Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

Bitchery reader Jenna forwarded me this link to The Happy Endings Foundation, which appears to be a site devoted to fostering child-lit books with Only Happy Endings. “Sad Books are Bad Books” is their motto - and of course only reading their choice of material isn’t the line at which they stop. Oh, no, they want unhappy books - like The Series of Unfortunate Events books - eradicated, as per their list of aims on the site. 

I’ll own it: I was totally taken in. The poor font! The ridiculously preachy list of goals includes their aim to put a smile on my face while rewriting literature to suit their own purpose —and of course to eradicate books they don’t agree with! And for SWEET CHRIST’S SAKE A FREAKING GERBIL CAM? How could it not be real?! This is too stupid to be fake, thought I. Jenna, too, thought it was real (sorry to out you there, Jenna) and her reaction was a face plant on the keyboard (ow).

Then she sent me an apology because it seems the whole site is made up - by the PR team behind the Unfortunate Events books. Courtesy of Inky Girl, it seems it was all a ploy to attract attention to the Lemony Snicket series - and boy howdy damn did it work. According to Inky Girl, the story was picked up by a number of UK newspapers and the head of the organization, a Claire Hughes, was on BBC Radio 2 as well. So a lot of people were taken in.

So was it in poor taste? To quote Inky Girl:

After I swallowed my pride and marveled at the clever marketing scheme, however, there was still a bad taste in my mouth. I’m willing to laugh at a joke as much at the next person, but this was different. This was about literary censorship as well as children’s lit, both subjects I care a great deal about, as do many others in the writing and publishing industry....

It would have been different if the scenario was clearly so over-the-top as to be completely silly and unbelievable. Sadly, we live in a society where book bans and burnings are not completely out of the question, and people like Clare Hughes DO exist.

Which is probably why respected news sources like the BBC were taken in, and this in turn helped convince others that it was a legitimate story. I can’t help but think that using the issue of censorship and book banning as a publicity stunt is in poor taste.

What’s your take - is mocking book banning as a way to promote a book in poor taste, considering it made fools of those who took the site at face value and sprang to publicly decry banning books and censorship? Or is any PR good PR?

Courtesy of Adele Ashworth, who found this image while doing research, a warning to all ye who wank: one of a number of similar devices which were invented in the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries to prevent masturbation. Judging from the plumbing fixture there, I’m not sure I want to see the device that stopped the women from jilling off.

*shudder*

I nurse and bottle feed an infant all day, and all night. Fortunately for me, the US Postal Service has conspired with every mail-order vendor known to man, and it’s Catalog Time in my house. Catalogs, for the most part, are lightweight enough that I can prop one on my lap or on the Boppy pillow while I feed Baba O’Riley. Speaking of the Boppy, which Hubby and I love, can I just share with you for our mutual amusement the “other” breastfeeding pillow on the market that everyone talks about? I’m not even kidding about the name: The My Breast Friend™. Can you imagine if Ellora’s Cave started a line by that name? It’d go right next to a rock and a hard-on. (Curtsy to Jane for sharing that cover image and title.)

Anyway, since I’m catalog shopping, I thought I should share with you the more bizarre choices for holiday gifts, should you be thinking of starting early.

From Lillian Vernon (Motto: if it’s not moving at greater than 35 mph, we’ll tie it down and put your name on it- free!) for the bathroom-OCD person in your life: you can get this, but only if it comes with bright honking blue toilet tissue. Why do all the catalog pics involving TP feature TP that is monstrous blue? I don’t get it.

Should you find yourself needing a really tacky toilet seat cover, and you want to spend $40 US on such an item, good ol’ Lillian has your back… side. Spa like comfort and more than a hint of whimsy!? Yes. Leopard print toilet seats are what we need this holiday season. No question.

But by far, the gift that is SO great, I might just order in bulk: everyone on MY list is getting the silicone meat sling. Because really, why not? It goes with the metal anti-wanker for a perfect set!

Bitchery reader Ciar Cullen wrote:

I’ve been trying to figure out the name of a shapeshifting romance that’s now pretty old. Maybe smarter bitches can tell me. It’s pretty hackneyed stuff--a cabin in the woods--I can’t remember why the woman ends up there. Surely she’s running from something in her past.

She sees (or hears) a white wolf. She meets a man, who ultimately tells her he’s the wolf. He’s handsome, etc., and the sex is good, so she overlooks the fact that he’s a wolf.

I remember reading this one and thinking WTF? A guy is a wolf? Who the hell reads this stuff? It was very Nora Roberts-ish in the writing, in fact Nora was about the only person I read back then, so I’m wondering if it was possibly her? Can we blame her for this seemingly unending trend?

Can you help? I’d love to read it again, because I think it’s a precursor to a genre I loathe. I want to see if I still think it’s ridiculous. I hate cabin-in-the-woods with wolves stories.

Ciar tells me this book is at least 10 years old, and may be among the first werewolf books published. So - ring any bells?

Submitted by Dooley

My younger kid is nuts about penguins. So, while I was browsing the banned books stand at my local library, I wasn’t surprised when he squealed with delight upon spying “And Tango Makes Three” on the top shelf. I flipped through the picture book. It seemed right in his age range so I handed it down to him, and he said he couldn’t wait ‘till his brother got home from school so we could all read it together.

“And Tango Makes Three” topped the list of most challenged books in 2006. It is the true story of two male penguins, Roy and Silo, at Central Park Zoo, who form a relationship, hatch a donated egg, and raise the chick, named Tango, together.  A kindly zookeeper arranges for them to have the egg after noting that the couple had been attempting to hatch a rock. The book ends on a happy ever after note as the three penguins snuggle up contentedly and fall asleep

I was intensely curious as to what my sons would make of the book, and upon finishing reading the story to them I asked them what they thought of it. My younger son (aged four) thought it was cool that the chick had two daddies teaching her to swim. My older son (aged six) thought the best part was when the penguin couple got the egg after trying so hard to hatch a rock. When I asked him what he thought of the chick having two daddies, he shrugged and spoke of how his friend at school didn’t have a daddy at all. This led to a discussion about all the different kinds of families there are, and my son informing me that some kids don’t have a mommy or a daddy, and that these kids are called “orfings.”

I’m not naïve enough to be surprised that this book was so frequently objected to, but I am saddened. The people who objected to the book claim to have been blindsided by the pro-homosexuality message wrapped up in a seemingly innocuous children’s book. I saw the book’s message to be that having a loving parent is more important than that parent’s sex or sexual orientation. The whole subject is beautifully handled, and it’s a perfect springboard for a discussion about what a family actually is, and how different families can be. I recommend it to any parent who is actively trying to raise their children to be open-minded, thoughtful, and tolerant. 

My kids now want to go see Tango at the Central Park Zoo on our next visit to NYC, and I see another teaching opportunity in the future. Roy and Silo’s relationship did not last. In fact, one of them went on to form another relationship with a female penguin.  It seems the love lives of penguins are as complex as those of humans. I’d love to see a follow-up book that helps me explain that one to the kids. 

From Bitchery reader Muguet comes this link that blew my mind on many different levels. A liberal city in Afghanistan has a television network running an Afghani version of “...Next Top Model,” and it’s causing no small amount of uproar. Despite the overthrow of the Taliban several years ago, Afghanistan is still very traditional, and most women go about in a burqa when in public. So women’s faces, even while wearing baggy pants and loose tunics, is an outrage to some. Threats of punishment for the contestants and the creators have already been made.

But even within the sad familiarity of that story are some bits that really dropped my jaw. The director of the show? 18 years old. The contestants? Wouldn’t meet the eyes or look up at any of the male crew on set. But those contestants that came even after being alerted that international media would be present were adamant that they wanted a different view of Afghani women to reach the rest of the world.

Putting aside the question of whether a show that judges contestants based on physical beauty and ability to wear clothing is a good thing for a country just out from under an oppressive religious rule, those are some brave, brave women. And they’re right - they are beautiful. And kickass - which is even better. 

Bitchery reader Yvonne asked a really good question:

I know you both have your hands full but I was thinking about some of the recent discussions and I had an idea for something else to touch on (HA!). Specifically, there doesn’t seem to be much masturbation in romance, although I have seen it here and there. Much more common in erotica, of course.

Examples that come to mind were the heroine in, I believe, one of the Kinsale books, and the OMG hot scene with Hades in P. C. Cast’s Goddess of Spring. Done right, as in both of these examples, it can convey so many emotions while still being kinda hot.

What do you think? Is it just too taboo?
Love to know your thoughts.

Yvonne does have a point - wanking is rare. My first response to the question is that perhaps it’s something of a taboo outside of sexually focused romance because the hero/heroine is supposed to be creating the sexual/physical response in the other, and if the h/h is creating that response on his or her own, then perhaps the reaction might be,"What do they need the other person for?” It may be a question of whether wanking would decrease sexual tension between the protagonists, because one or both of them is getting off solo. Add to that the often-grating virginal expectations of the heroine, and jack and/or jilling is not allowed.

I disagree with the idea, if it is indeed the case - most of the really hot masturbation scenes I’ve read (especially the Cast one) establish sexual tension between the characters sometimes without the two physically being present in each other’s company. And what could be more spicy than a heroine or hero spending time together, each knowing they’ve had a rocking orgasm while fantasizing about each other? Rwor!

So - what’s your take? Think wanking is taboo? And what romances have you read that feature hot self-on-self action?

Submitted by Evil Auntie Peril

Bio:I wanted to send you my non-review of The Color Purple for banned books week, just in case it could be squeezed in, because no one’s done it yet, and I think it’s an incredible book. If it counts, I re-read it and started writing about it during banned books week…

It’s a non-review, mainly because I don’t really go into characterisation, prose style, craft or any of those book-review-related matters. I just wanted to get on my soapbox about why the only reason anyone should ever remove this book from a library shelf is to read it.

Take care,
EAP (as of 10 o’clock this morning, a real auntie, excitedly plotting evil as I type)

The Color Purple isn’t an easy book. The writing is stark and uncomfortable, slashed with moments of piercing beauty and incredible pain. It’s been called a novel of sisterhood, of womanhood, of redemption and it is all of these things, but it’s also a book that fearlessly tackles hard and painful ideas about race, the cycle of abuse, identity, family, religion and sexuality. It’s the kind of book for which anti-censorship legislation was made.

So no, it’s not an easy book. The first letter (it’s an epistolary novel – a collection of letters) is like a fist in the gut. We learn that the narrator and main protagonist, Celie, is 14 years old, has been repeatedly raped by the man who she believes to be her father (Alphonso) and is now pregnant with her second child by him.

Over the next few letters, all likewise addressed to God, Celie’s mother dies in childbirth, cursing her, and we learn that both of Celie’s babies have been taken away, either killed or sold by Alphonso. Shortly thereafter, Alphonso marries her off to an older man who Celie calls “Mr. ____”. Abused, called ugly, fat and stupid by her husband and his children, Celie continues writing her letters to God.

At the start of the novel, these letters reveal Celie as someone who is unable to make sense of what happens to her. To endure, she has become numb. She starts to write her letters to God in order understand her life and express her fears for the future, and they become her salvation.

While the film made much of the power of sisterhood, the novel also stresses the importance of narration as the key to Celie’s personal growth and empowerment. By telling her own story, Celie becomes self-aware and gains the power to redefine her relationships with everyone in her life: her friends, her sister, her abusive husband and even God. From addressing a distant, paternalistic figure as “Dear God” in her first letter, Celie’s final letter starts, “Dear God. Dear stars, dear trees, dear sky, dear peoples. Dear Everything. Dear God.” This line makes me cry every time I read it. Her transformation shines – it’s overwhelming.

It’s impossible to compress The Color Purple into a few hundred words. Every time I read it, I find new ideas and layers of meaning. It’s an incredibly powerful and rich book, whose many themes cry out for discussion, which is probably why it’s a set text for many literature courses.

So why ban it? Well, in addition to the rape, incest, abuse and unorthodox ideas of God mentioned above, there are also things I haven’t touched on at all, including: woman’s sexuality, graphic language, racism, poverty, and discrimination. It has also been heavily criticized for its portrayal of black men as abusers. And above all, perhaps, The Color Purple is a profoundly disturbing book.

But we need to be disturbed. We need people to ask uncomfortable questions and shake our complacent certainties. Banning The Color Purple on the grounds that it might upset readers, even teenage readers, is exactly the wrong response. It completely goes against the very soul of this book. By telling her own story, Celie becomes self-aware, and thereby empowered. She saves herself. Silencing voices perpetuates the very cycles of oppression, discrimination and abuse she describes so harshly.

No one should ever ban this book. We should read it, share it and discuss it. It needs to be made personal. If its contents make us uncomfortable, upset or angry, we need to understand why.

Bitchery Reader Amanda asks for your brilliant assistance:

I never actually read this book, but I read the excerpt in the back of another romance and thought "that sounds fun in a melodramatic family soap opera sort of way" and told myself I'd pick it up on my next trip to the bookstore. Except I forgot. And by the time I remembered the book the excerpt had been in had been weeded out of my romance collection.

So here's what I remember: contemporary, takes place in the Pacific Northwest (part of me would swear to Oregon, but its highly possible it's either Washington or Northern California too). Girl was in love with her older sister's boyfriend for years, older sister went off to conquer the world, boyfriend and younger sister have a Night of Passion that results in pregnancy. They get married. Now, ten years later, they're getting divorced/have been recently divorced despite the fact that she's still desperately in love with him. To top it off, her older sister's coming home for the first time in years!

Our heroine was named Allison and I think her sister was Terra or Tessa. I also distinctly remember the hero being quietly angry in the first chapter because Allison showed up early to pick up their daughter.

I think it might be a Barbara Delinsky, but again, I wouldn't swear to it.

Ring a bell anyone? Anyone? Beuller?

Submitted by: Brandyllyn

Of the most banned books of the nineties, none stood out to me with such a force as Martin Hanford’s Where’s Waldo? series.  Indeed, while I was stunned to find several of my childhood favorites present, it took me quite some time to come to terms with the fact that this was not a typo. 

What did this bespectacled, befuddled, behatted man do to earn the ire of some proportion of the American public?

Waldo (or Wally in the original UK print), a brunet in perhaps is early thirties, perpetually wanders the world in blue jeans and a candy-cane striped shirt with matching toque.  He is also perhaps the only man in the world who hides for a living… all the time.  He is joined on his travels by his dog, Woof, and his girlfriend, Wenda/Wanda.  Occasional sightings of Waldo’s ex-girlfriend Wilma have been known to happen, but as Wilma is Wenda’s identical twin, it is uncertain if these sightings are always genuine.  Plotting against Waldo is his arch-nemesis, Odlaw.  Odlaw has stolen both his name and his wardrobe from Waldo and it is little wonder that he lurks amongst the pages of the Where’s Waldo? series hoping to in some way undermine Waldo’s efforts at… um… hiding. 

Waldo himself could certainly stand to be more selective on the company he keeps.  Seen at Viking banquets, courthouses full of lawyers and at an area suspiciously similar to a brothel, Waldo shows a remarkable lack of morals when choosing his associates.  And yet, I find it hard to fault him for it.  Sure, Waldo could show some discretion, but it sends a powerful message of inclusiveness out to today’s children that Waldo is not afraid to be seen with court jesters; and is as ready to submit himself to their company as with the fine men and women establishing the first moon colony.  Waldo’s childlike sense of wonder at the world should be an inspiration to us all.  Waldo finds joy in almost any situation – from seaside resorts to the dungeons of the furthest Neptunian moons.  And he never gives up.  Never mind if you find him in Bangladesh, he’ll move on, gathering up his friends and assorted lost belongings before he goes.  (If nothing else, everyone could take a leaf out of Waldo’s book whilst traveling.)

Waldo is welcoming.  He always smiles and keeps the company of both a good woman and a good dog.  And no matter what terrible things his enemy does to him, he never retaliates.  And he never gives up.

Should we ask anything less than that of our children?  Can we afford to ask anything less than that of ourselves?

Submitted by Kavita

Now, I’m not certain if this was the way things were for everybody, but when I was little, Halloween wasn’t about wearing as little as possible and making the most tenuous connection to a costume. It was about sitting in a circle with a group of friends, eating more candy than was conceivably healthy, and reading aloud from Alvin Schwartz’s series Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. The books are a collection of stories culled from popular folklore and urban legends, with possibly the most terrifying black-and-white illustrations ever. The illustrations are half the effect.

The books are divided into sections, each of which has a selection of stories. Some are scary, some are silly, and the placement is very well-thought-out. Usually, after a particularly frightening selection, you’ll find a short poem or what seems to be another scary story but which turns out silly in the end ( the example I remember is ‘The Viper’ being placed directly after ‘The Babysitter’ ). And ‘The Red Spot’ gives me nightmares to this day—but that’s mainly because spiders are involved.

So many of my friends recall having grown up with these books and none of us have ever understood why they were banned. Too scary? But that’s the point! I had teachers who read them aloud to us around Halloween, with the lights turned down. It was fantastic. What I also know is that I learnt many things from those books. Such as ‘Never buy a dog in Mexico’, ‘Always look in the back seat of your car before you sit down’, and ‘Do not offer rides to hitchhikers if you’re alone and it’s dark’. The Scary Stories series also gave me an appetite for ghost stories that I’ve never truly lost.

My suspicion is that parents have grown far more protective of their children since we were growing up. I think it’s a shame, as ghost stories were one of my favourite pastimes growing up and I’ve never lost my appetite for them. Any other ghost-lovers out there?

Submitted by DebR

Bio/Intro:As a way to support freedom from censorship, I made a pledge at the beginning of this week to choose one book I hadn't yet read from the list of 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books of 1990 - 2000, read it, and review it on my blog. Earlier this week I went to our local library, carrying a list of a half-dozen books from the challenged list - all classics I had never gotten around to reading yet. Unfortunately, our small-town library has some serious funding problems and as I went down the list, I realized that all five of my first choices either weren't in the card catalog at all or were already checked out.

It was with a sinking heart that I realized that the only book they had out of the half-dozen titles I'd brought with me on a scrap of paper was "Of Mice and Men" by John Steinbeck, a book I had managed to successfully avoid throughout all my years in school and beyond, because I was so sure I wouldn't like it. I had even avoided watching any of the various movie adaptations of it over the years, although I saw enough previews of the last one that, as I read the book, I couldn't help but see and hear Gary Sinise and John Malkovich as George and Lennie.

I still SO didn't want to read it, but a pledge is a pledge, so I checked the blasted thing out, brought it home, and finished it later that afternoon.

So this is the part where I tell you how wrong I was to think I wouldn't like it, right? Um, no. The story had wonderfully spare and evocative language, it raised a lot of thought-provoking questions, it haunted me - it still haunts me...I'm still thinking of it days later - and I detested it every bit as much as I thought I would.

What we have here is a basic incompatibility of philosophy. I'm an unflagging optimist, who believes in things like love, hope, and redemption. My core outlook on life is that as long as we have breath, there's some sort of hope, however slim, that things can get better. Steinbeck, on the other hand, seems to have been very much the pessimist, whose outlook on life was "life's a bitch and then you die"...or "life's a bitch and then you kill your only friend in the world."

I can also see very clearly why this book has been challenged over the years. Unlike some of the books on the list, whose presence on it baffles me, I can see a lot that is offensive in "Of Mice and Men." There's cruelty, overt racism, pervasive sexism, and then there's the huge question that is the point of the story: is it ever ok - ever merciful - for one human being to kill another?

Someone reading the previous two paragraphs might come to the conclusion that I would support this book being challenged, or even banned, but they'd be dead wrong. The very fact that the story contains those sorts of elements and raises those difficult questions is a reason it should be read. It's a reason I probably should have read it a long time ago, even though I disliked it intensely. It's the reason that I would include it as required reading if I was teaching an American Lit class, and wouldn't let someone like me get away with avoiding it for so long. Refusing to look at the hard questions and ugly problems of life doesn't make them go away, because we can't fight what we won't face. That's a truth even a die-hard optimist can support.

My subjective grade on the bell curve of my personal biases: D (for dismal, depressing and defeatist)

My objective grade on the merits of the story: A

Submitted by Missy

“It is the morning of the funeral and I’m tearing my room apart, trying to find the right shoes to wear.” With these words, Judy Blume takes us into the world of Davis “Davy” Wexler, a fifteen-year-old girl struggling with the recent murder of her father. 

Unable to articulate her intense grief, Davy internalizes her sorrow and passes out several times at school.  On doctor’s advice, her mother takes the entire Wexler clan, including Davy’s seven-year-old brother Jason and her cat Minka, on a journey from Atlantic City to Los Almos, New Mexico.  What begins as a summer trip drags on; soon Davy and Jason are being parented by their fearful Aunt Bitsy and strident Uncle Walter, their mother having wilted under the weight of her panic and sorrow.

Trying to escape her own numbness, Davy takes an impulsive bike ride to the nearby canyons, where she meets a young man calling himself simply “Wolf.” They strike up a friendship that provides them both with joy they can’t find elsewhere.  Davy dreams of marrying Wolf; he fondly nicknames her “Tiger Eyes”.  Thanks to this chance meeting, Davy begins to show an interest in the outside world again; she takes up old hobbies, develops an interest in astronomy and tries to help her friend Jane, who has reacted to intense parental pressure by turning to alcohol.  But then Wolf disappears, and Davy is left to wonder if he really will come back “when the lizards run”.

Blume is, as always, an engaging writer.  She peels back the layers of Davy’s grief expertly while juggling several major social issues in a voice that avoids moralization.  Characterization is beautifully done; Ms. Blume has populated this book with average folks struggling beneath the weight of prejudice, sorrow and fear.  Be forewarned that Tiger Eyes includes the forthrightness that marks of her YA writing – Davy’s father’s death is portrayed in all of its blood-splattered horror, there are segments dealing with sexuality and alcohol consumption, and there is mature language.  Also, as with most Blume novels, the moral is ‘things will get better’, not ‘everything will be all right forever’. 

I’m a longtime Judy Blume fan and was surprised to find out she’s currently the most-banned author on the ALA’s list, with five books named (the most often challenged is Forever).  The sad irony of this is that adolescents barred from reading books like Tiger Eyes are the ones who most need a frank author like Blume in their lives.  This book teaches its readers not to fear the future; to embrace the unexpected while questioning the choices of their elders; that grieving is a natural process and it’s different for everyone.  Most importantly, it teaches that there’s a reason to go on when someone you love dies.  If you know a child who needs those life lessons – or if you’re in need of a refresher course for yourself –Tiger Eyes is worth a read.

Bret Easton Ellis is one of the young generation of disaffected druggie writers (the literary Brat Pack), along with Jay McInerney (Bright Lights, Big City) and Tama Janowitz (Slaves of New York). His first book, Less than Zero, was practically a Catcher in the Rye rip-off (naturally missing the real point of Catcher, as so many people do), but by the time he published American Psycho in 1990, he'd come into his own.

Patrick Bateman is a man of high fashion, high society, and high stakes. He wears expensive suits, eats at the finest restaurants, and makes crazy business deals. He has strong opinions on many aspects of culture, especially music – he's a big fan of Huey Lewis and the News and Genesis. He is possibly the ideal man of the late '80s New York upper-class business culture, except for one thing – he kills people. Graphically. In many awful ways. And he gets away with it. Or does he?

Patrick is a wonderful narrator; he sounds so wonderfully sane for the first two-thirds of the book. He's an excellent guide to and navigator of the wealthy elite social scene of his time. If you want to know anything about fashion, especially men's, from the eighties, then he's your man. There are a couple of chapters that are delightful essays on the careers, prior to 1990, of several musical artists including the ones mentioned above. Behind his urbane exterior, though, his thoughts are sometimes so extreme and off the wall that one simply must laugh:

But she's not listening; she keeps blabbering something in the same spastic, foreign tongue. I have never firebombed anything and I start wondering how one goes about it – what materials are involved, gasoline, matches . . . or would it be lighter fluid?

Despite his affability, Patrick has many obvious flaws. He isn't a reliable narrator at all. Although he's polite to everyone, he's horribly racist (the woman in the above quote is a Chinese laundry-owner) and he sees women as objects for both his sexual and murderous lust. He doesn't have any patience for anyone who gets in his way and, oh yeah, he tortures and kills people. Other than that, of course, he's a fine, worthy citizen.

The reason the book was banned is fairly obvious: graphic sex and torture scenes, often a combination of the two. This book probably isn't 'appropriate' for anyone over OR under eighteen. Sex, torture, or stream-of-consciousness writing aren't to everyone's tastes; combine the three and you have a trifecta of ban-ability. I happen to have enjoyed the book quite a bit and if you can see past the shocking language and events, it's both funny and a delightful commentary on appearances. That someone could be a serial killer and still be an upstanding member of society based on his Brooks Brothers suits is sad but, in Ellis's Manhattan, accurate.

While I'm not sure I would actually recommend this to anyone, I'd still assign it an A-.

Submitted by Maya

(Warning: Some spoilerish comments included, because they refer to the story’s banned status. Hopefully this isn’t too big a violation of review procedure considering the book is over a quarter century old).

The story begins with a 13-year-old girl alone in the Alaskan wilderness, desperately yet systematically trying to establish communication with a wolf pack as her last means of avoiding starvation. As opening hooks go, the question of how someone so young got into such a predicament is powerful.  The author is in no hurry to answer, with the full background sprinkled a paragraph at a time throughout the story in between descriptions of current efforts to stay alive in a landscape moving from autumn to arctic winter.  Survival isn’t just a physical challenge, but a mental and emotional one as well; the heroine knows that singing to herself, inventing rhymes and dances, reliving happy memories, and imagining her future life are just as important as creating shelter and locating edible plants. And it is through these efforts to keep spirits up that the author weaves in a deeper theme: the duality that shapes all aspects of the heroine’s life. Is she Julie, the girl forced by government school regulations to move to a far-away town, who learns English, and discovers the wonders of modern life? Or is she Miyax, the girl raised by her father in traditional ways after her mother’s early death, learning about land, animals, and self-sufficience?

It is a difficult question, for herself as well as her people, and contributes to the crisis that sends her fleeing into the wilderness.  The ill-tempered great aunt who forced Julie’s father to allow her to move to town at age 9 isn’t motivated by Julie’s best interests, but by her own wish to have a live-in assistant as she ages. In a loving attempt to provide protection, Julie’s father makes an agreement with an old friend that Julie can come live with that family as the son’s bride when she is 13 in case anything ever happens to him and she finds her aunt unbearable. The father eventually fails to return after a hunting trip and is presumed dead.  The family shows up to claim her as their daughter-in-law, assuring Julie that Daniel (whose age is never revealed) will be ‘like a brother’. It becomes clear that the father-in-law is alcoholic, engages in bouts of wife battery, and that Daniel may be a victim of fetal alcohol syndrome. Provoked by taunts that he ‘can’t mate her’, one day he angrily attempts to consummate the marriage. He fails, but threatens to try again the next day. Julie is so traumatized by the assault that she gathers clothes and tools and flees, thinking to walk across the tundra for a week to a ferry point and ultimately, live with her pen-pal in wondrous-sounding San Francisco. But because of the time of year, the natural guiding points she counted on don’t exist. She gets lost and is adopted into the wolf clan. So adept does she become at survival, and so convinced of the wisdom of her traditions vs. the evil of modern ways (symbolized by the hunters who shoot the alpha wolf from a bush plane purely for sport) that she ultimately has to make a choice: remain in the wild, relying only on animals for contact? Or live with people and find a way to blend the old ways with the new, hunting with town life, native language with English?

In terms of bannable issues, it is not difficult to understand that sexual assault of a minor, alcohol abuse, and domestic violence are sensitive issues in a book targeted at young readers.  I first read this book at about 9 or 10 having found it in the library at school, and as a sheltered child recall feeling horrified by the rape scene and the husband not only beating up his wife but doing so repeatedly. The feelings then were so intense that they came rushing back when I saw the title on a recommended reading list my son brought home from school. I was startled to see it recommended for Grades 3+ , apparently based solely on the complexity of the language.  Considering the content, as a concerned parent (and with the knowledge that some children will not have access to sensitive adults with whom to discuss troubling content, as was the case for me) I would have felt more comfortable with a target group at least equivalent in age to the heroine, rather than younger (i.e. Grade 6 or 7). That being said, the story is so rich in valuable talking points (critical need for conservation, cultural change, chemical dependence, family communication, sex according to expectations of peers vs. sex according to expectations of partner) that it would be an extreme case of throwing the baby out with the bathwater to bar this novel from young readers entirely.

In terms of writing, the author has taken an intriguing premise and skillfully kept up the internal and external tension, with challenges building right up until the final question. Although I can’t judge from a native person’s perspective, it seemed to me that she described culture and traditions with a great deal of respect despite inclusion of some harsh realities. As a trained naturalist, the author was also able to make the landscape and wildlife come alive – so much so that this strength borders on weakness.  Specifically, the text is so caught up in Julie’s developing skill at animal communication that the original catalyst (her damaged relationship with boys/men) is neglected. In the very last pages, there is a single sentence describing how Julie allows for the possibility that one day, there might be a boy like her who lives on the land and follows traditional ways.  As a child reader, I was comforted by this indication that not everyone would behave like Daniel.  As an adult, I am annoyed at this throw-away treatment of the book’s major conflict.  The impression given that letting enough time go by while refusing to think about an earlier assault will somehow automatically result in healing is simplistic, unbelievable, and the single outstanding flaw of the story. Long after this original publication the author wrote follow-up novels titled ‘Julie’ and ‘Julie’s Wolf Pack’ in which the topic may have been explored (I have not read them), but readers of this first novel deserved better.

Consequently, I would reduce the final grade from an A+ to an A-.