THE LIST by Siobhan Vivian

Vivian, Siobhan. The List. New York: Push, 2012. ISBN: 978-0545169172. 

On the last Monday in September, the students of Mount Washington High School will see copies of a certain list posted all over the school. It happens every year. It's unavoidable. It's a lottery of the ugliest and prettiest girls in the school, naming one of each category for each grade, 9th through 12th. The list is cruel but official, with a Mount Washington seal imprinted in the corner. Nobody knows who has the seal, or how it is passed down through the generations of list creators. But everybody knows that the notarized list will shape the school year for eight girls.

Siobhan Vivian's young adult novel takes on the volatile world of high school and shows how vicious it can be. The story follows the perspectives of the eight girls who were named on the most recent list, showing how each girl deals with what is either a great boost for popularity (for the prettiest) or a black mark of undesirability (for the ugliest).

Vivian explores the emotional complexities that accompany unrequested notoriety. The winners of Prettiest are flattered, but also cautious, and subconsciously aware that being pretty doesn't really matter all that much. Margot, the senior winner, is unnerved by the knowledge that her sister's "victory" the year before actually caused her to lose friends and retreat from the social strata, and she is also anxious about her unresolved history with her Ugly counterpart. Bridget, the junior prettiest girl, battles with an eating disorder -- one that caused the weight loss that got her recognized. Sophomore prettiest Lauren is new in town, still sheltered after being homeschooled, and she doesn't quite know how to handle the newfound attention she attracts. Finally, Abby, the prettiest freshman girl and a less-than-stellar student, struggles with conflicting feelings of insecurity and superiority, especially since her plain and academically brilliant older sister starts to give her the cold shoulder.

The emotional repercussions for the "ugliest" girls are expectedly severe. The senior, Jennifer, has made the list as ugliest for the fourth year in a row, and she longs to buck expectations as she tries to embrace her "ugliest girl in school" status. Junior Sarah reacts by making herself as ugly as possible, not showering and not changing clothes, to the detriment of her relationship with someone who thinks she's beautiful. Sophomore Candace, pretty and popular on the surface, is alienated by her friends and must address the fact that no one actually likes her as a person. In the freshman class, athletic swimmer Danielle is nicknamed "Dan the Man" and is ostracized by her own boyfriend.

The List alternates between the girls' perspectives chapter-by-chapter, examining their interactions with each other, showing the unexpected alliances that form in the face of rejection, and teasing out the mystery of who writes the list each year.

The characters face their insecurities with varying degrees of success. The "ugly" girls come a longer way than the "pretty" girls in mature self-actualization, but some need more help than others. With its flawed characters, The List demonstrates that beauty isn't a free pass for an easy high school experience, and that what's going on beneath the surface is far more important than appearances.

With so many perspectives to toggle through, it's understandable that not every character's situation is fully explored. That said, I would like to have seen more intricacy in junior Bridget's storyline; her experience with an eating disorder was a little too simplistic. Such a complex, painful affliction is difficult to tackle in spurts like Vivian does throughout The List, and Bridget's internal monologue fell flat for me. Covering a character's internal battle with thoughts of "I'm healthy! Just eat! But I mustn't eat!" just doesn't illuminate the psychologically damaging aspects of that kind of struggle. I applaud Vivian for giving her characters genuine real-life issues and examining how those challenges are colored and complicated by high school peers, but I wanted a little more from this particular storyline.

Overall, The List does an excellent job of illustrating a high school battleground and the relationships therein. Not every character gets a happy ending or has an epiphany, but each girl's experience of growth and self-reflection is drawn in a realistic, thought-provoking way.

Reviewed by Jill Coste

THE GIRL WHO OWNED A CITY by O.T. Nelson

Nelson, O.T. The Girl Who Owned A City. Adapted by Dan Jolley, Illus. Joelle Jones & Jen Manley Lee. Minneapolis, MN: Graphic Universe, 2012. ISBN: 978-0-7613-5634-9. $9.95. Graphic Novel, Ages 11-15.

When a virus strikes and kills all the humans older than twelve, it’s the kids who survive. But without any grownups to tell them what to do, chaos ensues! This classic novel, adapted as a graphic novel, challenges its young characters to recreate an adult world without any guidance.

The novel raises some very interesting social, philosophical, and political issues. The kids make decisions in times of crisis, and the novel shows both the “good paths” and the “bad paths” that young adults choose. As society devolves, Lisa forms a co-op of neighborhood kids (“Glenbard”) who work together to keep one another fed, sheltered, and alive. Logan, on the other hand, forms a gang to bully others into giving them supplies and sustenance. Over time, as “her city” grows and evolves, Lisa feels the heavy burden of responsibility. She says to her younger brother, “Sometimes I feel like the whole place will fall down if I don’t keep track of everything”—a lesson many adults learn for the first time at work, but one that would be familiar to oldest siblings with absent parents, or other similar situations.

Lisa even goes so far as to question whether the struggle is worth it, or if they’d be better off as robots. Her brother says, “Y’know what? If we were robots, we wouldn’t need food…wish I were a robot.” Lisa considers his comment, and responds:

“What fun would it be if we were robots…if everything was automatic and we couldn’t change anything? Just think of a robot, Todd. It can’t feel or choose or gain or lose. It can’t think. It doesn’t even know it exists. Sure, we have a lot of problems right now, but problems are really challenges…and they can make life more exciting if you’re not afraid. I’m proud of how we’re surviving.”

That’s some pretty impressive thought put in the voice of an eleven-year-old character and her younger brother. Not only do characters like this give kids a lot of positive credit (they’re capable of more than we adults usually attribute), it exposes young readers to complex ideas: How do we know we exist? What does it mean to exist in a sensory world? Why do we exist? Does thinking make us exist? Does trial and struggle prove our existence?

The adaptation also has subtle political messages. Todd asks Lisa early in the story why they can’t simply share with their neighbors, and Lisa responds, “If we just gave away the good things we’d worked for…well, what good would it do?” In saying this, Lisa hints at capitalist ideas of working for a reward, for a wage. Later on, she says, “Our freedom is more important than sharing,” again espousing a capitalist model of leadership and governance. But in dealing with the idea of Glenbard being “her city,” Lisa turns slightly more leftist, pondering whether “maybe a city is owned by the people who live there.” Still wanting to hold on to the idea that the co-op she constructed and led belongs to her, however, she asks, “Will it be selfish for Craig to own his farm and his own crops? Why should this [her city] be any different?” Individual property ownership ultimately rules when the occupants of Glenbard cheer for her return and she acknowledges that the fortress is indeed hers: “It’s my city, after all.”

The story leaves readers with a lot to imagine and much to mull over. The graphic novel form revives an older story, making it relevant and accessible for a young audience.

Reviewed by Marisa Behan

I AM DIFFERENT! CAN YOU FIND ME? by Manjula Padmanabhan

Padmanabhan, Manjula. I Am Different! Can You Find Me? Watertown: Charlesbridge, 2011. ISBN: 9781570916403. $7.95

I Am Different! Can You Find Me? is a collaboration with numerous native speakers and language experts covering a breadth of languages from Arabic to Sign Language. Not only is "Can you find me?" written in each language, it is accompanied by a phonetic spelling of the phrase, short facts about the language, and an illustration that has one thing different from everything else. Manjula Padmanabhan has written a book that delights in differences and celebrates the sounds and flavors of different languages and voices.

There were several happy discoveries as I made my way through this book. For example, I was surprised to find out that the Hawaiian language has only twelve letters; at the same time, "'Hiki iā 'oe ke 'ike ia 'u?" was one of the more difficult translations. The musicality of Nhuatl's "Hueli tinechahci?" (Weh-lee tee-netch-ah-see) lingers in my mind. I'll be honest that it was a relief to come across Spanish's "¿Me puedes encontrar?" I'm also glad that there are "cheat sheets" at the end of the book identifying the item that's different in each picture. Overall I did pretty well, but I struggled with the Gullah illustration.

Take your own adventure through I Am Different! Can You Find Me? and find out what language "cheetah," "pajamas," and "shampoo" come from. And I think you'll be surprised to find out where "boondocks," "cooties," and "yo-yo" come from. Finally, give American Sign Language a go and see if you can find more words of your own to sign and say.

Stephanie Ashley

A MILLION SHADES OF GRAY by Cynthia Kadohata

Kadohata, Cynthia. A Million Shades of Gray. New York: Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2010. ISBN: 978-1-4424-2919-2. $6.99 US, $7.99 CAN.

To Y'Tin, elephant handling is more important than school. But his parents believe that he must attend, even though “as an elephant handler, he'd always have work.” His father always likes to consider what's “on the other hand.” At the beginning of the book, this is Y'Tin's most distressing problem; if only things had remained so!

Y'Tin's father runs jungle tracking missions for the American Special Forces stationed in Vietnam. To the Vietnamese in his village, the Americans were helpful, always keeping the North Vietnamese far enough away from the village for them to continue life with some semblance of normalcy. The author paints the Americans in a very positive light: they are polite about their cigarette butts, they treat the Dega people as equals, and they promise to come back if necessary. After a skirmish, an American soldier carries a dead villager on his own back all the way home through the jungle. But what unfolds after the Americans pull out is a different story. Y'Tin thinks to himself at one point, “Life had seemed safer when the Americans had been there.”

The story follows Y'Tin through the changes that occur in the village in the aftermath of what American history calls the Vietnam War (since in truth, the war began before we arrived and continued after we left). The readers get a glimpse into the changes in Vietnamese life, particularly for the Dega mountain people. Some changes are minor (like how the advent of a thermometer changes the villagers’ attitude towards weather), but other changes are tragic (such as the destruction and mass burial of nearly the entire village).

The book deals with mass death, guilt, friendship (and the effect of survival on friendship), and decision-making. None of the prose is graphic, and I doubt that the book would negatively scar anyone, but particularly sensitive 10-11 year old children might not be ready to understand these difficult issues. That being said, it's definitely well-positioned for school use. The end matter includes historical and cultural background information about the Dega people during and after the Vietnam War, a reading group guide, and discussion questions. The story is relevant in today's social studies classrooms, particularly if tied to the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. As a teacher, I'm picturing interesting research projects regarding the question of what happens when an American military presence pulls out of a war-torn region. It would be too “easy” a read for my high schoolers, but I think they'd enjoy it, and with the right set up, I think it could make a great project or discussion starter even at the high school level, and most certainly at the middle school level.

Reviewed by Marisa Behan

SOPHIE'S LOVELY LOCKS by Erica Pelton Villnare

Villnare, Erica Pelton. Sophie’s Lovely Locks. New York: Marshall Cavendish. ISBN # 0761458204. Ages 5 -8.

Sophie is a very pretty little girl with long, flowing blonde hair, the kind of hair that other little girls might envy. (Full disclosure: as a redhead with frizzy-crazy curls, I desperately wanted long, sleek blonde hair as a kid, so I might be projecting a little on what other kids want.) Sophie prances around in sweet illustrations with her hair in different styles, telling us how much she loves her long hair. But pretty soon, Sophie’s hair is causing her trouble – it’s getting snarled and caught in her brush, and she struggles to keep it out of her face. Soon enough, she realizes the best option is to cut her hair.

At first I thought this was going to be a standard book with a simple lesson about not being vain, but it takes a more meaningful turn. After Sophie gets her hair cut, she decides to donate her hair to Locks of Love, an organization that makes wigs for young cancer patients. Sophie muses that “two girls with short hair are better than one with none.” The last page of the book is a listing of resources for hair donations and an explanation of what the organizations do. What started as a book about a girl with pretty hair turned into a guide for giving to others.

I love that this book makes apparent that there is a wonderful thing girls (and women and men) can do with their hair when it’s cut. I didn’t know what Locks of Love was when I was child, and I’m glad a book like this exists to show kids that this option is available. It’s certainly not a deep look into the lives of children afflicted by cancer, but it’s a nice introduction for kids to see that the simple decisions they make – such as cutting their hair – can help others.

Jill Coste