fantasy

Shadowfever

brittany — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

How do I review Shadowfever by Karen Marie Moning? Do I caution readers about the fact that it is book five in a five book series? That previous events are not described and characters come into play with little explanation? Or do I discuss how enthralled I was by the story? How I could not put it down, even without understanding a lot of the plot?

The plot of Shadowfever is hard to describe. The main character, Mackayla Lane, or Mac, came to Dublin to find out who killed her sister in the first book, Darkfever. Not long after she arrived, the walls between the human world and the fairy world fell, bringing together both good and bad fairies, the Seelies and the Unseelies. It destroyed Dublin as the two groups fought each other and the humans. Over the course of the series, Mac learns about her sister’s life, about her own past and its connection to the fairy world and the keepers of the magic, and meets her lover, Jerricho Barrons. Shadowfever brings her story to its conclusion.

Much of the book is hard to follow, if only because the elements are unfamiliar. The book opens with Mac mourning the death of Barrons. The scene is long and painful, but without knowing who Barrons is, it has little impact. Mac has to find the Sinsar Duhb, which is both a book and a sentient being. There is lots of fighting between the various groups looking for the book, and without a chart, it was hard to follow the various groups, between the Seelie, the Unseelie, the Druids, the Abbey, and the humans. The narrator even changes without warning.

But, despite all of this, I was hooked on this book. Once I was able to situate myself in the story, I had a good sense of the characters and the basic plot. Mac is a wonderful character, strong, powerful, and complicated. All of the other characters, good and bad, fairy and human, are interesting, if leaning a bit too much toward “perfect,” “complicated,” and “sexy.” Still, trying to figure out who they were was interesting.

If you are a fan of urban fantasy, I recommend the Fever series, but I would start with the first one.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, April 10th 2011

Luka and the Fire of Life

mandy — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 16:00:00 +0000

By Salman Rushdie

Random House

The world according to Salman Rushdie post-fatwa is a very bad place. If his books from this era are anything to go by, most people are judgmental, small-minded, and intolerant. In this book, and its prequel Haroun and the Sea of Stories, Rushdie is passing that same worldview on to his sons. Buried under verbal twists and turns and puns and slapstick, Luka and the Fire of Life is about a boy undertaking a quest through a mythical world (created, it seems, by his father’s stories) to save his father’s life. He braves great challenges and finds courage he did not know he had. Ostensibly, Luka is on a quest to find his own voice, but the voice he actually finds his father’s.

While I was reading the book, I kept trying to imagine a twelve-year-old boy reading it, but I couldn’t. The references to video games are a bit sad—like a sixty-year-old father trying to appear cool by getting into what his pre-teen son likes—and wouldn’t fool any kid. The adventures were too wordy and too weighty to really pull me along, let alone a mile-a-minute boy. Luka and the Fire of Life left me with an overwhelming sense of a man desperate to prove his own relevance—to everyone, but maybe mostly to his son.

And where is Luka’s mother in all this? Soraya is a flat character, given to pronouncements about how hilarious the men in her family are, more often tut-tutting than actually speaking. She sits uselessly by Rashid’s bedside while her son goes out to save the world. I wondered what kind of quest Rushdie would think of for her if he could. She does appear in an alternate form in the fantasy world, helping Luka on his way, but she does not present any counterweight to his father or his father’s image of the world.

Rushdie was at his peak with The Satanic Verses, a book I believe was as close to genius as anything written in this generation, when Rushdie was forced into hiding. It is impossible to imagine the impact a worldwide death sentence would have on a creative mind, but if Rushdie’s books of this era are any indication, then the fatwa killed the spark built in Rushdie’s early work.

I remember the hate and the close-mindedness of the fatwa; for many in the West, it may have been one the first glimpses of the power and reach of extremist Islam. But I also remember the courage of the many who stood with Rushdie and protected him in those years. I remember rallies at University and writers and others risking their lives to stand up for Rushdie. Where is that alternate worldview in his books? Tragically for his readers, Rushdie seems yet to see this side of this momentous event.

It seems like today—when religious extremisms and hate seem to be winning the war of words, when secularism and so-called blasphemy can get even the Governor of Punjab killed—Rushdie could help us see the other realities. He could show the world beyond it and behind it, not just point us through it, as if it were the only truth and, like it or not, we have to navigate it, with just a dancing bear and a singing dog and a few words of advice from an aging storyteller. I want the Rushdie of The Satanic Verses back; he really knew how to cut the legs out from under the small-minded power of intolerance.

Written by: Khadijah Fancy, February 5th 2011

Literary Readings: Salman Rushdie (11/22/2010)

mandy — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 14:00:00 +0000

92nd Street Y

New York, New York

Everywhere you go in India, you see bootlegged copies of Salman Rushdie's groundbreaking Midnight's Children being sold by hawkers along the footpaths to tourists who've come to see if the romanticized country is as mythical a place as the then-copywriter delightfully described in his make-me-or-break-me novel. The fantastical worlds created in Rushdie's mind closely resemble our reality, but their magical element—at times more prevalent than others—has the ability to transport the uninitiated from a place of sensory overload to one of simple beauty. And it was with great pleasure that I attended the literary reading with Rushdie, and subsequent jocular verbal sparring with fellow Mumbaite, and Maximum City author, Suketu Mehta at the 92nd Street Y.

After Mehta's endearing introduction of Rushdie, in which he comically described being rebuffed at the authors' first encounter, the senior writer took the stage to read excerpts from his recently published young adult adventure novel, Luka and the Fire of Life. I had read the book a few days prior to the event while stuck on the 2 train from Prospect Heights to West Harlem. Crushed on all sides in the crowded train, Luka's quest allowed me some reprieve from claustrophobia during the snail's pace journey. And I much preferred experiencing Rushdie's linguistic acrobatics and smarty pants humor in the comfortable seats at the Y.

The audience seemed pleasantly amused at the children's story, crafted at the request of Rushdie's own adolescent son. They tittered at all appropriate parts and chuckled at Rushdie's added commentary between excerpts. Luka and the Fire of Life is clearly a rumination on mortality and fatherhood, a point Rushdie freely admitted. As an aging father of a teenage son, the desire to leave a personal legacy influenced the timing of this book, which Rushdie said was vetted by his son before he turned it over to the publisher.

After the reading, Mehta returned to the stage to facilitate a conversation that ran the gamut of nonlinear literature, so-called cultureless Americans, the inevitability of the novel's survival, and Rushdie's addiction to Angry Birds. Rushdie's natural charisma outshone his interviewer, but he was gracious enough to dim the light from time to time. The evening came to a close with a more serious consideration of present day tyrannical regimes and Rushdie's having the "misfortune of acquiring an interesting life."

He told Mehta, "[Writers] look aghast at the world as it is...When times are bad, it's great for writers [because] the worse it is, the better it is [for us]." To which Mehta fondly responded, in an effort at comical flattery, "Then let's hope it gets worse."

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, February 5th 2011

Thief

alicia — Wed, 22 Sep 2010 10:00:00 +0000

By Maureen Gibbon

Sarah Crichton Books

“This night I was trying to describe what my orgasms were like, but I doubted if what I wanted to say would sound compelling to anyone but me...” explains Suzanne, before writing a letter to a convicted rapist who is serving his sentence in prison and whom she has established a relationship with.

Maureen Gibbon’s Thief is the story of Suzanne, a complex woman trying to make sense of her own rape, while exploring her own sexuality. Gibbon creates a multi-layered character, an average woman with a troubled past who lives a secluded life and for the most part, likes to have superficial relationships, without letting anyone into her life.

What’s most riveting about this short novel is the style in which Gibbon lets the reader into the very private life of Suzanne. Thief is a short novel, and the reader might be compelled to read it in one sitting. Each chapter is an intimate view of Suzanne’s thoughts, the kind of thoughts that are rarely discussed, especially because they seem fleeting and extremely personal. The protagonist describes her innermost sexual thoughts and experiences, from masturbation to her fantasies and even to her attack. It is at this point that there is a sense of voyeurism, a bond with what goes through Suzanne’s head. Gibbon allows the reader into the deepest secrets of Suzanne and there’s an understanding of her feelings of shame and guilt, an understanding that Suzanne herself is lacking.

Thief is written in a raw style and yet it doesn’t appear vulgar or cliché; instead, it’s a direct look into a woman’s thoughts and the path she explores to understand own self. The novel is well written and engaging; the story of a woman who, through sexual acceptance, reaches another level of self-discovery.

Written by: Jessica Sánchez, September 22nd 2010

The Passage

admin — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 16:00:00 +0000

By Justin Cronin

Ballantine Books

Trying to explain The Passage is like explaining Lost or the Harry Potter series to an outsider. You end up having to sum it up in the simplest terms: Lost is about people stuck on a really weird island, Harry Potter is about a boy defeating evil wizards, and The Passage is about a little girl trying to save the world. Since this is a review, I’ll go a bit deeper than that, but it might sound ridiculous, so bear with me.

The Passage starts with a military experiment gone wrong. This experiment created beings that resemble vampires (don’t go out during the day, don’t age, feed on humans, etc.), and they have escaped. There’s a little girl, Amy, who was also a subject in the experiment, but who fared better than the others because she retained some of her humanity. The creatures are killing most of the U.S. population, and a man helps Amy escape. We jump forward a hundred years to a small settlement of survivors still trying to protect themselves against these creatures. It’s up to them and Amy to save what’s left of the country, perhaps the world.

No pat description can really do this book justice. The first part could have been a novel all on its own, and it probably would have been one of my favorites if it ended there. But as I kept reading, the storyline, character development, suspense, and surprises made the book unforgettable. Beyond that, there was the strength of the female characters, the significance of race—or lack thereof—in a society that believes they’re the last humans left, and the contemplation of how we pass down our history and what it means to future generations. All of this took me away from any traditional idea of sci-fi, fantasy, or trendy vampire lit to a look at what our culture is and what it could be.

I’ve read through negative reviews of this book, and while I can understand where others are coming from, I don’t agree. The biggest complaint I’ve read is that the book ends abruptly. That’s because this is the first book of three, and there’s more of this story to tell. Even then, The Passage easily stands alone because the first journey is complete by the end.

Another complaint is that while the first part of the book is beautifully written, it stumbles a bit after that. I agree that the first part is written much better than the rest, but it’s something I didn’t worry about as I let myself get into the story rather than focusing on the writing. After a hundred pages or so (a drop in the bucket for a book over 700 pages long), the story and the suspense carried me through to the end.

The best way I can sell this book is to admit that I could not put it down. Even when the story started to slow, even when I found myself awake at three o'clock in the morning with my fiancé groaning that I wasn’t asleep, even when I should have been eating food rather than words during my lunch break, I kept reading. It was hard to leave that world, even for a few hours. I finished all 700+ pages of The Passage in a week, and my only regret is not savoring it more.

I hope you aren’t intimidated by the page count, and I hope you’re not put off by the negative reviews, because this may end up being one of the best books you’ve read in a long time.

Written by: frau sally benz, August 14th 2010

Florida Supercon (6/18 – 6/20/2010)

admin — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 04:01:00 +0000

Doubletree Miami Airport Hotel and Convention Center

Miami, Florida

Since I live in Miami, a city of fashionable sameness, it can be difficult to find alternatives to the mainstream culture. So I was convention curious. Yet all I knew about anime was what I’d seen on Adult Swim or the Syfy channel: doe-eyed, borderline pornographic girls in their miniskirts and ponytails. I can never get past the not-so-subtle little girl fetish. Change the channel, thanks.

Of course, there is the stereotype of the person who regularly watches Adult Swim—a pasty-faced, bespectacled, often bearded man-boy who lives in his mother’s living room—and hey, if we’re going the route of stereotypes, why not throw in Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. That was my starting point for the Supercon.

Supercon is diverse compared to other conventions. I went with a friend, a veteran con goer. She spoke about how comic cons bring out collectors as well as kids, while anime cons appeal to the pink-haired teenagers. Florida Supercon had all of these audiences. It also had fans of yesteryear TV shows and films with actors like Dawn Wells (Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island), Tia Carrere (Wayne’s World), and Guest of Honor Richard Roundtree (Shaft). And if you wanted an autograph from a wrestler or former Playboy playmate, they were there too.

The convention schedule on Saturday offered a few women-related panels, where I hoped to observe how women and girls are represented at a con. First was the "Girl’s Guide to Con Going" with the female hosts of the Anime Addicts Anonymous podcast. This panel was my introduction, and I felt both out of place and at home. Out of place because the three women were decked out in wigs and costumes, and spoke another language with Dragon Ball Z, cosplay, and other con references:: “I need a new d20.” (Did con speak require a dictionary? Write it down, ask questions later.) I felt at home because these women also spoke a language in which I am fluent: feminism. I don’t know if that’s how they would define themselves, but they certainly had ideas that many feminists would support.

The women counseled the audience on not giving out too much information to people at conventions and creating a limited Facebook profile for con friends. At first, this seemed very Dateline NBC (read: obvious advice); then I noticed the young girls in the audience. Some were twelve or thirteen years old, maybe younger. Some of them were sitting alone. The three women on the panel looked like they were in their early twenties, and they acted as role models and mentors. How should you respond to a creepy con guy who wants to take your picture? Say no: “If that voice in your head says this is weird, listen to it.” I hadn’t expected this kind of talk at a comic book convention.

One of this panel’s best topics was how to create affordable and practical costumes. (Some context for the uninitiated: what you wear is a major part of conventions. Sometimes people dress as characters of their own gender, but attendees are just as likely to cross-dress.)The "Girl’s Guide to Con Going" was all about comfort in costuming; if you went wearing flats, that would be one less thing to worry about. Pack a change of clothes and double-sided tape. Practice poses in front of a mirror before the convention. “You may think something looks cool, but it doesn’t, and then you’re on YouTube,” said one panelist.

The panel also encouraged the audience not to live up to unrealistic portrayals of women when working on their costumes. Sexy girls are part of anime, like the female anime character featured on the back of the Florida Supercon program: Yoko from Gurren Lagann. She has red hair in sweeping ponytails, a skimpy maid costume, big boobs, a flat stomach, and a come-hither wink. The panelists offered the female audience validation: “That body type doesn’t fit into the real world! Anime is drawn; they aren’t based on real people. So, tailor your costume to whatever fits you.”

As far as their own costumes, the panelists were dressed as characters from Baccano! Nice Holystone wore an eye patch; Miria was a blonde in a red dress and opera gloves; and red-haired Ennis was dressed in a suit. Silly me. I had thought Ennis was Dana Scully from The X-Files.

The next women-related panel, "Meet The Roller Derby Girls," presented the South Florida skaters from the Gold Coast Derby Grrls. Roller derby is inclusive of both genders, in some respects; men can participate as referees, but only women can compete. Skaters recreate themselves into personas with names like Souljourner, Dela Ruthless, and Heinous Grace. One of the women, Caffeine Crash, explained the connection between roller derby and a comic book convention: “When you skate, it’s like an alter ego—like you’re putting on a character. But at the same time, that’s when you’re most yourself, with the war-paint and being kick-ass.”

While this is reminiscent of cosplay, that’s probably where the similarity ends. Roller derby is a fast-paced game where skaters often get injured—sprained shoulders and bruises are standard—so skaters learn to “fall small” and spend money on a good set of knee pads. The sport is one of the few outlets where women can be full-on aggressive. But what’s remarkable is how roller derby has become an international network of women who support each other and contribute to charitable causes. (The Derby Grrls have organized relief efforts for Haiti and collected supplies for people affected by the oil spill crisis in the Gulf.) The Gold Coast Derby Grrls have traveled nationwide for matches in Philadelphia and Oklahoma. Despite the competitive nature of the sport, other leagues will often show hospitality by giving their competitors a place to stay.

The last panel was on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and featured Georges Jeanty, the artist who worked on the season eight comic book. Jeanty’s previous work includes strong female characters like Wonder Woman and Razor. He considered what makes Buffy different: “Most female characters in comics are men drawn in female form. Buffy is independent and powerful, but still very much a girl.”

But what does it mean to be a girl? The first two panels had presented more than one definition. You could have comfort in your cosplay or you could be bruised up from roller derby. There are many ways to be an independent and powerful girl.

However, Jeanty’s point about the male influence on comic books was made evident by browsing the Florida Supercon's vendor and artist tables. Plenty of the female characters in comics and anime could have been featured in Playboy or Hustler. There was even a Typhoid Mary action figure with mechanical straitjacket and spread-eagle legs. What’s the message here—keep your women locked up and prone?

There were also empowering images to be found. The front cover of Derrick Fish’s The Wellkeeper made my friend stop at his table: “Look, she has a belly!” Zoe is the main character, a young girl with curves. The cover shows Zoe ascending into the sky out of the green earth, surrounded by a radiant light. A synopsis of the story suggests that Zoe is connected to a planetary life force, so there are definite mother-earth overtones. Her belly makes sense in that context, but she also represents a body type we don’t often see as heroic, and that acts as an alternative to depictions like Typhoid Mary.

Artist Juan Fontanez said he appreciated the presence and influence of female artists and collectors at Florida Supercon. This sentiment was also shared by Banky (V. Farano), who has sometimes been mistaken for a “convention girlfriend” instead of an artist. Yet Danielle Soloud, creator of the webcomic Life With Death, voiced the need for even more women in the industry. She said, “We should be able to get in there… boys and girls [can] make comics together!”

Younger fans have found interesting ways to deal with gender disparities. I asked a group of teens—one boy and three girls, aged twelve to eighteen—about what it’s like for a girl at these conventions. One girl responded, “It’s harder because of the costumes… sometimes it’s easier [for a girl] to be a guy.” She went into detail about how it costs less money and results in more fun if you're seen as a boy. The only difficulty was in binding down her chest, but the compliments made it seem worth it.

Another girl, who was dressed as Allen Walker from D.Gray-man, said some people didn’t recognize her as a girl in costume; instead, they just said she was a really good Allen. The boy was dressed as his own gender, with orange hair and a brown robe. He insisted that when a guy dresses as a girl, it was “just for laughs.”

Sure, Florida Supercon had women in tight-costumes, all boobs and high heels, and more than a few pasty-faced man-boys (even a few who could double as Comic Book Guy), but that stereotype is a very limited truth. Women artists and fans are claiming their place in the realm of comic books, anime, video games, and sci-fi while cosplay is expanding the continuum of gender expression. There is definitely the potential for empowerment at conventions like Florida Supercon; however, women and men should continue to voice the need for broader representations. For every Yoko, there should be a Zoe. Until then, women should keep attending these conventions and establishing a presence within this pop culture niche—so every girl can be her own superhero.

Photo credit: Debbie Chamberlin

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, July 30th 2010

The Prospect of Magic

admin — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By M.O. Walsh

Livingston Press

The Prospect of Magic, a collection of ten stories, sets up a wonderful world where the real and magical live side by side. It’s enchanting. Some of the stories are hopeful, some are tragic, and some are sad, just like real life. All of them feature flights of fancy, just like the best magic trick.

The story centers around Fluker, Louisiana, where the World Famous Ploofop Travelling Circus decides to stay after its owner, Abidail Ploofop, dies. Margo the Mind Reader gives a eulogy, “a speech that, legend has it, wrapped a hopeful message around the mind of every person in attendance.” Soon, the townsfolk are playing poker on their roof with giants, receiving lions in the mail, and angry clown gangs roam the streets, making trouble. These delightful images of a circus gone to seed populate the stories, but never pull away from Walsh's general message of good will and that people can be accepted no matter what.

In "The Cat Who Ate The Boy," the young narrator receives a lion named Big Kitty mailed to the carnival, and after attempting to care for it, takes the beast to his grandfather. The story is told through the boy’s eyes, and Big Kitty that lurks in and out of the story soon becomes a metaphor for his parent’s relationship – an element that is in many ways big, strong and beyond the boy's control.

The title story tells of a teenage boy learning to deal with the magic he has, and how to reconcile it with the reality of the world. "The Dream Tow" tells of a fortune telling machine that reminds the characters to savour what they have in life, whether it’s a musical skill with a trombone or a happy marriage. The final story, "The Ploofop Refugees," follows Margo the Mind Reader’s husband as he deals with her impending death, and the possibility of the circus folks leaving Fluker.

All of these stories deal with the people from the circus and the Fluker townspeople as both everyday people, and people filled with magic. The ease the characters and stories show with the idea of giraffes eating leaves off the trees in the town square in the same story as the death of wife is remarkable, and is what sets these stories apart from other short stories in their sense of fun and community. The prospect of magic indeed.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, June 1st 2010

Unfastened: Globality and Asian North American Narratives

admin — Tue, 18 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Eleanor Ty

University Of Minnesota Press

In a similar vein as Caroline Rody’s The Interethnic Imagination and Rocío Davis' Begin Here, the monograph Unfastened has been a treat to read for the simple fact that author Eleanor Ty forefronts a wide range of readings that demonstrate the continued evidence of the heterogeneity that embodies the field of Asian North American literature. Ty’s book is called unfastened, precisely because it is a descriptive that designates the continuing complexity that has been emerging with the textual terrains around concepts of mobility, displacement, and diaspora that make fastening Asian North American literature to any one place practically impossible.

In the primary texts that Ty so elegantly analyzes, multiple nations, multiple local spaces, and multiple subjectivities are always imagined, such that her readings flow contextually, specific to particular aesthetic forms and contexts, but always linked by the notion of “globality.” Ty is careful about her terminology. She purposefully does not use the term Asian American precisely because she carves out a specific place for Asian Canadian cultural production in her work, which has had a long history of being too reductively classified within Asian American more broadly.

She also distinguishes globality from the globalization, rendering globality the more salient feature of her critical reading practice precisely because it is more connected to issues of economic differentials and power inequities that arise as bodies, cultures, ideas, technologies, etc. migrate to new locations and establish new spatial configurations. As Ty clarifies, “Issues of globality include concern for earth and our environment, health and the spread of disease across national borders, the globalization of markets, and the production of goods.”

The wide range of primary text readings are truly astonishing and we see what a fan of Asian North American narrative Ty is as she meticulously crafts her analyses to continually point to the ways that Asian North American writers are thinking about globality and routing that issue directly within their textual terrains. Taken together, Ty concentrates on Brian Roley’s American Son, Han Ong’s Fixer Chao, Larissa Lai’s Salt Fish Girl, Hiromi Goto’s The Kappa Child, Ruth Ozeki’s All Over Creation, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s The Mistress of Spices, Sunil Kuruvilla’s Rice Boy, and Lydia Kwa’s This Place Called Absence, among others. Many of these authors are ones that have received very little critical attention, even though their works present such rich terrains upon which to consider the complexities of globalization.

While all the chapters provide sprightly interpretative readings in which texts cannot be fastened within one context or sociocultural moment, some standouts include chapter two’s “Recuperating Wretched Lives: Asian Sex Workers and the Underside of Nation Building” and chapter five’s “Shape-shifters and Disciplined Bodies: Feminist Tactics, Science Fiction, and Fantasy.” Given the astonishing range of writings being produced, Ty’s conclusion offers a corrective to the concept of Asian American literature, offering that the rubric of “global novelist and global writing are more accurate for terms and for works,” especially with respect to the increasingly non-domestic contexts of many narratives.

Ty leaves us then with the concept of the “Asian global,” conceptualized in part because such narratives “arise out of and are contingent upon globalization—the movement of people, capital, and production across the north and south—and because they are no longer located just in North America or Britain.” In ending this brief review, it would seem the possibility that Ty is pushing for a potentially new field rubric in which Asian global texts written in English appear front and center. In this way, the move to diasporic and transnational critiques which typically and traditionally have not shifted beyond a two-country paradigm can be supplanted with this Asian global literary studies model that pushes scholars to contextualize texts from multi-focal spatial axes.

Cross-posted at Asian American Literature Fans

Written by: Stephen Hong Sohn, May 17th 2010

How to Train Your Dragon

admin — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Dean DeBlois, Chris Sanders

DreamWorks

As a feminist mother of a young daughter, I am always on the lookout for movies with a positive message. As a mom who is a geek, I'm always looking for sci-fi and fantasy movies that are kid-appropriate. As an intelligent woman, I'm always looking for entertainment that has good storytelling. Luckily for everyone like me, How to Train Your Dragon fits all three categories.

First of all, the movie is great storytelling, with fantastic visuals (especially in 3-D) that will keep everyone from a three-year-old to an adult interested and engaged throughout the whole film. The pacing is excellent, without any dragging moments or exposition that will bore young kids, and with enough depth that parents won't get bored either.

But much more importantly, the story gives a great message for kids of any age. For those who don't want to have the movie spoiled for them, here's the basic rundown: strong female characters (women & girls), great attitudes towards disability, support for flexible gender roles, good messages about accepting people as they are, underlying message about understanding, and peaceful solutions as opposed to conflict. Now, on to the details...

The story revolves around a teenager, Hiccup, who lives in a Nordic village that is defined primarily by its ongoing battle against hordes of raiding dragons. Both women and men fight, and teens help as well, but Hiccup is awkward and physically weak, and is not allowed to help. The teenager who is best at dragon fighting is a girl named Astrid, whom Hiccup likes. Hiccup's father is chief of the village, and does not value Hiccup's other talents. Hiccup creates a machine to help him capture a dragon, so that he can prove his worth to the village.

The machine works, Hiccup attempts to kill the captured dragon, but cannot bring himself to do so; instead he sets it free. The dragon, injured by the machine, cannot fly anymore. Over time, Hiccup befriends it, names it Toothless, and creates a prosthetic device that will help the dragon fly again, but only with the help of a human rider. Meanwhile, Hiccup is learning about dragon behavior, and uses that information to become the best teenaged dragon fighter, all without killing a single dragon. Hiccup's success frustrates Astrid, because she has been training all her life to be a dragon fighter, and was the best until Hiccup's changed behavior. Astrid discovers Hiccup and Toothless, but has her mind changed after spending time with them. Hiccup and Astrid discover the dragons' nest, and realize that the dragons raid the village in order to feed a giant dragon who will eat them otherwise.

When Hiccup is chosen as the best dragon fighter, he must kill a dragon in front of the village, but he refuses. His father agitates the dragon into attacking, and Toothless arrives to save Hiccup, but is captured and imprisoned. The villagers use Toothless to lead them to the dragons' nest, but the giant dragon attacks them and the teenagers, all on dragons, rescue the adults, each using her or his own abilities and skills in a group effort. Hiccup and Toothless defeat the giant dragon, but Hiccup loses a leg as a result. The village accepts the dragons and lives in harmony with them from then on.

Do I think this movie was helped by the fact that a) it's based on a book written by a woman and b) three of the five producers are female? Yes, I do. And this is exactly why we need more women in Hollywood. I love having a movie that I can show my daughter over and over again, and not worry about the underlying messages she might be getting from it. Instead, I can show her How to Train Your Dragon as much as she wants, knowing that she's getting a message of inclusion and acceptance.

Cross-posted from California NOW

Written by: Elena Perez, April 22nd 2010

Tall, Dark, and Fangsome (Immortality Bites)

admin — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 17:06:00 +0000

By Michelle Rowen

Grand Central Publishing

Vampires are a dime a dozen these days. Everywhere you turn, there’s a new one ready to take your blood to prolong his un-life. Soon, there are going to be more vamps than humans, and then where will we be? (Read I Am Legend by Richard Matheson for the answer.) Between Twilight, True Blood, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, no human will be left unbitten, except that none of these vampires actually attack humans.

Tall, Dark and Fangsome adds nothing new to the decade old discussion of vampires. As we learn from Sarah Dearly, the unlikely protagonist, she is an Anne Rice-style vampire who likes dark makeup, blood in shot glasses at bars, emo, and brooding. Even Thierry de Bennicoeur, her ancient true love, is a standard vampire. Tall, Dark and Fangsome is the fifth in the Immortality Bites series.

Through the events of the first four novels in the series, Sarah has been given a nightwalker curse. This curse turns a standard vampire into the Nosferatu, the kind of vampire that (gasp) drinks blood from humans and enjoys it, because everyone knows that if you are forced to drink blood from a real, live human, you can’t enjoy it. Luckily for Sarah, her boyfriend has a convenient gold necklace that will stop the curse. She hates it because it’s so ugly, but without it, she’s likely to eat the first person she sees.

The main plot of this novel follows Sarah’s attempts to deal with Gideon Chase, a playboy billionaire cum vampire hunter who needs Sarah’s super-strong blood to remove his hellfire scars. In return for making him a vampire, he will give her the information she needs to free her from her ugly jewelry. Add in a Red Devil bodyguard, a vampire bodyguard with a penchant for standing in the shadows, a few meddling friends, and a teenage wizard with a love for death metal, and you have the plot of this novel, as well as anything vampire related in the last fifteen years. (Except Twilight, which doesn’t count since Edward isn’t a vampire; he’s a moody teenager.)

None of this would matter if the book was good, which it is not. It isn’t the worst novel ever written, but with no original ideas, the construction of the novel has to be perfect to carry it. This is far from it. The fantasy in Tall, Dark and Fangsome doesn’t equal a whole new world; there are just a few slight changes that don’t seem to affect anything. There are vampires everywhere, but everything looks exactly the same, except for the ability to order blood at bars. It’s lazy writing with little payoff.

I would love to call a moratorium on vampire books until someone has something new to contribute beyond "(s)he doesn’t want to be a vampire." If not, we’ll keep getting books like this; not bad, but filler in an already too full canon.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, January 15th 2010

Chosen By Desire (The Guardians of Destiny)

admin — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Kate Perry

Forever

Kate Perry is a pretty kickass chick. Her childhood dream was to be a ninja, and she's now a seventh degree Kung Fu blackbelt. The serious study required in kung fu appears to have colored her novel, giving the 'paranormal' elements of this paranormal romance a more grounded feel than most Asian-inspired material written by Westerners.

Second in The Guardians of Destiny series, Chosen By Desire continues the modern legend of the Scrolls of Destiny, ancient writings that impart elemental powers on those who study them. Our heroine, Carrie, is a doctoral candidate looking for something to spice up her dissertation. On a tip, she travels to a Chinese monastery where her snooping uncovers exactly what she's looking for. Frantic not to get caught, she stuffs the scrolls in her bag to study later. To ease her conscience, she promises herself she will return them as soon as her paper is approved, and she's won a coveted position at her university.

But the legend is true and the current Guardians are onto her. Max, an American tapped to hold the power of Metal, follows her to California. Convinced that she is working with his rival to damage him, he invites Carrie into his home to translate the texts in his collection, giving him a chance to study her and learn her plans.

The book starts out well. Perry is good with scenes of action and tension (including sexual), but when times are good and everyone's relaxed she tends to lean on cliché. Max is the alpha male who is unable to trust, but I don't see why Carrie calls him arrogant, except that that's a stock description for that archetype. Due to the Power of Lourve, he makes an awfully fast switch from suspicion to loyalty. Then there is my least favorite Conflict Trope: everything could be resolved if people just talked to each other. Given, Perry does a much better job establishing why these people are close-lipped, but Carrie holds on to crucial information for way too long, even after she and Max are all but together.

Though I enjoyed the book for what it was (read: escapist fiction), I find myself dwelling more on its problems than its strengths. Carrie is a confused character. She has to be a Middle American Good Girl. Believably flawed, a serious doctoral candidate worthy of a professorship, and a sassy slang-slinging modern heroine all at once. Ultimately, she doesn't solve the mystery, save herself or anyone else's life, and she definitely doesn't find personal power (paranormal or otherwise). Things are just a little too easy for Carrie, sliding in and out of trouble without any lasting damage or lessons.

This is a shame, because Perry is not a terrible writer. I think she got caught up in what this sort of book is "supposed" to be like. She cut off her natural ability to render her characters as dynamic, interesting people. Writing romances is much more challenging than people think. I'm not going to give up on Perry, but I hope she gives herself the freedom to go a little wild and throw the formulas out.

Written by: Richenda Gould, January 14th 2010

Rough Magic

admin — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 09:03:00 +0000

By Caryl Cude Mullin

Second Story Press

Most of Caryl Cude Mullin’s Rough Magic takes place on a magical island, the home of sirens and air spirits. When an exiled Queen bent on revenge and accumulating more power takes control of the island’s magic the fate of its inhabitants is left for the islands own control.

Chiara, a young Princess with an interest and talent for magic, is ordered by her father to marry a Spanish Prince for his own ambition. Caliban serves as Chiara’s teacher, servant, and the closest thing she’s emotionally had to a father. Calypso, another young woman who later in the story finds the island is the daughter of a witch and has been wandering the seas searching for a purpose to her life.

Much can’t be said about these characters as they are written flat and one-sided. Main character Caliban isn’t much of the hero we may expect him to be, and Chiara a girl whom, for most of her personality, is submissive and meek from her introduction to the story suddenly becomes cold and harsh at its end.

While I enjoyed this book to an extent, I was also slightly disappointed with it. Rough Magic_’s plot is tedious and slow. It lacks the necessary action that defines the fantasy genre. Furthermore, the characters on occasion are repetitive in their thoughts. If you read the back cover you are informed that this story was inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest, the novel does indeed closely resemble the play, but still anything affiliated with that of the bard’s works is always put up to high expectations such as a similar almost mimicking style in dialoged and prose while keeping to modern changes. For this reviewer, Rough Magic falls short of such expectations.

Written by: Nina Lopez-Ortiz, November 17th 2009

Racing the Dark

admin — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 00:04:00 +0000

By Alaya Dawn Johnson

Bolden

Racing the Dark is unique among fantasy books. The world draws upon Pacific Island and East Asian cultures to create a rich blend very different from fantasy canon—an island nation with an animist religion centering on sacrifice and binding. Though a young adult novel, Johnson is unafraid to tackle harsh topics, and readers will love her for it.

The book begins with Lana's womanhood trial: the morning of her first bleeding, she must dive alone to prove her worthiness as a diver (like the ama pearl divers of Japan). Her findings mark her as being destined for great things. Lana doesn't want the sort of life the island elders would force on her, so she hides the signs and tries to go on as before. But forces in the world are already shifting. Soon the divers have no gems to collect, and the weather patterns begin to ravage their island. Their way of life dying, Lana and her family leave in search of something better.

What comes next is the slow, inexorable destruction of Lana's idyllic childhood. Their situation worsens and everyone makes sacrifices—and that's sacrifice in the true meaning of the word. Lana is pushed into tighter and righter corners, always trying to stay one step ahead of the monster that chases her.

The book draws on themes of environmentalism, trade offs, personal responsibility, and trust. One has the feeling that nothing is safe—it can all come undone in a moment. This suspense keeps the book moving after a slow start. Though the opening scenes are of obvious interest from a feminist perspective, the book is not centered on issues of gender, which is actually a relief. Johnson's primary characters are mostly women, but their being women doesn't make them extraordinary or weak. They are people drawing on their own strengths to survive. It's a much more human approach that I am grateful for. The banner doesn't always have to be waved in your face for the message to be clear.

This is not to say that Johnson ignores their femininity. In fact, the women involved in romantic relationships with men all struggle with them. How many transgressions can love and affection make up for? Which sacrifices for love are justified, and which are foolhardy? All these women wonder if they should stay with their men—and not one is wholly dependent on him for her survival. This frees the debate to be solely about ethics, self-worth, and love.

As a teen, I would have gobbled Racing the Dark up. As an adult writer, I'm not wholly enchanted, which I put down to this being Johnson's first novel. I do wish I had a niece or young friend to pass it on to, so I could follow the story through her. I am also keeping a close eye on Johnson's other projects. Johnson's writing improves over the course of this book, and I'm certain she will become a reliable force in the fantasy genre.

Written by: Richenda Gould, October 31st 2009

When Women Were Warriors Book I: The Warrior's Path

admin — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 08:55:00 +0000

By Catherine M. Wilson

Shield Maiden Press

I usually do not read fantasy books, but The Warrior's Path changed my mind. Catherine M. Wilson writes a beautifully well-crafted story that incorporates the elements of fantasy without entering any stereotypes. The first of three books in the When Women Were Warriors series follow Tamras, who trains to become a warrior like the other women in her family. However, when Tamras enters the House of Merin, she cannot become an apprentice like she'd hoped to be. Instead, she is assigned as a companion for Maara, one of the warriors who isolates herself. The other warriors are suspicious of Maara since she is not from their clan.

At first, Maara shuns Tamras, and does not want a companion. But when Maara is injured in a battle and Tamras stays by her side, the bond between companion and warrior is strengthen. As the story continues, the alliance between Tamras and Maara grow so strong that Tamras pledges her life for Maara's. In addition, Tamras risks valuable alliances that would benefit her clan to follow her heart, which also leads her along the path of becoming a warrior.

The Warrior's Path also contains a love story between Tamras and another companion that artistically describes the exploration of love and passion. Each of the characters are highly developed and realistic. It is one of those rare gems that is also incredibly empowering to women, and as the title suggests, most of the warriors are women. Wilson creates a fantastic world where women are a powerful force that governs the lands and fights the battles. I hope that the next two books are just as interesting and well-written.

Written by: Elizabeth Stannard Gromisch, October 25th 2009

Stagestruck Vampires and Other Phantasms

admin — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 17:15:00 +0000

By Suzy McKee Charnas

Tachyon Publications

Recently, during a discussion on the flaws of Twilight, an acquaintance of mine made a rather insightful statement. “The vampire is supposed to die. Period.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love a sexy paranormal as much as the next chick, but lately I’ve noticed that a lot of vampires have, for lack of a better pun, lost their bite. The recent trend with all things horror and fantasy has been to either neuter or glamorize what were once considered spine-chilling denizens of darkness. Soul-less vampires and bloodthirsty werewolves have been replaced by pretty boys wearing leather who have brooding puppy dogs. Sexy? Yes. Blood curdling? Not so much. It is for this reason I say, thank God for Suzy McKee Charnas.

Winner of such prestigious science fiction/fantasy awards as the Hugo, Nebula, and Tiptree, Charnas reminds us why we are afraid of the dark. In her works, creatures of the night are sinister, vicious, and yes, even downright scary. Stagestruck Vampires and Other Phantasms is a collection of Charnas’s previously published dark fantasy short-stories, plus two new autobiographical essays. The first essay, “The Stagestruck Vampire,” is about Charnas’s exasperating experiences trying to turn one of her works into a play. In the other, “They’re Right, Art is Long,” Charnas explores how her own personal feminism has shaped her works and career. Both are charming, informative pieces that give the reader a nice insight into the author’s mind.

The best in the bunch is “Beauty and the Opera,” an alternate ending to the classic Phantom of the Opera story. In this version, Christine agrees to live with the Phantom for five years as his wife in exchange for Raoul’s life. Told from Christine’s point of view, the story is equal parts horror and romance. The Phantom featured here is the disturbed, disfigured killer from the novel, not the tragically romantic character that usually dominates the movies and stage. Charnas’s writing is dark, seductive and engaging, drawing the reader into a tale of macabre beauty.

My other favorite story was “Boobs,” a tale of a teenage werewolf who gets revenge on a boy who has been teasing her about her chest size. Probably the most unusual coming-of-age story you’ll read this year, it was satisfying in an A Rose for Emily kind of way. The other stories in the collection are a showcase of horrific oddity. Edgar Allen Poe meets The Twilight Zone.

This is real horror, not the gruesome blood fests that have come to dominate the genre in recent years. The stories are a creepy good time, and while you won’t lose sleep after reading them, you’ll probably want to check under your bed. Just in case.

Written by: Victoria Kroeger, September 2nd 2009