A Review of Cardboard by Doug TenNapel

This graphic novel is an unabashedly boy book full of adventures, inventions, monsters, and chase scenes—with a bunch of pop psychology mixed in. Also a plot thread about our hero’s dad, who is still grieving over his lost wife. Cam’s dad is out of work, and Cam has to put up with the jerk next door, a rich kid named Marcus who can best be described as drugs, grease, and goth. When Marcus is not sneering, he’s bullying, either that or hanging out with his sidekick and a pet rat.

It’s Cam’s birthday, and his dad buys him a cardboard box from a creepy guy at a roadside toy booth who is obviously one of those magical types whose gifts are bound to backfire. “Wait, there are rules!” the guy tells Cam’s dad, to which savvy readers will instantly respond, “They’re going to break the rules!” Cam and his dad make a goofy-cool boxer that comes to life. Then Cam breaks the rules, Marcus gets involved, and pretty soon a lot of cardboard chaos has broken loose.

I could have done without the whole plot-as-psychological analysis and redemption with regards to Marcus. And possibly without the additional resurrection (or something) of Cal’s dad. This all leaves Cal as kind of a secondary character in his own story. However, I’ll admit there’s more to life than cardboard symbolism, and we do get a lot of great action here. The relationship between Cal and his dad is nice, too.

As for the artwork, TenNapel knows his stuff. He keeps the action going with strong ink lines—lots of slashing diagonals and forward motion. His palette tends to be a bit dark, with blacks, browns, olives, rusts, and grays set of by touches of brighter colors. TenNapel not only shines when it comes to large-scale action, but his way with posture and facial expressions make his characters’ personalities strong. Cam’s dad is a wonderful sad sack, while Marcus is kind of hideous outside as well as in—you can’t turn your eyes away! Cardboard is really the story of Marcus, this pathological liar that only a rat could love. (And the rat bites him.)

Still, even though TenNapel may get carried away with the symbolism, his book is so brash and over-the-top that he pretty much pulls it off. I’m guessing the 10-year-old boy you hand this one to will completely miss the psychology and just enjoy the action-packed storytelling. 

A Review of Little White Duck: A Childhood in China by Na Liu and Andrés Vera Martínez

What this graphic novel points out with classy in-your-face power is that we really don’t know what it’s like to grow up in China. Or rather, in the China of the late 1970s. Little White Duck succeeds on so many levels I’m not sure where to begin. We watch a little girl named Da Qin learning and growing just by seeing the moments of her life. We understand more about what it means to be part of a great country where people don’t walk around saying, “Oh dear, we’re communists!” No, this is their life, their worries, their pride. We experience all of this through focused language and rich, strong artwork in a book that reminds me, subtly, of Sandra Cisneros’s A House on Mango Street.

I remember when North Korea’s leader died year before last, we here in America were inclined to believe that the crowd’s tears were fake. Maybe some of them were—but maybe not. In Little White Duck, Da Qin wants to know why her parents are so sad, why her mother is weeping. “Grandfather has died,” they tell her, and they mean Chairman Mao.

Aside from showing us life in China, the book gives marvelous little life lessons through Da Qin’s experiences—such as when she insists on wearing her best coat to visit the village of her father’s mother. She is baffled and upset by how mean her grandmother is, and by the way the children in this impoverished place treat her. But she is also changed somehow.

There’s humor, too. For example, at one point Da Qin and her sister don’t want to eat their vegetables, and their mom gives them a hair-raising version of our culture’s “But there are children starving in Africa” speech. Then there’s the rat-catching incident…

To revisit the artwork, Booklist says it “evokes both traditional Chinese scrolls and midcentury propaganda posters.” We are even given a spread of such posters, with translations provided at the end of the book. The colors, the lines, the style all combine to make this book as art, worthy of a coffee table or a better still a gallery exhibit.

Little White Duck is an amazing book, truly. My only question is whether it’s really for kids. Well, I would read it with the 10-and-ups. And I would read it with high school students. It’s a good accompaniment to a study of world history and of other cultures. Or US history and the Cold War. It could prompt conversation as a set of moral tales, or it could prompt writing about what our experiences teach us.

Whether you’re 10 or 40, this book from husband-and-wife team Martínez and Liu is a work to enjoy and ponder. Or, as Aristotle would no doubt put it, Little White Duck both delights and teaches.

A Review of Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time: The Graphic Novel, adapted and illustrated by Hope Larson

I am always puzzled by people who dislike even a well-done adaptation of a book to film on the grounds that it doesn’t contain every bit of the book. A book and a film are two different formats, with a film clearly being a tighter format than a book. While I realize a graphic novel is a book in one’s hands, it is nevertheless limited in much the same way a film is by its visual elements and its very immediacy. (Ironically, the current move towards present-tense narratives in YA and even middle grade fiction can be seen as an effort to capture the immediacy of film.)

A graphic novel, even if it is an adaptation, must be understood as a compact narrative. I was wondering how well this famous, beloved book would translate to the graphic novel format… Of course, it depends on who is doing the translating. Hope Larson does a very, very good job.

I’m thinking of a contrast that highlights Larson’s effectiveness. Take the graphic novel of Twilight. Although I liked it on some levels, the choice to go with a manga style gives us really sweet-looking characters. I think it would have been more effective with a grittier style.

And there’s a certain sweetness to Hope Larson’s artwork for A Wrinkle in Time. Charles Wallace would be pretty darling if he weren’t scary smart. I wasn’t sure what to think of him in this book. You may not even realize you have a picture of what Meg looks like, or Calvin, or the three “witches,” until you see how Larson has envisioned them. For example, in Larson’s book, Calvin has a crooked nose. I checked in the original, and he doesn’t, not that the author indicates, anyway. So the nose threw me off a little, though I think the adapter-illustrator wanted to make Calvin more accessible, especially to Meg.

There’s a lot of handholding going on, with a light suggestion of romantic interest between Meg and Calvin. Actually, Larson makes the hand holding into a theme for Meg, and it does pop up on occasion in the original book. For example, when Meg goes back to save Charles Wallace, Mrs. Who says, “I ccannnott hholldd yyourr hanndd, chilldd.” And Charles Wallace is holding Meg’s hand tightly when they land in the broccoli patch after their escape. L’Engle is certainly wise enough to imply that Meg must grow up and act for herself, without having her hand held at the most terrifying moment of all. And Meg's love for Charles Wallace saves him, so that handholding makes sense. I do feel that Larson did more with the idea than L’Engle—see for yourself how you think it works.

 

Now, one challenge of illustrating the story is that IT was always going to be more scary in the reader’s imagination than in an illustration—in fact, reading about IT without giggling is sometimes hard to do. It’s easy to make SNL-type jokes about a giant blob of brain sitting on a platform. But the story sweeps us along, and the brain isn’t that bad. In fact, Larson handles the problem by outright acknowledging the absurdity. On page 286, she sets up the coming visual of IT with a series of shots of Meg’s little crew reacting, looking a tad like McCauley Culkin in that famous Home Alone pose. Oh, the horror! Then on page 287 we get, “—a brain.” And Larson throws in some sound effects coupled with visual effects, all in voice bubbles: “Quiver.” “Glorp.” “Gurgle.” “Squish.” “Ooooooze.” After which we move immediately to Charles Wallace succumbing still more to IT, his eyeballs starting to twirl on page 288.

Any fan of the original Wrinkle in Time may have the movie adaptation reaction I mentioned above. But flex your thinking a little, and I suspect you’ll find that Hope Larson’s graphic novel does justice to L’Engle’s wonderful book.

A Review of Giants Beware! by Jorge Aguirre and Rafael Rosado

Medieval kid Claudette is just a tad bloodthirsty, so it's no surprise she ends up going on a quest to kill a giant in this graphic novel. Of course, she gets the idea when an old man tells the village children the terrible story of "The Baby-Feet-Eating Giant." Claudette is incensed by the story's ending—or lack thereof:

Pascal: Pierre XXXII and his men valiantly chased the giant...
all the way up the tallest mountain in the territory. And he never bothered our village ever again.

Claudette: AND THEN WHAT?
Well?
So, how did the marquis kill the giant?

Gaston (Claudette's little brother): I don't want to know.

Claudette: Burnt him at the stake?

Pascal: No.

Claudette: Stabbed through the heart?

Pascal: No.

Claudette: Choked him?

Pascal: No.

Claudette: Poisoned?

Pascal: No.

Claudette: Oh, wait, I got it...
THEY TOLD THE EVIL GIANT A POINTLESS STORY, AND HE DIED OF BOREDOM!

Pascal: ...

Claudette: Is that it?!
Aw, get to the bloody part, already!

Naturally, Claudette concludes that since the "irresponsible" long-ago marquis never killed the giant, the evil creature is still up on the mountain, needing to be killed. By her. Of course, she takes two buddies along: her fearful little brother, who wants to be a chef and a master sword maker, and her friend Marie, the current marquis' daughter who wants to be a princess. (We also learn that Claudette's blacksmith father is missing both legs and one arm because he used to be a monster slayer and eventually lost.)

Often, in such stories, the hero or heroine is a valiant teen, but a lot of the humor here stems from Claudette being seven or eight years old, nine or ten at the most. I'm going with seven or eight because of her simplistic, determined world view. This means Claudette doesn't reason very far ahead. It also might explain why Gaston brings pots and pans on the trek, but no actual food. And why, as they tromp through the village to set out on their quest, all of the adults who hear where they're going think it's just a cute game the kids are playing. These three really are babes in the woods. Make that the Forest of Death, which is one of their first stops.

In true quest fashion, the three heroes have three encounters with monsters or other threats along the way. Then their fellowship is splintered by Claudette's hubris (and some lies she told, inspired by the current marquis' philosophy) before they truly join forces and achieve their goal. Or rather, arrive at their goal and reassess the situation. Meanwhile, Claudette's blacksmith father and his mysterious companion are hot on their heels, as is a less capable group of villagers who are being paid for their efforts.

Illustrator Rafael Rosado gives us a relatively bright palette dominated by Claudette's carrot-top. He outlines characters and key setting components with strong, contoured ink lines. I got a kick out of noticing that Claudette's outfit resembles Robin Hood's at first glance, but also evokes the Girl Scouts. Rosado is a dab hand with action scenes, especially in the forest and at a river that must be crossed.

The real strength of the storytelling lies more in the characters than in the plot. Claudette is ox-like in her determination, as much foolhardy as courageous. Her pride and eagerness as she wields her wooden sword are so very young that they are cute rather than irritating. Gaston starts out seeming like a stereotype—the sweet boy whose ultra-tough father doesn't understand his interest in creating fine cuisine. But Gaston really does long to make swords as well as pastries, and his knowledge of food has surprising benefits. As for Marie, at first she is just every other girl who wants to be a princess. But humor adds to the effect. Her efforts to test the pea-under-the-mattress premise are very funny, for example. And ultimately, we discover that Marie is a lot smarter than previously suspected. Each of the quest companions winds up solving one of the problems they encounter in a great display of teamwork.

I was a little less sold on the secrets of the giant, but still had a lot of fun following the twists and turns of the plot.

There is a certain nuance to another aspect of the story, which is that the villagers have been cowering inside the high walls the long-ago marquis built for at least a couple of hundred years. Led by the three children to venture out of their fortified village, the villagers learn that they can overcome their fears. The world broadens, and not just for Claudette and her friends.

A combination of adventure, humor, and heart, Giants Beware! is the perfect graphic novel for readers ages 6 through 10. And really, we have television to thank for this and many of the other graphic novels hitting the children's book market: the writer and illustrator come from the animation and children's TV industry.

A Review of Explorer: The Mystery Boxes, edited by Kazu Kibuishi

You may have heard the name Kazu Kibuishi before. Kibuishi is the creator of the Amulet series. (See my review of Book 1 here.) Now Kibuishi has put together an intriguing graphic anthology. Apparently he asked each graphic artist to start with the idea of a mysterious box and go from there. Here's a look at what they came up with:


"Under the Floorboards" by Emily Carroll

A girl finds a little wax doll in a box under the floorboards. At first the doll helps her with her chores, but then it starts causing trouble for her—and growing bigger. How will she stop the doll before it ruins and maybe even takes over her life?


"Spring Cleaning" by Dave Roman and Raina Telgemeier

When Oliver's dad tells him to clean out his closet, he finds an odd puzzle box that he tries to sell online. Instantly wizards start showing up at the house, trying to buy the box. He runs to his friend's house, where further online research shows the probable origin of the box. Now they just have to figure out what to do with it.


"The Keeper's Treasure" by Jason Caffoe

A young treasure seeker braves dangers to find a secret maze and the monstrous man who guards it. But is he really our hero? The keeper of the treasure seems to value imagination over the gleam of gold. The treasure seeker leaves, satisfied, but none the wiser, while readers might find some real wisdom in the treasure keeper's approach to life.


"The Butter Thief" by Rad Sechrist

A young Japanese girl's grandmother captures the little spirit who's been stealing butter from the family kitchen in a box and buries it out in the backyard. The girl goes out that night to dig up the box and see what's inside, but the angry spirit turns her into a being as small as he is. Only the promise of more butter from the kitchen might entice him to turn her back...


"The Soldier's Daughter" by Stuart Livingston

When Clara and her brother get the awful letter telling them their soldier father has been killed in the war, Clara is determined to kill her father's killer in revenge. Her brother questions her choice, so she calls him a coward. But instead of revenge, Clara finds a mysterious man with an even more mysterious box—and one more chance to talk to her father.


"Whatzit" by Johane Matte

Deet's grandpa is going to give him a special job in his intergalactic factory, checking off inventory before the product ships. But some of the more senior employees aren't too thrilled about Deet's promotion, and Deet finds an odd box that's not on his list. When he opens it, the creatures inside escape in a Pandora's pandemonium of knocking over still more boxes. Wait till you find out what the product is, let alone how Deet manages to solve his problem.


"The Escape Option" by Kazu Kibuishi

Kibuishi concludes the collection with a short fable about a boy who is offered the chance to escape the destruction of Earth. Only the destruction isn't a question of alien attack, it's a matter of environmental disaster. James makes an unpredictable choice, which is just as well. Turns out the alien who found him wasn't telling him everything he knows.


Half the fun of reading this book is seeing the styles of the different illustrators. We get more realistic approaches like Caffoe's and Kibuishi's, along with more cartoonish work from artists such as Matte and Roman and Telgemeier. Since all of the other illustrators use ink outlines, it's nice to see what Sechrist does without them. Matte's work has a bright, Loony Tunes vibe, while Carroll's and Caffoe's are hauntingly atmospheric. All of the artists are highly accomplished, and a look at the thumbnail bios on the last page explains why. It looks like most of them work together in animation at places like Dreamworks, and I'm sure you've heard of Raina Telgemeier's award-winning graphic novel, Smile.

In terms of storytelling, Caffoe's, Livingston's, and Kibuishi's segments are the most didactic, but the stories are still worth reading and hold together well—especially Caffoe's with its delicate humor. You'll have seen the basic plot of "Under the Floorboards" before, but Carroll's artwork and the final solution are satisfyingly fresh. For fun and entertainment, nothing beats the plot and dialogue of "Spring Cleaning," though "Whatzit" comes close. And "The Butter Thief" offers us a nice new take on both the character of the pesky house elf and what happens when a child magically shrinks.

This book could obviously be used as a set of story prompts for students to write and illustrate their own tales about a magic box. The very different takes on the premise in Explorer will show students that they, too, can come up with an all-new approach to the magic box story. The book could also be used to discuss concepts like tone and theme, which are sometimes difficult for students to grasp.

But you don't have to be a teacher to appreciate the artistry of Explorer: The Mystery Boxes. Just a fan of good graphic art and storytelling.

Note: Illustration above left is from "The Keeper's Treasure" by Jason Caffoe.

A Review of The War at Ellsmere by Faith Erin Hicks

I liked Friends with Boys so much that I looked online to see what else the author of that graphic novel had done. Zombies Calling is funny, but it seems to be aimed at the college crowd. The War at Ellsmere is more clearly a story for tweens and maybe teens, featuring one of those boarding school battles between the scholarship girl and the rich mean girl.

Hicks does interesting things with this much-used premise. Juniper is the new student, while Cassie is her roommate and wanna-be friend. Juniper accidentally snubs sweet, naive Cassie during their first encounter, but ends up coming to her rescue when she is insulted by mean girl Emily while waiting for assembly to begin. Emily responds with a typical put-down. Watch how Juniper handles the situation:

Emily: Hey, look, it's Bishop's latest scholarship project. Did you have a comment, project, or just a chunk of McDonald's stuck in your throat?

Juniper: McDonald's. No, really... that's great.

I mean, you totally got me there. I'm the charity case.

By all means, continue to make fun of my thrift store clothes, my ten dollar haircut, my single working mom... Wow, it's like all of my deep, unconscious fears are begin laid bare before me—

And y'know, I'm with you. Poor people suck, and I sure do wish I had your spending ability. But you know what I'm glad I don't have?

Emily: Um... no. what?

Whereupon Juniper nails Emily for her probably crappy parents and her insecurities. Emily leaves the assembly in a huff—and the war is on.

At first, Juniper wins, mostly because Emily doesn't know her weakness, which has to do with her dead father. When Juniper does finally snap, she is put on probation. Emily even suggests it, but only because she is planning something much worse for Juniper, something that will destroy her entire future.

I will just mention that I found it very satisfying that Juniper and Cassie laugh at most of Emily's insults. This is just part of the storytelling, but it makes a good model for so many kids who take hurtful remarks to heart. The power of Juniper and Cassie's friendship is another strength of the book.

Now, you may not be thinking that The War at Ellsmere is a fantasy, but it is. Cassie tells Juniper stories about the mythical creatures who live in the woods, and Juniper is startled to find out that the stories may be true. What exactly happened to Lord Ellsmere's sons when the school was still an aristocrat's estate? Trust me when I say that no one has ever before used unicorns the way Hicks does in this book. Good will triumph in the end, and Juniper will learn that while being smart isn't always quite enough to defeat someone like Emily, she can still hold her own with the help of Cassie and of the universe.

Like Friends with Boys, The War at Ellsmere is well illustrated, but just as important (or more so), it is well thought out. The dialogue is especially sharp, and I'm very fond of Hicks' humor. I'll leave you with just one more example:

Cassie: You were talking to yourself.

Juniper: Noooo. I was narrating. There's a difference.

Note: I'm not sure what grade these girls are in—maybe middle school? Booklist says it's for grades 5-8.

A Review of Friends with Boys by Faith Erin Hicks

I'm surely not the only one who will immediately compare this graphic novel from Canadian author Hicks to Anya's Ghost by Vera Brosgol. After all, it has a similar visual style with its stark black-and-white illustrations, it's about a high school girl trying to get along socially, and it features a ghost. Which makes it sound, in thumbnail form, derivative, until you read the book and find out that it really, truly is not. Friends with Boys is a wonderful book in its own right.

Maggie is starting high school, which would be scary enough, except that she has also been homeschooled her entire life—and the mother who taught her has abandoned the family. Maggie would like to think her three older brothers could give her some support, but her oldest brother Daniel is busy with his many friends and theater, while her twin brothers Zander and Lloyd are locked in an epic battle of their own.

At her new school, Maggie does make two friends, peppy Lucy and her moody brother Alastair. But she wonders what's going on between Alastair and hotshot soccer captain Matt. Then there's Maggie's shortcut through the cemetery on her way home, which brings her into contact with a sad-looking nineteenth century woman ghost. Eventually she learns who the silent ghost is and why she is sad, but what does it have to do with Maggie, who feels like the ghost is following her around?

This book is made up of small incidents, like the fact that Maggie's father finally cuts his longish hair short and how that bothers Maggie. But the incidents add up to matter, just the way they do in real life.

Hicks's characters are so angular that they sometimes look older than they are, especially the boys with their strong noses and jaws. But I soon got used to her style. And Hicks is a dab hand at dialogue, not to mention humor. The high school play Daniel stars in is about zombies, for example. Here are a few lines that come up after the play:

"You were great in the play. I completely believed you were horribly killed by zombies."

"Thanks. It's a gift."

I like the way Maggie's brother Daniel is popular, but with a different group of kids than most books show, and he is a little chunky. There is a bullying theme here, but it's not handled in the usual way. Hicks manages to create a minor mystery out of that subplot, and we find that boys have their struggles and secrets, just as girls do.

I should mention that this story is not about high school romance, though there's just a hint of it in spots. Being friends with boys seems to have as much to do with Maggie's brothers as with people like Alastair. I found this rather welcome! Maggie has enough on her plate without a gigantic romance, too.

Besides the challenges of being the new girl and bullying, two themes at the heart of the book are sibling loyalties—especially when they are tested—and the pain of a family whose mother has left them. This is all handled subtly, building beautifully to a quiet but satisfying conclusion. Hicks is not into easy answers, but the answers she does give are real and possible and right.

Scoot Anya's Ghost over on your book shelf and make room for Friends with Boys!

Also: See Page by Paige by Laura Lee Gulledge, another graphic novel about a shy high school girl who's new in town and finding her place in the world.

Note: I will be at a history education conference in Kansas City next weekend, so I won't be posting. But then I'll come roaring back with my annual Pistachio Awards the weekend of March 31.

A Review of Pandemonium by Chris Wooding and Cassandra Diaz

My favorite thing about the relatively recent incursion of the graphic novel into children's literature is that for some reason the quality has been very high—as compared to, say, movies. With the exception of Pixar, most movie studios make a lot of bombs. But look at the current crop of graphic novels for kids, and you'll find a lot more success stories than failures. (My theory is that they're so much trouble to make that no one dreams of signing off on them unless they're really terrific, but I'm open to suggestions.) At any rate, Pandemonium is another winner.

Wooding (author) and Diaz (illustrator) launch right into fantasy tropes with a game of Skullball, which seems to be a dark parody of Quidditch. Our hero is Seifer Tombchewer, a dark-haired boy with wings. Actually, everyone in his kingdom seems to have wings.

At first the name "Tombchewer" sounds like a hokey attempt at a fantasy moniker, but then we learn that Seifer's grandpa "hasn't been quite right ever since he ate something poisonous that fell asleep in his porridge." The man literally gnaws on gravestones. He also regularly hunts his cat, knife and fork in hand, hoping to eat it, too. (There's another great cat joke later in the book.)

Seifer lives up in the mountains, at least until he's kidnapped and ordered to impersonate a missing prince. Seifer gets it all wrong, but he gets it right in unexpected ways. He makes a couple of friends and a couple of enemies. He survives various attempts on his life and muddles around trying to help his kingdom.

As you can tell by the bit about Seifer's grandpa, Wooding has a great time with all of this, throwing in satirical touches and funny dialogue even as he tells a somewhat classic dark fantasy tale. For example, when Seifer comes to after being kidnapped and knocked out, he cries out to Queen Euthanasia Pandemonium:

My queen. What would you have of me? How... How did I get here? [new bubble] And why does my body ache as if I've been expertly and viciously coshed by midgets?

Which, of course, he has. Wooding gives us a nice array of characters, from the cynical Prime Minister (Master Lumbago) to the little trio of red-cloaked, masochistic thuglets known as the Velvet Spies. We also come across a number of suitably horrid villains, as well a couple of princess sisters and a clever, dynamic kinda-girlfriend for Seifer, now known as Prince Talon.

Seifer-Talon apparently has a fiancée, too, though she doesn't show up for the time being. It's said of the beautiful Lady Asphyxia's mother, Baroness Crustacea Effluvia, "that one of her marathon nagging sessions drove her last husband to snort a bag of scorpions."

I hope you're getting the picture—Wooding spices his story with a lot of excellent tongue-in-cheek humor. Just one more example. When Seifer asks what happens if he doesn't agree to pretend to be the prince, the next page shows him dangling over a pit of fanged monsters, saying, "Alright! Alright! You could have just told me about the psycho carnage beasts." This is funny enough in and of itself, but then a few pages later, we glimpse the psycho carnage beasts filing their long, sharp nails as one says, "You didn't think it was a little too much? The whole 'RAAARGH' thing?" The other replies, "Oh, no. I think you got it just right." Thing #1 says, "Are you sure? Because I really wasn't feeling it tonight."

Heh heh.

Meanwhile, people are trying to kill Seifer-Talon, and he's trying to figure out how not to be killed, along with who exactly to trust. One issue is that the missing prince is a real jerk, while Seifer's a pretty nice guy. A drawback—but also a surprising source of strength. I like that Seifer knows enough to be scared when he gets tossed into an arena with a powerful opponent: "Oh, crud. I'm gonna die," he says. Nice real guy there!

Cassandra Diaz's artwork is dynamic, with a definite anime influence. Keep in mind that Seifer's kingdom is always in darkness, so backdrops vary from gray to black, with touches of blue and especially red or orange to add contrast. The whole effect is very striking.

If you're a fan of graphic novels, dark fantasy, and adventures, track down Pandemonium. It'll be worth it for the humor alone.

Note for Worried Parents: There's some violence here, though it's a bit cartoonish. Pandemonium does have a tween, if not teen, feel. For one thing, Seifer has to be at least 15 or 16. Amazon says the book is for 8 and up, but I would say 10 and up unless your 8-year-old is into anime, kill-the-orc-type video games, and/or dark fantasy.

Also: You can visit the author's website here.

A Review of Page by Paige by Laura Lee Gulledge

The July/August Horn Book Magazine features the ALA awards winners and their acceptance speeches. I was especially touched by Caldecott winner Erin E. Stead's speech and her husband Philip C. Stead's article about his wife. It turns out Erin is painfully shy and has experienced periods of extreme self-doubt about her abilities as an artist. As Erin put it in her speech:

Philip always knew I should make books. I did not. I thought I was too serious, my pictures too tiny and quiet to hold their own on a bookshelf. This was a career I deeply admired and respected but felt I did not deserve. And maybe couldn't handle.

I was reminded just a little of Erin E. Stead when I read Laura Lee Gulledge's graphic novel, Page by Paige. Actually, it's closer to being a graphic journal than a novel, and I definitely don't mean that in a Diary of a Wimpy Kid way.

Introspective teen Paige has just moved to New York City from Virginia, and she is struggling to adjust. She is also struggling with her desire to define herself as an artist. This book is a record of her journey. (All done in black and white, by the way.)

What's really nice is the way Gulledge has Paige mix visual metaphors into her storytelling. For example, when Paige says, "I've been giving myself a lot of pep talks in my head lately," we see in the next drawing that the sign over the high school entrance says "BE AN EXTROVERT" instead of the school's name. On the next page, as Paige goes up the hall, she sees a hand-lettered sign on the wall reading, "Psst, Paige, You Belong Here." Below, as Paige writes, "I tell myself that everyone else feels alone, too," we find a drawing of a lake with dozens of teens paddling around in very small boats, each isolated though surrounded by others. These images ebb and flow nicely as Paige goes about finding her way in a new place.

The detailed depiction of Paige's worries and self-analysis might strike more confident readers as self-absorption, but I'm guessing many teens (and adults!) will relate to her self-consciousness. Paige's conflicts with her well-meaning but intrusive parents are another plot thread that will feel familiar to a lot of young readers. This relationship is not unrealistically one-note, though: At one point Paige shares a joke and a hug with her dad, and her parents are fairly sympathetic characters as they try to understand how their daughter is doing.

Happily, Paige falls in with a great little group of new friends who not only help her to feel less isolated, but who support her blossoming as an artist. With Jules, Longo, and Gabe cheering her on, Paige starts up an art blog and even designs some guerrilla street art projects. For example, at one point she and her friends leave a bunch of plastic Easter eggs around town, each filled with a message or a small token like a Hershey's Kiss or a feather.

Paige's friends are appealing individuals in their own right: Jules, the lesbian singer whose lyrics combine things like vampires and robots; her brother Longo, a goofball and, like Paige, a closet artist; and Gabe, a quiet boy and a writer.

This is not a rowdy book, but the low-key humor adds dimension. For example, as the four compare backgrounds and we find out with Paige that Gabe is Japanese-American and Jules and Longo are Italian-Latino, our English-Scottish-Irish-German-Swiss girl remarks, "Wow, you guys are so exotic! Me, I'm just like if all the pale countries got together and had a big orgy."*

Paige continues to struggle with self-doubt in the face of setbacks, but mostly she quietly grows more confident both as an artist and as a person. Her budding romance with Gabe is especially lovely: their kindness to each other is what you really want to see in a teen relationship, or in any relationship, really. Paige's joy in her new boyfriend and in their tentative kisses is, of course, depicted in part by more symbolic drawings.

Paige also works things out—to a reasonable extent—with her parents. This book is basically a coming-of-age story, as Paige goes from a place of fear to a place of becoming her promised self. Each section of Paige's sketchbook begins with a "rule" Paige assigns herself as she tries to be more adventurous, more confident, and more open about her artwork. For example, Rule #3 is "Shhh... quiet... listen to what's going on in your head." Here's a complete list of Paige's art/life rules all in one spot.

I would especially recommend Page by Paige for shy, thoughtful, and creative teens.

Note for Worried Parents: This is a Young Adult book. I don't think younger children would be particularly interested in the quiet angst of a girl artist. There is some kissing between Paige and her very nice boyfriend. The orgy joke above is about as off-color as it gets.*

Check out Laura Lee's blog, which should give you a hint that the book is fairly autobiographical, at least when it comes to art, self-doubt, and depression. Gulledge is also involved in doing some very cool community art. We've got a "motion comic" book trailer for Page by Paige, body painting (PG-13), new drawings, and live mural painting—and that's just mid-July through mid-August! That's more of a blog for grown-ups, though, actually; another one is aimed strictly at teens and other people interested in this YA graphic novel (and future projects for YA readers).

A Review of Squish by Jennifer L. Holm and Matthew Holm

I am a big fan of this duo's Babymouse books, which are a great pick for reluctant girl readers and girls in general ages 8-11. So I've been looking forward to the launch of their new Super Amoeba graphic novel series. Of course, how in the heck do you turn a one-celled organism into an appealing hero? The dynamic Holm siblings show us how it's done: give your amoeba a great name and pop a baseball hat on him. (At first glance, the hat logo appears to be a simple smiley face; a closer look shows the hat's expression changing depending on the action—a nice little in-joke.)

Of course, every aspiring superhero and plain old kid needs sidekicks: Squish's best friend is a "guy" named Pod. When science genius and major lunch money mooch Pod says, "The fate of the world rests on my shoulders," Squish points out, "You don't have shoulders." Helpful arrows go on to add that Pod has no ears, no nose, no butt, and no shame, as well.

Squish's other (sort of) sidekick is a "girl" named Peggy, she of the eyelashes and overly optimistic smile. Peggy thinks everything is cute and nice and sweet, up to and including the school bully who threatens in all seriousness to devour her. Typical Peggy talk: "Guess what??!!?? ...I got a new slime mold!!! The cutest ever!!! I named him Fluffy!!! You guys want to see him after school??!?!"

There's a sort of mind-bending meld of everyday kid and microscopic pond life here. This occasionally strains credibility, but then, I'm pretty sure you won't care because the whole thing is clever and fun. So Squish eats Twinkies and goes to school, but his principal is a flatworm named Mr. Planaria and his science teacher is Mr. Rotifer, while the mean kids in the detention room include E. coli and parasites.

You may recall that in the Babymouse books, the narrator chimes in on a regular basis, alternately addressing readers and the main character, while Babymouse sometimes talks back to him. Here the narrator is also pretty participatory and even metacognitive (or metacommentative!). For example, when Mr. Rotifer says, "Now we're going to discuss the plant. This is the stem, these are the roots, this is the blah-blah-blah," the narrator's arrow-boxed remark is "What's with the blah-blah-blah?"

Adding further dimension to the storyline, Squish is a big fan of a comic book superhero named Super Amoeba, and we are given excerpts from the comics he reads (sometimes classically concealing them inside of his schoolbooks).

Matthew Holm's artwork is cheerful and clean. As in the Babymouse books, the strong black lines are highlighted with a single color. For Babymouse, it's pink (well, orange on Halloween). Squish's highlight color is pond-scum green, appropriately enough.

The plot is not particularly complex, but then, this book mostly introduces the characters and sets us up for further adventures. The story does include a nice twist. And the Holms throw in quite a lot of science info along the way.

Some second graders will need an explanation of the setting and the single-celled nature of the characters, but otherwise, this series promises to be a nice option for fans of Jarrett Krosoczka's Lunch Lady books. I will just note that it reads a tad younger than the Babymouse series, at least in this first outing. In fact, Super Amoeba feels a bit bland in comparison to Babymouse, but I'm curious to see how the series builds in future books.

Watch the book trailer for Squish here. I will also point out that Jennifer L. Holm has won three Newbery honor awards for her historical fiction. Wow!

A Review of The Accidental Genius of Weasel High by Rick Detorie

Larkin Pace wants to be a filmmaker. He also kind of assumes he's the boyfriend of his buddy Brooke, at least until she says those fatal words, "And how about you, Larkin? Have you found a girlfriend yet?"

These words reverberate through Larkin's brain, especially as he observes Brooke getting cozy with the school bully, Dalton Cooke, who spends a certain amount of his free time picking on Larkin.

And that's only one of Larkin's problems. There's the fact that he's on the short side. There's his evil older sister, whom he's dubbed The Beast. There's his friend, Freddie, who barely talks (except to say "Mahz well," which translates as "Might as well"). And there's crotchety Mrs. Grobnik, his new after-school boss—thanks to his mother, who has assigned him to work as the old lady's assistant.

I should point out that this book is illustrated, with a very Diary of a Wimpy Kid feel to it. Only it's not an imitator. Instead, the book's marketing campaign hews to truth in advertising with its slogan, "A book for the wimpy kid who has grown into a wimpy teen." I assure you, Larkin is not Greg Heffley. But he is an excellent if slightly nebbishy teen, and the people that surround him are a colorful cast in their own right.

For example, meet The Beast, AKA Kelly:

Then in stomped Kelly, who plopped her backpack on the chair by the door. Mom was right behind her.

"Kelly, have you had breakfast yet?"

"Yes, Mother. I had ibuprofen."

[Illustration with voice bubble: Kelly is making a bracey face and shaking her fists, eyes shut, as Larkin and his mother look on.] "It's the only thing I can manage because these braces are KILLING ME!"

Kelly was sporting her new look this morning. Lately she's been wearing a plastic thing under her hair that makes it look like there's a little speed bump on top of her head. I think she ordered it from an infomercial.

Which also gives you a glimpse of Larkin's slightly wry voice, one of the charms of this book.

Each section has a header, e.g., "Ten Things I Hate about Being 14," which includes items such as "Even girls are taller than me," "My mom has to drive me everywhere," and oh yes, after the fifth item: "I can't think of five more right now. I'll have to finish the list later." Ha. A few more memorable headers are "Miss Sadie, the Love Doctor," "She Who Must Get Her Way," and "Why Weasel's Library Lady Hates Me." And that's not counting the episode in which Larkin and Freddie sleep over at Freddie's cousin Jason's house in hopes of filming the ghost of a dead cat. Or the one where raccoons invade Kelly's bedroom late at night and Larkin scares them off using an "American Girly" doll.

And you know what? Old lady "Miss Sadie" isn't half bad, especially after she and Larkin get to talking about old movies.

Then there's the way Freddie never actually calls Larkin by name...

Rick Detorie's new book is more subtle than Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and Larkin is much more likable than Greg (who is funny partly because he has no idea how selfish he is). Larkin's big break doesn't turn out so great and neither does his love life, but the book still ends on a hopeful note. For 11- to 15-year-old boys—and girls—I happily recommend The Accidental Genius of Weasel High.

P.S. You may know Detorie best thanks to his comic strip, One Big Happy, about a six-year-old girl named Ruthie and her family.

Note for Worried Parents: I'd call this a PG. It's for and about teens, but at the younger end of the spectrum, say middle school and early high school. Larkin is interested in girls and makes reference to a hickey at one point, but he never even gets a girl to go out with him except as friends (the topic of a running joke). Pretty mild stuff.

Graphic Novel Sampler

A lot of people are talking about how successful YA is right now and how picture books are on the downturn, but they're mostly referring to marketing and sales numbers—quantity, not quality. Despite some very cool individual titles, YA seems a little bogged down in cookie-cutter paranormal romances (sweeping generalization, I know!). The genre that is taking off and producing some really amazing stuff is the graphic novel, a variation on the comic book which tends to get attention for its reluctant reader appeal, but which should rather be fully appreciated as a burgeoning art/literature form comparable to the picture book. Not every attempt has worked, but I feel like a lot of the risk-taking in children's literature, creatively speaking, is happening in the graphic novel genre at this point in time.

I've read half a dozen graphic novels over the past month, many of them discovered thanks to other bloggers in Kidlitosphere. Of course, there were other standouts earlier in 2010, such as Jane Yolen and Mike Cavallero's Foiled or Shannon Hale and Nathan Hale's follow-up to Rapunzel's Revenge, Calamity Jack. Not to mention certain novels which were reimagined in GN form, e.g., Twilight. Here's a look at the graphic novels I've read lately.

Vögelein: Clockwork Faerie by Jane Irwin with Jeff Berndt

Steampunk meets the fey in this black-and-white graphic graphic novel about a small clockwork faerie whose protector dies, leaving her to wonder who will wind her up each day so that she won't die herself. But there's more to her quest than merely living or dying; she is a repository of memories going back more than a century, nearly to her invention by a German clockmaker. Flitting around a huge, dark city (New York?), Vögelein meets a homeless man and a potential human guardian who must prove his worth, as well as a real fairy who has become corrupted both by his long exposure to urban humans and by his hatred of them. We also get to hear a little of the clockwork faerie's history, including her travels with a gypsy and how she came to be more than just a wind-up toy. I thought the artwork could have included more setting details in spots, but the storytelling is intriguing. I also liked the poetry selections and quotes used at the beginning of each chapter. Clockwork Faerie will appeal to teen bibliophiles with an interest in fantasy and steampunk. The book is listed for 10 and up, but has an adult fiction sensibility that might make it best suited to older teens. Look for info about the sequel, Old Ghosts, at Jane Irwin's website.


The Clockwork Girl by Sean O'Reilly and Kevin Hanna

More clockwork! This book has pretty art, but the storytelling's awfully predictable. Start with two mad scientists—one into machines and one into organic monster building (reminiscent of Scott Westerfeld's Clankers and Darwinists). Wilhelm the Tinkerer has built a lovely little clockwork girl who eventually adopts the name Tesla, while Dendrus the Grafter has patched together a monster boy named Huxley (AKA Wolf-boy). The two scientists show off their work at a science competition (picture a science fair for grown-ups), where they exchange insults. From there we get a bit of a Romeo and Juliet feel as Tesla and Huxley make friends behind their creators'/fathers' backs. Turns out Wilhelm and Dendrus used to be best friends, and who better than their creations/kids to help them make up? A nice, full-color book for middle grades, but not outstanding. The story lacks heft and feels like a TV episode. Here's The Clockwork Girl website if you'd like to take a look.


Lunch Lady and the Bake Sale Bandit by Jarrett J. Krosoczka

The fifth book in Krosoczka's yellow-and-black series about a lunch lady who's secretly a superhero, aided by her own "Q" (Betty) and a trio of kids called the Breakfast Bunch. In this installment, someone steals the bake sale goodies which are intended to be sold to fund a field trip to a museum. (The field trip will be the topic of the next book.) The Lunch Lady books are aimed squarely at the second grade crowd and are consistently fun and funny. I especially like the use of kitchen implements and cafeteria food as weapons and spy devices. And if Krosoczka's books are kind of lightweight, well, they don't pretend to be anything else. Have your reluctant boy reader go through this very friendly series, after which he can move on to things like Ursula Vernon's Dragonbreath books and Dav Pilkey's Captain Underpants series. The series has girl appeal, as well, with its female superhero! Link through to Jarrett Krosoczka's website here.


The Odyssey by Gareth Hinds (and Homer!)

Graphic novel adaptations of great literature tend to feel like thinly veiled attempts to get reluctant readers to tackle Shakespeare and his buddies for instructional purposes, but this one soars past all that and stands on its own merits as a beautifully gruesome piece of epic storytelling. It's a fairly mature work, and not just because it makes you watch things like Cyclops and Scylla devouring humans or shows you just what a bloodbath Odysseus's homecoming really was. There's also a little sex, though mostly not shown in the act so much as before or after (with naked breasts, for those of you who dislike seeing that). No, it's just that the language is kind of dense from a kid standpoint and the story has what we call mature themes. Yet this is a very reader-friendly version of Homer's epic poem, all things considered, and just flat-out beautifully done. The pacing is perfect and the artwork is, too, page after page after page of gorgeous. I especially like how Hinds presents the gods and depicts the sea. Next I'm looking for his graphic novel version of Beowulf. Take a look at Gareth Hinds's website here.


Ghostopolis by Doug TenNapel

Oh my, another chthonic tale! Garth Hale is a kid with a terminal illness, but he's not in hospice yet and certainly not ready to cross over. Except that a jaded ghost hunter named Frank Gallows accidentally sends Garth to the underworld while trying to capture a runaway ghost horse. Garth makes friends with the skeletal horse and meets up with his very own grandpa, while Frank gets fired and launches a secret rescue mission with the help of his ghostly ex-girlfriend, Claire Voyant. Then there's an official rescue mission, not to mention the fact that the other side has been taken over by a sneery guy named Vaugner. I love how TenNapel divides the afterlife into districts ruled by beings such as the Bone King, the Mummy Pharaoh, the Will-O'-the-Wisp Queen, and the Specter King from the South. I also like his humor and his vivid visual storytelling. Don't miss the cameo appearance by Benedict Arnold, for example. Oh, yes, and the fight scenes, complete with superpowers and characters turning into buildings. This is a marvelous graphic novel, and I hope there's a sequel. Ghostopolis is listed as YA or grades 7 and up, but I think a lot of 4th through 6th graders would like it, too. Check out TenNapel's website here. Also, it looks like they're going to make this one into a movie starring Hugh Jackman, presumably as Frank Gallows. (For more stories of the afterlife, though not graphic novels, try Neal Shusterman's Skinjacker Triology, Jodi Lynn Anderson's May Bird and the Ever After and sequels, and Elsewhere by Gabrielle Zevin.)


Hereville: How Mirka Got Her Sword by Barry Deutsch

This graphic novel has gotten a lot of attention, and with good reason. It's set in a rural orthodox Jewish community—the time frame is unclear, but I guess that doesn't matter much. (One reviewer said it's contemporary, but it could just as easily be set in the early 1900s.) Originally a web comic with the provocative slogan, "Yet Another Troll-Fighting 11-Year-Old Orthodox Jewish Girl," Deustch's story is about Mirka, who lives with a slew of irritating siblings and a stepmother who's both irritating and wise and caring. Mirka really, really longs for adventure, and she gets her wish when she makes enemies with an angry talking pig, meets a witch, and then battles a troll in the apparently enchanted forest. Watch for the ways Mirka's culture is interwoven with the plot. Especially keep an eye out for knitting, not to mention Mirka's logic, which she apparently learned at her stepmother's knee. Aside from his obvious creativity, Deutsch's biggest success is the character of Mirka, who is very real and likable. Now, your average kid may not reach for Hereville, and I do think young readers would benefit from a little intro about Orthodox Judaism before launching into this book, but then they'll discover a great read. See the Hereville website for additional info.


Bonus Book: Not for kids, though! I also recommend the two volumes of James Turner's Rex Libris: I, Librarian and Book of Monsters. Very funny in a dry, off-the-wall way. Adventures of a square-jawed world-saving librarian with a noir sensibility. I suppose these are actually comic book compilations, though the lines between comic books and graphic novels are getting a little blurry these days. It becomes a technical matter of first being published in shorter installments. But then, that's how Charles Dickins worked, too!

Note for Worried Parents: As mentioned above, The Odyssey has gory violence and some references to sex.

Update (1-15-11): See also this 2011 Great Graphic Novels for Teens list from YALSA, which I found thanks to a post at Kids Lit.

A Review of Foiled by Jane Yolen, illustrated by Mike Cavallaro

Jane Yolen is known for her amazing career in children's literature, which spans genres as well as decades and will hit the 300-book mark this fall. She's published poetry, short stories, picture books, easy readers, middle grade fiction, and YA novels, including fantasy, science fiction, humor, historical fiction, and a marvelous folklore anthology you should look for at your local library or bookstore (Favorite Folktales from Around the World).

So why not a graphic novel?

Never one to rest on her laurels, Yolen has expanded her already-expansive repertoire with the recent publication of Foiled, a graphic novel illustrated by Mike Cavallaro. Foiled is the story of Aliera Carstairs, a girl who doesn't fit into any particular group, not even the kids in her fencing studio. She's so much better than the others, it sets her apart. Besides, she seems to thrive on being apart—even when she questions it.

Graphic novels lend themselves to third person, but Yolen's book is written in the first person, which I liked. Aliera introduces herself as our narrator, explaining on page two:

The story I have to tell you is not about Avery, it's about me, and fencing, and what I learned while masked.
It's about defense and defenders.
It's about power, and I don't mean electricity.
It's about family.
Most grown-ups will tell you things are revealed when you take off a mask.
But they're wrong, as they often are.
Everything was revealed when I put my fencing mask on in Grand Central Station.
Everything.

In these chapters, satisfyingly titled with fencing moves, Aliera shows us her isolation, then proceeds to develop a crush on a strange new boy, her lab partner. Amazed by her own giddiness, she tries to retain her dignity around the flirtatious and slightly odd Avery, but doesn't always succeed.

Aliera is also given a new foil, one her mother bought at a junk sale. She believes the huge jewel on the handle is paste and tries to remove it, but it won't come off. Then comes the Saturday when Aliera cancels her usual visit with her cousin Caroline, who is chronically ill, to meet Avery at Grand Central Station for a date.

There she puts on her fencing mask—and sees another world, one filled with fairy tale creatures who are beautiful, ugly, odd, and menacing. Suddenly Aliera is in the middle of a battle, with only her fencing skills and her New York City instincts to save her. And Avery isn't exactly cooperating.

Yolen uses familiar tropes like the kid with special powers and a mission to save the world, magic swords, and hidden kingdoms, but she takes them somewhere new in this urban fantasy, showing readers how powerfully voice can drive a graphic novel. Sometimes the visual elements in a graphic novel (like the art in too many picture books) can mask a weak text. That is not the case here. If anything, Yolen's language elevates the art—although that's well done, too. One nice touch is that Aliera is colorblind and Cavallaro's illustrations represent her black-and-white view until Aliera gets to see the unseen world within her world, at which point color bursts onto the pages and into her eyes for the first time. (This strategy was also used to good effect in the new graphic novel of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight.)

Mike Cavallaro's art is witty and clear, creating satisfying movement across each spread. He is especially good at capturing the tiniest nuances of Aliera's moods with facial expressions and other body language, playfully adding sharp teeth when she is angry.

More than another feisty girl, Aliera is by turns distant and familiar as she struggles with her place in the world, trying to become something, she's not sure what. These themes are woven into the very real feeling of the events depicted in Foiled. I like how Yolen uses things like Aliera's colorblindness and the strategies of fencing to represent this character's struggles with identity and with social interactions. When a distracted Aliera performs poorly in the fencing studio for once, her irate mentor says:

"Aliera Carstairs, what do you think you're doing? OR NOT DOING."
"I was protecting my heart?"
"Defense, yes. But sometimes you have to risk all to win. I thought you understood that."

One more word, and this interchange would lose its power. Instead Aliera shrugs, and her instructor continues: "Perhaps you need to sit down. Or go home. Or rethink your commitment."

During my first reading, I was a little disappointed not to see more action with the otherworldly creatures in the train station. Also, the most obvious of Aliera's problems in that section of the book is solved by outside intervention. However, a second look made me realize that the true battle in the train station is Aliera's "date" and how she deals with it. Yolen uses fantasy elements to heighten the awkwardness of young love throughout Foiled, ruthlessly dissecting it like the frog Aliera and Avery must dissect early on.

Of course, Aliera herself warns us that this story "is not about Avery, it's about me, and fencing." So I should say, rather, that Foiled is about how Aliera learns a little bit more about handling herself in a seemingly black-and-white world. This book is Volume One of a coming-of-age story that uses a foil and a boy and magical creatures in a train station as, well, foils.

From what I understand, Aliera's story will be told in a mere two volumes. Frankly, I'm not sure how that's possible—there's so much potential for a longer series here. But if anyone can do it, it's master craftswoman Jane Yolen.

Note for Worried Parents: Foiled is listed on Amazon as being for ages 9-12, but it has a kind of teen sensibility, with brief references to things like drug and alcohol use, plus kissing. Aliera and her friends are in high school. I think the ideal audience for this book would be middle schoolers, along with 9th and 10th graders. Aha—the publisher's website says it's for grade 6 and up (or age 11 and up).

A Review of Twilight: The Graphic Novel, vol. 1 by Stephenie Meyer and Young Kim

On a darker note, I picked up the first Twilight graphic novel this week. A few statistics: The book has been out four days and is #24 in Amazon.com's sales ranking. Forty-one customer reviews have already been posted, with an average rating of 4-1/2 stars.

As for me, I found myself looking to see how Kim's artwork compared to the movie cast, because hey, isn't that the first thing you would do? For the record, this Bella is much sweeter looking than Kirsten Stewart, who has a kind of world-weary edge to her. Edward looks a little younger and sweeter, too, for that matter. And so does Bella's dad, who is blond here. And Jacob. Everybody is just less square-jawed... Do I sense a trend? Well, Alice looks exactly like movie Alice, and so do Mike and Jessica, Bella's new friends at school. But that's about it.

Of course, we should address more important matters. I think you'll find, as I did, that the graphic novel is a terrific format for this kind of storytelling. After all, Twilight is essentially dot-to-dot angst, and a graphic novel provides a snapshot of each of those dots. If anything, this format allows for heightened drama.

Purists (AKA worshippers) will be bugged by minor differences, but those of you who appreciate Twilight in a less-avid way and who are fans of graphic novels will probably be happy with Young Kim's rendition of the bestselling book in the universe. Considering how much talking goes on, Kim manages to make the story feel relatively fast-paced. Watch also for the occasional mixed media touch, such as a photo of a car in the background instead of a drawing.

While most of the book is in black and white, color is added in a few key spots, most notably in the meadow scene, where the richness of the color highlights the way this couple's cosmically destined love takes them out of ordinary reality. Of course, the artist can't resist using red in a couple of places, too, e.g., for Bella's blood. Kim refrains from putting it on the book jacket, however, creating a new, softer look.

I suppose the black and white used for the majority of the pages suits the mood of Twilight, but I do find myself wondering what the book would have looked like with color throughout. And I have a weird quibble: Kim often uses a heavy black line for the "tail" portion of the voice bubbles, which I felt was distracting. (If any of you know what that part of a voice bubble is actually called, let us know! If there isn't a name, we should make one up...)

My shortest review ever, and why? Because I think the word "spoilers" is passé at this point, as is any kind of plot summary for such a well-known story. Suffice it to say that if you're a serious Twilight fan, you should run out and buy the graphic novel right this minute.

Note: This is not the entire first book in Stephenie Meyer's series. It takes us up through the forest scene and stops, To Be Continued in Volume Two. And by the way, the eminently mockable glitter chest works better here than in the movie.

Jane Gets a Makeover

I was making my rounds through a bookstore the other day, scanning the YA (teen) shelves, when my eyes were caught by another imitation-Twilight cover, stark black with a passionate red rose and a couple of white roses hovering behind. I picked it up, expecting to see a title along the lines of Fangs in the Night or My Brooding Werewolf Lover.

But the book was Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. With a teaser phrase on the front in all caps: "THE LOVE THAT STARTED IT ALL." The back jacket let me know that there are two more books in this set, Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, AKA "LOVE NEVER DIES," and Romeo and Juliet, "THE ORIGINAL FORBIDDEN LOVE."

Just so we're clear, what this means is that Jane Austen, Emily Bronte, and William Shakespeare are jumping on the Twilight bandwagon—courtesy of HarperTeen. (This edition of Pride and Prejudice is ranked #7,707 in sales on Amazon today, not a bad number, really. FYI, Stephenie Meyer's Twilight is currently ranked #121 in Amazon sales. In terms of total sales, Twilight is catching up fast, with more than 17 million to P&P's 20 million.)

So how does Pride and Prejudice stack up against Twilight? Yes, thousands of women just howled in outrage, sounding like Taylor Lautner in full fur. But read on...

We've got Elizabeth vs. Bella, for starters. Elizabeth is a little older and has way more confidence. She spends most of the book irked at Mr. Darcy and only gradually relents, overcome by a growing awareness of her mistaken assumptions, as well as by Mr. Darcy's unexpected gallantry and his really gorgeous mansion. Bella, for her part, is addicted to Edward Cullen almost from the get-go and is pretty self-effacing, even self-deprecating.

Mr. Darcy vs. Edward? No contest. Mr. Darcy outbroods Edward Cullen and Robert Pattinson put together, and without being melodramatic. Each hero is capable of leaping into the fray to help his ladylove, but Mr. Darcy sacrifices his famous pride on the altar of Elizabeth, humbling himself to aid his enemy Mr. Wickham for her sake. Edward merely beats up a vampire and manages not to drink all of Bella's blood.

As for wit and fine writing, craftsmanship and subtle humor... No, I can't go on. I'm starting to howl like Taylor Lautner. Let's just state the obvious: Jane Austen is a really, really good writer.

Having gotten a kick out of seeing these new editions, I walked a few steps farther and came across a Marvel Comics version of Pride and Prejudice which insisted on coming home with me. I'm not sure how you feel about graphic versions of classic literature—appalled? amused? But I was curious to see just what the adapter and illustrator had done with one of my favorite books ever.

Apparently this edition was originally published as a series of four comic books. The covers are nicely tongue-in-cheek, each set up to resemble a magazine cover. Fake article teasers used on the book jacket include "Lizzy on Love, Loss, and Living," "Bingleys Bring Bling to Britain," "17 Secrets about Summer Dresses," "How to Cure Your Boy-Crazy Sisters," and, of course, "Who Is Mr. Darcy?" Marvel has kindly included the other three jackets in the back of the book for your enjoyment. (I should warn you that the interior artwork does not look anything like the cover art.)

The oddest thing about this book is the front flap copy, which could have been highly entertaining, but isn't. Not a bit. It seems more like a super-condensed version of CliffsNotes, to tell you the truth, remarking on social relevance, major themes, and Austen's writing style. If the Marvel people were going to go there, they should have just thrown in a more detailed note at the back of the book.

I have to say, Nancy Butler does a very good job of picking out the best of Austen's wonderful dialogue and including it in this graphic adaptation. Think of the book as a movie. Like a movie, a graphic novel has to re-envision a novel as a series of scenes and preserve key dialogue while replacing description and action with visual images.

Presented in such a tight format, P&P does seem a little more soap opera-ish. This impression is aided by Hugo Petrus's artwork, which conforms to comic book conventions by giving almost every woman in the book, and certainly the Bennet sisters, surprisingly full lips for people living in an age prior to Botox. However, to Petrus's credit, he doesn't enhance anybody's breasts except maybe Mrs. Bennet's, and that suits her portrayal as a rather blowsy woman. The only moment that seems truly out of character and anachronistic here is when the artist shows Mr. Darcy holding Elizabeth in his arms (entirely off the ground, cheerleader-catch style) after he has re-proposed and she has accepted. Highly improper! But it's just the one frame, so I think I'll forgive the guy.

Petrus's palette is inclined towards browns and golds, a good match for the era. He manages to give the long dialogue scenes a surprisingly energetic feel by varying his compositions and showing characters' shifting emotions. The only thing that threw me off about the artwork was that in the fourth segment, Petrus's style seems to have changed—maybe he's using a different medium, or the printing method has changed, or he's simply using fewer lines to portray these characters.

As for the artist's rendering of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, I wasn't on board at first, but they grew on me. I imagine most of us have pictures in our heads of favorite literary characters, and these didn't match up for me. Still, once I got used to them, I rather liked them, Botox and all.

Another version of P&P that has been shelved in the YA section lately is Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith. I had such a good time writing my Amazon review of this book last year that I'll share it with you here:

Imagine a fifteen-year-old girl reading Pride and Prejudice. No, better yet, imagine her watching a DVD of Pride and Prejudice, preferably the one with Keira Knightley. Her best friend is plopped down beside her. They're eating low-fat microwave popcorn and sighing blissfully every so often, when suddenly the girl's younger brother shows up, along with his own best buddy.

The two boys look at the screen for about three seconds and say, "Gross!" Then, with an evil look, the first one says loudly, "You know what would make this better? If there were zombies in it."

"Yeah," his friend says, "hungry for brains. And that girl right there could be a kick-butt zombie fighter."

"Elizabeth Bennet?" the big sister says, appalled, yet vaguely charmed by the thought.

"Ha," her friend says, "she and Mr. Darcy could kick zombie butt together! That would be kinda romantic. In a disgusting way, I mean."

Just then Mr. and Mrs. Collins come on-screen. It doesn't take long for the boys to realize how boring they are. "That guy has to die," says the girl's brother.

"Yeah, and the girl could turn into a zombie," says his friend.

"Okay, you can shut up now," the fifteen-year-old tells the intruders. "We get it. You're funny."

But her brother isn't quite finished. "What this story needs the most is a lot of vomit. Because it makes me sick!"

Um, so, anyway—that's what this book is like. Just exchange the ten-year-old brother for a literate thirty-something screenwriter and you've got this hybrid, which is said to be 85% Jane Austen, 15% Seth Grahame-Smith.

What's most impressive is how smoothly the guy weaves his "unmentionables" and things like the Bennet sisters' martial arts training into the original text. Take this bit, for example:

"Upon entering Meryton...the eyes of the younger [Bennet] girls were immediately wandering up the street in quest of officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or the wail of the undead, could recall them."

Then there's a parlor game that's all the rage—Crypt and Coffin. Or the fact that London is a walled city divided into military enclaves in order to deal with the zombie menace. Elizabeth's favorite aunt and uncle live in Section Six East, just in case you were wondering.

One thing Grahame-Smith has fun with is letting Elizabeth and her sisters' combat training render them rather bloodthirsty, especially in response to the most irritating characters in the book:

"To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin [Mr. Collins] without taking a silent inventory of the countless ways they could kill him, the interval of waiting appeared very long."

Grahame-Smith also gives Mr. Wickham a much more severe comeuppance than Austen ever did. And Elizabeth gets into angry martial arts face-offs with, not only Mr. Darcy himself, but Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Austen's "co-author" occasionally misses a beat when it comes to having other characters respond normally to his additions, and he gets a bit carried away with the vomit, but I have to admit, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is remarkably clever in its own little rotting-flesh way.

Of course, the greatest irony of all is that avowed anti-snob Seth Grahame-Smith has a name that makes him sound like he'd fit in nicely with Darcy and Bingley's elegant London crowd.

Now, zombies aside, what do you think about that phrase on the imitation-Twilight book jacket of the latest edition of Pride and Prejudice? Is this book really "The Love that Started it All?" Well, HarperTeen's other title, Romeo and Juliet, came long before Austen's book and arguably defined star-crossed lovers for all time. Which makes it a better comparison to Twilight, actually! (Hm. How many of you just howled like a drunken Elizabethan?) As for Pride and Prejudice, let's just say that every romance novel written in the past century or so and every rom-com ever filmed, particularly the ones with the slightest hint of initial dislike between hero and heroine or any sort of witty banter, owes a big fat thank you to Ms. Austen. With or without that black cover adorned by a bloody-looking rose.