Sunday, June 18, 2017

'Exit, Pursued by a Bear' by E.K. Johnston

Exit, Pursued by a Bear is a worthy successor to Laurie Halse Anderson's seminal novel Speak.  In Speak, Melinda Sordino was so traumatised by her assault that she was unable to even say the words "I was raped," to herself, much less out loud for months afterwards.  Hermione Winters, the protagonist of Exit, Pursued by a Bear, is everything Melinda was not: popular, confident, unwilling to cower in the aftermath of her rape, with the bonus of super-supportive parents and a steadfast best friend.

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Hermione is the co-captain of the award-winning cheerleading team at Palermo Heights High School in the small town of Palermo Heights, Ontario.  On the first night of an annual summer cheer camp, every school talks about their inner collective demons: fear of heights, plagues of self-doubt.  Hermione, though, describes PHHS as a cursed school where, "every single class... since 2006 has lost a student to a drunk driver... [and] every year one of the girls in PHHS gets pregnant."  The cheerleading squad's challenge is to break the curse.  Hermione's class may have lost a student years ago to a drunk driver, but they are determined that there will not be a pregnant girl at PHHS this year.

The cheerleading team is no laughing matter, and in fact they are the pride of Palermo Heights.  In Palermo Heights, the sports teams play second fiddle to the cheerleaders. PHHS's cheerleading team is also unusually tightly-knit, which is a factor in their ongoing success.  This camaraderie is threatened during cheer camp.  One minute Hermione is dancing at the end-of-camp dance, and the next thing she remembers is waking up in a hospital, where her best friend, Polly, informs Hermione she's been raped.

Hermione refuses to let one single event define her, but it proves difficult in a small town with a small high school.  The whispers, stares, and rumours follow Hermione as she tries to move on from the rape, enlisting the help of once-a-week sessions with a psychologist, and throwing herself back into cheerleading.

Johnston handles several sensitive issues -- rape, pregnancy, abortion, sexuality --  in Hermione's matter-of-fact voice.  It serves to put things into perspective.  Yes, Hermione's rape is traumatic, and she experiences flashbacks, often at inopportune times, but to Hermione the actual event matters less than how she decides to handle it.  I think that is what makes this book stand out in a crowded YA shelf: Hermione decides who is going to tell her story.  It's on her terms and no one else's.  It also passes the infamous "Bechdel test," in which two women discuss anything other than a boy.

If the title rings a bell, congratulations!  You are officially a Shakespeare nerd.  "Exit, pursued by a bear..." is one of the more bewildering stage directions in Shakespeare, from his play A Winter's Tale.  To this day nobody knows if Shakespeare intended to use a real bear or an actor in a bear costume.  The novel, though, is much less circumspect.  The bear that pursues Hermione are the myriad slings and arrows from the aftermath of the rape.  The novel is a cleverly drawn parallel between Shakespeare's play of a falsely accused queen named Hermione.  So, Exit, Pursued by a Bear, is in fact, a Winters' tale, because it is the tale of Hermione Winters.  In the play, King Leontes accuses Queen Hermione of having an affair.  In the novel, Hermione's boyfriend Leo, doesn't really believe she was raped.  The play has a character called Polixenes who proclaims Hermione's innocence, and the novel has Hermione's bestie Polly, who will defend Hermione until she no longer has breath.

If you enjoy books with strong female leads, and read a realistic story where girls can talk about more than their respective love lives, you'll enjoy this book.  I know I did.

For read-alikes, try Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick; The Perks ofBeing a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, and of course, Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson.



  

'Scythe' by Neal Shusterman

Imagine a world where humanity has conquered death.  There's no more disease, hunger, poverty, ageing, or death by accident.  Sounds really neat, right?

Image from:
simonandschuster.ca
Until you consider there's also no pain.  Or joy.  Or any intense feelings.  People sort of drift along in life, "turning the corner" (resetting to a younger physical age) every so often, marrying and remarrying.  Just living their lives.  The only possible wrinkle in someone's life is when a Scythe drops by.

If a Scythe shows up in your home, school, or office, it usually means someone is going to die. You see,  a Scythe is tasked with "gleaning" -- killing -- people, in order to keep the population under control.

Every so often, a Scythe takes on an apprentice, in order to teach them the ways of being a Scythe and how to glean according to their moral codes.  One just doesn't take a life indiscriminately.  There's a method to the madness.  Honorable Scythe Faraday raises more than a few eyebrows when he takes in two apprentices.  Usually a Scythe only takes one apprentice.  For the next year, Citra Terranova and Rowan Damisch will endure training in the physically and mentally demanding art, science, and philosophy of ending another person's life.   Whichever one of the two succeeds in passing a test at the end of the year will become a new Scythe.  The other will go home.

At least that's the way it's supposed to work.  Until Scythe Goddard  proposes a resolution at one of the Scythes' conclaves that the successful apprentice must glean the unsuccessful one.  This sets the rest of the book careening toward it's suspenseful conclusion.

Neal Shusterman never ceases to impress me with his world building.  At first glance, this is a perfect world, until Shusterman reveals, the levels of corruption roiling under the perfect surface. Everything Shusterman creates -- from nanites that heal every injury and cure diseases to the Thunderhead, which has evolved from the Cloud (thanks, Apple!) into a benign, omniscient presence that governs society -- are just within the realm of possible, so you aren't grappling with the science of science fiction and are able to dive into the knotty philosophical questions that come with being a Scythe: is there room for compassion; why can't a Scythe feel that being a Scythe is a calling; and is it possible to enjoy one's job as a Scythe?

Even though the laws of Scythedom are presented as a absolute, the laws and rules of Scythes, like everything, are open to interpretation, which is where a lot of the conflict arises.  And to throw another wrench into the plot, Scythes aren't subject to the laws that govern the rest of society and only live by ten ironclad commandments.  They even live outside the realm of the all-knowing and all-seeing Thunderhead.

The book is heavy on intrigue, but (thankfully!) light on romance.  Which makes sense, because Scythes, rather like Jedi, aren't supposed to have emotional attachments to other people.  Shusterman also throws in bits of subtle humor to keep the book from being weighed down by all the intrigue, training, and philosophy.  For example, when one new Scythe chooses their Patron Historic -- the name they will use as a Scythe taken from significant people in history that have special meaning to the new Scythe -- he chooses to be known as Scythe Colbert.  I snorted with laughter, and I'm sure Stephen Colbert appreciates the shout-out.  That being said, the humor is more likely to make the corner of your mouth curl up, rather than laugh out loud.

Structurally, the book goes back and forth between  Citra, Rowan, Faraday, Scythe Curie, and other characters.  Each chapter opens with an excerpt from the diary of a Scythe, usually Scythe Curie, known as the Grand Dame of Death.  It's fascinating to see the different points-of-view of Scythdom and how different Scythes interpret their moral codes.

Given that most of the book's narration comes from Rowan or Citra, I found Rowan to be much more multi-layered than Citra.  Perhaps that comes from how Shusterman portrays Rowan as both repelled by the idea of gleaning, and yet, his sense of compassion inexplicably draws him to it.  Citra, on the other hand, despises the idea of becoming a Scythe.  Her struggles have less to do with becoming a Scythe, and more from her determination to do it "right." 

This book drew me in so subtly and cleverly, that I didn't even realize I hadn't been able to put it down until I finished it.

Scythe so impressed the Printz committee, that they gave it an honor, even though their habit is to not award the first book in a series.  It more than deserves its 2017 Printz Honor.

If you're looking for something that draws you in and doesn't let go, this is a book for you.

Scythe is the first of Shusterman's Arc of the Scythe series.  Mark your calendars, y'all: the second book in the planned trilogy, Thunderhead, is set to release on March 6, 2018. (Edit: Amazon says February 6, 2018!)

If you want to explore other books by Shusterman, read his National Book Award winning Challenger Deep, or the Unwind series.


'Saving Red' by Sonya Sones

Fourteen-year-old Molly has to finish her volunteer community service hours.  Now.
Image from:
www.harpercollins.ca
 Really.  The assignment is due tomorrow morning.  Which is how she finds herself in the company of Feather and Eden, doing Santa Monica's annual count of homeless people.  When Molly finds a teenage girl in the grip of a nightmare sleeping on a park bench, she can't forget the girl with the blazing red hair.  After a couple of chance encounters with Red, Molly vows to reunite Red with her family for Christmas.

It turns out to be a lot more difficult than Molly imagines.

Molly's dealing with her own problems at home.  Something tragic happened, but Molly won't say it aloud, and neither will her parents.  So her mother copes by smoking pot and buying one of everything from the Home Shopping Network, and her father deals with it all by working so much he's hardly ever home.  Molly's so traumatized by this event, that she's prone to panic attacks, and has a preternaturally wise service dog named Pixel.  

And Red?

Red hears voices.  Sometimes they tell her to do helpful things.  Other times, their instructions are destructive to both Red and her family.  Plus, Red isn't the slightest bit interested in getting help.

Throw in Cristo, the boy Molly meets on the Ferris wheel at the Pacific Park pier, and she has quite the jam-packed winter break from school.

Technically, Saving Red is a "verse novel," or a novel written entirely in poetry.  But this isn't your grandmother's poetry, or even your mother's poetry.  Sones writes stunning, moving inner monologues, where the placement of a single word can pack more of a visceral emotional punch than pages of text.  You also still get the experience of reading a novel, but without the edge-to-edge text of a traditional novel.  Don't let the size of the book intimidate you!  It's a quick read.  I found myself eagerly turning the page to find out what happened next.  Sones also doesn't trivialize mental illness.  She delves into the impact it can have on the person struggling with an illness and their families.  Even though Sones manages to neatly wrap up the novel at the end, it's obvious that there are still lots of unanswered questions.

Sones also wrote What My Mother Doesn't Know and What My Girlfriend Doesn't Know.  Other verse novels you might want to try are Inside Out & Back Again by Thanhhai Lai or the Crank series by Ellen Hopkins.

There are several novels that also deal with mental illness, but you might want to read Marcelo in the Real World by Francisco X. Stork or ChallengerDeep by Neal Shusterman.  


'Born a Crime: Stories From a South African Childhood" by Trevor Noah

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www.penguinrandomhouse.com
You probably know Trevor Noah from Comedy Central's The Daily Show.  Trevor was a surprise pick to replace the indomitable Jon Stewart, but the South African comedian has slowly come into his own and as you read his new memoir, Born a Crime: Stories From a SouthAfrican Childhood, you might start to think perhaps Jon Stewart had a very good reason to pick Trevor as his successor.

Noah's story doesn't begin with his birth.  It goes back much further than that, when the white South African government imposed the system known as apartheid on its inhabitants, hitting black South Africans the hardest with repercussions that continue to this day. Noah's mother, Patricia, rebelled against apartheid as much as possible, becoming a secretary and then making the momentous decision to have a child.  But not just with anyone.  Patricia turned to a friend, Robert, who also just happened to be a white Swiss expat.  In South Africa at that time, it was not only illegal for Trevor's parents to have a sexual relationship, it was punishable by several years in prison.  Trevor's very existence was, in fact, evidence of a crime.

Trevor describes his childhood in a series of eighteen essays, that cover everything from his mother's insistence they attend three different churches on Sundays to his laughably inept attempts to woo girls in high school to the difficult and often turbulent relationship Trevor had with his abusive stepfather.  The essays are by turns funny, moving, and heartbreaking.  Throughout the essays, Trevor is careful to not only describe the effect apartheid had on his family and other black South Africans, but to multi-racial people labeled as "Colored,"  Trevor also points out the often arbitrary rules of apartheid that sometimes popped up seemingly overnight, with no other purpose than to further divide South Africa's black and Colored peoples.  He even devotes several pages to how apartheid affected his father and other whites who disagreed with apartheid.

If Trevor is the star of the show, his mother, Patricia, often steals the spotlight as his determined supporting actress.  If nothing else in the world, Patricia is often the voice of Trevor's conscience and the force nudging him to reach for something better.

The book is an easy read in terms of readability.  Trevor's voice shines through the page, and he makes it sound like he's sitting at a table in a coffee shop regaling his friends with the most meaningful moments of his childhood.  His language does get a bit salty at times, but it never comes off as gratuitous.  Another thing to keep in mind is the book doesn't move in a straight line from Trevor's birth to his early 20s.  It meanders a bit, based on the theme for that particular section of essays.

I had a really hard time putting it down.  If you like memoirs, this is definitely one to read.

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

'Girl of Fire and Thorns' by Rae Carson

Carson, Rae. The Girl of Fire and Thorns. New York, Greenwillow Books, 2011. Print.

Lucero-Elisa de Riqueza, the younger princess of the kingdom of Orovalle, is wed in an arranged
(secret!) marriage to King Alejandro de Vega, of the neighbouring country of Joya d'Arena.  Joya d'Arena is embroiled in a war with another country, Invierene, and their situation is precarious.  Elisa has been marked by God with a blue gemstone (a Godstone) embedded in her navel since birth that signals she is to do somethig special.  No one really knows what.  Yet.  Mostly because people with a Godstone tend to die while in the process of fulfilling their prophecy.  Oh, and they almost always die young.  All this and Elisa is only sixteen years old.

Cover image:
www.harpercollins.com
After Elisa arrives at the palace in Joya d'Arena, she's kidnapped by a group of rebels, and dragged across the desert. Once they arrive at the rebel village, Elisa embraces their cause, and uncovers a treacherous plot against King Alejandro.  Can she save Joya d'Arena and King Alejandro in time?

One of the things I enjoyed the most about The Girl of Fire and Thorns was that Elisa wasn't a typical YA heroine.  She's not considered particularly good-looking, much less beautiful, and she's also quite overweight.  Fat, in Elisa's words.  She uses food as a coping mechanism until she no longer has that option and has to figure out how to deal with any problems that arise using her own wits and intelligence.  Another thing that sets this medieval-themed fantasy novel apart is that the marriage is not something Elisa looks forward to.  She's terrified, the people in Joya d'Arena look at her as an outsider, her husband is not the least bit interested in her, and most people treat her like the child she still is.  Carson presents a rather realistic view of what it must have felt like to end up in a dynastic marriage.

There are lots of Spanish-language influences in the book (Carson was learning Spanish when she started writing the novel), and Elisa's religion doesn't feel as if it only resides in an alien planet.  The familiar feel of the language and religion help ease you into the novel and quickly establishes the setting.  It think it's important to say here that you shouldn't let the heavy presence of the world's religion drive you away from the book.  It's absolutely integral to the plot and Elisa as a character.  Plus, Carson allows the characters to feel doubt and question their religious beliefs and faith. 

The Girl of Fire and Thorns is a great action-packed read with a relateable heroine, who repeatedly falls down, makes mistakes, and picks herself back up (a lot!), because it's the only thing she can do.

The one thing I hated about the book was the cover.  I despised it.  (*gets out soapbox*) Mostly because it insisted on glamorizing Elisa and portraying her as a lithe, conventionally pretty, Caucasian girl, when she is decidedly none of those things in the novel and says so quite often.  It's so glaringly wrong that the YALSA blog "The Hub" mentioned it in a post on the practice of whitewashing book covers (characters who are clearly written as people of color, but depicted as Caucasian on the cover).   Face it.  People judge books by their covers all the time.  I'm guilty of it.  But when we want teens to read for enjoyment and they want to read about people who look like they do, it must be incredibly disheartening to scan the shelves of their local library's teen/YA fiction section and only see covers with the stereotypical pretty white chick, who has hair that belongs in a shampoo commercial. (*puts soapbox away*) 

There are two more books in the series: The Crown of Embers and The Bitter Kingdom.

The Girl of Fire and Thorns was a finalist for a William C. Morris YA Debut award in 2012.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

'Chains' by Laurie Halse Anderson

Anderson, Laurie Halse. Chains. New York, Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2008. Print.

cover image:
www.simonandschuster.ca
I'm a sucker for good historical fiction.  I noticed Chains and its sequel Forge on library shelves in 2013, and was intrigued by them, especially the cover artwork.  I had to set them aside in my "to-read" pile until I was done with library school, because well, unless you're enrolled in a children's literature class, outside reading in an MLS program tends to fall by the wayside.  I just so happened to enroll in my program's advanced YA literature class, and needed to do a booktalk.  Historical fiction is generally a hard sell to teenagers, but I like a challenge, and I jumped at the opportunity to read something in my ever-growing pile.  So...

Picture it.  New York City.  1776.  The Colonies are in the early throes of the Revolution.

Thirteen-year-old Isabel and her five-year-old sister Ruth are taken from their late owner's farm outside Newport, Rhode Island and sold to Elihu and Anne Lockton, visiting from New York City.  The Locktons, with Isabel and Ruth in tow, arrive to a New York City that's currently under the control of the Patriot army and General George Washington.  At this point, the tension in the novel is already quite palatable.  As soon as the Locktons, Isabel, and Ruth set foot in New York City, the stakes go up a few notches in a book with already incredibly high stakes.  Anne Lockton engages in an extremely public battle of wills with Mr. Bellingham, the harbormaster.  You see, the Locktons are staunch Loyalists, while Bellingham is a fierce Patriot, which echo the sharp divisions of New York City between Patriots and Loyalists.

Almost from the first moment Isabel arrives in New York, she finds herself in a tug-of-war between needing to stay on her owners' good side and an offer made by Curzon, a slave owned by Bellingham. If Isabel spies on her Loyalist master, Curzon promises the Patriots will give Isabel and Ruth their freedom.  Therein lies the central conflict of the novel: how far will Isabel go to gain freedom for herself and Ruth?

In Chains, Anderson presents her finest writing since Speak exploded onto the scene in 1999.  Every decision Isabel makes is fraught with dire consequences, creating layer upon layer of complexity.  Curzon neatly pinpoints the source of Isabel's initial hesitation in spying on the Locktons: she is dependent on them for everything -- food, shelter, clothes.  They literally hold Isabel's life in their hands.  That the Locktons view Isabel as something less than human is presented, ironically, as an advantage.  Curzon states, "You are a small black girl...  You are a slave, not a person.  They'll say things in front of you they won't say in front of white servants...  It happens all the time to me" (Anderson 41).  Isabel's position as a slave in the Lockton household puts her in a position to hear an all sorts of Loyalist plots, as Elihu and his cronies freely speak of a plot to assassinate George Washington while Isabel serves them food and wine.

Anderson presents a view of the American Revolution in all its shades of grey.  Nothing -- and I do mean absolutely nothing -- in this book exists as a simple binary of good versus evil.  As a villain, Anne Lockton is as chilling in her utter ruthlessness as they come.  Becky, the Locktons' paid servant, warns Isabel of Anne's temper through an anecdote about a former slave who displeased Anne.  Anne beat the previous slave so badly with a fireplace poker, she broke the girl's arm and it never healed properly, so Anne sold her. But even Anne is caught in a prison created by the social structure that gave women few rights of their own.  Early in the novel, Isabel notices an old bruise around Anne's wrist, a quick nod to the abuse Anne suffers at the hands of her husband, something Anderson explores a bit more later in the novel.  Isabel first tries to persuade the Patriot Army to purchase her away from the Locktons, if only to escape from Anne Lockton's cruelty.  When that fails, she tries to give information about the movements of the Patriot Army to the British, in the hopes that they will free her, as they've offered to other slaves.   Isabel's hopes are dashed to bits when the officer to whom she speaks informs her the British would only free her if she had been the slave of a rebel Patriot, and since she's the property of a Loyalist, they cannot free her.  There are Patriots who experience no cognitive dissonance at the idea of fighting for their freedom, while keeping other human beings enslaved.  There are also Loyalists, like Elihu Lockton's aunt, Lady Seymour, who are clearly uncomfortable with slavery, but for reasons known only to them, don't fight harder to free the slaves they can help.  People often switch sides from Patriot to Loyalist and back, depending on the fortunes of each side.  Or, like the Locktons, they act like Patriots in public while New York is occupied by the Patriots, but are dyed in the wool Loyalists behind closed doors.  All of these layers of moral complexity serve to create vivid, three-dimensional characters that a reader can easily imagine.

Anderson's language in Chains is vividly descriptive.  She -- in Isabel's voice -- describes New York as a "ball tossed between Loyalists and Patriots" (Anderson 39-40).  Even her description of New York in the summer is enough to make a reader wrinkle their nose in sympathy when Isabel says it "smelled like a garbage pit mixed with a fresh mountain of manure" (Anderson 125).  The dialog between Isabel and Curzon crackles as they butt heads, both equally stubborn and convinced what each is doing is the right course of action.

The text for the chapter headings and epigrams that begin each chapter is reminiscent of the printing style of the late eighteenth century.  Even the touch of using Roman numerals (which might make a reader want to brush up on those elementary math lessons) hearkens back to a more distant era.  It's the epigrams that really give the book the feel of the eighteenth century.  Anderson quotes sources various sources, like Abigail Adams' famous "Remember the ladies" letter to John Adams, letters from various Patriot and British army officers, and Thomas Paine's pamphlet Common Sense.  The epigrams cleverly offer a bit of a preview of the content of the following chapter.

The cover illustration perfectly encapsulates the theme of the novel.  A silhouette of Isabel, with her raised hands seemingly chained by a strip of parchment or paper that has the title on it.  On each side of the "chain" are birds that represent both the Colonies and Great Britain. Isabel rather vividly describes herself as being "chained between two nations" (Anderson 182).

Any history class that's studying the American Revolution should read this book.  Or even excerpts.  It gives such a unique point a view that usually isn't seen in tales of the Revolutionary War.  And, as noted earlier, it avoids separating characters into neat "good" or "evil" boxes.  The book is so good, that adult readers would enjoy it.  I've even recommended it to my history-loving dad.

Chains is part of Anderson's Seeds of America trilogy, which includes Forge and Ashes.  Fans of the trilogy have been waiting for years for Ashes.  It finally (!) has an expected publication date: October 4, 2016.

Chains was a finalist for the National Book Awards in 2008, and the winner of the Scott O'Dell award for historical fiction in 2009.

In April 2014, Anderson participated in a Reddit AMA.  In it she discusses Speak, as well as other books, and mentions the illness that prevented her from writing for a couple of years (hence the delay for Ashes).  Especially funny is her explanation of why she refers to her historical novels as "historical thrillers" not "historical fiction"  (Too many bad memories of Johnny Tremaine.)  There's another Reddit AMA where Speak features heavily, but it's also a wonderful conversation with Anderson.  Read them both.  She's an engaging conversationalist.  :)  And she loves librarians.


Works Cited

Anderson, Laurie Halse. Chains. New York, Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2008. Print.


Monday, May 30, 2016

'Symphony for the City of the Dead: Dmitri Shostakovich and the Siege of Leningrad'' by M.T. Anderson

Anderson, M.T. Symphony for the City of the Dead: Dmitri Shostakovich and the Siege of Leningrad. Somerville, MA, Candlewick Press, 2015. Print.

Truth is stranger than fiction sometimes.  Sometimes, the truth is so bizarre, so out in left field, so deliciously weird that even Muldar and Scully would have to investigate.

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www.penguinrandomhouse.com
Our tale begins with a spy-worthy journey, as a mysterious microfilm makes its way from Soviet Russia to Tehran, then on to Cairo, through northern Africa, where it crossed the Atlantic Ocean, landing in Recife, Brazil, where it was picked up by a U.S. Navy plane and flown to Florida, finally landing in Washington, D.C.  What is on this mysterious microfilm?  Battle plans?  Spy reports?  Wait, what?  A symphony?  All that for a symphony? You bet!

The following pages present a multi-layered biography, not just of the composer Dmitri Shostakovich, but also of the establishment of the Soviet Union and its often bloody and terrifying history under Joseph Stalin.  A dual biography is important for context here.  It's impossible to understand Shostakovich and his works unless you understand the circumstances under which he composed.  For this particular book, M.T. Anderson uses Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony -- the Leningrad Symphony -- as the lens through which he views not only Shostakovich, but the Soviet Union.  One of the most remarkable things about the Seventh Symphony is that Shostakovich composed most of it while living in Leningrad during the brutal Nazi siege (September 1941-January 1944) in World War II.  The Seventh Symphony became synonymous with the Soviet war effort during World War II, and was key in gaining material support from Western allies.  The symphony humanized the Soviets to Western audiences and was often played as part of fundraising efforts on behalf of Soviet civilians.

Anderson presents a well-researched book about one of the most well-known 20th century composers, who wrote music under unimaginable circumstances (the Russian Revolution, the purges under Stalin, the off-and-on repudiation of Shostakovich by people he considered friends, the middle of a siege). He also refuses to condescend to his intended audience, and never sugarcoats the torture under the Stalin regime or the privations in Leningrad under the siege.  Anderson doesn't dwell on it, either, but he offers more than enough detail to get the point across without gratuitous lingering over some of more gruesome aspects. (The torture of the theatre director Vsevolod Meyerhold during one of the Purges in 1938 stands out in particular.) Anderson is also mindful of his subject.  The Soviet Union was not a place where one could necessarily freely exchange ideas.  Every so often, Anderson reminds his readers that quotes attributed to Shostakovich might genuinely be Shostakovich's ideas, but there is a good chance Shostakovich spoke under duress.  After all, it wasn't uncommon for the Soviet government to allow artists to travel outside the Soviet Union, but keep their family home as "insurance" that the artist in question would not only toe the party line, but return home.  Anderson uses Shostakovich as a sort of shorthand to illustrate the raging paranoia that infiltrated every aspect of a person's life under Stalin, to the point where an artist of Shostakovich's caliber can be praised to the heavens by the critics on Tuesday, but then end up vilified and shunned on Thursday.

Anderson provides several photographs of Shostakovich, Leningrad during the siege, and production photos from the Soviet performing arts scene of the 1920s. In several photographs, Anderson's captions offer more information about the arts in the 1920s and 1930s or a little more background on a person in the photograph.  He also helpfully provides maps that outline the Nazi siege of Leningrad, delineating German and Soviet held territory.  Anderson also includes his extensive bibliography of works he consulted while he wrote the book.  There's also a table of contents and an index.  Anderson also sprinkles in a few footnotes to clarify certain topics, like the difference between "Bolshevik," "Communist," and "Socialist."

This book would be a great resource if you're studying World War II, and would like a different perspective.  To be honest (and I was a history teacher for many years before I earned my library degree), the Soviet side of things is somewhat forgotten in the larger narrative of World War II.  It would be also a good idea to track down some of Shostakovich's recordings and listen to them after you've read the book.  Google "Shostakovich Seventh Symphony," and you ought to find several recordings on YouTube.  You don't have to watch the video, just listen.  Shostakovich's symphonies really are as Anderson describes them: film scores without the film.  After reading Symphony for the City of the Dead, you don't really need a film to appreciate Shostakovich's music.

M. T. Anderson is the author of the award-winning books Feed and The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing.  Symphony for the City of the Dead  was a longlist finalist for the National Book Award and was also a finalist for the YALSA Award for Excellence in Nonfiction.  Symphony for the City of the Dead has also been awarded a Horn Book Honor for 2016 in nonfiction.  NPR's program Here & Now interviewed Anderson about the book.  It's worth a listen.

*On a side note, if you look on a map of Russia today, you won't find a city called Leningrad.  You will find St. Petersburg, and Anderson traces how St. Petersburg became Petrograd, then Leningrad under Soviet rule.  It wasn't unusual for cities to have their names changed under Soviet rule, and they sometimes changed when almost as soon as a new leader came to power.  If you'd like, to look into things like this more in depth, you can research ways that new leaders of the Soviet Union tried to change historical records to remove people who had been executed during one of the Purges, especially other Party leaders who had fallen out of favor.  One of Stalin's methods was to remove former colleagues from photographs -- pre-digital Photoshop, if you will.