Saturday 31 May 2014

Hearing Something New In 'Echo Boy'



I will begin this with a fact that may or may not surprise you: I have never read 'The Hunger Games'. It was not like I was staunchly against it, I just never seemed to get around to it. I do like dystopian fiction, after all 'Never Let Me Go' is one of my all time favourites, but the YA ones seem to have passed me by a little. This is why I was really glad that I got the chance to read Matt Haig's 'Echo Boy', a really stirring book about a society questioning what counts as human.

One of the first things you notice when reading 'Echo Boy' is its writing style, which is frankly magnetic. Matt Haig's way of a depicting a fractured half human consciousness is so real and so heart-wrenching at points that I didn't know whether to create an award for its writer or throw pillows at him for making me so sad inside. Daniel's narrative is really endearing and Audrey works well as she stands as a support with Daniel, but is still equal to him. As I said about 'Trouble', I'm a fan of split narratives, particularly because I think it really helps the pace control-wise, and with Daniel and Audrey it really enhanced the "two sides, same coin" theory. Whilst I'll admit the 'opposites attract' theory was not working at necessarily its strongest here, the way the narratives interweave, and the way logical thinking and emotional response act in them, was really quite fantastic.  

The plot of this novel is not the most original or unexpected one I will admit (I mean, since Hamlet we've known that Uncle's are always evil), and there are some issues with the romance element of it, at least for me. I think more than anything, this book struggles from being a few chapters short of perfect. It needed just a little more establishment for the romance, only a little, but it would have really pushed that area from good to great. Saying that, the other areas of the novel certainly mask this element, particularly the concept of echoes at all. The creation of this dystopia is a master-stroke by Matt Haig, but it stands so beautifully because of its surrounding problems, which echo (yes, pun intended) even today. The human debate in the novel originally worried me. It risked running into the territory of cliche and being honest, I am hipster for "urgh, I've heard that before". But it was so well handled in this novel I couldn't resist. Daniel still holds enough automated response to be robot but enough fear (not love) to be human. It's another brilliant plan by Matt Haig that is pulled off near flawlessly.

Before reading 'Echo Boy', dystopian fiction was, I'll admit, a bit of a back thought on a long list of things to try. However, I am thoroughly converted to it by Matt Haig's novel, with a terrifying world of a future that seems all too possible. His style stands a testament to his talent and I was hooked from page one. I'd highly recommend this to anyone who's looking for a rollacoaster read.

Friday 23 May 2014

Getting into 'Trouble' By Non Pratt



I have read a fair few teenage pregnancy books in my school years. As a constant thing that you’re insensitively warned about at an all-girls school (alongside eating disorders and the devil itself, s-e-x) it was a topic covered by about a quarter of the books in the library. This is partly why I was so interested to see in what direction Non Pratt’s ‘Trouble’ would take the well-used story arc, and, I can happily say, I was not disappointed.
                One of my favourite aspects of this book is its (finally!) non-Mary-Sue protagonist. Hannah is not a perfect angel by any means or definition. She’s selfish, she’s sharp-tongued, but, what I think is the most important thing, she has had sex with more than one person. Her pregnancy is not the result of a single fall from grace (well, not directly) but her simply being sexually active and careless once, out of many times in which she has been safe and careful. She doesn’t stand as a poor spoilt virgin, a dangerous image we see far too often in teen fiction, but a real teenager. I have made this comment before: I would rather read a book with characters that sometimes drive me crazy but act like real, and often irrational, teenagers, than those who form immaculate and adult impressions of teens. Hannah lives in a world where she drinks in the park on Friday nights, smokes cigarettes, and has sex through her own agency and choice (and, in some sections, doesn’t have sex through her own agency and choice). Yet she doesn’t seem to be out-of-control reckless like a daunting Skins character, simply acting like a teenager would, experimenting with her own boundaries, and the boundaries set around her.
                The style with which Pratt writes is really a reason to read the book in itself. The multi-perspective narrative in it truly works to its strength. It is often flipping through the same conversation in Aaron and Hannah’s minds and this had a profound effect on the conversation itself, even at points making it more heart breaking. Pratt’s style of writing dialogue and choreographing events in the present gave the book one hell of a pace, one which meant I was whisked along the story with its characters, with only moments of revelation to stop me in my tracks. This, in combination with her clever characters and twist-turn plot, creates a fantastic read.
                I could still nit-pick at this book for a few things, but I would be nit-picking as a near fine art. I found Aaron’s background vey over-dramatised, partially by its mystery through most of the novel, and I was disappointed that we didn’t see more of the consequences of Hannah’s pregnancy for other members of both her and Aaron’s family (Aaron’s Dad is a teacher at that school and no one seemed to care?). However, a more blue sky thinking part of my rather split mind wonders if that was part of the idea. My comment on multi-perspective narrative in a previous review (of the book Wonder) was very positive, because it allowed the reader to get a full picture of the main character’s life, whereas I think in ‘Trouble’, we see only Hannah and Aaron’s views because that is the degree to which their problems can be expressed. Through other’s eyes, Hannah’s pregnancy is a mistake and Aaron’s crisis over his old friend is simply grief, but that is not a lens that Pratt provides us with. We are restricted in these perspectives in order to understand a more personal version of events, a version that cannot be given by anyone but Aaron and Hannah.
                I thought I may have been done with teenage pregnancy style stories, but the reason that ‘Trouble’ is so good is because it is so much more than that. It is a teenage story, involving pregnancy, but it’s much more a bildungsroman than a simple 9 month diary. With Aaron’s story working in conjunction with Hannah’s, a brilliant, three-dimensional and charming novel is created.

Friday 16 May 2014

Back With A Bang: 'Sally Heatcote: Suffragette'



First, I must begin this blog with an apology and that is an apology for my absence for what does feel like absolutely forever, but is actually 2 weeks. This is owing to a huge workload and a lot of stress over the past month, and I hope you will all forgive me. And so, in order to make it up to you, I decided to do something a little different this week. This week I will be reviewing ‘Sally Heathcote: Suffragette’ by Mary M Talbot, Kate Charlesworth and Bryan Talbot. This graphic novel caught my eye in Forbidden Planet, and, thinking it might quite interesting, I thought I’d give it a shot. After reading? Interesting does not even begin to cover how much I enjoyed it.
                I’ll begin with the narrative of the tale; it’s a clever depiction of a working class girl’s experiences with the suffragette movement and the Pankhurst family in general, mainly depicting her fervour and then disillusionment with said movement, and the desperation and fight that women faced at the time. I have read political graphic novels before (if you’re into that kind of thing, track down ‘Cuba: My Revolution’, it’s truly fab), and one of their true talents is telling a side of a story that isn’t so far publicised. When being taught about the suffragettes, most people remember the violence, but the idea that there was any other kind of suffragette but a militant one is something that I think so few people learn. Hell, even I was learning about them, I developed an unhealthy interest with Emily Davidson throwing herself under a horse, before realises that the famous Sylvia Pankhurst was actually a pacifist, but I digress. The protagonist Sally really, at first, believes in the militancy of her movement, a true follower of Christabel Pankhurst, and it is this very belief that makes her growing distaste of it all the more real and her separation from the movement all the more saddening to read. Sally creates a complicated image of the suffragette, a warrior who realises the true damage of some of her actions, which helps us as readers realise that the history we know of heroes and villains, freedom-fighters versus terrorists, is not a complete history, merely one aspect of a far more complex issue.
                Another point I have to make about this book, mainly because it would be a crime to Kate Charlesworth if I didn’t, is that its illustration is not only beautiful, but really adds another layer to the story. The pages contain a muted colour palette, with only the WSPU colours (green, white and purple, before you wiki it) and Sally’s bright orange hair used to break the grey and white frames. There are a few exceptions to this rule, for example the passage which is set entirely in candlelit darkness, but overall the effect of this is staggering. My own personal favourite element of the illustration was the metamorphic sequences representing the cat and mouse act, which really demonstrated the predatory and threatening nature of politics of the time towards the women’s suffrage movement. I also greatly enjoyed the realistic portrayals of women in it (no Barbies or manic pixie dream girls, woohoo!), who all came across as having the appearance of real women, something that a LOT of times is missed from graphic novels with attempts at realism.
                Overall, I have very little to criticise with this one (not that that is very new, but still). It portrays an interesting view of history, beautifully and (equally importantly) accurately, with a stack of references and notes at the back, which, if you’re a bit of a nerd like me and want to re-read with all the footnotes, is fascinating. Which is what I did promptly after reading. Twice.