Neil Gaiman is one of my very favorite authors. His imaginative worlds and beautiful way with language make his books some of my very favorites to read. In preparation for the series American Gods, I decided to revisit both the book that series is based on and it's companion, Anansi Boys. This
time, though, I did the audiobooks, and I am really glad I did. My review of the writing is below, but I want to start with a shout out to the narrator of the audiobook, Lenny Henry. He pulled off British, American, and Carribean accents, as well as voicing several gods. I was completely sucked in by his narration.

Anansi is a mythical character from African folklore, a trickster god who bedevils man and god alike. Anansi stories have been popular for ages; I remember teaching an Anansi picture book when I was still a classroom teacher. In Anansi Boys, Gaiman takes the god out of legend and places him in retirement in Florida. When he dies, his son, tragically nicknamed Fat Charlie, travels from his home in England to his father's funeral. While there, he discovers he had a brother that no one ever told him about. His father's elderly neighbor tells him to whisper to a spider if he wants to meet his brother, and feeling rather foolish he does just that. When his brother, named Spider, shows up, Fat Charlie's life takes a decidedly frightening and crazy turn.

Anansi Boys has lots of the dry wit that I love about Gaiman's adult fiction, and while much of the action is humorous or downright absurd, he also provides some truly chilling scenes. Poor, hapless Fat Charlie is the perfect straight man to his brother's shenanigans and the eccentric ladies who try to help him solve the problems his brother creates in his life. Compared to American Gods, which ends up being very dark and full of violent imagery, Anansi Boys is almost whimsical, though it is not without it's tense, terrifying moments. The Anansi of this book has some recognizable elements from the Anansi in American Gods-his trademark hat, his smooth talk, his playful nature-but is much better developed, even though he is really only present for a small portion of the book.

I remember wondering when I read Anansi Boys for the first time if Gaiman planned to make his Old Gods stories into a book series. There were so many gods mentioned in American Gods that could be explored-Mr. Wednesday, Easter, the Russian sisters and Czernobog, Bilquis, Ibis and Jackel. So far there is no sign that is a thing that will happen, but hope springs eternal! Humans have created so many gods over the millennia that an author would surely never run out of source material. So Mr. Gaiman, if you're reading this, this fan would totally be down with a few more adventures in the world of the Old Gods.

Faithful, Alice Hoffman

I remember reading one of Alice Hoffman's historical fiction novels (sadly, I don't remember which one), and really liking it. I also remember reading two of Hoffman's other books (sadly, I do remember them) and thinking they were overly sentimental Hallmark-channel worthy stories with no there there. But I couldn't get that first book out of my mind. I had to believe it wasn't just a fluke (though, I love the first Nicholas Sparks novel I read, The Notebook, and I definitely should have stopped there <gag>). I decided to give Hoffman one more try when I read the blurb for Faithful.

Anyone raised Catholic can tell you what a powerful force guilt can be (I hear Jewish mothers also have this concept down to an art form). Faithful explores the consequences of guilt, the ways that it can derail a person's life and completely change who they are. The story revolves around Shelby, whose life was thrown off track by a tragic accident she and her best friend were in as high scholers. Shelby holds herself accountable for the accident, and falls down a rabbit hole of shame and blame and sadness that makes her withdraw from everyone that she knows. When we first encounter her, she has just come out of a mental hospital after a suicide attempt, and is living in her parents' basement, smoking a lot of weed and watching a lot of reality TV. Eventually, her soft-hearted marijuana dealer, Ben, who for some inexplicable reason is actually falling in love with Shelby despite her morose behavior, convinces her to move to NYC with him to start a new life. It is in New York that Shelby begins to heal, and to fnd redemption for the bad things she thinks she's done.

It doesn't happen very often, but Hoffman managed to create a character that I was rooting for even though I didn't much like her. I started to like her more as the novel goes on, and I suppose that might have been the point-as Shelby began to like herself again, she became more likeable to the reader. It may also have something to do with the fact that she actually becomes a fully realized character once she gets to New York, rather than the deep black human-shaped pit of despair she was at the beginning of the novel; rescuing animals, finding human connection, and ultimately finding a way to love herself and accept someone else's love again.

Hoffman is known for magical realism, and there are some elements of it here. Her comatose former-friend is supposed to have healing powers, mysterious postcards appear just when she needs them, and even among the millions of people who live in New York she manages to cross paths with the one person she needs to the most. That last one sort of took it over the edge for me-it felt like one coincidental thing too many. But overall, I found this to be an enjoyable if not earth-shatteringly good read.

The Life She Was Given, Ellen Marie Wiseman

Who hasn't dreamed of running away with the circus? Well, actually, I'm not sure anyone dreams of this anymore, but it's become such a cliche for our desire to escape the everyday world of chores and responsibilities that it feels almost universal. But for some circus performers, running away with the circus was less about escape and more about survival, and for others, the choice to join the circus wasn't even theirs to make.

The history of the circus freak show is long and full of both heroes and villains. The public's fascination with medical oddities has probably always existed, but it came to prominence most strongly during the Victorian era. From small traveling carnivals to huge circuses like Barnum and Bailey, freak shows provided an experience designed to shock the mind and boggle the senses. Many of the sideshow acts were faked, but others capitalized on (and/or exploited) people who suffered from rare medical conditions, or who somehow looked different than the norm (think bearded lady or tattooed man). Depending on which shows and which circus owners you're talking about, freak shows either provided a safe place and a community for people who had been rejected by society, or unending slavery for people who were often sold to the shows by the family who rejected them.

The Life She Was Given tells the second kind of story. Eleven-year-old Lilly has spent her entire life in her attic bedroom, forbidden from exploring the house where she lives, Blackwood Manor, or the gardens and fields surrounding it. Her mother says it's for her own protection; that if people saw her, they would be afraid of her and might hurt her. One night, Lilly sees the lights of a circus in the distance. That night, for the first time, her mother takes her outside-and sells her to the circus sideshow.

A couple of decades later, young Julia Blackwood inherits Blackwood Manor, the strict childhood home she left behind after her father died, fleeing the lonely silence and strict rules of the big old house. When she returns after her mother's death, she hopes to find a way to exorcise the demons of her lonely childhood and bring light into the house, but what she discovers in her explorations of the old manor leads her deep into the mystery of the child who lived in the attic.

I will admit to getting totally sucked into this book. It is a quick read, and much of the story is not hard to predict. It reminded me a lot of Water for Elephants, as an elephant and its trainer have a prominent place in the story. I will say, though, that while I had a pretty good idea that something tragic would happen, the form that tragedy took was not what I expected. The descriptions of circus life are similar to other novels with circus settings that I've read, and Wiseman manages to fit in not one but two love stories, though one is much better developed than the other. Both main characters are well-written, and the story definitely has a strong emotional impact on the reader.

One word of warning: If you are someone who is squeamish about or sensitive to violence against animals, there's a section you might want to skip. You'll know it when you get there. Suffice it to say it turns out for the animal in question the way you'd expect based on what else has happened in the story. Wiseman does not shy away from putting her characters, even the animal ones, through some pretty awful stuff.

Tell the Wolves I'm Home, Carol Rifka Brunt

I love all things 1980s, the decade when I came of age in my small Chicago suburb. I don't think I'm alone in the nostalgic feelings I have for the decade, and it can be easy to romanticize the period you grew up in as somehow idyllic compared to the present. But the truth is, while I was having a great time in high school and college, not everthing was so rosy.  Housing discrimination based on race was still rampant, gender pay equity was even worse than it is now, and the queer community was still reviled and forced to live in hiding in many places around the country. The general fear of and disgust for members of the LGBTQ+ community was exacerbated by the AIDS crisis, which was portrayed in the media as a plague brought on by immoral behavior and inflicted on the unsuspecting "normal" people by degenerates. This is the backdrop for the novel Tell the Wolves I'm Home, by Carol Rifka Brunt.

At the center of Brunt's story is June, whose beloved uncle Finn, the one person in her family that really saw her, has recently died of AIDS. Her family is full of anger and grief, with a side of shame and embarrassment at the cause of Finn's death. While the rest of her family tries to move on, June is stuck in a deep, dark hole of sadness, sure that no one will ever love her again the way that her uncle did. Into this void in June's life comes Toby, a stranger who somehow misses Finn as much as June does, and once they begin spending time together, their friendship causes profound changes in both of their lives.

As a legally married, queer woman living in a liberal suburban town with plenty of love and support from family and friends, it can be easy for me to forget that it wasn't that long ago my life would have been impossible, or at least much, much harder. I know that even by today's standards I am lucky to have always been supported by the people in my life; my parents, sibling, friends. We still have plenty of work to do to make sure that everyone in the queer community is safe and supported and accepted by both their families and communities and society at large. But in the late 80s, at the height of the AIDS crisis, the queer community was, quite literally, fighting for it's life. Tell the Wolves I'm Home does a good job of bringing that period to life, and while we see everything from the point of view of a straight, cisgender teenager, I think that Brunt really creates the feeling of fear and intolerance and shame that characterized that time for many in the quer community. She also does a good job with recreating the 1980s generally, which I will admit was part of the appeal of the book for me.

I thought that the story took too long to get to the friendship between Toby and June, but I was the only one at my book club who thought so, so maybe it's just me. I thought the book could have been about 75 pages shorter had she just moved it along a little. June and Toby are very rich and developed, but the other members of June's family are a little less so. They felt pretty one-dimensional, and frankly not that sympathetic, until somewhere towards the end of the book, when you finally get some explanations for why they are acting the way they are. The story kept my attention despite these minor flaws, and the emotional pay-off ended up being worth the extra pages and slightly underdeveloped characters. Overall I'd recommend this one.

We Are Still Tornadoes, Michael Kun, Susan Mullen

I guess I must have subconsciously had a thing for novels told in letters, since this is the second one that I've read in the last month. Unlike  Ella Minnow Pea, however, I really enjoyed We Are Still Tornadoes by Michael Kun and Susan Mullen.


The book details the first year after high school of two best friends, Scott and Cath. Cath has gone off to Wake Forest College, Scott has stayed home to help in his father's men's clothing store, and maybe start a band. Cath and Scott send letters back and forth sharing all of the ins and outs of their new lives; boyfriends, girlfriends, roommates, family trouble, song lyrics...Both Cath and Scott had some major stuff go down in their lives-divorce, death-and throughout it all they managed to keep their friendship alive and kicking.

I think part of the reason I loved this book as much as I did is that it was set in the 80s, which is when I was in high school and college, and because I also had a best friend named Scott who became my penpal after he moved away in middle school. We corresponded all through high school and into college, and I consider it one of the great disappointments of my life that I managed to lose him somewhere between college and the real-world. Like Cath and her Scott, my friend and I shared all of our joys and sorrows and successes and failures, our goals and dreams, and had the kind of supportive friendship that I didn't have with most of the people I saw every day.

Besides the personal connection to the main characters, I also loved how the authors brought back the 80s through the offhand cultural references the characters make in their letters, especially about music. There are so many musical references to everyone from Michael Jackson to Joy Division that I had to go to my music library and evaluate whether I had enough 80s music (the answer? You can never have enough 80s music).

My only complaint about the book was the ending, which I won't spoil, but just know that I really wanted it to go a different way. The strength of their friendship was the heart of this novel, and I think that the ending turned it into something else. But despite that, I would still recommend this novel to young adult and adult readers alike. I think it appeals to both in different ways, because as nostalgic as it felt for me, the themes explored are still completely relevant to youth today.

Ella Minnow Pea, Mark Dunn

Like most readers, I am fascinated by language. The ability to create entire worlds with nothing more than some black squiggles on a piece of paper (or some zeros and ones on a computer screen) is magical and miraculous. Like many readers, I find myself drawn to books about language, and reading, and libraries, and bookshops, and anything word-related.  So when I picked up a copy of Ella Minnow Pea at a used book sale, I was just sure that I was going to devour every page and still want more. Alas, that was not to be.

Ella Minnow Pea is the story of a mythical island of Nollop off the east coast of the South Carolina, a place that was founded by Nevin Nollop, the inventor of the unique sentence "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.", which contains every letter of the English alphabet and is the bane of typing/keyboarding students everywhere. The novel is told as a series of letters between the titular Ella and her cousin, detailing the increasingly authoritarian rules and behavior of the Island Council, which begins eliminating letters from lawful usage due according to which letter tiles fall off of the statue of the island's founder.

Obviously, the story was not meant to be hyper-realistic, but I found Dunn's world-building to be lacking. I suppose the events of the story were supposed to be absurd, but I found myself not able to take myself out of reality sufficiently to go with it. I didn't really believe that an entire island's worth of people would agree to abide by the ridiculous rules that were handed down. I did find some of the letters rather charming in their use of slightly formal, almost Victorian-type language, there just wasn't enough there there for me to feel anything more than casual indifference to what happened to the characters.

While the story itself didn't really do it for me, I can appreciate the skill that went into writing lengthy, detailed messages to tell the story with a slowly shrinking list of usable letters. Since the story was told entirely from the point of view of these two characters, who were bound by the bizarre and draconian rules of the island council, their narration of events had to successfully navigate around the outlawed parts of the alphabet. And these young ladies were not stingy with their words.  This feat of mental and linguistic gymnastics deserves respect, regardless of whether I actually liked or cared about the story. I can also see how a case could be made that the plot was a commentary on censorship and free speech, but it felt too heavy-handed.

My final recommendation is meh. If you, too, are interested in books about wordy things, then I'd say give it a go. If not, you should probably skip it.

When We Collided, Emery Lord

For those of you who are new to my blog, it's probably important to know that I am a literacy coach at a high school in the south suburbs of Chicago. As a result, I find myself reading A LOT of young adult novels in an attempt to stay current on trends in YA, and to identify books we could add to the curriculum to supplement what we already offer. If you are a lover of YA fiction, you will definitely find inspiration for your to-read list here at Book Addict Reviews.

One of my favorite YA novels I read over my recent winter break was When We Collided by Emery year old should have to shoulder. Viv helps bring Jonah and his family out of their gray despair, and Jonah provides a stabilizing influence for Viv, at least for a while. Their love story spins out over the course of a summer, one that brings big changes to both of them.
Lord. It tells the story of two teens, Viv and Jonah, who unexpectedly find each other at exactly the right time. Jonah's family is dealing with the death of his father and his mother's subsequent depression. Viv arrives in the small seaside town where Jonah lives with her mother and a brand-new mental health diagnosis. Viv has a zest for life that is infectious and often reckless. Jonah is a rock for his family, taking on responsibilities that no 16

This novel explores themes of family, love, loss and mental illness with tender yet ultimately hopeful care. The brokenness of both Jonah and Viv actually makes them more, rather than less, beautiful as human beings. While mental illness has been a more frequent theme of YA books of late, Lord really focuses less on diagnosis or treatment and more on the kind of strength and perseverance it takes to live day in and day out with depression or bipolar disorder. She seems to really understand that rather than being a sign of weakness, living with a mental illness and having the quality of life that you want is a sign of incredible endurance.

I think this novel would be great to use for high school literature circles, or as part of a unit on mental health or coping with loss. Both Jonah and Viv experience the loss of a father, though in very different ways. Jonah knew and loved his father, and is constantly being struck by things that remind him of his father's exuberance, wisdom, and humor. Viv feels deeply the loss of a father she never had, the man who provided the genetic material for her existence but who has never been a part of her life. There are many youth who would be able to relate to the type of loss Jonah and Viv feel, and that could lead to some interesting discussions in a classroom setting. I'd definitely recommend this book for inclusion in any high school classroom library!