Archive for the 'Reviews' category

Review: Lily, by Patricia Gaffney

Mar 09 2012 Published by under Historical romance, Reviews

Lily is a historical romance originally published in 1996 1991. Open Road Media, which specializes in backlists, has re-released it as an ebook. I received my copy from the publisher via Net Galley way back in December. There are two reasons it took me forever to finish it: (1) the review copy was not well formatted and contained many errors, and (2) I couldn’t get into it. Hopefully the first issue has been fixed for paying readers.

Twenty year old Lily Trahearne is a gently bred young woman under the guardianship of her uncle, Reverend Roger Soames, a fanatical minster who hopes to marry Lily to his own son, for reasons that seem less than pious. Lily, who misses her inventor father, prone to drink though he was, is just marking time until she comes into her small inheritance in one year’s time, preferring a life of “impoverished independence” to one with her weirdo cousin. Lily’s repeated refusals lead to an argument in the sitting room that reveals the Reverend’s penchant for blackmailing and violence side (he frames her for stealing) yet ends with him apparently dead from Lily’s attempts at self-defense. Realizing how it looks, Lily flees Lyme Regis and ends up in Cornwall, working as a maid at Darkstone Manor, ancestral home of Devon Darkwell, Viscount Sandown. Much of the subsequent action plays out against stormy gray seas, ragged cliffs, and misty moors.

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Review: Goliath, by Tom Gauld [graphic novel]

Mar 05 2012 Published by under graphic novel, Reviews

 

Goliath (March 2012, Montreal: Drawn and Quarterly Books) is a graphic novel of the story of David and Goliath, told from Goliath’s point of view. I loved it, and I loved sharing it with my children (ages 10 and 12). You can check out an excerpt here. Here’s the blurb:

A master of striped-down, powerful storytelling reworks the David-and-Goliath myth

Goliath of Gath isn’t much of a fighter. Given half a choice, he would pick admin work over patrolling in a heartbeat, to say nothing of his distaste for engaging in combat. Nonetheless, at the behest of the king, he finds himself issuing a twice-daily challenge to the Israelites: “Choose a man. Let him come to me that we may fight. If he be able to kill me then we shall be your servants. But if I kill him, then you shall be our servants.” Day after day he reluctantly repeats his speech, and the isolation of this duty gives him the chance to banter with his shield-bearer and reflect on the beauty of his surroundings.

This is the story of David and Goliath as seen from Goliath’s side of the Valley of Elah. Quiet moments in Goliath’s life as a soldier are accentuated by Tom Gauld’s drawing style, which contrasts minimalist scenery and near-geometric humans with densely crosshatched detail reminiscent of Edward Gorey. Goliath’s battle is simultaneously tragic and bleakly funny, as bureaucracy pervades even this most mythic of figures. Goliath displays a sensitive wit, a bold line, and a traditional narrative reworked, remade, and revolutionized.

This is a sturdy book, with drawings and type that feel like a bit of a throwback to my untutored eye. Stylistically, especially in the sparse landscapes, I’m reminded of Edward Gorey, whose work I know mostly from watching Mystery! on PBS as a child (click here for a video of the Mystery! intro). Gauld’s work has the same “cross hatch” style, which makes simple drawings seem quite complex. Goliath is done in three colors: black, white, and brown. The landscape, with boulders, hills, and a few scraggly leafless trees, is quite barren.

The focus of Goliath is not on action, and indeed, there is almost no action until the final frames. It’s the character of Goliath, the novelty of getting the giant’s back story, and the questions it raises about point of view and truth, that propel the book. I was very impressed with Gauld’s ability to convey so much story through minimal text and stripped down illustrations.

That said, despite the somber tone, there are moments of wry humor in Goliath, especially in the bureaucratic muddle that is the Philistine army, and in Goliath’s relationship with his shield-bearer, an eager, naive boy whose pointed questions reveal the absurdity of Goliath’s situation. My one criticism of the book would be that on one or two occasions the humor veers into “cutesy” territory.

You have to watch for the small things in Goliath. In the opening pages, Goliath has gone down to the river for a drink. He absentmindedly picks up a rock. He looks at it, and lets it go. The “plop” it makes as it reenters the river is barely noticed by Goliath, but it’s a strong dose of foreshadowing for the reader.

The type reminds me of more upbeat cartoons, like Cathy. The type, and the simple text, are jarring against the force of the powerful, epic narrative most readers will know very well.  In an interview with Comics Reporter, Gauld says he does that deliberately:

I find that when I’m drawing I’m quite happy to come up with larger than life, epic things but when I write things tend to be more down to earth. The contrast between greatness and everyday reality is something which interests me.

But Gauld changes the type when he is quoting scripture:

I use the serif lettering whenever the text is quoted from the bible. It’s intended to be a bit of an ominous reminder of where he’s inevitably headed. When Goliath speaks his declaration for the first time it’s in that style to suggest that it’s not natural to him, that he’s being manipulated into the role by what he’s been forced to read out, as time goes on and he settles into the role he starts just saying it like anything else.

At the end when David appears talking in King James Bible quotes in serif I wanted it to feel like he’s not there just as a person, he’s an unstoppable force of nature, or God. Or as if he’s part of a bigger story which has overpowered Goliath’s story.

This is a bleak book: a lot of waiting, for no apparent reason, then death. I was glad Gauld didn’t pull his punches: David walking off with Goliath’s head is the last image. It’s not gory, but it’s very powerful. Given my line of work, I am drawn to Goliath for obvious reasons. Goliath isn’t too sure what he’s waiting for or why. If you didn’t know the story, nothing in Goliath would clue you in as to why there is a battle in the first place. As Darth Vader would put it, the existential themes are strong in this one.

I also like the questions the book raises about point of view and truth. Goliath sure does look bad from the point of view to which those versed in the Jewish, Muslim, or Christian traditions are accustomed (there’s even a Greek version): a bloodthirty, taunting giant (he calls the Israelites during their time of prayer), with super duper armor and a terrifying bronze spear and sword. Pit him against David, practically a child, with no armor, and a few rocks, and you have the makings of a huge upset victory. As a Jew, I read the story as revealing David’s fitness to be king, and, more generally, as imparting a multitude of other lessons about hubris before God, etc. In our tradition, Goliath, once struck by David’s rock, falls forward on his face, and rabbis throughout the ages have claimed this shows how right David was, that God didn’t even make him walk too far to cut off Goliath’s head. In Gauld’s version, the dead Goliath is on his back. In my reading, this reinforces the theme we shouldn’t be too sure about our own rightness, about our differences from those we deem wrong, or about the “one true version” of any story.

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A soccer mom attempts to read yaoi and fails miserably

Feb 25 2012 Published by under graphic novel, Reviews

I’ve read the teeniest bit of manga, some Monster (reviewed here), and my older son’s Yu-Gi-Ohs and Shonen Jumps. I make the joke about “soccer moms” in the title, because (a) I am one, at least in the sense of being a mom with soccer playing children, and perhaps in more senses than that, if I’m honest with myself, and (b) it’s my understanding that many American fans of manga feel that “soccer mom” prudery is responsible for negative changes in their favorite manga and anime, such as turning someone’s flipping the bird into a fist.

When a friend recommended Thirsty For Love, I bought it from Amazon. It’s what many Americans call yaoi, “female-oriented fictional media that focus on homoerotic or homoromantic male relationships”, and in fact, says “yaoi” right on the cover, although I realize that “yaoi” is not a term everyone likes. According to the wiki entry, yaoi is a derogatory term that stands for “yama nashi, ochi nashi, imi nashi”, or “No climax, no point, no meaning.”

Thirsty For Love is by Yukine Honami and Satosumi Takaguchi, published by Digital Manga Publishing in 2008. Here’s a video trailer.

Let me say, right away, that even my inexperienced pea brain could figure out that the artwork is special. And, importantly, my confusion reflects my own inadequacies. I don’t for a minute think it is a problem with the book itself. However, I’d like to read more of these, I’m hopeful (but not optimistic) that my literacy may improve, and I wanted to record for posterity just how ignorant I currently am.

Adults, read on (some images below are 18+ and NSFW):

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Review: Sun Storm, by Åsa Larsson

Feb 24 2012 Published by under Crime fiction, Reviews

Sun Storm, first published in 2003, is Swedish crime fiction writer Åsa Larsson’s debut novel. My edition is the Delta trade paperback, translated by Marlaine Delargy, and published in 2007. I first heard of Larsson from Keishon of Avid Mystery Reader (her review here). I hadn’t read crime fiction in years, and wanted to try something, but NOT that other Swedish crime writer everybody in the world has read. Sun Storm fit the bill perfectly.

Here’s the blurb:

On the floor of a church in northern Sweden, the body of a man lies mutilated and defiled–and in the night sky, the aurora borealis dances as the snow begins to fall….So begins Åsa Larsson’s spellbinding thriller, winner of Sweden’s Best First Crime Novel Award and an international literary sensation.

Rebecka Martinsson is heading home to Kiruna, the town she’d left in disgrace years before. A Stockholm attorney, Rebecka has a good reason to return: her friend Sanna, whose brother has been horrifically murdered in the revivalist church his charisma helped create. Beautiful and fragile, Sanna needs someone like Rebecka to remove the shadow of guilt that is engulfing her, to forestall an ambitious prosecutor and a dogged policewoman. But to help her friend, and to find the real killer of a man she once adored and is now not sure she ever knew, Rebecka must relive the darkness she left behind in Kiruna, delve into a sordid conspiracy of deceit, and confront a killer whose motives are dark, wrenching, and impossible to guess….

Sun Storm is the first book in a trilogy centered around Rebecka, a tax attorney. Rebecka is a terrific heroine. A successful tax attorney in Stockholm, she’s tough, prickly, no nonsense, and smart as hell. But as she is drawn back to Kiruna, a tiny town in northern Sweden, her complicated, tragic past, and her vulnerabilities come to light. Kiruna in the dead of winter is a fantastic setting. It’s rural and mountainous, with only 18,000 residents, and is 145 kilometers north of the Arctic circle, with loads of snow and little light. “Sun storms” are what folks in the US would call the Northern Lights.

Sun Storm opens with Viktor Strandgard dying for the second time, on the floor of a church, The Source of All Our Strength. It’s very gripping. He is looking up, through the glass roof of the church:

You can’t get any closer than this, he thinks. When you come to the church on the mountain at the end of the world, the sky will be so close that you can reach out and touch it.

The Aurora Borealis twists and turns like a dragon in the night sky. Stars and planets are compelled to give way under her, this great miracle of shimmering light, as she makes her unhurried was across the vault of heaven.

When Viktor’s sister, Sanna, who is under suspicion for the murder, calls Rebecka home, she goes, reluctantly. She says:

I’m not the same person I used to be, Sanna. I’ve become nastier and more impatient since then. I have no intention of sitting by you, stroking your hair and asking you what’s wrong. You can get up right now and get some clothes on. Otherwise, I shall take your daughters straight to Social Services and tell them that you’re unable to look after them at present. Then I’ll get the next plane back to Stockholm.

Slowly, the story of how Rebecka changed comes to light as the novel progresses. It involves the Church, its cultish ways, its secrets, and, ultimately, the murder. Rebecka, who is not in law enforcement, is driven as much by her own demons as the need to protect Sanna and her children.

I loved Rebecka. Sanna was a fascinating character — the woman who exaggerates feminine stereotypes to get by in life. And the third most interesting character was the very pregnant and supposed-to-be-on-desk-duty Anna-Maria Mella. Anna-Maria is intelligent and dogged, thoughtful and patient, and she has an ingenious variety of strategies for getting what she wants. The way Anna-Maria handles her male colleagues, and one annoying and grandstanding Assistant Chief Prosecutor, Carl von Post, was a thrill to read. Rebecka and Ann-Maria relate as mutually respectful antagonists, two different types of strong women, and their scenes together were also terrific.

The great strengths of Sun Storm were its setting and characters, both of which fascinated me. The snow and the sky are practically main characters. There is even a slight hint of a romance for Rebecka, which the romance reader in me enjoyed very much.

Sun Storm does contain some graphic violence, but not to any extreme. One of the violent scenes involves an animal, which was very difficult for me to read. I am no expert in the genre, but I would say that the procedural part was perhaps no as prominent as some might like, and the conclusion, while thrilling, felt abrupt.

One of the reasons I have shied away from crime fiction is my sense that it’s all about lovingly depicted scenes of the stalking and mutilation of women, and the solving of crimes by tough masculine PIs. Sun Storm shattered all my preconceptions and made me want to read more by this author and more this genre.

Sun Storm has already been made into a film in Sweden.

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Sex With Siblings, Strangers, and Sea Life: The Limits of Sexual Fantasy

Feb 18 2012 Published by under Reviews

Adults only, read on:

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Giveaway: The Hunger Games and Philosophy

Feb 17 2012 Published by under Academia, Hunger Games Trilogy, nonfiction

The Hunger Games and Philosophy is out this month. Contributors to the And Philosophy series (this is about the twenty-ninth volume) write accessible essays introducing basic philosophical concepts via popular culture.

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Review: Fall in Love Like a Romance Writer, by Amelia Grey

Feb 13 2012 Published by under nonfiction, Reviews

Fall in Love Like a Romance Writer was published in February 2011 by HCI, the publisher best known for the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. HCI has experimented with blurring the line between fiction and reality in its True Vows series, in which romance writers write biographies of real life ordinary couples. Only five True Vows were published, the last one a year ago, suggesting that the market for those books is nonexistent. I picked this one up because I was reviewing another, similar book, and I wanted to get a sense of what this mini-genre, the “romance self-help book” was like. Since it’s Valentie’s Day tomorrow, here’s a review.

Amelia Grey is a pseudonym for Gloria Dale Skinner.* It looks like her historical romances were published under the Skinner name throughout the 90s, and under the Grey name, by Sourcebooks Casablanca, in more recent times. I have not read any of her books. She asks in the intro, “What could be more fascinating, and more inspiring than to read about the true romances of some of America’s most beloved romance authors?”And she gathers over sixty romance writers to share their own love stories. The essays range from two pages to about seven, so they are short.

Alongside authors I’ve read such as Mary Balogh, Mary Jo Putney, Eloisa James, Rachel Gibson, Elizabeth Hoyt, Stephanie Bond, there are a whole bunch of authors I’ve never heard of. There are late career authors like Bertrice Small and Linda Lael Miller, and newer ones, like Nicola Cornick.  Hanging around on the internet, it can sometimes feel like a very small circle of authors dominates discussion (Nora Roberts, Loretta Chase, Jennifer Crusie, etc.) so I was delighted Grey included so many authors. That said, there are no black romance authors, not one, in this collection. Jade Lee is the only nonwhite contributor. That is inexcusable. The author group is also heavily skewed towards writers of historical and contemporary: no PNR, erotic, or m/m authors appear (as far as I could tell). And, perhaps needless to say, not one of these stories is written from the point of view of a gay writer.

The title identifies Fall in Love Like a Romance Writer as an advice book, and it is indeed organized around seven “Secret Keys”, such as “Trust and Respect”, and “Humor.” Those make sense as ingredients in a lasting relationship. I’m not sure, however, how a reader is supposed to run with “Secret Key #2 : Moonstruck”, or “Secret Key #3:  Inspiration”, getting moonstruck or being inspired not being things one actually does. Title and editorial organization aside, this really doesn’t read as a self-help book, and it worked better for me to ignore the advice and just enjoy the essays as abbreviated romantic biographies.

Some essays are very funny. Putney’s essay begins:

How can a couple keep things romantic? Well, a near death experience can help.

And this from Robyn Carr:

I do remember starting one Christmas letter with, “The children are trying to kill us. . . .” And there was this time a neighbor gave me a jar of chlorine “shock” for the pool and I lifted the lid and gave it a sniff—after which I keeled over and my husband had to call Poison Control to find out if I was going to expire. He kneeled over me and said that my nose and throat would be very sore for a hours, but I wasn’t in danger of dying. And he added, “But, you did kill a lot of perfectly good brain cells and will be dumb as a stump for a couple of weeks.”

One of the funniest essays was by Teresa Medeiros. In the early days, her boyfriend Mike gifted her with a short story. She writes:

Naturally, I did the only thing a woman could do under these touching circumstances—I took the story home and revised it.

I appreciated the authors’ modesty about their own expertise. They recognize the difference between fiction and reality, and generally resist being cast as sages. As Victoria Alexander wrote,

Because I write romance, I’m often asked for my advice about love and marriage. As a writer, I’m not sure my advice is valid. After all, I write fiction. I make it all up. But ask for advice based on my real-life relationship of more than thirty years and I can go on for hours.

And Amanda McCabe:

But when people ask me how to keep romance alive in real life—that’s not quite as clear and easy! I guess if I knew that answer, I could write self-help books as well as novels. . . .

Jo Ann Ferguson:

Across the crowded basement room with its beer-sticky floor, my gaze focused on a guy behind the bar. I always grin when I get to this part because if I put it in a novel, my editor would make me rewrite it. Yet as I looked across that crowded room, I knew he was the man I would marry.

Jane Porter’s funny account of falling in love with a surfer she interviewed for a book aside, this book is more about how a good relationship can contribute to writing good romance novels (really, success in one’s career), than the reverse. As Laura Lee Guhrke notes, in a theme many authors take up,

When you write romance, you have to put in the grand, sweeping gestures and the passionate declarations, but in real life, true love sneaks up on you, catches you when you’re not looking, and teaches you things you didn’t even know you needed to learn.

Eloisa James’s concluding comment encapsulates this view:

I’m tremendously lucky, and I like to make sure that my heroines are just as lucky as I am!

While Fall In Love Like a Romance Writer is inherently a celebration of the genre, it is not a defense of it, and there is a big difference. None of the essays insists on romance exceptionalism, the notion that writing or reading this particular kind of fiction makes someone uniquely good, extra happy, or specially knowledgeable about human relationships. I didn’t feel hammered over the head with life lessons, and Grey wisely allowed the writers to speak for themselves, appearing herself only at the beginning and end. The essays read more like invitations to think about love and romance.

There were also some genuinely moving essays. Although the essays are on the whole very positive, there is a whole segment on “Second Chances”, an open acknowledgement that through divorce or death, relationships — even good ones –  end. Barbara Samuels’ account of finding love after her nineteen year marriage ended centers around a frigid, rainy foot race up Pikes Peak in Colorado. It was a standout. Some writers talk about the death of their children, or the joys and strains of having children with severe disabilities. From Pamela Morsi’s essay:

He had a wonderful deep voice, a very dry wit, and a deep love of his family, his friends, his fellow man. When he died after a long and exhausting illness, I felt both cheated out of our future together and grateful for the years we had.

Morsi’s essay, “Lightning Strikes Twice”, is about second chances. But Deb Stover’s is not a second chance story: it focuses very sweetly and sadly on the husband she loved and lost to cancer. Ditto for Cathy Maxwell.

This is from one of my favorite essays, “I Want Him”, by Kasey Michaels:

Do I believe in happy endings? No, I don’t.

You marry with stars in your eyes, we all do. Sometimes we’re lucky, sometimes we’re not. You have to bury your premature son. You pace the floor during your husband’s emergency surgery because his aorta is about to burst. You deal with cancer. You juggle kids, and aging parents, and bills—because this is real life. We all live it.

One nice thing about this collection is that many of the contributors are older. They’ve been married twenty, thirty, forty years. Perhaps it’s the wisdom that comes with age, but they are also willing to admit that sometimes they themselves have caused the bad things in their lives, through impulsivity, selfishness, or plain meanness. This is also a G rated book. Although many contributors refer to their mates as “sexy”, and mention the importance of sexual compatibility, there are no sex tips here. Bertrice Small’s comment that “We all want love. Love as opposed to just sex.” is typical. If you are a reader who wants folks to open the bedroom door, this is not the book for you.

Those looking for diverse lifestyles will not find them in this book. Almost all of the relationships in the book are very conventional heterosexual marriages. Susan Andersen writes…

[our] lifestyle that might not appeal to everyone, but it works for us. And that’s probably the secret to most workable marriages: they don’t have to be what anyone else considers viable.

I wish this had been taken more to heart by the editor of this book.

I’ve mentioned the essays I liked, but many seemed very carelessly thrown together. One would think that authors writing in their own voices would sound unique, but there was a numbing sameness to many of the essays, proving the point that fiction writers do not necessarily make great nonfiction writers. Often they read like a newspaper article on a relationship, nothing magical, just a recitation of facts. I imagined several of them had backburnered this for other kinds of writing and threw it together at the last minute. I think there were at least a dozen accounts of blind dates (blind dates must have been a lot more common back in the day), and in general there was a lot of repetition, making many of the essays just blend together. I had to put it down and read it over several weeks in order not to feel like I was reading the same essay over and over. Jill Marie Landis’ concluding lines are representative:

He’s such a head over heels romantic and so in love with me that he’s loved me through thin and thick. The feeling is mutual.

As are Kat Martin’s:

My husband and I have been married twenty-five years. We are still in love. But marriage is work. Keeping that in mind is another secret of a lasting relationship.

It’s not that I disagree with Landis or Martin; it’s just that this kind of truism, stated this way, is not interesting to read if it’s not wrapped in an interesting narrative. In short, this collection is a real mix of good and bad, as are most such collections.

I’ll leave you with this from Cathy Maxwell:

Sometimes souls collide; sometimes they willingly slip together; sometimes they linger only for a moment before moving on to love again. I may not understand how love is mastered, but I do know it is worth the risk.

 

 

*In the process of putting this review together, I noticed the book had only one positive review, from RD (Read Daily). It turns out that RD has pretty much only reviewed Amelia Grey’s books. In one case, a five star review for 2009′s A Duke to Die For, RD takes it upon herself to chastise the other, less stellar reviews. One reviewer observes, “Has anyone read the 5-star review on this book from RD/Read Daily? I’m pretty sure it’s the author herself and I just about peed myself laughing at the defensiveness… “. I have no idea what to make of that, but I know many readers care a lot about these things, so I leave it to you.

 

 

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Review: Forever, by Judy Blume

Feb 09 2012 Published by under Reviews

I recently re-read a childhood favorite, A Wrinkle In Time, and didn’t feel it aged well at all. So, on a whim, I decided to re-read another favorite, this time from my middle school years, Judy Blume’s Forever. **Spoilers ahead.**

As Blume says,

This book was first published in 1975. My daughter Randy asked for a story about two nice kids who have sex without either of them having to die. She had read several novels about teenagers in love. If they had sex the girl was always punished—an unplanned pregnancy, a hasty trip to a relative in another state, a grisly abortion (illegal in the U.S. until the 1970′s), sometimes even death. Lies. Secrets. At least one life ruined. Girls in these books had no sexual feelings and boys had no feelings other than sexual. Neither took responsibility for their actions. I wanted to present another kind of story—one in which two seniors in high school fall in love, decide together to have sex, and act responsibly.

This was the cover I had:

That’s Katherine Danziger, a New Jersey suburb high school senior. Look at that blond hair! That pert nose! And that locket? That’s from her boyfriend Michael, a high school senior in the next town. In the book, the necklace was a silver disk that was engraved with “Katherine” on the front, and “Michael …  Forever” on the back. *swoon*

Here’s the first page or so:

Sybil Davison has a genius I.Q. and has been laid by at least six different guys. She told me herself, the last time she was visiting her cousin, Erica, who is my good friend. Erica says this is because of Sybil’s fat problem and her need to feel loved — the getting laid part, that is. The genius I.Q. is just luck or genes or something. I’m not sure that either explanation is 100 percent right but generally Erica is very good at analyzing people.

I don’t know Sybil that well since she lives in Summit and we live in Westfield. Erica and I decided to go to her Ne w Year’s party at the last minute for two reasons — one, because that’s when she invited us, and, two, we had noth¬ing better to do.

It turned out to be a fondue party. There were maybe twenty of us sitting on the floor around a low table in Sybil’s family room. On the table were a couple of big pots of steaming liquid Swiss cheese and baskets of bread chunks. Each of us had a long two-pronged fork, to spear the bread, then dip it into the cheese. It tasted pretty good. I had gotten about two bites when this guy said, “You’ve got some on your chin.”

He was on Erica’s other side, sort of leaning across her. “You want me to wipe it off?” He held out his napkin.

I couldn’t tell if he was putting me on or what. So I told him, “I can wipe my own chin,” and I tried to swallow the bread that was still in my mouth.

“I’m Michael Wagner,” he said.

“So?” I answered, as Erica shot me a look.

She introduced herself to Michael, then tapped me on the head and said, “This idiot is my friend, Katherine. Don’t mind her . . . she’s a little strange.”

“I noticed,” Michael said. He wore glasses, had a lot of reddish-blond hair and a small mole on his left cheek. For some crazy reason I thought about touching it.

Forever, which deals frankly sexual intercourse, birth control, pregnancy, and STDs, was met with controversy when it was published, and continues to face censorship threats (as recently as 2010 in Florida). It is a relatively short, simple story, with a tight focus on Kath and Michael’s romance, beginning New Year’s Eve their senior year of high school, and ending that summer. Forever is written in the first person, from Kath’s point of view. Back then, she functioned, for me (like her, a white heterosexual suburban girl), as a bit of a placeholder. Rereading it, I can see that Kath is sensible, cautious, caring, and average in intelligence and ability. She’s a tennis player, a modern dancer, and a candy striper. Rereading it, a line stood out that I had not remembered. When Michael’s father asks her what she wants to do, she answers:

“I want to be happy,” I told him. “And make other people happy too.”

Kath has a loving, intact nuclear family: mom is a children’s librarian, dad is a pharmacist, and little sis Jamie is an artistic prodigy. Her grandmother and grandfather are lawyers, but “Grandma is too busy with politics and Planned Parenthood and NOW to see many clients.” When Michael first meets her family, they are hooking a rug together. The walls are painted white (this was unusual in the US in the 70s, when wallpaper was the thing), and Jamie’s art hangs everywhere.

I read Forever in seventh grade, when I was struggling with my own family issues. I envied, really envied with a force I could practically taste, Kath and her perfect family. On a reread, I thought the Danzigers might come off as too perfect, and I guess to some they will. But I think the close relationship worked for the story. The tension when Katherine disagreed with her parents over her relationship with Michael was real, and I loved it that it was hearing her mother making love that led Kath to expect and work for her own sexual pleasure:

and I moved with him, again and again and again—and at last, I came. I came right before Michael and as I did I made noises, just like my mother. Michael did too.

It’s true that there are many references in Forever that date it. I’ve already mentioned hooking rugs. On their first date, Katherine dresses carefully, 1970s style:

Jamie had embroidered my jeans with tiny mushrooms and I’d bought a light blue sweater to go with them.

Michael and Katherine are “going together”, not “dating.” They “make out.” They play “records” at a “fondue party.” The big fear is pregnancy, not so much STDs, and instead of “STD” or “STI”, we have “the clap.” No HIV, of course. The funniest bit is that Mr. Danziger has to restrict the girls to 15 minutes each on the phone, to give everybody a turn! I doubt teens today can fathom having to wait for someone to get off the phone.

One very depressing element of reading Forever is the sense you get reading it that the characters believe that battles over abortion, birth control and the sexual double standard have been won. Kath and her friend speak bluntly and unselfconsciously of getting an abortion if they need one, and there is no sense of shame, worry about parental consent laws, discussion of how to find clinics, or concerns about get around clinic protesters. When Katherine needs birth control, a Planned Parenthood is easy to find. When one of their friends becomes pregnant and decides to continue with the pregnancy, it’s about “wanting to have the experience”, not an objection to abortion. As Kath says,

In the old days girls were divided into two groups—those who did and those who didn’t. My mother told me that. Nice girls didn’t, naturally. They were the ones boys wanted to marry. I’m glad those days are over but I still get angry when older people assume that everyone in my generation screws around.

One thing that everyone remembers about Forever is that Michael calls his penis “Ralph.” From a 2005 interview:

But for those of us who grew up with it, its significance can perhaps best be measured by one odd and lasting side-effect of its popularity: the consigning of the name Ralph – which is what Michael memorably decides to name his penis – to the dustbin of history. “I’ve heard from several young men who say: ‘Judy, how could you do this to me?’” Blume admits. “I apologise to all of them. It’s nothing personal.”

Honestly, it is silly, but Kath and Michael know it’s silly. And, as a romance reader, I have seen much, much worse when it comes to the personification of a penis. Michael is more insistent and motivated to have sex than Kath, but it comes off as less of a gender thing than a reflection of their different personalities. Michael is a little wilder, a little more experienced, an occasional pot smoker with a messy room. Katherine is the classic older child –  organized, responsible, thoughtful — but her sexual desire is just as strong.

The sex itself is not particularly titillating. Michael has age-appropriate trouble with patience, and there’s a lot of fumbling for both of them. It’s a fairly conservative book in that sex is viewed by pretty much everyone as something to do with someone you care about, never just for pleasure.

The portrayal of their relationship is absolutely sweet, genuine, and heartbreaking, from the moment Michael wipes the fondue off Kath’s chin at the New Years party, to their angry breakup in a motel that summer.  It took me right back to that blind intensity of first love. It’s a spare book in many ways –  mostly dialogue, action statements, and stylistically it sometimes reads almost like a newspaper article — but Blume manages to work in some, erm, motifs that work really well to add emotional resonance. The title “Forever” is put to wonderful use. Kath notices a question on a pamphlet, “Have you thought about how this relationship will end?” that comes back to haunt her. And, reading it as an adult, I noticed the way death – the death of Kath’s grandparents — serves as a counterpoint to any dreams of “forever” for mere mortals.

There is also a friend of Michael’s, Artie, who suffers from depression and attempts suicide. I had completely forgotten about Artie. While his plight adds some tragic depth to the story, his character is not really fleshed out. There are no non-white, non-middle class, or non-heterosexual characters, and although most of the characters are Jewish, this is never mentioned explicitly in the text. Sybil’s “fat problem” is pretty callously described a few times in the text, another reminder of how things have changed. I would not expect that with a YA novel today (but could be way off base on that). It’s interesting that when this was published there was no YA category. I wonder where it got shelved? Next to Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret?

Katherine, Michael and pretty much everyone in the novel is a model of good behavior. Even the guy Katherine meets (a senior at Northwestern with a mustache!!) at summer camp refuses to kiss her until she breaks it off with Michael. And there’s a good amount of sex ed in the book. So, yes, there is more than a bit of the After School Special here. I could see that annoying some readers, but I honestly felt it worked with the story. Then again, I re-read this book with a lot of nostalgia, so you may not be able to trust anything I write here.

Rereading Forever was a fantastic treat. Unfortunately, there is no digital version of this book. I found my old copy, with sexy pages folded over, in with my junior high yearbooks. Lots of wear and mildew. But what a great evening resulted from that dusty sojourn.

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