The End (Scooters)

We're sure you've heard the news. Really, how could you miss it? It's been on all of the popular Widget/Ball Bearing blogs. Patricorp is abandoning its venture into literary criticism. It's been fun. We've learned a lot. Unfortunately, Patricorp just isn't able to support this branch of the company. We've been shedding costs left and right, but we just can't find the capital to continue running this blog. [We find this odd, as blogging is free]

So here it comes. Here's our state of the YA Lit address. Our parting shots, our final goodbye:

Young Adult Literature is a legitimate sector of the literature world. It is not a world filled with books like Goosebumps or Sweet Valley High. Real authors write passionately and evoke real emotion from their readers. Books like Looking for Alaska are written at or above the level of adult fiction, but marketed towards teens. This is a double-edged sword, allowing the books to reach a broad audience of teens, but placing them as the object of scorn for the snooty.

It baffles us that more people don't like YA. The writing is accessible, the narratives are relatable, and the texts themselves are economical. YA offers the perfect opportunity for someone (perhaps a college student who hasn't read a book for pleasure in years) to get back in the habit of reading. We fell back in love with reading before bed. We genuinely felt good about ourselves when we fell asleep with a book in hand.

We hope to see YA continue to boom. The more that librarians and teachers know about YA, and perhaps more importantly, the more they trust YA, the better off we are.

YA will always exist for one reason. These stories need to be told. Since Catcher in the Rye, we've come to realize that the coming of age tale is important. These authors follow in Salinger's footsteps. We understand that some follow more capably than others. We know that there is a discrepancy in quality within the field.

We just hope that people will begin to see that there is quality.

An Abundance of Katherines OR: John Green, Superstar

We were at the bookstore the other day, looking for this thing or that (we really don't remember), and we happened to run into a book called An Abundance of Katherines. We knew exactly two things about this book: first, that a friend had told us there is math involved, and secondly, that John Green wrote it. You may remember our first encounter with JG, when we openly gushed over Looking for Alaska. Turns out the guy is a consistently good writer. Turns out he knows how to write books.

AOK features a washed-up child prodigy named Colin attempting to find his way in the world. Colin is a melodramatist, which may or may not be a word we just made up. He really isn't that washed up. He's only in his late teens, but is already relatively sure that his glory days are behind him. We know the feeling (after all, we started Patricorp at the age of 5). After the 19th girl named Katherine breaks up with him--yes, you read that correctly--he weeps for days and then embarks on a summer road trip with his quirky friend Hassan. While visiting the tomb of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, they meet a cute girl named Lindsay and their summer begins to get quite interesting.

Once again, we find that John Green knows how to write. When we read JG's books, we start to think that writing is easy. We wonder why he's able to put words on paper that make so much SENSE. Why is he--even when writing about fat Judge-Judy-loving friends--so believable and genuine? And if he makes it seem so easy, why can't anyone else write this well? Frankly, Mr. Green himself shatters any preconceived notions about literary merit in the field of Young Adult Literature. His work evoked such emotion in us that we immediately shared Green novels with three people. After they each read his work, they asked if there were other John Green books to be had. This is nuts. We're going out of our heads thinking about how cool it is that JG makes people want to read so vociferously that they'll put aside video games, TV, the internet, meals and regular bathing.

In short, we realize we're rambling, but also recognize that as a side effect of thinking about John Green. We hope he keeps up with what he's doing. We can't wait to read Paper Towns.

We Were Here

There's a certain charm in stick with something challenging until the end. Sure it's easy to give up if things seem like they aren't going well, but greatness comes from finishing what you started. We took that message to heart as we attacked Matt de la Pena's We Were Here. At first we thought the book was a joke. Written in a supposed dialect, the book features a main character, Miguel, who says stuff like, "yo," and "a grip," instead of, "hello," and "a lot. We struggled. Man did we struggle. We struggled a grip, dog. But we kept with it, and for this, we feel no regret. Here's what we found.

Miguel is a young man who has been sent to a group home for an unknown crime. He doesn't fit in there and spends most of his time reading. After some time passes, Mong, a possibly insane boy in the group home, decides to break out. Miguel, Mong and a third boy, Rondell, escape from the group home into California. The rest of the book focus around how Miguel survives, and what he learns while on the lam.

As we said, we were unsure. Surely no one really says things like, "'sup, dawg?" anymore, right? But the more we read, the more we realized that this book had actual merit. While the conversations may be enigmatic, the book's heart is clear. Miguel learns what it means to be a "bad kid", and what his own character is truly like. This book is a good read for someone with a few hours and a "street slang-to-English" dictionary.

Graceling

We were initially skeptical when the big bosses at Patricorp assigned us Graceling to review. Fantasy novels? Generally not our thing. Sure, we've read some of Tolkien's work, enjoyed it even, but we have a hard time with fantasy if the plot gets too convoluted. So that trepidation set the tone for our reading of Graceling. Maybe you feel the same way. We hope that you'll eventually agree that it's a good fantasy novel for the fantasy shy.

The book revolves around Katsa, the niece of a feudal king. Katsa is relatively normal, except that she has heterochromia. What's that, you ask? Heterochromia is the condition of having differently colored eyes. In Graceling, this means that one is "graced" or especially skilled at something very specific. Katsa's grace happens to be killing people. She's not so normal then, right? For some time, Katsa has been sent by her uncle, King Randa, to kill those he does not approve of. Katsa begins to realize that she can either live life as the King's thug, or she can use her power for good. The rest of the story follows her attempt to do just this, and her relationship with a friendly Prince.

We said earlier that Graceling is almost fantasy-lite. What we liked about it is that everything in the story is basically normal. We say normal to mean that it is a completely possible story that may have occurred at some point during human history. The only time one has to suspend disbelief is when considering graces. There's no magic or spells, etc.

As a protagonist, Katsa is awesome. She is (generally) a strong female character who knows how to get what she wants. She bucks convention by refusing to be married or be saved. We really liked that in Katsa. Her supporting cast is pretty fun as well. The book certainly stresses the role of the "evil king". Seems like there's one everywhere.

We believe that anyone interested in fantasy or interested in being interested in fantasy should read Graceling. If you don't like it, we'll give you a free widget.

Head Underwater (Breathing Gets Harder)

We think Sara Bareilles is pretty neat. Sure, her favorite word is "love", and she attempts to use it about 45-80 times in each song, which eventually gets old. But she's still a pretty neat act. You might remember her 2007 single "Love Song", which starts with the phrase, "Head underwater, and you tell me to breathe easy for once. Breathing gets harder. Even I know that." What does this have to do with Young Adult literary criticism?

We recently read Alex Flinn's Breathing Underwater. BU tells the story of Nick, a sixteen year old boy whose ex-girlfriend Caitlin places a restraining order on him. At the beginning of the novel, Caitlin tells the judge that places the restraining order that Nick hit her. Nick goes to the stand a vehemently denies this. While he never believes this, he seems to believe that he still deserves to get the girl. The story continues in two paths; one explains what happens after the trial, and one recounts (in the form of a journal) how Nick got where he is in the first place.

The title comes from a discussion in anger management class about being terrifically angry. The class' teacher Mario describes being angry as like breathing underwater. You keep gulping, but you don't get any relief. Being pacifists who are slow to anger, we've never been there, but one might agree with this description.

We didn't dislike BU. We've read worse books. We've mentioned before that authors are taking a risky path when they write using a teen's voice. Flinn does a pretty good job of of emulating Nick's "spoiled kid from Florida/bratty jerk" tone, while displaying some of Nick's motivations too. The thing that kept us from really liking this book is that it's so dark and sad. We have trouble with books where we don't like the main character. Believe us, you won't like the main character. You'll probably hate him.

What we're trying to say is this: if you're okay with reading books about emotionally troubled bratty teens who hit their girlfriends, give this one a look. If you want to see how one attempts to come back from an irreconcilable mistake, read this book. If you're the sort that had (or are having) a troubling childhood and you need to read about someone who's worse off than you, read this book. Otherwise you shouldn't think of this as a must read.

Disreputable Proves Reputable

We thought The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau Banks was a pretty neat book. We've read a few "boarding school" novels in our day (we even made it through Prep), and thought that DH makes it near the top. We know a lot about boarding school in general, as we're constantly threating to send our worst widgets there (the fidgety ones). While this particular story probably hasn't been told before, all of the pieces are relatively formulaic. We have a young, average (read: bland) girl who suddenly explodes onto the social scene as she grows up, a inter-grade relationship, and intrigue in a secret society. Surely all of these things have popped up in books before. The author does in interesting job of telling the story of Frankie's time as a secret-society subverter.

We enjoyed this book because of its fun use of words and language (it gruntled us). We also enjoyed the messages about class and gender. No one respects everyone more than Patricorp, and this book certainly suggest that's a good idea. How about you show us some respect and go pick up Frankie.

The Astonishing Life of Octavian...Nothing?

We've tried to like historical fiction in the past. We really have. Maybe there's something about being forced to read Johnny Tremain and My Brother Sam is Dead when we widgets and ball bearings were just a twinkle in our eyes, but frankly, we're a little burnt out on it. That's why The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing; Volume 1: The Pox Party, or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Exist In A Storyline Concurrent With The Revolution (okay, we added that last part) really didn't do much for us as readers or literary critics.

TALoON;V1:TPP is the story of young Octavian, the son of an African princess, growing up in colonial New England in the so called "College of Lucidity" filled with philosophers and scientists. We will attempt to !SPOIL! as little as possible here, but we must DIVULGE A LITTLE. Octavian grows to learn in his early years that he lives with the philosophers and scientists that they may study him and determine the worth of Africans versus Europeans.NO MORE SPOIL!

This is all well and good. The book's author has an interesting problem, which may indeed lead to a good story. Unfortunately, M.T. Anderson (said author) kills it. In a bad way. We've seen the vernacular used to good affect. While there have been doubts about the vernacular in Huck Finn, most would say it adds to the story. This can not be said for the vernacular in TALoON;V1:TPP. Anderson's attempt at using period dialog and narration. It gets in the way of the story. We got about thirty pages in and had certainly had our fill of thees and thous.

We don't know if we'll give Anderson's next book (which we can only imagine has an even longer acronym) a chance. We'd like to find out what happens in the plot, but we prefer to read a book, not trudge through it.

The Hunger Games Wins

We here at Patricorp have only failed once. As most of you readers are stockholders, friends of the company or otherwise enthusiastic about widgets, ball bearings and/or literary criticism, you will undoubtedly remember the Patricorp Gladiatorial Fiasco of '62. We were a young company, and tried to influence legislation to legalize gladiatorial games. We initially had broad public support until a lesser ball bearing manufacturer (which has now perished to the ages because of its stubborn decision not to diversify to widgets) started a rumor that we only wanted bloodsport legalized to sell more ball bearings. Obviously, the sting of failure is not something that is easily forgotten.

That failure gave us plenty of time to ruminate on the issues inherent in gladiatorial contests. It is with this firm background that we now speak to the literary merit of The Hunger Games.

THG is a futuristic novel that envisions North America after a collapse. A new civilization, Panem, has risen, and the political atmosphere has changed greatly. Every year, 24 children are summoned to the Capitol by means of a lottery (which is set up to unfairly affect the poor). These children are placed in an arena, and must fight to the death. Only one child can be the victor. Young Katniss Everdeen volunteers to take the place of her even younger sister, and joins Peeta Mallark on the journey to the Capitol.

We like to be upfront: THG is a champion of a book. Suzanne Collins was successful in weaving an incredibly compelling story full of conflicted heroes, romance (or not?) and action. The book makes arguments about social class and human nature, but never preaches. Of all of the characters we have encountered since entering this field, Katniss is one of our favorites. She is cunning and resourceful, violent and defiant.

We enjoyed the plot of THG so much that we left the Patricorp Central Headquarters and purchased Catching Fire, the second book in the Hunger Games trilogy. We enjoyed that book just as much (if not more), but that is the subject of another review.

W.D. Myers (Monster)

Patricorp is world-renowned for doing things a little differently. For example, you may not be aware that Patricorp was the first company to put a shine on their ball bearings. So we respect Walter Dean Myers for what he's trying to do in Monster. Sure he's telling a story that's been told before, but he's doing it a little differently. The story of a teenager in trouble with the law is relatively familiar, but we at Patricorp are hard pressed to find an example of the story written as a screenplay by the protagonist before.

Frankly, we thought this was pretty cool. Pretty neat. Worthy of the Patricorp Neat Genre Stamp of Approval.

However, we didn't really enjoy the story. It confused us that the main character was on trial for Murder 1 when all he did was act as a lookout. It confused us that he thought he might be put to death. This all seemed pretty odd, and really got in the way of our enjoying the plot. We've been wrong before though (remember the Rainbow-Colored Widget Debacle of '62?) and maybe this is the case.

We liked that the protagonist was able to tell his own story (and if you think we like it here, wait 'til we revue The Hunger Games). We liked that he expressed emotion, and had trouble doing so. We just weren't crazy about the plot. Sorry WDM, but this is a sticking point for us.

However, we think this book could touch readers with a keener ability to suspend disbelief. Give it a try.

Looking For Alaska

Over here at Patricorp, we know that annual awards are a two-sided proposition. On the one hand, we appreciate the recognition that comes with winning the ACE Hardware "Widget of the Year" award. Customers know that they can trust our widgets to fulfill all of their widget-ing needs. They know our products are of a high quality, and likely to delight. Our customers even gain confidence in our ball bearings. However, they also begin to wonder why such an award (or the 17 other annual awards designed to recognize widget excellence) exists. Many ask if the widget awards could be rolled into a broader category, with awards given to makers for excellence in the widget/ball bearing/gasket/grommet field.

With all of this in mind, we eyed the Michael J. Printz Award indication on Looking For Alaska ambivalently. Sure, it's nice to be an award winner, but what does it all mean? Does it validate the story the book contains? Does it mean that John Green is an excellent writer (and if so, is he as good at writing as we are at producing widgets?)?

Luckily, we progressed past the cover art to the actual book. We took a whirlwind tour through Culver Creek Boarding School, through the before, through the after, and perhaps, into the Great Perhaps. And Holy Widgets, weren't we glad we did. This book, this is why we got into literary criticism. With plot so rich, writing so elegant, and characters so tragically flawed, we felt L4A making its way from our fingertips, through our skin and into our blood stream. L4A isn't a perfect book. None really are. But it was beautiful. We had a hard time admitting the book was over. It ended like it began, with a bit of uncertainty, and a bit of optimism.

For the most part, we loved the characters. We would have like to see more depth from Alaska and Takumi. We would have liked to see more imaginative pranks. We would have liked to see the Weekend Warriors as characters, not caricatures. We'll take what John Green gave us however. It was beautiful.

The Chocolate War

At Patricorp, we know a thing or two about the classics. After all, we've been the world's finest purveyor of widgets and ball bearings since late 1942. (It's amazing what a World War can do for a fledgling widget/ball bearing company [hint: sell to both sides]). That is to say, we at Patricorp understand classics because we are one. We knew that when we diversified to include literary criticism, we'd have to deal with classics relatively often. We already knew that some classics are wonderful pieces of art, like The Great Gatsby, while others serve as a reminder that authors in the middle 19th century apparently didn't have editors (The Scarlet Letter?).

For us, The Chocolate War falls into the second catagory. Sure, it has been praised for three and a half decades as one of the most important works of Young Adult literature, but it just doesn't resonate with us. Here are some reasons 1) the story isunrealistic and inconsequential, B) the author captured life as it existed in the past, but his characters' actions have no bearing on the present, and *) the ending is almost completely devoid of emotion (or, at the very least, stirred no emotion in us).

We understand that good stories don't have to be realistic. If Star Wars was realistic, it'd be about three minutes long. However, TCW tries to be realistic, but fails miserably. The idea that a priest would enlist a bunch of adolescent pseudo-gangsters to sell the chocolates that he overextended himself to buy is laughable. Ha. Jerry Renault's struggle against the universe means so much less when framed inside this plot.

Robert Cormier has been lauded for supposedly describing life as it was for children, but, in our eyes, his attempts at touching on universal truths (and thus making his story timeless) fall flat. Some say that his book is too shocking for print and helpless children's eyes, but we say this is bupkis. Nothing really shocks modern teens, and we at Patricorp have been making widgets and ball bearings for too long to be surprised by anything in a novel.

Finally, we were dismayed by the ending. Actually, we were dismayed that we weren't dismayed by the ending. Or overjoyed. Or anything. We won't give anything away, but the book's resolution was so ridiculous that we had a hard time feeling anything.

We guess the moral of this story is that some classics are good and some are bad. We happened to find this one disagreeable. Better luck next time.

Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You

At Patricorp, we love books. We have to really, since we've diversified from widget and ball bearing production to literary criticism. We love books with happy endings, and books that challenge the reader. We love books that are unique, and we're suckers for books that follow tried and true formulae. We especially love Young Adult literature, because we feel like we're rooting for an underdog, and who doesn't like that?

Our first venture into literary criticism is Peter Cameron's Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You. STPWBUtY is an important work because it doesn't pull punches. It describes the world exactly as a teenager experiences it, and James, the protagonist, follows more closely in Holden Caulfield's footsteps than any character in the last half century. James' angst sears the pages as his family interrogates him about his sexuality and pressures him to conform and behave like a normal teenager. His troubled confusion is tangible as he pursues a coworker covertly.

We at Patricorp have a strict policy of not spoiling the ending of a book. However, it's safe to say that this story, like all real tales of growing up, doesn't get tied up nicely. James moves on with his life. He experiences both triumph and tragedy, but it's fitting, because that's the way the world works.

We think that anyone who even remotely enjoys books, reading, or communicating in general should at least make an attempt to read Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You. It'll teach you about yourself.

Respect

At Patricorp, we respect everything. Literally everything. It's Patricorp company policy. This makes retirement party roasts a bit dull, as we're always complimenting the person moving on to greener pastures.

That's why we're a bit confused at the lack of respect given to Adolescent Literature. It seems no one likes these books. Teens don't want to read them because they're (the books) supposedly not serious enough. Teachers don't want to teach them because they'll get in the way of the classics, and surely you don't want us to live in a world without the classics!? Bookstores don't know what to do with Young Adult titles. Too often, we've noticed, YA books are sold in or near the children's book section, or misrepresented as primarily stories about vampires. Some stores don't even have a book buyer for Young Adult titles.

We've found that the only people giving these titles any love are librarians. It's a good thing too. Because librarians are the sort of people who can get these book into schools and into teen readers' hands. Which is a good thing, because we at Patricorp have found that young readers tend to love books written for them. The characters face the same sorts of issues that the readers do. They can empathize with the protagonists.

So, how about giving some respect to these books? For the most part, they're well written. Many of them are of a higher literary level than some adult books. The genre is exploding. If you haven't picked up a YA book yet, do it. Respect is due.