has to win, else I will scream.

I like to think SpiderSam came up with his stained glass idea cos I always talked about stained glass and often told him I wanted to steal his parents’ front door. Their house was built in 1901 or 02 [3] and has stained glass adorning the door and window beside. Some of the panels have flowers in relief and I drool every time I visit. Perhaps I will save some pennies and buy their house when they move. (Hmm, that would be quite a few pennies)

My friend Jack loves anime and especially Hayao Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle. Jack didn’t know it was based on the book by DWJ and he wants to read it, but right now he’s kind of stuck in Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins. He’s a slow reader and my inscecent encouragment (nagging) for him to get on with it and how much more exciting it gets after page 168 (is that possible!? Why yes it is!) isn’t working so well. I only just found out Howl’s Moving Castle is the first of a trilogy. Now I’ll have to read them all and quite a few more of DWJ’s creations.

Notes

1. my recollections of The Homeward Bounders, Charmed Life and The Pinhoe Egg may be incorrect cause I’m going on memories which are such slippery beings. My memories of the Tiger Story are also vague but you will never know what, if anything, I got wrong cause you can’t g00gle that one :P I do have parts written down in one of my (very old) notebooks, but couldn’t be bothered searching for that, even tho I know the drawer its hidden in.
2. Charmed Life wasn’t really published the year I was born? Why yes it was.
3. there’s a sign saying 1901 or 1902 but I can never remember which – too many fanciful stories crowding my brain.

Put your head under the water, open your eyes and look up at the sun. Your whole world will be filled with sparkles of water light*

I txtd that to SpiderSam two months before he died, not knowing The Sky is Everywhere, from where I stole these words, would follow my grief so closely. While I’ll admit to wearing his clothes, the other thing is not to be discussed :P

Tomorrow the US paperback of Jandy Nelson’s heart wrenching The Sky is Everywhere is released. I read JN’s poignant story last year but my own grief meant only now can I write about this book which helped me so much when SpiderSam died.

The Sky is Everywhere made the shortlist of last year’s Inkys in Sept/Oct/whenever and I hoped it would win the Silver Inky but Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater won the 2010 Silver Inky. I have no idea why I haven’t read Shiver, what with it being about dogs and all. I read eleven of the contenders before the longlist was announced, and five on the shortlist. A few of my fav books of last year were longlisted but didn’t make the shortlist, Loving Richard Feynman by Penny Tangey, The Wrong Grave by Kelly Link and my favouritetist The Bride’s Farewell by Meg Rosoff. Again the dog worked his magic.

Each evening she held his head in her hands and ran her aching fingers thru the thick ruff of fur around his neck. He burrowed against her, sighing devotion

I’m not sure dogs b a judging criteria in the Inkys, despite Inky himself. Cos I didn’t read all the titles perhaps there’s even better dogs in the other books. ie. Shiver.

There was some pretty stiff competition in the shortlist eg. Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan. Current Miles Franklin Award longlister The Piper’s Son by Melina Marchetta. That was a bit intense for me, also my brother and his wife are Sam and Georgia. (SpiderSam is not my brother!) I found the grief of The Piper’s Son more confronting than Lennie’s grief. I wonder if this was due to the visual elements of The Sky is Everywhere. Last year when I read Lennie’s story it was not so much in my head, but in the tactile object of a phenomenally executed book, in design as well as words. Now Lennie’s grief has become my own, and I’ll reread The Sky is Everywhere but not The Piper’s Son. (I have reread Finnikin of the Rock many times tho)

Jandy Nelson said in an interview

I kept thinking of her, this bereft girl, who wanted so badly to communicate with someone who was no longer there that she just began writing her words on everything and anything she could, scattering her poems and thoughts and memories to the winds. In my mind, it was a way for Lennie to write her grief on the world, to mark it, to reach out to her sister and at the same time to make sure, in this strange way, that their story was part of everything.

I’ve been writing my grief, but my diary and the letters I write to SpiderSam aren’t enough. I read the first ten letters to Sam’s friend and gave some to Sam’s brother Jack, but I wanted to write on the world, not thru scattering pages like Lennnie, but here, where every blog post somehow comes back to Sam and how lost I am without him (and my sk8 dog). My first post about SpiderSam led me to Miss A, Sam’s friend who, like me, was bereft of anyone to talk her grief to cos her friends hadn’t known Chook. Google is good for something.

But b4 Miss A I wondered who would listen to all the things I had to tell SpiderSam. The sky wasn’t enough. Then Mr Shaddow suggested Twitter. Now I’m addicted to my @wickednoise (words Sam once txtd me). Sam even has his own tag. For a bit I wrote a #SpiderSam every time I went on Twitter, but then it fell away, until the other night when my grief crept back and I had a talk with him. Who’d a thort some stupid social networking crap could be therapeutic!?

But back to the sky cos that’s what it’s all about. And what a sky it is. Not only the sky but nature in all its glory is so important in The Sky is Everywhere. The giant redwoods, the river, the garden Lennie’s Gram so lovingly tends. My fascination with nature was ensnared by these forests, rivers, flowers. They’re so alive when someone’s sister is not.

The new website for the US paperback of The Sky is Everywhere celebrates this nature and I prefer the new cover of the paperback (above) to the US hardback (left). But the Walker cover (right) is better than either. Everything about Walker’s edition is blue: the colour of Lennie’s grief and the words she wrote on the sky. Being a Walker book, the designer isn’t named in the pub details (why Walker sucks :P) But JN kindly enlightened me by acknowledging Katie Everson, creator of such a blissful piece of art. Lennie’s poems are included as photos of the found objects she writes them on (with location where scattered over the page). Obviously I was smitten and this caused my initial ardor. I was pleasantly surprised to discover the connection between her poems and one very hot musician. And not only did her scribblings become illustrations, the book’s typography is blue cos the sky really is everywhere.

It begins at your feet*

The reviewer in Fiction Focus didn’t like the blue font, doesn’t she want a bit of variety in her life!?

The cover’s title is in Lennie’s very cool penmanship and yes, it’s tactile. The words are unbossed (as in opp of embossed) and the card is textured. What more could my fingers want? Then there’s (blue) elastic to mark my page.

Illustration and other design elements were integral to a number of titles on the Inkys longlist last year, leading to many residing on my bookshelves and being lovingly perused to savour their visual delights eg. Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld, Liar by Justine Larbalestier, The Wrong Grave, Loving Richard Feynman.

We can never have too many pictures, esp when they’re painted by a very talented Grasshopper.

SpiderSam, your colours leap off the walls forever. I will always remember you for the friendship you gave me.

Note

*I’m not certain these quotes are correct cos I lent my copy to Sam’s sister. Particularly the first one I may have changed slightly to make it say what I wanted when I txtd it to SpiderSam.

whatever. maura can snort until all the brain-mucus has left her head and pooled at her feet. i will not respond.

I just discovered Will Grayson, Will Grayson by those gods of the letter John Green and David Levithan is the first YA novel with a gay main character to make it to the New York Times Best Seller List. Lee Wind told me this while spreading news of a new online book club for LGBTQ teenagers at The Trevor Project. The first book is Sing You Home by Jodi Picoult, but who cares about that when the book club will officially launch with Will Grayson, Will Grayson on April 29. Woohoo!! Get reading if you haven’t already. I done my homework and how could I not love those two Wills? I did, it’s just Will2’s depression made things somewhat distressing.

what could i say? that i didn’t just feel depressed – instead, it was like the depression was the core of me, of every part of me, from my mind to my bones? that if he got blue, i got black? that i hated those pills so much, because i knew how much i relied on them to live?

I have a thing for reading words that could have come from my head. The words in my head continue with something else that I won’t write here.

i couldn’t say any of this. because, when it all comes down to it, nobody wants to hear it. no matter how much they like you or love you, they don’t want to hear it.

Or you’ve told them so many times, the record is well and truly shattered. There was one person I could tell these words to. It was those same words he thought and told me, that killed him. Reading Will2’s thoughts made me think what I thought every time SpiderSam spoke the same words that went through my head,

Excuse me, that’s my line!?

I’m not sure I want the world to know exactly what thoughts circle my head, but whatever. SpiderSam definitely wouldn’t want the world to know. He’s looking down from the sunset he paints every night and wants to slap me upside the face. Lucky for me he lost any say in the matter when he left through the window flying.

he hasn’t realized yet who i am, what i am. i will never be kind back. the best i can do is give him reasons to give up.

When I read the two Wills last August the words ripped me apart. It was my book group’s September title and I couldn’t go cos I didn’t want to cry in front of everyone. But I’m so glad JG and DL made me cry. Not only can gay teenagers be heartened by this beautiful love story, but teenagers with depression can see themselves, and also how other people might react if they tell someone about the lies in their head.

me: i’m always standing on the edge of something bad. and sometimes someone like you can make me look the other way, so that i don’t know how close i am to falling over.
…
tiny: you know what i can do? …something else. that’s what i can give you. something else.

And yes, they are lies. When you have depression, or pretty much any mental illness, the most important thing is to recognize the lies, then you can work on disbelieving them. Will2 shows how very, very hard this is.

i know it’s not as easy as tiny says it is. but he’s trying so hard. so i surrender to it. i surrender to something else.
even if my heart isn’t totally believing it.

JG and DL do a great service to humanity by imparting this observation for everyone in the universe:

i think the idea of a ‘mental health day’ is something completely invented by people who have no clue what it’s like to have bad mental health. the idea that your mind can be aired out in twenty-four hours is kind of like saying heart disease can be cured if you eat the right breakfast cereal.

And I was saddened to notice the blurb mentions depression, but not the gay characters, only the straight ones. My nephew is on the autism spectrum and sometimes I wonder if it’s worse for him or for me. That blurb reminded me our society thinks it’s worse to be gay than to have depression, or at least gay don’t sell.

Note to society: an illness is worse than who you love!

far from sound

by Sam Cropley

I’m from an english background
my life is far from sound
for I am bound by the rules of society
even if it doesn’t apply to me
by its floors, by its see of doors
by the people that control
by the thugs that roll
You for your money and possessions
for u don’t carry any weapons
for you see no need
as my life isn’t run by greed

As with At the door I changed no words. I only added a title and (not much) punctuation. It b all his own words

I wish your shadow would get up and walk beside me

That’s not quite what Lennie in The Sky is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson wrote in her grief for her sister. It’s what I want in my grief for my friend the Grasshopper who died four weeks ago. I don’t understand how the sun continues to rise and set after Sam’s death, like nothing has happened. But when I think of his shadow walking beside me, I remember Sam’s smile and smile with him. Sam Cropley went by many names, but I’ll stick to Sam to lessen confusion.

The Saturday after his 29th birthday Sam and I talked a lot on the phone, him being in Melb and me in Perth. I was the last person he talked to and people have asked me what he said. I’ve found it hard to tell them because by our last convo he hardly said anything. And our previous convos during the day were our usual random inanity that only we cared about – the posters he was putting up, walls, cool things left on the side of the road, trees, ponds, stupid jokes about sticks. I can talk the clouds down from the sky and sometimes my job description was to do that in his ear to stop him going crazy. That day our roles were reversed.

painting stained glass in his last job

I now realise it wasn’t the words Sam said that mattered, it was what his phone calls to me on that day said about the person Sam was. He would have done the same for any one he knew, if you’d needed what I needed that day. What he did for me is what made him Sam: a beautiful, generous person who always considered others before himself. As Jack put it

He always looked out for me and he would always make sure that I was happy and comfortable well before himself. A true big brother

My sk8 dog Sheeba died that Saturday 11 December. She had a malignant tumour on her leg and I had her put down. She was only sick for a week and on the day she died Sam phoning me so many times helped me more than anything. He knew how important Sheeba was to me. She was my silver princess, my Holly White, always spinning circles for me. Sam wanted to distract me and catch his contagious happiness, which I did. In between my tears for Sheebie, Sam made me smile more than I thought I could on such a day.

I didn’t have my phone with me at the vet and when I came home without my Sheebie, Sam had txtd me

How u goin there wasp flappin near my shoulder its rocking in the tree

His lack of punctuation often made his txts confusing and I asked if he had climbed a tree. He denied it, but I wonder if this was untrue, because he didn’t want me to know his plans for the evening. He was happy when he sent the txt, but when I read it and rang him at 6:30 Melb time he wasn’t and I knew something was wrong. I thought he was just tired and I kept saying he should have a sleep. On Sunday when Sam was dead, but I didn’t yet know I txtd him

I hope you found some sleep

I cry over that txt, but as I break again every day since Sam left, my pieces are not irreparable. I sweep them together and put them aside for a time when I can fit myself back together again. Right now I think that time will never come, I will always feel this broken. By our last convo Sam was shattered into more pieces than could ever possibly fit back together. I’ve wished I worked this out when we talked or he told me, but he didn’t want me to know. Knowing of his pain would have sliced me into so many shards of anguish I would have joined him. He didn’t want that. He wanted to know I was doing ok on the day I lost my shadow dog. Yet again he put someone he cared about before himself, before his own disintegration.

This was Sam all over. That day he was being as kind, generous and selfless as he always was and the last thing he did was help a friend (after making his masterpiece the alphabet lake, above left. And yes it looks nothing like the alphabet but there are better photos somewhere). He would have done the same for any one he cared about and spent the whole day talking to you, and making sure you caught his happiness, if he thought you needed it.

Words mean nothing its the spaces that invoke the intrigue

sego way up high near the sky

Sam txtd that to me once and I want the spaces between his last words to remind us what a beautiful person he was, still is, to everyone he knew and knew him, esp Von. Jack played me that perfect song you chose for his cremation in Melb. The blackbirds sing circles in my mind in ever widening spirals.

I feel I don’t deserve what Sam did for me that day because we had a volatile friendship. I’m so grateful now to realise what I never did while he lived, that he cared about me as much as I cared about him. I wish he said goodbye to everyone he knew and cared about, and he would have, it’s just his battery was running low :P

If you knew Sam, or just happened upon these words, and you’re feeling too much pain to bear, tell someone you trust. Sam did that, but it wasn’t enough for him and usually isn’t for anyone, so ask that person you just told to help you contact one of these:

In four weeks I’ve written a lot of letters to Sam he will never read, like the poems Lennie writes to her dead sister in The Sky is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson. My random words are a lot less poetic, extremely boring in fact, and a bit too emo for my own good. After Sam left I thought I’d re-read my favouritetist book of the year, but Sam’s sister writes poetry so I lent her The Sky is Everywhere. She wrote a wonderful poem for Sam after he left. And Amy I think you’d like The Sky is Everywhere, altho you’ll have to find your own copy. And can you tell Jack to get on with reading The Hunger Games. I have much to discuss when he finally gets through em.

The Sky is Everywhere made the shortlist of the 2010 Inkys and I hoped it would win the Silver Inky but Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater won the 2010 Silver Inky. My Inky happiness isn’t what it was back in November, so I’ve postponed blogging bout what made The Sky is Everywhere so special for me before Lennie’s grief became mine.

She was the one who wanted to be with him, the one who watched and waited for him, who felt his absence badly.

– Sonya Hartnett in Stripes of the Sidestep Wolf

As well as paint words on walls Sam could draw pictures with words. He txtd me this last February (it must’ve taken ages to type cos he didn’t have a iphone) I always thought it was a story but when I set it out like a poem, I discovered it is a poem. You’re not the only poet Jan

At the door

by Sam Cropley

I was asleep
I hear a bang on door
Ding dong, the doorbell goes
Smash, smash
The banging is at my window
I wake
The process repeats
Tentatively I look out the smallest of gaps
I don’t know this burly man
Smashin away at my insecure unit
This won’t go away
I wish it would
Police? Mafia?
What have I done?
Angry brother? Drug debt?
Or simply wrong place wrong time?
My sleep numb brain makes a decision
The bangin and ringing continues
I turn on my bedside light
My body panics
Fidgets here, fidgets there
My mind still thinkin of the troubles in the past
I reach the door
Who is it?
No response
Who is it?
Moments pass
Feels like I’ve just committed all those sins over again
Who is it?
Not daring to open the door
The man, the voice, the commotion responds
You’ve left the lights on in your ute.
Ok mate, cheers, I respond