Gazing At the Stars

I will keep this post short, sharp and shiny. It is the powerful memoir of Eva Slonim, a holocaust survivor who was a child of eleven when she was taken to the death camp at Auschwitz. I really don't mind which of the holocaust novels you read but you MUST read one!
I teared up more than once during this 'uncorrected proof' edition due to its raw yet intricately detailed recount of the inhumane and insane treatment of the Jews during WWII. My teenage son quipped whilst walking past me, 'Yeah, and it wasn't that long ago.' Everyone needs to know about the holocaust; no excuses.

   'My name is Shmuel,' he cried. 'I am nine years old and my time has come. Promise me that you will say kaddish for me. Remember this day, this date. Remember my name. My name is Shmuel!'
   I felt a cold wave of panic pass through my spine. I did not know what the date was, nor the day. I would forget Shmuel, his memory, his suffering, his eyes, his life, lost and anonymous among the bodies piled in that room by the hospital.
   I looked down and saw the numbers tattooed on my arm: A27201. The number transfixed me, startled me with the starkness of its sudden permanence. 'A27201,' I said, 'this will be your kaddish.'
   Shmuel was content, relieved that his God and his people would not forget him. He walked towards the exit of the barracks. (pp.118-9)

Due for release May 2014.

Miss ^__^

The Ink Bridge

 I found this book to be a heavy but necessary read.
In this current political climate of demonising asylum seekers I am heartened that The Truth on the issue can be found if you are really searching for it. This is one text that sets the truth to right without hyperbole. In fact, author Neil Grant even vocalises common myths such as, "You just don't know what they're hiding behind those burqas. I heard they use them for terrorist attacks back home,'(p.149) I feel this is a risk  given that a skim reader might walk away from the novel wrongly believing it validates perverse unsubstantiated popular opinion.

When the moon began its climb over the stone niches where the Buddhas once stood, Omed and Wasim crept out of their bunker, throwing long shadows against the cracked walls. There were only rats and dogs on the streets; no one felt safe when the Taliban were out for revenge. If they didn't find the right man, any would do.
... Omed knew it was too dangerous for his brother to go any further with him. He pulled him by the sleeve and shook his head. Wasim's eyes filled with tears. 'It is not fair, Omed. I am small without you. What can I do against the Talib? I cannot protect our family.'
Omed spun him around and pushed him in the small of his back. Wasim shouted after Omed as he ran. 'I hate you, Omed. It is all your fault! Do you hear that, I HATE you!'
But as Wasim's voice faded he heard a last desperate sob, 'I love you, my brother. Don't leave us.'
(p.15)


The protagonist, Omed, can't reply to his brother; his tongue has been cut off by the Talib. This young adolescent escapes Afghanistan fearing for his life, leaving behind all that is familiar to him. With some American currency his widowed mother has stashed away for a time such as this, Omed decides to head for Australia given he has heard good reports about Australia's treatment of asylum seekers. Ultimately he hopes to be a free man in this alleged 'welcoming' country. As the story transpires he discovers what really happens behind the razor wire in one of Australia's detention centres.

The Children's Book Council of Australia awarded honours to this novel in 2013. It is well worth the read.

Miss ^__^

FRIDAY BROWN

I've been trying to work my way through the youth fiction which was short listed (or successful) for The Children's Book Council Awards this year. Hence, this title! I'm two thirds in and I'm finding the story captivating.

From the opening pages tension is created by finding out that the protagonist, Friday Brown, comes from a long line of women who have died by drowning. From here we journey with this young misfit as she tries to find her place in the world once her mum is dead. She eventually falls in with a band of street-wise young people who take her under their wings...
The 'gang' have just taken a road trip and ended up in a derelict town. Lord knows what's going to become of them! There's not even drinking water! I'm seriously worried.
Somehow I don't think I'm doing justice to the excellent story line. All I can say is, this is a great read and it's really well written.

Miss ^__^

    A leaf floated up and landed in my hair. It was perfect, still green, fallen too soon.
    Darcy came through the trapdoor about ten minutes later. She sashayed off on high heels, swinging a strappy handbag as if she was on her way to a garden party and I wasn't even there. Suddenly she stopped side-on and looked back. There were several bald patches on her scalp the size of dollar coins.
    'You don't belong here with us,' she said.
    'Don't I know it.' Under my breath.
    'Just go, why don't you.'
    'Am I such a threat to you, Darcy?' I stood up and brushed dead leaves off my backside. I tried to keep my cool and not look like I was completely without gumption at the same time. What I really wanted to do was rip some more of her hair out.   (pp.121-2) 
 

Dying To Know You

I'm half way through, but decided a mid point post was in order.
Boys, this one's not for you. It is a romance and it highlights the fundamental difference between the sexes - girls 'emote'; boys 'act'.
I found the premise to be implausible. In spite of that I have 'willingly suspended my disbelief' to work with the author as he painstakingly unearths the layers involved in 'falling hopelessly in love'.
Girls, I think you will enjoy this one, and I'd be keen to find out if you think the author gets it right.

     We slept that night better than any before.
     I was woken by Karl at dawn. There was just enough light filtering into the tent for me to see him. I have to explain that he had woken me each day at that time to make love, because he liked it best then. Afterwards we'd go to sleep again. I won't say I didn't like it because I did, but for Karl it was a special time and he was always urgent then... (pp.114-5)

TMI???

Cheers,
Miss ^__^

The Shiny Guys

Reminiscent of Cormier's 'I Am The Cheese', author Doug MacLeod takes the reader inside a psychiatric ward for teens. The protagonist, Colin, was traumatised when three years earlier his younger sister Briony was abducted from a national park while in his care.
A lovable and often witty boy, Colin is deeply depressed, highly medicated, and undergoing therapy whilst trying to recover from his guilt and grief. One of his symptoms is that he sees life-size cockroaches (see cover) with whom he begins to converse. By colluding with two in particular - Maximew and Vendra - Colin believes he will be able to get his sister back. Compelling to the end, 'The Shiny Guys' is a thrilling novel.
 I try an experiment. 'What if I told you that the shiny guys are real and not hallucinations? There really are beings from a parallel world and they are abducting humans. If I told you that, would you think I'm a liar?'
(p.128)

Miss Tarn ^__^

Happy As Larry

Scot Gardner © 2010

‘My neighbours. I heard them shouting in the yard. They were always shouting. I ran to my hiding place where I could see through a hole in the metal fence. They were shouting and one man was crying and the other man pulled out a pistol. Shot my neighbour straight through his head. It was the middle of the day and I saw all his blood spray onto the back door of the house.’

… 

‘Every hell is different,’ he said. ‘It’s what we do with our hell that defines us. Do we take drugs and pretend hell doesn’t exist? Do we wear hell like a badge? Do we curl up and sulk in the corner somewhere? Do we swallow it and die slowly as it eats us from the inside? Do we build a fortress and make it a private hell? Do we paint smiles on our faces and pretend hell doesn’t exist? Do we drag everyone down with us?’                                       (pp.212-3)

I struggled to get into this novel. Now that I’ve finished reading it I think I have worked out why. The cover. I blame the cover, and the fact that it is classified as Youth Fiction. This is only acceptable to my mind if that ‘youth’ is turning 19 this year.

Happy As Larry  is a deeply philosophical book. I was confronted by it on several levels. The protagonist is a bit ASD, a pure soul who is often misunderstood. He is, sadly, the butt of several misdemeanours. A neighbourhood child is the embodiment of pure evil; his actions are heart-stopping, breath-holding chilling. And for me, the unravelling of Larry’s parents’ marriage is deeply moving (I won’t spoil the ending).

The thought provoking extract is one of many; I could have flipped to virtually any page and found meat for the mind. No wonder it took some getting into.

But I am glad I persisted. I feel richer for reading it, and surely that’s the highest accolade of any writer.

STRICTLY OLDER READERS please :)

NEVER FALL DOWN

By Patricia McCormick c2012

I spotted this shiny red and black hard back in the new book section of Taminmin Community Library (which is also the school library), flicked to the back cover and was immediately aghast by the comment, 'This book contains graphic scenes of a distressing nature, and is not suitable for younger readers.' It was, however, labelled as Youth Fiction. I had to find out what it was about.

A few pages in and I desperately wanted to return the novel to its tidy shelf. 'Graphic scenes' is an understatement. But what is more graphic than graphic? Graphic times two?

The story is told by Arn, a young Cambodian boy whose life is torn apart when the Khmer Rouge take over his village. Pardon my ignorance but I knew very little about this brutal chapter in history. It is utterly horrendous, too vile to be believed. I am almost physically sick as I read but I'm on a mission now to reach the end:

   This soldier he grab me and Siv, he take us to the temple. The temple, the place where the torture happen. In there other soldier, they have the prisoner tied up. Hand behind, head down. Quick I look for Sombo. But these prisoners all old people.
   "These people, they no good," says one Khmer Rouge. "They old; they don't work so hard. They gonna die soon anyway." Then, very quick, he take the ax and hit them in the back of the head. Blood fly everywhere. The wall of the temple, beautiful tile, beautiful painting, now all dripping with blood.
   Then the Khmer Rouge says to us, "It's time for your job. You pee on them. You pee on their head."
   I think: I will not do this terrible thing, I will not do this.
   But then I look down, and I see urine coming out of me. (p.101)

I don't want to write any more. At some point we stop protecting 'youth' and start immersing them in the reality of history - we reveal the darkness of the human heart. Strictly for older readers, this story must be read.