A couple of sentences into this book, I knew it would quickly become a firm favourite of mine – and I wasn’t wrong. Beautiful and magical, the tale blends childlike innocence and vivid imagination with dark and sinister undercurrents, making for a gripping read.

Join September, Saturday and A-Through-L as they navigate Fairyland on a mission. The world has been torn asunder by The Marquess who has brought all of the worst bits of the human world – taxes, rules and regulations – into this delightful, enchanting land. All of the creatures are bound to this tiny tyrant, who ruins lives on a whim. She gives September a task to complete, sending around the weird and wonderful world of Fairyland to carefully navigate dangerous situations and difficult decisions.

Catherynne M. Valente uses evocative descriptions to set the scene of Fairyland, explaining enough of the characters and ways of the world to enlighten the reader – but not every little detail, which leaves the imagination to pleasantly run riot. Catherynne has an enviably delightful turn of phrase and I raced through the story, which is peppered with lovely illustrations (drawn in the same vein as the gorgeous cover).

This rich tapestry of a tale is complete with imaginative, ingenious characters that September encounters on her journey through Fairyland to find Goodbye’s spoon. It’s the kind of book I hope they never make into a film because I don’t think they could ever do it justice – even though the city of Pandemonium, weaved out of different types of material, does remind me slightly of Coraline. Catherynne M. Valente has set the book subtley and expertly up for a sequel, which I hope appears soon, as I can’t wait to read it and pass around my friends, as I have this one.

The only complaint I have about this book is the length of its title; I felt it could have been summed up much quicker and simpler. If that’s the worse thing that can be said about a book, then that says a lot about the content. The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making (and breathe) is an absolute gem of a read.

Many thanks to Constable & Robinson for the review copy.

It has been glorious.

There is something so special about books written for this age group.

Maybe it’s that the really good ones transcend age groups altogether, becoming these timeless, classic stories that anyone — regardless of age — can always return to and enjoy. (And I do find myself returning to them more and more as I grow older.)

Maybe it’s the purity of these stories. The characters realize that they are growing up, that everything is changing, that they are leaving childhood behind. It is bittersweet and scary. But they’re not completely grown-up yet. They’re in the land of first crushes, not first loves. They can still view the world through the wonder-filled lens of a child — even if those moments are starting to occur less and less frequently.

Or, heck — maybe it’s because the majority of middle grade books seem to be written in third person, which is my favorite narrative mode, both to read and to write.

I could go on and on. Suffice it to say, I re-read middle grade books more than I do books written for any audience. They are comforting, inspiring, haunting, and full of adventure.

Below are some of my favorite first lines from my favorite middle grade books. Feel free to share some of your own favorite first lines in the comments! Middle grade books only, please!

A Wrinkle in Time: “It was a dark and stormy night.”

Coraline: “Coraline discovered the door a little while after they moved into the house.”

Matilda: “It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.” (I cheated a little bit here! But that second line is just to good to leave out.)

The Phantom Tollbooth: “There was once a boy named Milo who didn’t know what to do with himself–not just sometimes, but always.”

The Golden Compass: “Lyra and her daemon moved through the darkening Hall, taking care to keep to one side, out of sight of the kitchens.”

Liesl & Po: “On the third night after the day her father died, Liesl saw the ghost.”

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making: “Once upon a time, a girl named September grew very tired indeed of her parents’ house, where she washed the same pink-and-yellow teacups and matching gravy boats every day, slept on the same embroidered pillow, and played with the same small and amiable dog.”

Breadcrumbs: “It snowed right before Jack stopped talking to Hazel, fluffy white flakes big enough to show their crystal architecture, like perfect geometric poems.”

When You Reach Me: “So Mom got the postcard today.” A non-entity of a first sentence, it may at first seem . . . until you read the rest of the first paragraph: “It says Congratulations in big curly letters, and at the very top is the address of Studio TV-15 on West 58th Street. After three years of trying, she has actually made it. She’s going to be a contest on The $20,000 Pyramid, which is hosted by Dick Clark.” So again, I guess I cheated a bit here. But I just love the blunt, conversational narration of this book’s main character.

Plain Kate: “A long time ago, in a market town by a looping river, there lived an orphan girl called Plain Kate.” (Whether or not this book is middle grade or young adult is up for debate; it’s certainly dark enough to skew older, but I still lean toward upper middle grade.)

So tell me: What are some of YOUR favorite first lines from middle grade books?

Read this book!

Amazon has been tricking me into reading books for teenagers. The site comes out with these lists of “Best Books” of the month/season/year/weekend/Tuesday at 12:30 and because I will pretty much do anything that Amazon or Google tells me to do, I read through the brief summaries they provide and buy whatever piques my interest. And the last 3 books I’ve bought and read happened to be Young Adult novels. In my defense, does this seem like the kind of book written for the same audience as Twilight?

Lena Haloway is content in her safe, government-managed society. She feels (mostly) relaxed about the future in which her husband and career will be decided, and looks forward to turning 18, when she’ll be cured of deliria, a.k.a. love. She tries not to think about her mother’s suicide (her last words to Lena were a forbidden “I love you”) or the supposed “Invalid” community made up of the uncured just beyond her Portland, Maine, border. There’s no real point—she believes her government knows how to best protect its people, and should do so at any cost.

Doesn’t it seem like an awesome Sci-fi book that also might be an episode of The Twilight Zone? So I bought it. But, when I had finished three-quarters of the book after only 2 hours, I said to myself, “Is this a book for tweens?” I Googled the author and found her website, which immediately started playing Taylor Swift songs while lots of book covers with pimple-free teenage girls swirled around. Crap. Amazon should have a little pop-up that says, “Before you buy this book, are you between the ages of 12 and 16? No? Then you’re too old. Don’t be lazy, buy something more intellectually stimulating.”

If I’m being honest, though, that pop-up wouldn’t stop me from buying some of today’s “Young Adult” novels.* You want to know why? They are FUN to read and some of them are very well written. I operate under the philosophy that if an author gives themselves a page/word limit, they are forced to edit out the dribble and can produce a much better story than those authors who give themselves free reign. For example, The Lottery has stuck with me since the first time I read it in Middle School. Its simplicity and horrifying subject matter is hard to forget. But if you ask me what the hell A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is about, I couldn’t tell you. Stream of consciousness is way too self-serving to be memorable.

Don't read this book!

Once you reach a certain age, you’re expected to turn to more “mature” fiction and if you’re not into mysteries (like me) you’ve got to wade through some crap. But then that crap ends up being rated “Best Book” of the day or year or whatever. I bet you the nameless, faceless Amazon body that rates these books is just too scared to admit that either a) they didn’t get it; b) they didn’t read it; or c) they are actually a robot. These are the things that went through my head when I read some of the “Best Books” of 2011. Historical Fiction does not mean hundreds of pages of the detailed history of WWI, only broken up by graphic sex scenes. I don’t care what Lisbeth Salander bought with her stolen money, why is this list spanning so many pages! Using science fiction to explore your pedophilia fantasies is disgusting and your computer should be confiscated and searched by the FBI (I don’t care that you’re not American).

So if you want to enjoy reading again, read The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of her Own Making, The Hunger Games and/or His Dark Materials series, and I would tell you to read Delirium, but then I’d have to link to the Amazon page (for continuity’s sake) and you would totally make fun of me.

I give Young Adult Fiction a rating of:

*Except Twilight. Twilight is what happens when fan fiction goes awry.

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making

Feiwel & Friends, 2011. 978-0312649616

Synopsis: September lives a boring life in Omaha with her mother and a small amiable dog, washing pink and yellow teacups. When the Green Wind appears to her while she is doing the dishes in the kitchen sink and asks if she would like to leave Omaha, she climbs through the window without a thought onto the Leopard of Little Breezes and is whisked away to Fairyland. While she is in Fairyland, she meets a Wyvern, a Marid, and the wicked ruler the Marquess, and goes in a journey to help restore Fairyland to its less oppressed state.

Why I picked it up: It was recommended to me by a classmate because of my fascination with mythology.

Why I finished it: The book whisked me away from the first pages and was very hard to put down once I got into it. Valente has borrowed from the traditional Victorian fairy tale/fantasy novel and created her own version of a story that is a cross between Alice in Wonderland and Howl’s Moving Castle. Its mythos is unique in the fact that Valente has created a cast of characters that is very well established within pages of being introduced and yet still leaves room for them to evolve as the book progresses. September is an engaging and likable heroine for her resourcefulness and her curiosity, though the narrator explains that as a twelve-year-old, she is somewhere between having a Heart and being Heartless (as most children are because they are unafraid of consequences like adults). The comedy within the book isn’t overwhelming and lends itself nicely to the plot in all the right places, though I will admit that I was surprised at some of the mild violence (at one point September must catch a fish with a hook and eat it raw; she is also forced to wrestle with one of her companions in order to save them from a greater peril), but gladly it was not gratuitous. The book is fun, engaging, humorous, sad, and beautifully crafted for a first young person’s book and now I am curious to read more of Valente’s work.

Other related materials: The Orphan’s Tales: In the Night Garden by Catherynne M. Valente; The Houdini Box by Brian Selznick; Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick; The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, Breadcrumbs by Anne Ursu; Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes by Jonathan Auxier; Liesl & Po by Lauren Oliver; The Aviary by Kathleen O’Dell; Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai; The Emerald Atlas by John Stephens; Down the Mystery River by Bill Willingham; The Apothecary by Maile Meloy; Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs; The Mostly True Story of Jack by Kelly Barnhill; True (…Sort Of) by Katherine Hannigan;  The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate; The Chronicles of Harris Burdick by Chris Van Allsburg

With a Name Like Love by Tess Hilmo; Farrar, Straus, and Giroux (Macmillan); Ages 10-13

Breadcrumbs by Anne Ursu; Walden Pond Press (HarperCollins Childrens); Ages 10+

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente; Feiwel & Friends (Macmillan); Ages 10-13

Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai; HarperCollins; Ages 8-12

Okay for Now by Gary D. Schmidt; Clarion Books (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt); Ages 10+

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness, illus. by Jim Kay; Walker & Company (Macmillan); Ages 12+

There you have it, folks! Stop by the store any time to check out these great titles.

So, yeah. Here’s the thing – Catherynne Valente’s work is hard for me. It’s hard to admit this. She’s a peer, agewise; she’s actually a year younger than I am. Her writing career is sort of where I thought I’d be, back when I was growing up. There are some people we look to in our lives that make us wonder things like, “What-if?” I don’t mean to let her writing success do that to me, and there isn’t even any envy involved; I’m genuinely happy for her and her success, and more importantly, I want her to be writing, I want the world to have the writing that she produces, and I don’t really care what that does to me, inside. This may or may not be the place to write about this, except, it’s a huge part of why her writing, when I love it, matters, why it matters that I love it, why it’s important to know that I don’t just love it, it challenges me, even the ‘easy’ stories, and I still think it’s worth reading.

My what-ifs look a lot like: what if I hadn’t had to grow up so fast, what if I could have focused more on writing; what if migraines and anxiety issues didn’t plague my life as an adult; what if I didn’t have to work full time; what if my coping with depression hadn’t taken so much of my 20s. It’s funny – I wouldn’t actually change anything about my past, and I don’t actually sit around and mope about the migraines or anxiety, and I’m not actually happy (or productive) when I try to force myself to write when I have nothing to say or nothing to share. I don’t want to have traded my life to have a life that looked more like her life looks. We aren’t the same people, we aren’t going to tell the same stories. I know this, and I accept it, and I even agree. And every time I pick her books up and read them, I have to look at these facts and admit to them all over again.

Her Orphan Tales are in my Perfect Book List. I am so grateful that she wrote them, so grateful that I got to read them, so utterly in love with them. Her writing, in general, makes me excited to be a writer, and reminds me that the story(ies) is(are) what matter(s) most.

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making isn’t your typical book. If you haven’t already heard about it go read this. It’s a pretty amazing and special book, before you even get to the actual, you know, story. Once you get to the story? It’s even better. Valente’s command of description and vocabulary is exquisite. On the one hand, the adventure is predictable (in that adventure stories are predictable: you start with a Quest). On the other hand: exquisite.

My one single problem with the whole thing (and is likely my own fault, really) is the ending. September isn’t to be blamed. I hate endings. Worse, they bore me. Books, TV shows, movies – the media doesn’t really matter. Even in my own books I have problems. We reach that point right before the climax and then everything is rushed and sometimes intense, and then just over, and artificial because real stories don’t actually do that, they just keep going . . . (This actually may be part of why Orphan Tales are so perfect. They keep being story beginnings followed by another and another and another. Hrm.) The ending wasn’t bad; it was as well written as the rest of the book, it’s only that I’m impossible to please. In no way do I count my reaction to endings toward my overall opinion of the books I read, just so that you know. That would hardly be fair.

If you’ve never read any of Valente’s work, you really, really ought to. Seriously. Go now.

It is worth pointing out that my husband is suddenly very, very keen on the idea of me getting a Kindle. Every time a new book finds its way into the house, he twitches. There are two good reasons for this, namely:

1. We are rapidly running out of shelving space; and

2. The next time we move, he’ll be the one hauling all my boxes of books down four flights of stairs.

The point being, it’s not just my consumption of books that went up in 2011, but the purchase of them, too. Not only was I trying new things, but suddenly I had a back catalogue of literally hundreds of books I’d been wanted to read for ages, plus the means and opportunity to buy them. And I am here to say, they did not disappoint. Of the 156 titles I read in 2011, only a very few rubbed me the wrong way, and even those still tended to be worth reading. The rest were, by and large, brilliant, which perhaps explains why I chewed through so many so fast. And here is where we come to the reason why 2011 was such a staggeringly awesome year, bookwise: because not only did I read many an awe-inspiring book, but in the process, I became infatuated with many an awe-inspiring author. Not since I was a teenager discovering SFF through the greedy acquisition of second-hand paperbacks has there been a time when so many new writers have instantly made the transition from ‘person whose books I enjoy’ to ‘canonical favourite author’, the latter state being distinguished by the fact that I must have their books, all of them, NOW.

There’s something very special about being made to feel that way again – as though a genre you’d thought you’d known had suddenly opened back up again, richer and even more awesome than ever. And thus I give you, in order of their discovery, my:

Top Ten Authors of 2011

1. China Mieville

A few years ago, I bought a beautiful but unwieldy copy of Perdido Street Station. Perhaps I was just too young for the book, or my expectations of it were such that I couldn’t get into the rhythm of it – either way, I ended up putting it aside. Not long after that, I tried again with Un Lun Dun, but despite enjoying the story, I was so distracted by its similarities to Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere that, three quarters of the way through, I put it down and never remembered to pick it up again. And then, in 2010, I bought a copy of the newly-released Kraken – third time’s the charm, I thought – and decided to save it for just the right occasion. And then came Worldcon, during which time I actually ended up meeting China Mieville. Very kindly, he signed my copy of Kraken – and then I heard him read a chapter of it aloud. All of a sudden, it was like a key had turned in my head: everything about his writing that had puzzled me locked into place, and though I was too overwhelmed and exhausted to tackle such a big book at the time, when I finally picked it up in January 2011, I devoured it in something close to a day. Mieville is powerfully, sometimes exhaustingly awesome: his intertwined language and concepts appeal to something deep in the brain, and once you’re inside his stories, it’s impossible to let go. Even better, he’s become an author whose work I can share with my husband: we both loved The City & The City, and were subsequently blown away by Embassytown. Since then, I’ve also finished Perdido Street Station and have a copy of its first sequel, The Scar, ready to go.

2. N. K. Jemisin

Back before its release, I read a free sample chapter of The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms somewhere online. I don’t remember who, if anyone, directed me towards it, but the story stuck with me, and when the novel hit shelves, I wasn’t surprised to see it getting great reviews. Not being able to find a copy locally, this was one I had to wait to get, during which time friends kept recommending it, amazing reviews kept cropping up, and I kept getting impatient. And then I finally bought a copy, and it was brilliant, and shortly devoured both sequel volumes, The Broken Kingdoms and The Kingdom of Gods, which were equally as good. Jemisin’s worldbuilding is exquisite, her style both poetic and gripping, but it’s her psychology that really sells me: ambition, need and culture all shape her characters as well as their innate, sometimes difficult personalities, and their interactions are a pleasure to read. She also writes an entirely awesome blog about entirely awesome things, thanks to which I’ve come to think about a lot of important issues I might not otherwise have considered. Her next novel, The Killing Moon, is out this year, and I absolutely cannot wait to lay hands on it.

3. Cory Doctorow 

Technically, this is a cheat, because I first read and loved Little Brother way back in 2009. But for whatever reason, I didn’t follow through with more of his work until last year, when I ended up reading For the Win and Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town. Doctorow’s strong technology themes – and the ease with which he makes them not only interesting, but significant, to relative laypersons like me – are a large part of what makes his work so compelling; but it’s the social justice elements that get me in the chest. The rest of his books are now in my scopes, and hopefully I’ll get to one or more of them at some point in 2012.

4. Octavia E. Butler

I’d heard of her. I wanted to read her books. But I had no idea where to start, and I was tentative in the way I always am when it comes to science fiction greats, because so often I go in optimistic and then find out that really, these stories aren’t for me. But when I came across an omnibus edition of Butler’s Xenogenesis trilogy in the local second-hand bookshop – Dawn, Adulthood Rites and Imago in a single volume - I decided to plunge ahead. And oh, man. Look, internets: you don’t need me to tell you how amazing, how absolutely jaw-dropping Butler is, because you already knew before me. I was literally broken apart by these books, and though they’re still the only ones of hers I’ve read – stories that powerful need to be rationed, like absinthe or Belgian chocolate – they nonetheless burned themselves into me forever.

5. Paolo Bacigalupi

This is something of an odd one. I made sure to read The Wind-Up Girl after it won the Hugo, and when I did, my reaction was… mixed. (For the curious, my review is here.) There were parts of the story I loved, and others I hated; I came away with a lot of thoughts, but despite the more negative aspects I perceived in the book, I also couldn’t get it out of my head. It’s difficult to articulate why, but sometimes I can have a very Slap Slap Kiss relationship with certain stories: for all my criticisms, I’ll end up loving them more than other works with which I found no fault, because they challenge me. Uncharitably, this is just because I’m a deeply contrary person, but I also suspect it’s because when you see things you absolutely love laid alongside things that make you bristle, you’re forced to rip apart various narrative seams – both in the book and in your head – to find out why you’re reacting that way. This process cannot help but be informative, if not transformative, and the upshot of all my angsting was that the very next month, I ended up buying Ship Breaker. Which, flat out, I absolutely loved. Could not put it down. So not only is Bacigalupi an awesome author, he’s one who makes me think, too – and that is always good.

6. Catherynne M. Valente

The book I started with here was Palimpsest, and – as with The City & The City and The Wind-Up Girl - part of the reason I read it was the Hugo nomination. As is often the case with me, I was nervous: I’d picked up a copy in a bookshop once before, but due to whatever quirk of mood or temper that particular day, I’d decided against buying it. But during a trip to London that happened to coincide with my birthday, I’d decided to give Valente a try, and so set out to acquire a copy of In the Night Garden, which a friend had recommended. Alas, London did not yield me that particular book – but I did find Palimpsest, and so decided, on the basis of the Hugo nomination, that my younger self had no idea what she was talking about. Thus, I bought it, and read the whole thing in a single sitting, curled up in bed in an excruciatingly cheap hotel in the middle of the day. Valente is a poet, and the way she braids this skill with mythology and imagery and longing absolutely kills me. Later in the year, I won an ARC of The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making in a Twitter contest. It quite literally moved me to tears, and my review of it is here. After that came Deathless, which was unbelievably good; and in my pile of books-to-be read for 2012 are copies of In the Night Garden and Myths of Origin, which I’m really looking forward to. And, like Jemisin, Valente also writes a kickass blog.

7. Carrie Vaughn

I briefly met Carrie Vaughn at Worldcon in 2010. She was a really lovely person, and on the strength of that I decided to check out her work. This started with Kitty and the Midnight Hour, the first of her best-selling urban fantasy series: there was a lot to like in terms of writing and characterisation, but what really hooked me was Kitty’s job as a radio DJ. So often in UF, the heroines are kickass women doing kickass jobs from the get-go, and while that’s also a type of story I also adore, there was something really special about Kitty being (so to speak) an everywolf – a kind, competent woman doing something she loved, then rolling with the punches when things went sideways. Even so, I was intrigued by the variety of what Vaughn was writing, and so my next port of call were her stand-alone novels: Discord’s Apple, After the Golden Age, Voices of Dragons and Steel. Of these four, my far-and-away favourite was After the Golden Age, which is about a forensic accountant whose parents are both superheroes. What continually impressed me was Vaughn’s versatility: her willingness to play with different ideas to see what happened, and the fact that her heroines – much like Kitty – always feel like very real, relatable women, rather than untouchable action heroes.

8. Lois McMaster Bujold

Early in the year – on the same London trip where I bought Palimpsest, in fact – a writer friend strongly recommended I read some Lois McMaster Bujold. I stored his advice away, and then, during a particularly fulsome Amazon binge, ordered Shards of Honour, the first novel in the Vorkosigan saga. You may judge my reaction to this book by the fact that its heroine, Cordelia Naismith, is now one of my fictional rolemodels for 2012. I cannot even begin to describe how much I love these books. The politics are vicious, intricate and utterly believeable, the action is breathtaking, and the characterisation is pitch-perfect. In addition to Shards of Honour, I managed to get through Barrayar, The Warrior’s Apprentice, The Vor Game, Cetaganda, Ethan of Athos and Brothers in Arms before the end of December; Mirror Dance and Memory are sitting in my to-be-read pile, and as of this afternoon, so are all three volumes of her Chailon series, fortuitously acquired at the second-hand shop. If I could marry her brain, I would. In a nutshell: squee!

9. Laini Taylor

I picked up a copy of Daughter of Smoke and Bone at the local Waterstones. I’d been seeing it reviewed online, but for whatever reason, it hadn’t really registered. The fact that it was shelved with fantasy rather than YA is what made me notice it, because it’s not so often that you see a book that transitions like that; and besides which, it was a signed special edition. So I decided to give it a try, which  turns out to have been one of the best decisions I made all year. As well as being an author, Taylor is also an artist, and her visual imagination comes across beautifully in her worldbuilding. And just, you guys: THE WORLDBUILDING. And the plot. And the characters. And the everything. Without wanting to give too much away – which is actually sort of impossible, so spoiler alert – this book is now my benchmark for any and all stories featuring:

1. Angels and demons;

2. Impossible romance; and

3. Reincarnation plotlines,

because Daughter of Smoke and Bone manages all three like a boss. (End spoilers.) So then I looked up her other works, and was kicking myself when I realised I’d actually seen her Dreamdark books when they first came out, and hadn’t picked them up! Truly, Past Foz is an idiot. But this has now been rectified: both Blackbringer and Silksinger were marvelous, and I cannot wait to see what she writes next.

10. Nnedi Okorafor

I can’t remember whether I first heard of Nnedi Okorafor because of Who Fears Death or because I’d been seeing reviews of Akata Witch cropping up around the place, but either way, I wound up following her on Twitter. The more I heard about her  talk about the themes in her books, the more I knew these were definitely stories I wanted to read, and so without having read anything more than a short story of hers, I ordered Who Fears Death, Akata Witch and Zahrah the Windseeker online. I read Akata Witch first, by way of easing myself in: at least one person had warned me that I might find Who Fears Death harrowing, and in case that were so, I wanted to have read some of her other work beforehand. As things turned out, though, I loved all three books. Okorafor’s constant themes are Africa, culture, feminism, and the power of the outcast, and all her books are breathtaking. Right now, there’s a copy of The Shadow Speaker sitting in my to-be-read pile, and I know that it won’t disappoint.

So, there you have it! Ten awesome authors, all discovered in the space of a year. Seriously though, this whole list should be subtitled How Foz Was Late To The Party, because these are all writers whose excellence has been well-known to other people for years. Only the stubborn idiocy of my younger self is to blame for not having discovered many of them earlier. Damn you, Past Foz! But then, if Past Foz hadn’t been an idiot, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of finding them all in one go, and 2011 wouldn’t have been nearly so amazing. Nonetheless! To compensate for the fact that everyone on Earth was quicker off the mark than me, here is a secondary list of excellent books to see you on your way. In no particular order:

Five Awesome Books from 2011

1. Water to Burn, by Katharine Kerr

The second book in Kerr’s new urban fantasy series about the exploits of psychic agent Nola O’Grady, following on from by License to Ensorcell, with the third book, Apocalypse to Go, which I was lucky enough to read in draft, about to be released. Rather than rhapsodize anew about why these books are amazing, I’ll direct you instead to my previous review, but in case you can’t be bothered to read the whole thing, just trust me: they are.

2. Delirium, by Lauren Oliver

This book is easily my favourite YA dystopia. The worldbuilding is brilliantly in-depth without being overbearing, the writing is excellent and the characterisation solid, but the sheer power of it is what works: a broken world disillusioned by the problems of 21st century romance, twisted into a passionless society from which only the young or mad can escape.

3. The Shattering, by Karen Healey

Three friends. Three dead brothers. A perfect town. A secret. Read this book; it’s amazing. My review is here.

4. The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern

An incredible circus. A contest between magicians. Forbidden love. Beauty! Magic! Adventure! What more do you want? Exquisitely written and characterised, The Night Circus took my breath away.

5. The Cloud Roads, by Martha Wells

Shapeshifter Moon doesn’t know who his family were; he doesn’t even know what race he is. Finding out takes him on a journey across an amazing, vivid fantasy world, full of a gorgeous variety of cultures, peoples and magic. This is the sort of book you didn’t know you’d been yearning for until you picked it up – so trust me, and do.

So that’s it, folks – my year in books for 2011! What was your year like?

And it has been glorious.

Not only have I read a lot of books (and again, many of you out there would probably scoff at the number in comparison to your own, were I to tally them all up), I’ve read a lot of good books; nay, a lot of GREAT books. Basically, there is a ridiculous, tremendous amount of talent out there.

So, I want to dedicate this post to my favorite books of 2011. These are not necessarily books that came out in 2011 (although some of them are), but are all books I have read this year, regardless of publication date.

They are, in no particular order:

Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

This is a book about angels and demons, about wishes and hope and a brutal magical war (and if you’re rolling your eyes because you feel like the whole angels thing is overdone in YA or whatever, stop right there; okay, actually, finish out the eyeroll because you’re kind of freaking me out with your eyes frozen at the ceiling like that; and then, rest easy, because this book is fresh and original and the exact opposite of cookie-cutter). This book is about Karou, a fierce girl with blue hair and a mysterious past, and Akiva, a tormented warrior. It’s a sweeping, terrifying, literary fantasy that made my heart race, my palms sweat, and my jaw drop in complete awe. And, on top of all of that, it’s one of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read. Laini Taylor’s prose is exquisite, the kind of writing that makes me want to both throw in the towel and strive to be better. If you haven’t read it yet (or read any of the countless rave reviews), do yourself a favor and pick up a copy.

Fire by Kristin Cashore

Beautiful prose, distinctive in some way, is 99% of the time a requirement for me to truly, deeply love a book, and Kristin Cashore (like Laini Taylor, Erin Bow, Neil Gaiman, Franny Billingsley, Peter S. Beagle, and Robin McKinley) is one of those authors whose words make me gasp aloud from the sheer beauty of them. The way she weaves together words astounded me, first when I read Graceling, and even more so when I read its companion book, Fire. Added to that beauty is original world-building (the monsters! such a fantastic idea) that seems as organic and well-developed as though Cashore is simply describing to me a place that already exists; characters that grab hold of my heart and refuse, tenaciously, passionately, to let go; and romance that feels real and nuanced and raw. Fire is a complex, strong heroine the likes of which I aspire to create in my own stories, and Brigan — okay. Let me just say that I don’t easily get swoony over literary heroes. I have extremely high standards, and one misstep here or there will garner only an eyeroll from me. But Brigan. I loved him so much. I swooned for Brigan. Me. This book is definitely in my top five favorite books ever, and I don’t love books lightly.

The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey (Isn’t her name cool, by the way?)

Cool name aside, and in all seriousness, this perfectly crafted example of magical realism (one of my favorite genres, and also, in my opinion, one of the hardest to write) is one of the best books I’ve ever read. In fact, I read it entirely in one sitting, because I just couldn’t bear to part with this book. I started it one night and stayed up until 3:00 in the morning or something ridiculous because it was just that good. Ivey’s prose is pristine, enchanting perfection, her characters unforgettable, her story heart-wrenching in all the best ways. The premise is simple, haunting, and gave me chills when I first read the flap at this year’s BEA: A middle-aged couple, grief-stricken and starting a new life in 1920s Alaska, make a child out of snow and longing and heartache one night . . . and then they start seeing a mysterious child flitting through the trees. A child wearing the same scarf their snow child wore, with golden hair and sky-blue eyes. I love the way the book trailer puts it: “Is she the answer to their prayers? Or a strange, magical dream?” You can, if you so desire, read my official Goodreads review here, but suffice it to say that you should really just go pick up a copy of this book when it comes out in February. It will stay with you for a long time after you finish that last, aching page.

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin

Surely by now, you have heard of Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series, beginning with A Game of Thrones, which was adapted into an HBO television series this past spring. But have you read them? They’re not for everyone, I admit, and if you’re anything like me, you get really intimidated by huge, elaborate series that you know you’ll probably love but hesitate to commit to. (This is why I have yet to start Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series, for example.) But I’m so glad that I finally put that fear aside and started these books because they are absolutely fantastic. When I read A Game of Thrones, I feel like it completely changed my writing life, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that. I didn’t know fantasy could be like this; or rather, I did on this sort of vague intellectual level, but I hadn’t yet experienced it myself. This series is gritty, raw, brutal, populated by ambiguous, flawed, and often not-very-nice characters, and can be, at times, extremely hard to stomach. Martin doesn’t pull any punches with his characters’ various perversions, nor with their at times untimely fates. This is why I say this series isn’t for everyone, but, oh, do give it a try if you even have the slightest inclination toward fantasy. You won’t be able to tear yourself away, once you get into it. You’ll need to see the twisted fates of this huge array of characters through to the end — whatever tragic, maybe triumphant, maybe heartbreaking end that might be. You’ll be Team Stark or Team Lannister, and you will love them and hate them. You’ll want to go around saying, “Gods be good,” and “Winter is coming.” And you will absolutely THROW YOUR BOOK ACROSS THE ROOM in shock and horror about three-fourths of the way through the first book, A Game of Thrones, when you realize what just happened, and that it’s not getting miraculously changed at the last minute for a nice happily ever after, and that you are forever, irrevocably hooked.

Liesl & Po by Lauren Oliver

I read this little gem of a book with a lump in my throat and an ache in my chest, due to a combination of the sheer beauty of Oliver’s prose, her perfectly timeless middle grade voice, and the simple, heartstrings-tugging power of her story about a grieving girl, a lonely ghost, and a friendless boy apprentice (and a good-hearted security guard, who will absolutely steal your heart; and an evil alchemist; and a sad, gray world devoid of joy, magic, and sunlight). I teared up several times while reading this book because how Oliver explored the loneliness of these characters, their grief and loss and longing for companionship, felt so damn real. When I heard Oliver speak on a BEA panel this year, she spoke of writing this book during an extremely difficult period for her, personally, and the truth of that rings through every page. It is a book that isn’t afraid to talk to its target audience about such adult, mature issues as loss and grief, and it is also a book unafraid to be unabashedly, wildly, imaginatively beautiful. The Other Side, Po’s home, and even the bleak, A Little Princess-esque attic in which Liesl lives, are vividly described, and how all the little pieces of characters and plot intertwine like clockwork is immensely pleasing. The perfect book for curling up with on a chilly, cozy night — or on any night, for that matter.

Chime by Franny Billingsley

Wow. That’s what I kept thinking as I read this book, which Agent Lady basically thrust into my hands, saying, “You. Will. LOVE. This.” And she was right. I loved this. Nay, I LOVED this. Chime is dark, scary, hilarious, and exquisitely written. Billingsley does things with her prose that I would never have expected, that made me read certain lines over and over, just to soak up all the pretty. It’s about Briony Larkin, who is a witch (or is she?), who killed her stepmother (or did she?), and who is definitely one of the most clever, wittiest, most interesting YA heroines out there. She will (and does) do anything for her twin sister, Rose (who “prefers not to” do a lot of things she should, and “prefers to” do things Briony wishes she wouldn’t), who falls mysteriously ill. She harbors deep anger at her father, who prefers talking with God to talking with his daughters. She falls, reluctantly at first, for the “lion boy” Eldric, who brings smiles and sunlight into her world — and he can never, ever know her terrible secrets. This is a beautifully crafted fairy tale that puts a whole new spin on things like imps, brownies, and witches, and the setting of Briony’s village, Swampsea, is so vivid you’ll feel like you’ve grown up there, too, by the book’s end. Chime is one of those books I pick up occasionally, flip to a random page, and just read for a bit — for excitement, for inspiration, to recapture that sense of skin-chilled wonder I experienced when first reading this dark, gorgeous fantasy. Highly, fervently recommended.

Don’t these books sound fantastic? And the crazy thing is (again, so much talent out there), I read many more incredible books this year. Like Victoria Schwab‘s haunting, lovely The Near Witch, Catherynne Valente‘s unbelievably imaginative The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland In a Ship of Her Own Making, and Julianna Baggott‘s terrifying, breathtaking Pure (coming out in February).

I recommend all of them, heartily (like a good soup!) and with much fangirlish flailing.

Thank you, 2011, for introducing me to such fantastic books!

And you, dear blog readers: What are some of the best books you’ve read this year? Feel free to share in the comments!

In honor of Ms Catherynne M. Valente’s book The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, I decided to re-post the advice she had given me almost two years ago about being a writer. Congratulations Cat! As I said before, where you are now, is where I want to be in the near future:

Afiya–

Some of this story is in my FAQ on my website. Some of it is on my blog. 

I started blogging in 2001. I’ve been at it a long time. I started publishing professionally in 2004, when I was 25. The two feed each other. I worked hard to create an online presence long before I ever wrote a book–I joined communities on LJ, I made friends and linked to them, I posted about topics people wanted to read. It’s always hard to predict what will and will not hit with a blog–but the key is not having it just be a showcase for your writing if you’re not already known for your writing. You have to build a readership who feel like you’re interesting and fun, not just someone selling you something. It’s very hard to build a site just based on fiction without a corresponding publishing career. The Fairyland project is successful because I’ve been publishing for five years with big presses, my books have won awards, I’ve toured nationally, I go to conventions and appear on panels. I’ve made friends in the industry. It’s all a lot of hard work–but if I hadn’t been publishing, no one would care about my free online novel, I promise. Certainly Boingboing and such wouldn’t have picked it up.

So my advice is to keep writing–and do all those things, too. Build a blog based on non fiction and social networking, and then ease your fiction into it. (this is much easier on LJ where you can join communities and be part of a big conversation.)

I’ve preservered because I love writing and believe in my work, and because at times it’s all I’ve had. But in the end, my career has been easier than a lot of people’s–I’m 30, I’ve published a dozen books. That’s not normal. It doesn’t always work like that–in fact it almost never does. 

The other thing I did was write so differently than everyone else out there that people had to notice it. I made myself indispensable, by being the only one offering my kind of books. Don’t lose faith. just think outside the box of posting fiction online and waiting for people to notice. Instead, do something noticeable, then post your fiction. Online books are a dime a dozen–you have to make yourself an interesting draw, and then people will come. You might also consider Clarion or Viable Paradise, and workshop your stories with some top authors. 

I hope this has helped,
Cat

11. Bink & Gollie, by Kate DiCamillo and Alison McGhee

As I said before, I picked this up initially because it reminded me of a friend’s nickname. Partly my love of it comes from my love of this friend and her ridiculously erudite brother, but mostly it is a feast of dry humour and warm affection. I am compelled to read it whenever I see it.

12. The End, by Lemony Snicket

This is the last book of the Series of Unfortunate Events. (In this way, I compel you to read the whole series! Mwahahaha.) This series is one of my favourite of all time, adult books included. They’re so unrelentingly comic; every sentence, it seems, makes me laugh. Also, the arcs of this series really impressed me. Each book brings a new trial for the Baudelaires to overcome, but there’s also a larger mystery to be solved: who killed their parents, and what is VFD? The conclusion of the series is altogether bittersweet, but in the best way imaginable. Hey, don’t say Snicket didn’t warn you there would be melancholy.

13. Jacob Two-Two’s First Spy Case, by Mordecai Richler

Oh, Mordecai. All the Jacob Two-Two books are comic classics, but I especially like this one because we get to interact a bit more with Jacob Two-Two’s dad (The Man Himself, of course). The layers of satire are thick and delicious like a well-made rugelach.

14. The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, by Catherynne Valente

I already gave this one a glowing review here, but of course it must have its place in this list. The prose is sublime, the characters charming, the lessons poignant; it is at once just like a number of familiar fairytales and completely unique. A must-read for fantasy fans of all ages.

15. Noah Barleywater Runs Away, by John Boyne

I mentioned last week that I got three new books which had come in for me. This was one of them. Noah Barleywater is eight years old, and it is time (he feels) for him to seek his fortune. As he progresses through the villages along his path, he meets a number of interesting characters, including an old man in a very odd toy shop. As his journey continues, Noah is forced to confront the real reason he’s left home… With allusions to classic fairytales like Pinocchio, Noah Barleywater is at once familiar and totally unique. (Also, it is an upstanding example of temporal dramatic unity in the fairytale genre. Read it, you’ll see what I mean.) Noah himself is a charmer. Add Oliver Jeffers illustrations, and you have yourself a classic.

Next week: YA, installment 1. Also, hopefully, a review of The Emerald Atlas by John Stephens.

Title: The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making

Author: Catherynne M. Valente, with illustrations by Ana Juan

What a lovely little book! I read the majority of it over a couple of days. The story follows September, who is taken into Fairyland one night as she’s doing the dishes. She must then navigate her way through, having promised different things to different characters along the way. It’s very Alice in Wonderland if Alice had gotten to make friends instead of everyone just kind of being a turd to her. It does not condescend in language or in plot, which is awesome in children’s books. ALSO it was originally a blog project, which is really cool. Basically it’s just a really great, fun read. I keep wanting to call it sweet, but the book also really has some dark moments. (Moments–they are never very long.)

If I could change anything, it’s that the plot at times seems to stagnate in weirdness after weirdness, instead of feeling as though it’s going anywhere. A lot of strange things happen in Fairyland, but it feels like September just isn’t getting anywhere because a new strangeness has to be explained. I liked all the magical elements, but there were times when the action suffered for it. Anyway, it’s a nice read and I would definitely recommend it. I’ll certainly hold onto it.

Also, I think Neil Gaiman’s cover blurb is pretty accurate: “A glorious balancing act between modernism and the Victorian fairy tale, done with heart and wisdom.”

Favorite Quotes:

“The Green Wind frowned into his brambly beard. ‘All little girls are terrible,’ he admitted finally, ‘but the Marquess, at least, has a very fine hat’” (3).

“All children are heartless. They have not grown a heart yet, which is why they can climb tall trees and say shocking things and leap so very high that grown-up hearts flutter in terror. Hearts weigh quite a lot. This is why it takes so long to grow one” (4).

“Those were all big words, to be sure, but as has been said, September read often, and liked it best when words did not pretend to be simple, but put on their full armor and rode out with colors flying” (51).

“Fairies started out as frogs. Amphibianderous, right? Well, being frogs was no kind of fun, so we went about and stole better bits–wings from dragonflies and faces from people and hearts from birds and horns from various goats and antelope-ish things and souls from ifrits and tails from cows–and we evolved over a million million minutes, just like you” (70).

“That’s what a map is, you know. Just a memory. Just a wish to go back home–someday, somehow” (169).

“September waited. She long ago learned that if she waited and blinked and behaved like a pupil, eventually someone would lecture her on something” (186).

“Breaking things heals a great many hurts. This is why children do it so often” (203).

Read it! 4 stars!

What a phenomenal title. Of course I had to read this as soon as it came in. Laura, my adult librarian friend with whom I share a taste for children’s fiction, tells me that Catherynne Valente also writes adult fantasy and sci-fi; I plan on getting my hands on some, for this book was absolutely wonderful.

The story begins with our heroine, September, being swept out of her window by the Green Wind. She is Ravished away to Fairyland on the back of the Leopard of Little Breezes. After passing through customs, she embarks on an adventure through Fairyland to steal back a stolen Spoon, to foil the plans of the nasty Marquess, and, in the end, to save her friends A-through-L (a Wyvern/library cross) and Saturday (a Marid) from the Marquess’ clutches.

Generally, a good book of this length takes me at most 3 days to get through. This one took about twice as long, not for lack of excitement, but because there’s so much to savour along the way. Every page had something in it that made me stop and think, or reread and chuckle. Valente’s Fairyland is so ingenious and full of delightful surprises that even those malevolent forces which threaten September are admirable for their originality and depth of meaning. The prose is poetic and cheeky, while often very deep and thought-provoking. The story and its characters are also so allusive, brimming with references to Wonderland, Narnia, and fairy tales of many origins.

Most importantly, this book, like the very best fairy tales, has a lesson around every corner. Every new scene is a metaphor or allegory which illuminates a little corner of the meaning of fiction, of childhood, or of life.

Highly recommended for fans of Lewis Carroll, C.S. Lewis, and Lemony Snicket, though not for the faint of vocabulary.

A little more about the book:

Twelve-year-old September lives in Omaha, and used to have an ordinary life, until her father went to war and her mother went to work. One day, September is met at her kitchen window by a Green Wind (taking the form of a gentleman in a green jacket), who invites her on an adventure, implying that her help is needed in Fairyland. The new Marquess is unpredictable and fickle, and also not much older than September. Only September can retrieve a talisman the Marquess wants from the enchanted woods, and if she doesn?t . . . then the Marquess will make life impossible for the inhabitants of Fairyland. September is already making new friends, including a book-loving Wyvern and a mysterious boy named Saturday.

With exquisite illustrations by acclaimed artist Ana Juan, Fairyland lives up to the sensation it created when the author first posted it online. For readers of all ages who love the charm of Alice in Wonderland and the soul of The Golden Compass, here is a reading experience unto itself: unforgettable, and so very beautiful.

All you have to do to enter is fill out the simple form below!
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Once again, Catherynne M. Valente has managed to create a fantasy world complete with full blooded characters brimming with adventure and promise.

September is a twelve year old girl, who is invited into Fairyland by the Green Wind and his Leopard. Longing for new experiences, September accepts his offer and so begins a story filled with Wyverns and Witches and magical spoons, an evil Marquess, an almost human boy called Saturday – and a quest that will see September find her heart, lose her way and discover friends in the darkest of places.

This novel began in short installments on the web, and was so popular that a hardcopy version was printed. For lovers of fairytales and story, of dreaming and fast friendships – this one is for you.

8 out of 10.

–

Next time on the bookshelf : “Runaways : Pride and Joy – Volume 1″ by Marvel Comics

Fairyland does not disappoint.

In fact, it is fair to say, it exceeded my expectations so profoundly, so beautifully, that I was left breathless. Here is the thing about fairy tales: you grow up with them, know them and love them, but even when you try to keep them close – even when you endeavour to remember them – somehow they still slip away from you, because childhood is transient. Even its strongest passions fade and splinter with time. The truths we believed in then are like stained glass windows, and as we age, they grow dirty, or break, or are cast in shade; glass falls away from the leading, and brightens only when some stray sunbeam fires the colours again. Adulthood makes us into archaeologists and scientists, probing at the things we used to love, asking what they mean and how they work, and even though such knowledge is worthwhile, it also changes us: we cannot unsee, unfeel, what it makes us recognise.

Or at least, we can – but only when someone like Catherynne Valente gives us a book like Fairyland. Because as much as the story of September, a girl from Omaha picked up by the mischievous Green Wind and taken to Fairyland, is written for children and young adults, it is also written for all of us who grew up – willingly or not, consciously or not, yet always inevitably – and never stopped wondering how it happened. Fairyland is not folklore as we remember it, but rather a successor tale to Alice in Wonderland: a story on the cusp of things, where adult knowledge has taken the simple rhythms of once upon a time and embroidered them into something richer, stranger: an allegory for everything we used to feel intuitively, but now have learned the hard way. Which isn’t to say that folklore itself is devoid of allegory or hard lessons – far from it. Rather, the resonance of those lessons is for other times and other places, cautionary tales about worlds and mores that no longer exist, so that even if we have been lucky or persistent enough to read the unsanitised versions of Little Red Riding Hood or Rapunzel, we take away only a sense of resonant history, and not a warning about the dangers of our own time.

But Fairyland is written now: its dangers apply to our own world, our own time. September faces fairy-perils, yes, but underneath, the real monsters are bureaucracy, fascism, censorship, prejudice, caste systems, detention and fearmongering; and though she wields fairy-weapons and is helped by fairy-friends, September’s real allies are courage, agency, egalitarianism, fairness, feminism, free speech and compassion. Late in the book, when the titular moment – circumnavigating Fairyland in a self-made ship – finally arrives, it is utterly piercing, an act of beautiful bravery. As September builds her raft from every material to hand, she is left, despite all this effort, without a sail; until she remembers that her own skin is nothing to be ashamed of, and gives up her dress to make one. ‘My dress, my sail!’ she declares, and when I read that, I closed the book and cried, because sometimes there is a truth to words that goes beyond their construction. I can count on one hand the number of stories that have had that effect on me. Fairyland is one of them, and I will never forget it.

Reading this book was like wrapping myself in a blanket. I didn’t read the words; they read themselves to me, and the voice in which they spoke was my mother’s, my father’s, my favourite teacher’s – a synthesis of everyone who read me stories at primary school, in class or the library or putting me to bed, and I suspect that I won’t be the only adult reader to have had that experience. Some stories go to the core of you, and this is one of mine.  The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making is an amazing, beautiful, funny, moving, frightening, powerfully imaginative book, and if parents are not reading it to their children five generations from now – or if, at the very least, Hayao Miyazaki doesn’t beg on bended knee for permission to adapt it – then there is no justice in the world.

Another good week for me. Golly, I love Paperback Book Swap. I get so many of my cozy mysteries from PBS I can’ t even tell you. Here’s what my mailman and UPS driver brought me.

From Paperback Book Swap:

A Tisket, a Tasket, a Fancy Stolen Casket by Fran Rizer.
Sprinkle with Murder by Jenn McKinlay.
Diary of an Ordinary Woman by Margaret Forster.
Triangle by Katharine Weber.

I also received:

Fireworks over Toccoa by Jeffrey Stepakoff from St. Martin Press.

The Girl who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne  M. Valente from Feiwel and Friends.

And then, Oh Happy Me, two books I’ve been dying for came in the Mail:

The Kitchen Daughter by Jael McHenry from Gallery Books.

and The Bird Sisters by Rebecca Rasmussen from Crown Publishers via the Writers for Red Cross fundraiser.

I had a very happy book week last week, what about you?

Publisher’s Summary:
“Twelve-year-old September lives in Omaha, and used to have an ordinary life, until her father went to war and her mother went to work. One day, September is met at her kitchen window by a Green Wind (taking the form of a gentleman in a green jacket), who invites her on an adventure, implying that her help is needed in Fairyland. The new Marquess is unpredictable and fickle, and also not much older than September. Only September can retrieve a talisman the Marquess wants from the enchanted woods, and if she doesn’t . . . then the Marquess will make life impossible for the inhabitants of Fairyland. September is already making new friends, including a book-loving Wyvern and a mysterious boy named Saturday.”

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making is infinitely clever. It is gorgeously written; a dog-ear-every-other-page-for-the-wonder-of-this-line-or-that-image type of story. It is a just-out-of-the-oven batch of cookies, the scent released by the laundry vent when clothes are tumbling in the dryer; it is the first firework in the sky and the last, the day before your very first vacation. It twists and turns and wraps back around and makes you giddy with delighted dizziness. It is a book that needs to be read and thought about and held and cherished. It is a book that I, in very short order, came to love with my whole being. So I am going to say now, before I say anything more: Get yourself a copy of this book.*

Have you ever read a story that made you feel like you were wearing the skin of your younger self? A book that brought back the joy of discovering magic in words and the pictures they give shape to, reeling in your mind like a film made only for you? The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland… was just that kind of book for me.

This entire post could be comprised of quote after quote, and that would be that. It would go on for days and your finger would tire from scrolling. Because, while it’s not habit, I dog-eared the advanced reader’s edition I read within an inch of its papered life; every page, it seemed, presented something remarkable, a sentence or paragraph that glinted like a new penny under the summer sun. And because of that, I’m going to break protocol and include a couple of bits that caught my fancy -  I simply cannot not share – but keep in mind that said agonized-over-which-bits-to-choose bits are coming from an uncorrected proof and may change in the final copy.

“I came for you, September. Just you. I wish you the best that can be hoped for, and worse than can be expected.” He leaned in close and kissed her cheek, courtly, gentle, dry as desert wind. The Leopard licked her hand passionately.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

September did. She felt a warm, sunny wind on her face, full of the smells of green things: mint and grass and rosemary and fresh water, frogs and leaves and hay. It blew her dark hair back, and when she opened her eyes, the Green Wind and the Leopard of Little Breezes had gone. In her ear floated his last airy sigh: check your pockets, my chimney-child.

***

The sun hitched up her trousers and soldiered on up into the sky. September squinted at it and wondered if the sun here was different than the sun in Nebraska. It seemed gentler, more golden, deeper. The shadows it cast seemed more profound. But September could not be sure. When one is traveling, everything looks brighter and lovelier. That does not mean it is brighter and lovelier; it just means that sweet, kindly home suffers in comparison to tarted-up foreign places with all their jewels on.

Of this book, Tamora Pierce said: “September is a clever, fun, stronghearted addition to the ranks of bold, adventurous girls.” Yes, she is all that. Until you meet September for yourself, however, it’s a difficult task to point to any one or even two things that make her all that and more. And beside, as wonderful as September is, she would not shine quite so without all the heart-grabbing characters that surrounded her: the Green Wind, the wyvern A-Through-L, Saturday, and Mr. Map in particular wormed their way under my skin and refuse to budge. Not that I’d try to oust them; I’m quite content to keep and revisit them.

Characters and world-building aside – and though I haven’t and won’t go into the world-building in any depth, believe me, it’s sugar and spice and all things amazing – The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland… is also an example of metafiction at its most clever, charming and effective best. The kindly, beneficent narrator pulls back the curtain at precisely the right moments, allowing the reader to glimpse and overhear, and gently explains when doing so would be akin to spoiling a good shiver or losing a delicious indrawn breath of anticipation.

There is so much I’d like to say about this book, so many things I’d like to hold up and say look, look at this!, but can’t for fear of robbing you of the discovery of those very things. As it is, I feel guilt over those quoted bits above, which I included with the very best, See. Right? intentions. Even if you don’t tumble heels over head for this book as I did, I’m willing to lay odds that you will find something that will make you smile or coo, something that you will adore and want to polish and put out for your friends and neighbors to see. And so with that in mind I’ll urge you again: Get yourself a copy of this book.

Sink in and enjoy.

———————————–
*When it finds its way onto shelves on May 10th, that is.

Dreamland Social Club by Tara Altebrando (May)

Jane has traveled the world with her father and brother, but it’s not until her fractured family-still silently suffering from the loss of Jane’s mother many years before-inherits a house and a history in Coney Island that she finally begins to find a home. With the help of a new community of friends, a mermaid’s secrets, and a tattooed love interest with traffic-stopping good looks, the once plain Jane begins to blossom and gains the courage to explore the secrets of her mother’s past.

Colorful characters, beautiful writing, and a vibrant, embattled beachfront backdrop make this the perfect summer read for anyone who has ever tried to find true love or a place to call home.

The Mephisto Covenant by Trinity Faegen (September)

Sasha is desperate to find out who murdered her father. When getting the answer means pledging her soul to Eryx, she unlocks a secret that puts her in grave danger – Sasha is Anabo, a descendant of the daughter of Eve, and Eryx’s biggest threat.

A son of Hell, immortal, and bound to Earth forever, Jax looks for redemption in the Mephisto Covenant – God’s promise he will find peace in the love of an Anabo. After a thousand years, he’s finally found the girl he’s been searching for: Sasha.

With the threat of Eryx looming, Jax has to keep Sasha safe and win her over. But can he? Will Sasha love him and give up her mortal life?

David by Mary Hoffman (October)

Michelangelo’s statue of David is famous around the world. Millions flock to Italy every year to admire the physical perfection of the young man captured within the marble. But the identity of the model has never been known . . . until now.

In this epic tale, acclaimed author Mary Hoffman imagines the story of Gabriele, a naïve but incredibly handsome young man who is hired as Michelangelo’s model, only to find himself drawn into a world of spies, political treachery, and murder. Set against the vibrant backdrop of Florence in its most turbulent times, this is a rich, colorful and thrilling tale that gives life to one of the world’s greatest masterpieces.

Eve by Anna Carey (October)

The year is 2032, sixteen years after a deadly virus—and the vaccine intended to protect against it—wiped out most of the earth’s population. The night before eighteen-year-old Eve’s graduation from her all-girls school she discovers what really happens to new graduates, and the horrifying fate that awaits her.

Fleeing the only home she’s ever known, Eve sets off on a long, treacherous journey, searching for a place she can survive. Along the way she encounters Caleb, a rough, rebellious boy living in the wild. Separated from men her whole life, Eve has been taught to fear them, but Caleb slowly wins her trust…and her heart. He promises to protect her, but when soldiers begin hunting them, Eve must choose between true love and her life.

Dark Inside by Jeyn Roberts (November)

Since mankind began, civilizations have always fallen: the Romans, the Greeks, the Aztecs…Now it’s our turn. Huge earthquakes rock the world. Cities are destroyed. But something even more awful is happening. An ancient evil has been unleashed, turning everday people into hunters, killers, crazies.

Mason’s mother is dying after a terrible car accident. As he endures a last vigil at her hospital bed, his school is bombed and razed to the ground, and everyone he knows is killed. Aries survives an earthquake aftershock on a bus, and thinks the worst is over when a mysterious stranger pulls her out of the wreckage, but she’s about to discover a world changed forever. Clementine, the only survivor of an emergency town hall meeting that descends into murderous chaos, is on the run from savage strangers who used to be her friends and neighbors. And Michael witnesses a brutal road rage incident that is made much worse by the arrival of the police–who gun down the guilty party and then turn on the bystanding crowd.

Where do you go for justice when even the lawmakers have turned bad? These four teens are on the same road in a world gone mad. Struggling to survive, clinging on to love and meaning wherever it can be found, this is a journey into the heart of darkness – but also a journey to find each other and a place of safety.

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente (May)

Twelve-year-old September lives in Omaha, and used to have an ordinary life, until her father went to war and her mother went to work. One day, September is met at her kitchen window by a Green Wind (taking the form of a gentleman in a green jacket), who invites her on an adventure, implying that her help is needed in Fairyland. The new Marquess is unpredictable and fickle, and also not much older than September. Only September can retrieve a talisman the Marquess wants from the enchanted woods, and if she doesn’t . . . then the Marquess will make life impossible for the inhabitants of Fairyland. September is already making new friends, including a book-loving Wyvern and a mysterious boy named Saturday.

With exquisite illustrations by acclaimed artist Ana Juan, Fairyland lives up to the sensation it created when the author first posted it online. For readers of all ages who love the charm of Alice in Wonderland and the soul of The Golden Compass, here is a reading experience unto itself: unforgettable, and so very beautiful.

Publisher summaries quoted from Amazon and Goodreads.

In the tale with the all too short title, the Green Wind comes to take September to Fairyland because she seems “an ill-tempered and irascible enough child”. During her numerous adventures September meets a variety of colourful characters like the witches Hello and Goodbye and a Wyverary named A-thru-L who doesn’t know much about Fairyland’s capital, Pandemonium, because it begins with P. They correct her mortal misconceptions about friendly fairies and other such pleasantries while teaching her the land’s rules and regulations, such as how “the practice of alchemy is forbidden to all except young ladies born on Tuesdays”, “aeronautic locomotion is permitted only by means of Leopard or licensed Ragwort Stalk”, and “all traffic travels widdershins”.

“Latitude and Longitude turned smoothly towards each other, as though they were on pedestals. They began to bend and fold like staircases, reaching out for each other and interlocking, hand into hand, foot onto knee, arms akimbo. They moved mechanically in their strange circus dance, jerkily, joints swinging like dolls. The street shook a little, and then was still. Ever so briefly, Latitude and Longitude kissed, and when they parted, there was a space between their mouths just large enough for a Leopard carrying a Harsh Air and a little girl. All September could see on the other side were clouds.”

I’ve enjoyed the nine chapters navigated thus far. It’s fun, witty, academic, and reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland and other such stories while remaining original. A friend who pointed the novel out to me asked how it compares to Valente’s other works that I’ve read. I think the first thing I said was, “different”. It’s far closer to a G-rating than Palimpsest or “the Ballad of the Sinister Mr. Mouth” in that it’s less macabre and challenging. Whether that will change further on, I won’t try to guess because Valente is full of surprises. Her poetic prose and use of language weaves a spell around the reader. As I admitted to said friend shortly after WorldCon, I love her brain.

…And…because their works are often intertwined and it’s difficult to mention one and not the other, SJ Tucker wrote “September’s Rhyme” to accompany chapter 1. I think now’s a good time to blame Sooj for adding to my reading pile. Really, it’s the tricky pixie’s fault. I ain’t complainin’, merely sayin’.

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Musing Monday‘s topic was about wish lists and if they’re kept and shared. About 90% of the time I purchase books for myself so my list is more for me than anyone. It’s pretty rare for someone to surprise me with a book, I think the last time was two summers ago. From the Dread Pile o’Reads, these are the books that have been lusted after the longest or shoved their way to the top of the list:

• James Endredy: Ecoshamanism
• Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett: Good Omens
• Neil Gaiman: Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders
• Robert Heinlein: Stranger in a Strange Land
• Moises Kaufman: Gross Indecency- the Three Trials of Oscar Wilde
• Mercedes Lackey: Foundation
• Jennifer 8. Lee: the Fortune Cookie Chronicles
• Michael Pollan: The Omnivore’s Dilemma
• Rebecca Stein: Anthropology of Religion, Magic, and Witchcraft
• Catherynne Valente: the Orphan’s Tales, I & II
• Roger Zelazny: Changeling