The Beguilers, by Kate Thompson (Firebird Books, 2003)

Rilka’s people enjoy a pleasantly symbiotic relationship with creatures called chuffies, furry beasts which act as emotional sponges, taking away all fear, hate, and sadness and leaving behind contentment and happiness. Rilka, however, is different from everyone she knows; her allergy to the chuffies prevents her from benefitting from their presence very often. Maybe it’s this which causes her to feel disconnected from her village, or perhaps it’s her tendency to dream of ways to improve living conditions. Whatever the reason, she’s about to make herself even more of an outcast than before. It’s tradition for every young person, when they feel ready to become an adult, to offer up a Great Intention, their dedication to do something remarkable. Rilka announces her Great Intention: to capture and understand one of the deadly will o’wisp creatures known as beguilers. Immediately marked as insane and cast out by everyone she’s ever cared about, Rilka finds herself set out on an irreversible course, one which will take her far from home, push her to the very limits, and transform her understanding of the world she lives in.

Try as I might, I couldn’t find a single thorough description of the oft-mentioned chuffies, leading me to envision them as a cross between dogs and abominable snowmen. Perhaps it’s all for the best, as I think locking them down into any one form would ruin the evocative images Thompson conjures for us in this odd coming-of-age tale. It’s beautifully told, and the plot elements are nicely set up, with several surprises and twists sure to keep the reader turning the pages. I really liked The Beguilers. It’s a fairly quick read, but the pages are packed with detail and characterization. Best of all, it utilizes a rarely-explored aspect of folk tales: the will o’ wisps which lead men to their dooms through the strange beauty of their dancing lights. I recommend this one, quite happily.

The Bar Code Tattoo, by Suzanne Weyn (Scholastic Point, 2004)

Only a few decades from now, the world has become a lot darker. As old social systems collapsed, the international corporation known as Global-1 took over, gradually gaining influence in every walk of life. And now their power is finally becoming truly evident. As more and more people get the facts of their existence permanently recorded on their very bodies in the form of a bar code tattoo, a select few resist the trend, fighting it with all their energy. One such rebel is Kayla Reed, who’s seen her family torn apart by this strangely menacing symbol of conformity. Her continued refusal to get the tattoo proves ever more troublesome as her life collapses around her, especially once she falls in with a group called Decode. On the run from the forces trying to place a stranglehold on society, Kayla is pushed to her limits, ultimately discovering the dark secret behind Global-1’s bar code tattoo initiative, as well as embracing her own untapped potential.

The Bar Code Tattoo is a chilling story spinning out of a logical progression; where it falls short is halfway through, with the introduction of psychic powers and a kind of forced evolution. The concept is fascinating, and the reasoning behind it all is sound, though the plot occasionally relies a little too heavily on coincidence and abrupt developments. Overall, Weyn turns in a solid thriller with room for more development in future stories.

A Series of Unfortunate Events #1: The Bad Beginning, by Lemony Snicket (HarperTrophy, 1999)

When the beloved (and wealthy) parents of Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire die in a sudden and very tragic fire, the three children become orphans. Little do they realize that this is but the first of A Series of Unfortunate Events. Like Job in the Bible, the Baudelaire siblings are beset upon by misery, catastrophe, misfortune, and unhappiness. From the very first moment, their lives become wretched and full of bad things. They go to live with Mr. Poe, the executor of their parents’ estate, whereupon they suffer ugly clothes and poor lodgings. Then they’re shuttled off to live with the odious and horrible Count Olaf, a distant relative, who by virtue of their parents’ will, is to be their new guardian.

To call Olaf uncaring would be a kindness. Rather, he’s a scheming scoundrel, with no more love for the children than it takes to get his hands on the enormous fortune waiting for them until the day Violet comes of age. He’ll do whatever it takes, abusing and threatening them, even looking for ways to circumvent the law. It’s up to the Baudelaire siblings – inventive Violet, knowledgeable Klaus, and baby Sunny – to solicit the aid of the kindly Justice Strauss, and foil Olaf’s evil plot.

This book has no happy ending. In fact, it’s quite proud to leave things on an unhappy cliffhanger, promising more misfortune and mistreatment for our three young heroes in the installments to come. What it does have is a temporary resolution, that allows us to close the book and move on.

Essentially, A Series of Unfortunate Events is a tongue-in-cheek, whimsical set of books following the Baudelaire siblings as they’re embroiled in one disaster after another, with a whole host of Victorian and Dickensian plagues cast upon them. From kidnappings to evil plots, ugly clothes to cold porridge, they struggle to maintain an optimistic air and look to the future. The Bad Beginning, being the book that sets up the whole premise of the series and introduces us to the main characters and their dire enemy, Count Olaf, as well as his own menagerie of assistants, makes it quite clear that it’s not taking anything seriously, least of all itself. It’s a smart conceit, the books so over-the-top in their manners that one can actually enjoy the bizarre misfortunes of the heroes.
Additionally, the narrator frequently digresses to define the bigger or more difficult words as they relate to the situation, so that younger readers might accidentally learn something new. (Incentive, for example, means “an offered reward to persuade you to do something you don’t want to do.)

While this series is certainly no substitute for Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, it will likely appeal to those readers wanting light reading bordering on farcical. It’s like the saying, ‘it’s so bad, it’s good.’ In this case, the series as presented is so miserable, it’s entertaining. The accompanying drawings, stylistic and whimsical in a manner oddly reminiscent of the Gashleycrumb Tinies, are the perfect complement to the story. If The Bad Beginning appeals, note that there are eight books in the series thus far, with more to come.

The Adventures of Charley Tooth, by L.B. Richards (Dorchester Vortex, 2004)

In the blink of an eye, everyday, ordinary nice-guy Charley Tooth is abducted from Earth by a bizarre grouping of aliens, and forced to perform for their entertainment. That’s just the beginning of a series of increasingly strange and illogical adventures for Charley, as he’s catapulted from one incident to another, caught up in interstellar politics and more wierdness than any one Earthling has a right to survive. Can he stay alive long enough to win the heart of the hot alien girl he meets along the way, and possibly make it home before anyone notices he’s gone?

The Adventures of Charley Tooth is the debut novel in Dorchester’s new Vortex line of fantasy and science fiction. Unfortunately, if this is at all representative of the new line, it doesn’t bode well. The opening chapter, depicting Charley’s abrupt arrival into the cosmic version of a cocktail party, is so crammed full of strange names and absurd imagery that it’s hard to imagine anyone getting past the initial confusion. I certainly wasn’t inclined to continue after such a difficult beginning. While it does let up somewhat after the first chapter, this isn’t a book that lends itself to casual reading. I wanted to like this book, but its strong points (imaginative scenarios, clever writing, sly humor, and some rather likable characters) are outweighed by its flaws (confusing plotline, weirdness for the sake of weirdness, and a tendency to be way too satisfied by its own cleverness). I’m looking forward to seeing what Dorchester has next, but as its debut offering, The Adventures of Charley Tooth is a lot weaker than it could be.

Tales From The Brothers Grimm And The Sisters Weird, by Vivian Van Velde (Magic Carpet Books, 2005)

This is an amusing, entertaining collection of retold fairy tales, in which the original material has been turned upside-down, inside-out, and in some cases, tossed in a blender for good measure. Thus, in this collection, you’ll find everything from a story in which Rumpelstiltzkin is in cahoots with the miller’s daughter (and everyone really does end up happily ever after) to one where the enchanted frog turns the tables on an ungrateful princess in a fitting fashion. There’s an All Points Bulletin for Goldilocks (for breaking and entering), a Little Red Riding Hood that won’t shut up (and we end up rooting for the wolf), a story that questions the Pied Piper’s true motivations, another look at that pesky Jack of the beanstalk fame, fairy tale endings you’re not likely to see (PG-13, no less), a princess whose sensitivity to peas may not be all that desirable after all, and a truly disturbing Hansel and Gretel. And let’s not even mention the version of Beauty and the Beast where she vastly prefers the Beast over the handsome prince.

There’s not much to say about this assortment of stories, poems, and quick double-takes; it’s clever, often unexpected, and slyly witty, but Van Velde doesn’t devote much time to any one story. These are like drive-bys against the old solemnity and seriousness of the traditional material, making their point and moving on. As such, they’re fast-paced, and a breath of fresh air, and the collection as a whole makes for a nice diversion. I always enjoy Vivian Van Velde’s work for its originality. Fairy tale lovers might get a kick out of this, and the stories might be fun to read to younger audiences, who will undoubtedly appreciate the humor in some of them.

Swords for Hire, by Will Allen (CenterPunch Press, 2003)

Think you have it rough? Try being King Olive, deposed by his somewhat addled younger brother, Boonder, and imprisoned by the fearful Boneman, left to rot far from home. Or try being young Sam Hatcher, who, upon being rejected by the Royal Guard, is sent to apprentice under the unpredictable, roguish, unorthodox Rigby Skeet, who serves the Guard as a special unit of one. Heck, try being Rigby Skeet, Sword for Hire, unwanted by the Guard and bored out of his mind most of the time. If you really want things put in perspective, put yourself in the shoes of the dead guy who falls into Skeet’s office, three arrows protruding from his back. For it’s that incident which sends Sam and Rigby on a whirlwind adventure to rescue the missing king (presumed dead all these months). All they have to do is survive a sorcerer, overcome many obstacles best left to the imagination, infiltrate the Boneman’s prison and make off with its most heavily guarded prisoner, before returning home to deal with King Boonder. And after all that, who’ll get the girl?

Swords for Hire is a Princess Bride-like look at those epic fantasy quests that dominate the bookshelves. Stripped down to the bare essentials, it’s streamlined, moving from point to point with a self-aware, wry efficiency. Where some authors might take three, five, even ten books to get to the point, Allen manages to convey a sense of progression and completion in one short one. Admittedly, it would have been great to see the story expanded, some of the things hinted at actually explored, but that would have defied the point of this: Swords for Hire is every epic fantasy, boiled down into one quick-read comedy. It’s sure to appeal to younger readers, and fans of comic fantasy.

Sword of the Rightful King, by Jane Yolen (Harcourt, 2003)

It’s easy to think that the Arthurian myths have been thoroughly mined out by now, given the vast number of interpretations we’ve seen over the years. However, master storyteller Jane Yolen proves that there’s at least one story left worth telling, in this novel set early in King Arthur’s reign, during a period of adjustment when he was still struggling to earn the trust and loyalty of his subjects. Mixing historical accuracy with mythical speculation, Sword of the Rightful King posits that in order to secure the belief of the people of England, the old mage Merlinnus constructed a sword trapped in a stone as a publicity stunt, as it were, a way for Arthur to prove once and for all his right to rule. Arthur, reluctant ruler that he is, doesn’t believe the trick is entirely necessary until the North Witch, Morgause, begins to turn her attention towards the throne as well. Will one of Morgause’s sons draw the sword and become an unwitting pawn in her quest for the throne, or will one of her assassins kill Arthur, or will her magics sway the will of the king and his knights?

This book reimagines Arthur, Gawaine, Merlin, Percival, Gwenivere, and Morgan le Fey in new and interesting roles, some more unexpectedly than others, retelling the well-known story of the sword in the stone in a logical yet entertaining manner. The theme of power and belief becoming reality, while not new, is used to good effect here to properly explore the Arthurian myths in a new light. My own faith in the subgenre’s been restored, and I hope Yolen will consider exploring this particular version of Arthur some more in the future.

Swan Sister, edited by Terri Windling and Ellen Datlow (Simon and Schuster, 2003)

In the same vein as Windling and Datlow’s A Wolf At The Door, Swan Sister is another collection of fairy tales retold for young adults, with stories from some of the most talented authors in the field, including a number of those who’ve previously contributed to their series of novel-length retold fairy tales. As always with anything from Datlow and Windling, this is a high-quality anthology that sticks to theme quite nicely. Naturally, there are a lot of familiar elements in each story, but the authors all find something new to say about the material.

Jane Yolen tackles the Green Man myth, while Nina Kiriki Hoffman explores Bluebeard from a new angle, where the true horror lies not with Bluebeard, but with the secret of his strength and power. Will Shetterly retells Little Red Riding Hood with a modern-day urban flair to it, and Lois Metzger reinterprets the Rapunzel story with surprising sensitivity, giving it a new relevance in today’s world of extended and broken families. Bruce Coville’s look at Tom Thumb speaks volumes about the uses and misuses of genetic engineering, and Neil Gaiman turns in a poetic exploration of Scheharazade and The Arabian Nights that delves into necessity as the mother of inspiration. These are just half of the fairy tales that lurk within the pages of Swan Sister.

I’ve never been disappointed with the Datlow/Windling collections, whether they’re aimed at adults or young adults. They always prove that fairy tales are universal, always open to retelling, and always relevant in their own way. This is good stuff, and any fairy tale fan would do well to add this to their collection.

SuperWhat? By Jax Abbott (Dorchester Smooch, 2004)

When Jessie Drummond develops superpowers during English class on the first day at her new high school, she figures her social life is doomed. After all, she was supposed to be the normal one in a family of secret superheroes, the only one in seven generations not to serve the cause of truth and justice in her spare time. Heck, she’d even gotten used to the idea of life as one of the Normals. But in an instant, it all changes. Now she’s forced to deal with her new powers (among them X-Ray vision, superhearing, superstrength, and superspeed), which means putting up with the overly strict standards of the League of Justice, at the same time she’s trying to figure out what guy to take to the Junior Prom. High school was never like this before!

SuperWhat? is a teen romantic comedy with a superheroic twist. It’s cute, and fun, and Jessie’s laid-back teen attitude is a refreshing contrast to the adult sensibilities of the heroes supervising her. In some ways, it’s as if The Princess Diaries met the Justice League. Thanks to the groundwork Abbott lays for future books, I’m looking forward to the sequel, and to Jessie’s further adventures in the world of teenage superheroism.

Super 16, by Jax Abbott (Dorchester Smooch, 2005)

Welcome to the life of Jessie Drummond, teenage superhero-in-training. Just a few days shy of her sixteenth birthday, she’s the only person she knows who has to juggle a social life and training to get control over her emerging superpowers. The superstrength, superspeed, superhearing, and X-Ray vision are all nice, if a bit inconvenient at times, but she really could do without the scrutiny of the League of Liberty, whose standards of behavior are, shall we say, a bit overbearing and old-fashioned at times. Either she gets control of her abilities and passes her tests, or they’ll take her away for remedial training… which would seriously destroy what social life she has. She’s got a new boyfriend to get used to, friends who are seriously weirded out by her less-than-normal behavior of late, and did we mention the arsonist wandering around town? Or the totally evil orthodontist? It’s not easy being a teenager with these sorts of commitments. Luckily, Jessie’s willing to give it a shot.

Super 16 is a cute teenage romantic comedy, and it makes for fun, if somewhat inconsequential reading, with a style best described as “light and fluffy.” The best part of the book has to be the characterization of Jessie, and the way she expresses herself in her League-mandated blog, where she can let her tendency to drift off-topic run wild. (Hair-strengthening ray guns? Anyway…) As books of this ilk go, Super 16 is thoroughly enjoyable, though very clearly aimed at a specific audience. I hope we’ll see more in the series, as I suspect we’re far from done with Jessie’s story.