Girl Detective

I heard about The White Darkness, by Geraldine McCaughrean, at Semicolon. Then I learned that it had won the Printz Award and was set in Antarctica. I was in.

Fourteen year old Symone has hearing aids, a problem fitting in, and an imaginary friend who lives in her head–there may be a connection between the last two. He’s Captain Laurence “Titus” Oates, and died ninety years ago on Scott’s ill-fated expedition to the South Pole.

Symone’s uncle surprises her with a trip to London, then suggests they go south. He doesn’t mean the Riviera. They join a tourist expedition to Antarctica, and bad things happen. There are many things that don’t make sense, to Sym or the reader. While Sym is slow to catch on, all is revealed in time.

This novel has beautiful prose descriptions of what sounds like a wondrous place, and mixes history, mystery and imagination in a compelling way. This was a tremendous read.

Alex Robinson’s Too Cool to Be Forgotten is a great graphic novel for young adults and older ones, too. With all the graphic novels out there for teen girls, it was nice to read one about a teen boy. It rather reminded me of Judy Blume’s Then Again, Maybe I Won’t, because it’s a boy book in a girl market. Yet it’s for just about anyone, really. Robinson has a great sense of humor and humanity, and a wonderful way of capturing the indignities of everyday life. He’s got a confident, accessible art style that helps to bring his characters to life.

Forty-ish Andy Wicks tries hypnosis to kick his smoking habit. But things don’t go as he expected–instead he’s transported back to 1985, his sophomore year in high school. The adult-in-a-teenage-body story has been done many times, but rarely with so much skill and sympathy. Yes, Andy asks out the girl he was too afraid to the first time around, but as the story progresses, we see more and more how things are connected from Andy’s past to his present.

The book itself is a lovely little hardcover; publisher Top Shelf delivers a typically high-quality production again. Funny, sad and sweet, Too Cool to Be Forgotten is great for anyone (all of us?) who have ever wondered what we would do if we could do things over again.

I highly recommend the Hellboy graphic novel collections. They’re high quality, with author commentary, passionate introductions by famous fans, and generous extra stories and material. Hellboy: Strange Places, though, was darker and more murky than the previous volumes. Creator Mike Mignola writes that he was influenced by 9/11, and that there were several stops and starts to the main story. Certainly it’s much less humorous than the preceding books, but it still has its moments, like a pig-demon intent on revenge, and Hellboy’s commentary on the odd and scary creatures he has to deal with:

Hey, giant fish-lady! Let’s get this show on the road!

If you’re new to the Hellboy graphic novels, Strange Places is not a good place to start–for that I recommend the beginning, Seed of Destruction. But the art is stunning, and the hints about Hellboy’s past and future continue to tantalize.

FYI, if you have seen the movie(s), there are some differences from the books, which have no romance with Liz, and a smarter, more sympathetic and nuanced Hellboy. But the books and movies are each great on their own merits.

A friend of a friend once theorized that people’s lives get busy at the height of summer because we’re creatures of the earth. Whether we’re aware of it, we’re attuned to the passage of time from the summer solstice to the autumn equinox, when our ancestors would have been busy tending and harvesting summer crops, fighting off pests and weeds, and storing things away for winter. We no longer live a hunter/gatherer lifestyle, but I know very few people who have lazy grasshopper summers. Most people, myself included, are busy with real or metaphorical crops and weeds.

Normally, I’m anti-gadget. They clutter the house, they break, they create more work than they save. Yet I’ve been very happy with three recent purchases:

Cherry pitter: 2yo Guppy doesn’t have to negotiate the pits, and both he and 4yo Drake love to use it–it’s a new favorite reward for good behavior. We eat Door County cherries straight, or use them in homemade vanilla ice cream (like this recipe from Baking Beauties) with Potion 9 chocolate on top. Mmm.

Mandoline: A $10 purchase at Target, this made-in-China one is flimsy, but it’s getting lots of use in spite of that. The thin slicer attachment does great work on radishes (for eating with sweet butter on fresh bakery bread), cucumbers, and carrots for salads. When it breaks, I think I’m likely to spring for a better-made one.

Lemon/Lime juicer: I’ve used a stainless juicer with basin, a Robocop-lookin’ thing, and a reamer over a sieve over a bowl. But this thing gets maximum juice and maximum flavor from both lemons and limes. I think it’s strong enough to get out some of the oil from the rind. Great for guacamole:

Guacamole (from a recipe from Cooks Illustrated)

Makes about 1 1/2 cups
2 small avocados , ripe, (preferably Haas)
1 tablespoon minced red onion or scallion
1 small clove garlic , minced or pressed through garlic press
1/2 small jalapeño chile , minced (about 1 1/2 teaspoons), ribs and seeds removed to temper heat
2 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro or Italian parsley leaves
Table salt
1 tablespoon lime juice from 1 lime

1. Halve 1 avocado, remove pit, and scoop flesh into medium bowl. Using fork, mash lightly with onion, garlic, jalapeño, cilantro, and 1/8 teaspoon salt until just combined.

2. Halve and pit remaining avocado. Using a dinner knife, carefully make 1/2-inch cross-hatch incisions in flesh, cutting down to but not through skin, (see illustrations below). Using a soupspoon, gently scoop flesh from skin; transfer to bowl with mashed avocado mixture. Sprinkle lime juice over and mix lightly with fork until combined but still chunky. Adjust seasoning with salt, if necessary, and serve. (Can be covered with plastic wrap, pressed directly onto surface of mixture, and refrigerated up to 1 day. Return guacamole to room temperature, removing plastic wrap just before serving.)

Seriously. Don’t these people have anything better to do than bug me?

From Apartment Therapy’s food site, The Kitchn:

Fridge-Clearing Avocado Soup:
serves 4 as a soup course, 16 or more as an amuse bouche

2 ripe avocados
2 cups spinach leaves, stems removed
1 cup plain yogurt
1 cup milk
small handful cherry tomatoes (about 1/2 cup)
1/2 cup chicken broth
juice of 1/2 lemon (about 2 tablespoons)
1 teaspoon fine salt
small handful basil leaves
coarse salt, like Maldon or Fleur de Sel and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Place everything but a few tomatoes and the coarse salt into a blender and purée, gradually increasing the speed until soup is smooth. Adjust with more milk or broth if soup is too thick.

Serve immediately, or chill for an hour, topped with a few thin slices of tomato and a sprinkling of coarse salt. To serve as an amuse bouche, pour into shot glasses, or other small cordial glassware and top with a brunoise (tiny dice) of tomato and salt.

This was a great outline, since it was so hot last night that I didn’t feel like turning on the oven or the stove. Instead I got out the food processor and threw in a little of everything that I had, which is a lot after a good trip to the farmers market last weekend. And I didn’t worry about what I didn’t have (spinach) or forgot (milk) It turned out great, though the 2yo and 4yo still wouldn’t eat it, even after we told them it was a smoothie, and served it to them in a cup with a straw. They’re too clever by half. Here’s what I used:

avocados
cucumbers, peeled and seeded
chopped parsley, chives, dill
chopped scallions
garlic
juice of 1/2 lime
cherry tomatoes
yogurt
broth
salt
Tbl. pesto

I love the films of Baz Luhrmann. When I saw the trailer for his upcoming Australia, and heard the accompanying music, from one of my favorite films, Branagh’s Henry V, I got pretty excited. I know the music won’t necessarily be in the film, but the trailer + the music was quite stirring.

Hellboy II is a crazy visual feast from Guillermo del Toro, who also directed Pan’s Labyrinth. I was mesmerized again and again: the tooth fairies, troll market, the Miyazaki-influenced elemental, and more. The story is fine, if a bit thin. Selma Blair’s Liz has an unfortunate haircut and fashion sense. But the mix of humor, horror, and the fantastic made for a very fun film.

Geekiana: From his bio at IMDB: Doug Jones played Abe Sapien in both Hellboy and Hellboy II. His dialogue was dubbed in the first one by David Hyde Pierce, who declined a credit because he felt it would detract from Jones’ excellent performance. Jones spoke his own dialogue in Golden Army, and played multiple characters, as he did in Pan’s Labyrinth. Jones was the villain in the Emmy-nominated “Hush” episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Now, THESE are what young-adult graphic novels for girls should be. I have been disappointed again and again by DC’s Minx books, but I highly recommend Salamander Dream and Chiggers by Hope Larson, author/artist of Gray Horses, which I also enjoyed. Larson’s books are beautifully illustrated stories about young girls coming of age. They have elements of nature and magical realism that called to mind the films of Hayao Miyazaki. Like those, Larson’s books are about and for pre- and early adolescent girls, but able to be appreciated by adults as well, which is what characterized really good YA fiction, to my mind.

Salamander Dream begins with 8yo Hailey, who explores the woods and hopes to meet her friend Salamander and hear a story. As Hailey grows older, she sees Salamander less frequently. The story, of growing up and away from the magical friends of childhood, has been told many times. But Larson’s art style and combination of words and pictures make it new and vibrant.

In Chiggers, Abby returns to summer camp, but it’s not a completely happy experience. She struggles with insecurities about her friends, annoyances with her bunkmate(s), and shyness around a boy she likes. Her old friends feel distant, and she’s not sure how she feels about the new girl. In straightforward black and white, Larson recalls the emotional ebbs and flows of early adolescence, and depicts a summer camp experience (complete with instructions for card games and campfire activities) both bitter and sweet, as in real life. Chiggers is something more, though, because some of Abby’s flights of imagination are beautifully drawn and lend an element of magic to the mundane.

Geekiana: Larson is married to Bryan Lee O’Malley, writer/artist of the very funny Scott Pilgrim series, which I love.

I’m one of the few people who don’t seem to like the Minx line of graphic novels from DC Comics (see positive reviews here, here, and here, for example.) But I read New York Four because my friend the Big Brain assured me it was good. I read it; when I told him I didn’t agree, he said I must hate everything. Not true, but I clearly am not the target audience for the Minx books, though I appreciate well-done YA books.

Riley is a first year student at NYU who is overly attached to her Blackberry. In spite of her antisocial ways, she manages to make friends with three girls: a non-brilliant beauty from a wealthy family, a socially inept jock, and a tightly wound academic. (They didn’t dig very deep into the YA cliched character closet.) She has an older sister who she hasn’t seen for years, who was kicked out by their parents for an unknown reason. The four girls all get jobs that require psyche interviews, which are used to convey the girls’ thoughts and feelings.

Will she find out her sister’s secret? Will she regret her attachment to virtual friends instead of real ones? In spite of one part of the ending that was unexpected, most other plot points were by the book. Ryan Kelly’s art is great, though, and elevates NY4 beyond its mostly pedestrian story.

The Minx line may be better for fans of manga than for fans of YA fiction. It seems that DC is going for an older reader with stories like NY4 about 18 year olds, and Plain Janes, about older high-school girls. Yet the mostly chaste romances, and the unsurprising stories, make them feel as if they’re more appropriate for much younger girls, say 9 to 12 instead of 12 to 16. Here’s an interesting post on the audience for Minx.

And so is his geek initiation. Last night was a pretty typical night in our house. We put the boys in bed by 8:30pm, then my husband G. Grod and I repaired to the basement to watch television, which is about all we feel up to after wrangling the boys (2 and 4) into bed. Earlier this week, SciFi reran a few Doctor Who episodes from Season 1 that introduced Captain Jack Harkness (not yet of Torchwood), as well as references to the phrase that ended last Friday’s US airing of “Turn Left.”

It is not unusual while we’re watching to hear the pitter patter of little feet overhead on our creaky hardwood floors. G. Grod and I take turns to go up and tell 4yo Drake to go back to bed. He’s usually grabbing some toy cars to take upstairs. He calls them his “contestants,” a la PBS’ Fetch with Ruff Ruffman. I’ve learned to search his bed after he’s asleep to remove the cars. More times than I care to count, G. Grod and I have been startled awake in the wee small hours by the sound of a Matchbox car falling out of Drake’s bed onto the hardwood floor.

Last night, though, all was quiet. We watched the two-episodes that ended Season 1 of Dr. Who, and that had some pretty dramatic events. G. and I were discussing them afterwards, when Drake appeared in the hallway of our basement, with a please-don’t-yell-at-me-for-being-awake-because-look-how-cute-I-am! smile on his face. We admonished him for still being awake, when he got a grumpy look on his face, crossed his arms in front and moved them up and down, as if he were in a hip-hop video.

“What,” he enunciated slowly, “was that city flying across the sky?”

G. Grod and I exchanged a look. Drake clarified.

“That building, I mean.”

“How long have you been watching, there?” G. Grod asked with some concern.

A quick interrogation proved he’d watched the entirety of the last, pretty scary episode, and he had many questions.

“What were those things? With bumps?”

“Daleks, Drake.”

“And that thing with one eye, it said it couldn’t die. Hey, I made a rhyme! But, what did it mean?”

“Um, that it thought it would live forever.”

We shooed him up to bed. He fell asleep quickly, I removed the cars from his bed.

I think we’re going to have to get a motion detector in our basement. Dr. Who is one thing, but I’m thinking of renting Apocalypse Now sometime soon. Yikes.

2yo Guppy, screaming. I stumble in, give him water, which usually appeases him. He continues to moan. I return to bed, hoping he’ll settle. He doesn’t, and his cries increase in volume. I return, pat his back, and ask what’s wrong. I ask if he wants a hug. He nods and stands up, then quiets down.

I tell him to lay back down with his friends Snake and Baby Elmo. Guppy suddenly is in a rage.

“I DON’T _WANT_ BABY ELMO!” he yells, picking up the toy and flinging it across the room, and beginning to cry again. I am at a loss.

“More water?” I ask, and am surprised when he agrees. He finishes the cup, and asks for more. I get some from the bathroom, then return, and his screams rise in pitch.

“BUT _I_ WANTED TO GET WATER!”

It is too dark for him to see me roll my eyes. “OK, Guppy, I’ll take you out of the crib, we’ll go into the bathroom, dump out this water, and you can fill the glass again.” My sarcastic tone and sigh were to make me feel better; I knew he wouldn’t get it.

“O-TAY,” he says, petulantly. But we do exactly that, and I return him to the crib. He has quieted, and I ask him if it’s all right if I go. He says yes, and I beat a hasty retreat before he changes his mind.

Three Junes was recommended to me by a writer friend, and I can see why. Though the title and the cheesy cover suggest breezy chicklit, there’s a lot more of substance between these covers. The book is actually three novellas, narrated by interlocking characters. Within each novella, the action shifts back and forth in time. It takes a great deal of authorial control to make shifts like these clear rather than confusing. Glass pulls this off with apparent ease.

The first part is narrated by Paul McLeod, a Scotsman whose wife has recently died. He’s on holiday to Greece, while he quietly assesses his life past and present. The next, and longest, segment is narrated by his eldest son, Fenno, a semi-closeted homosexual who now lives in the United States. The final segment is narrated by a minor character from the first section. It ties things together, and progress the novel’s themes of love, commitment, risk, relationship and family to a satisfying conclusion that didn’t feel forced or saccharine.

Filmed in Cuba soon after Castro took over but before he aligned with the Soviet Union, Our Man in Havana is one of the last movies set there. It was written by Graham Greene and directed by Carol Reed. Noise was so great in the street scenes that all the actors’ dialogue during them had to be redubbed. Alec Guinness is a vacuum cleaner salesman; his teen daughter wants a horse. An English Secret Serviceman, played by Noel Coward, recruits Guinness as a spy; he accepts for money, and in several funny scenes begins to fabricate sub-agents and discoveries to buy his keep. Unfortunately, he’s playing it as a game, but the others are not, and tragedy follows. This is a weird mixture of comedy and spy conventions, and the two make uneasy bedfellows. The mood was fitting for Cuba at the time, though. It was in the wake of a corrupt regime, and optimistically embarking on a new one that wouldn’t prove so different from the old one.

It’s not hype if it’s true; Dark Knight is the best new film I’ve seen this year.

Unfortunately, star Christian Bale appears to be in some trouble.

Sad news for fans of Ebert, Roeper, and fans of good film reviews. They are officially leaving At the Movies, the show that introduced Ebert, Siskel and the Thumbs Up and Down ratings.

Richard Roeper joined Roger Ebert on the show after Gene Siskel’s death. Ebert has long been absent from the show for health reasons. Several guest critics have filled in, but only a few have even come close to Ebert’s high standards of review, in my opinion: New York Times’ A.O. Scott, Village Voice’s Robert Wilonsky, and Chicago Tribune’s Michael Phillips.

Ebert and Roeper will continue to review movies in different media formats, such as Ebert’s site.

Along with many NE Minneapolis residents, we are frequent flyers at Punch Pizza on Hennepin. During the summer especially, I long for an ice-cream finish to the Neapolitan-style pizza and salad. I was delighted to discover that Kramarczuk’s across the street carries a few flavors of Izzy’s ice cream. Izzy’s owners learned their trade in Italy, so their ice cream is very much in the tradition of gelato, and much better than the supposedly authentic but actually gummy and kinda yucky gelato at the coffee shop near Punch. Thus it’s a good match for Punch pizza, though perhaps incongruous at the Eastern European sausage shop. The ice cream is vegetarian, though, as are the many international candies and treats.

Punch has a blog, and recently addressed the hot topic of how best to enjoy their pizza at home.

I was aware of Helen Oxenbury’s work before I had children, because I oversaw the kids’ section at a large used-book store. But I didn’t own any of her books till after I had my own child. The first thing that raised my interest was an article I can no longer find*, I think from the Guardian or Times, about best books for children that included at least one of Oxenbury’s quartet, Say Goodnight, All Fall Down, Clap Hands and Tickle, Tickle. The second was a post by kidlit/librarian blogger Book Moot about Farmer Duck, whose author is Martin Waddell. We owned, and both Drake and I loved, Owl Babies, by the same author. It had humor, and a wonderful almost-rhyming text that was a joy to read. Farmer Duck, a Parent’s Choice award winner about a lazy farmer who takes advantage of his hard-working duck, delighted us as well. Finally, a comment from a reader (was that you, Loretta?) about the Tom and Pippo series made me seek those out. After Guppy was born, we bought all four of Oxenbury’s baby books that were recommended in that first article, Michael Rosen’s We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, and the four “I” books: See, Hear, Can, and Touch. He adored all of them, and they were his favorites for a long time. Now that Drake is nearly 5, I’ve added the Helen Oxenbury Nursery Collection and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and both these are often off the shelf.

Many of Oxenbury’s books, such as the Tom and Pippo series, and the charming It’s My Birthday, are out of print. But they’re still in circulation at many libraries, and on the shelves at used bookstores. I highly recommend Oxenbury’s illustration. She captures something that clearly speaks to my children, and draws them into the books. Her style is distinctive and accessible, yet not saccharine.

I highly recommend the books I mention above. Seek out those in print so that they stay in print. Perhaps we’ll be fortunate to see others come back.

(For anyone who wants to have a go at finding it, here’s what I recall. It was an English best-of list, probably from 2005. It included work by Oxenbury, Shirley Hughes (Alfie’s 1 2 3 or A B C) Julia Donaldson’s The Gruffalo, and Baby Brains. But I may be conflating two lists. I think it was a part of a series of many best-ofs, like novels, or non-fiction, and not just confined to the previous year.)

The return of Project Runway, and was it me, or did Bravo run it an hour earlier (9pm Eastern, 8pm Central) to further confound fans?

A few observations. Suede has a silly name, freaked out at a challenge that had been done before, and refers to himself in the third person. Two contestants from my city of origin, Columbus, Ohio? Will someone tell Blayne that tanning is a bad idea that he’s going to regret in a very few years, and ask him if he has allergies or a coke habit. The two runners up last night did not look like gracious winners. I thought the mop top, the paper-towel dress and the pasta skirt should have gotten more love. I love how Austin Scarlett celebrates his femme-y self. All three of the losing dresses deserved their drubbing. Last night I questioned the judges’ decision and thought the goth trashbag was the loser. Looking more closely this morning, I am still horrified by Blayne’s whatever-it-was. Reviewing the serial killer/nurse outfit this morning, I applaud the judges’ decision.

For more dissing and dishing, visit Project Rungay and Blogging Project Runway.