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Breaking Dawn

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Most everyone who intends to read this book probably already has by now; I’m a little late to the party. What can I say? Lauren had to read it first. Then again, since she read it in like 48 hours, I don’t have much of an excuse for taking so long to finish it, do I?

Hmm. I guess I’m just slow. Get over it.

The fourth and final book in Stephenie Meyer’s teenage vampire saga is the most controversial of the bunch, dividing her loyal fan base and earning a D rating from Entertainment Weekly. Considering how little weight I give to book and movie reviews at EW, the D thing doesn’t faze me, but the outrage from some of her fans did. I tried not to listen to all the complains since I hadn’t read the book at the time and didn’t want to taint my experience by knowing beforehand what fanned everyone’s fire, but simply knowing that people were displeased made me a little skeptical.

So if you haven’t read the book and want to avoid spoilers, stop reading now. OK, you’ve been warned.

In my opinion, which only holds any value with my mother and wife, Breaking Dawn is an excellent and appropriate conclusion to a wonderful series. The Jacob-imprinting-on-the-baby thing didn’t bother me. As one fellow reader pointed out to me: Jacob imprinting was inevitable. That mythology had already been introduced. Meyer was merely living up to the rules she had already established. Besides, she prepared us for this beforehand. One of the other werewolves . . . excuse me, shape shifters, had already imprinted on a toddler. Meyer is no dummy. She prepared us all well.

And Bella gaining and learning vampire powers. Awesome. Her shield ability. Awesome. Stumping the Volturi in the field. Awesome. My only complaint was that the Volturi didn’t get a major butt kicking. Four hundreds of pages they prepare and talk about an impending fight and then the fight never happens? Say what?

But these are small petty things. Overall it was wonderfully enjoyable. Thank you, Mrs. Meyer. Please don’t let this be your last.

I Am The Messenger by Markus Zusak

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A few months ago I read The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, which recently was a Michael L. Printz Honor Book, an awrd for excellence in young adult literature. The book was first published for an adult audience in Australia where Zusak lives, but ever since Harry Potter, best seller lists like those at the New York Times classify any book that stars a child as its protagonist as a “Children’s Book.” Never mind that the book is over 500 pages long and full of heavy, mature themes like war and death and the Holocaust. Oh no, says the New York Times. If the story is about a child, it must be FOR children.

I just shake my head. Dumb dumb dumb.

An author friend of mine explained to me why books are classified this way and Harry Potter is indeed to blame. When those books were released, they so shattered the sales numbers of other books and remained on bestseller lists for so long that publishers began to complain: How can we market OUR books as bestsellers if seven of the places on bestseller lists are taken by this blasted Harry Potter fellow?

And so The New York Times conceded and put “children’s” books like Harry Potter into a category all their own. Poppycock! Adults read these books probably even more than children do.

But alas, this isn’t a blog entry on the unfair treatment YA books receive, nor even an entry about The Book Thief, which I must say is a disarmingly beautiful and tragically wonderful story. If you can stomach a book narrated by Death about a young German girl and her family’s struggle through war-torn, whacked-out Germany, than this, my good friend, is the book for you. Read it. But be warned. It’s sad. You’ll cry and stuff. And yet it will lift your spirits and remind you how precious and glorious life really is.

Which brings me to I Am The Messenger, my second Zusak book, which I just finished listening to on audiobook. Like The Book Thief, Messenger leaves you breathless and moved. It too was honored by the Michael L. Printz Award, but only received an honoree recognition, not the actual prize, though I can’t fathom how any book could have beat it. It’s quite possibly the most beautiful story I’ve ever read. Seriously. I’m not throwing this praise casually, people. Mr. Zusak has a gift. Read this book. It will leave you befuddled at times, wondering what in tarnation is going on, but it never frustrates. It moves well, casually at times, but never at a leisurely stroll. And when the hero acts and delivers his message, Zusak holds you so tight, you can’t put it aside. Usually I only listen to audiobooks when I drive, but I so caught up in messenger, I often found myself sitting in the living room with my iPod earbuds in, dyiing to know what happens next.

It’s a simple story. Ed Kennedy, a nineteen-year-old good-for-nothing cab driver, is wasting his life away. He didn’t go to university like his brother and has about as much ambition as his old, lazy, foul-smelling dog, The Doorman. When Ed thwarts a bank robbery one day and becomes a local hero, a playing card appears in his mailbox: an ace with three addresses written on it. Somehow, Ed realizes that at these three addresses people need his help. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to help them or even who exactly he’s supposed to help, but he sets off nonetheless.

Sounds silly, right? Maybe like a pilot idea for a new series this fall on ABC.

Trust me. It’s more than that. If Messenger doesn’t move you, your heart has stopped beating. This is the kind of book that will motivate you to be a better person. As corny and cliche as that may sound, that’s what Messenger will do: make you believe in yourself.

Airborn by Kenneth Oppel

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I know I always gush and applaud every book I read, but it’s not because I’m pleased by anything that comes along; it’s because I only start books that I know are going to be good. And Airborn is no exception. I started this one as a full-cast audiobook, but I got so wrapped up in the story, so engrossed in the action, that I had to discard the audiobook and pick up the actual book. The actors just weren’t going fast enough for me. I was desperate to find out what happened next.

Much like Pullman’s Dark Materials Trilogy, Airborn is set in an alternate universe. There are cities we have heard of (Sydney, Paris) and cities that are new to us (Lionsgate City). But most amazing of all in this parallel universe is that airplanes were never invented. And so air travel is restricted to airships, giant balloon-like vessels not unlike the infamous Hindenburg. But instead of being filled with volatile hydrogen, airships in Airborn are filled with a new gas, unique to this universe: hydrium.

The hero of the story is young Matt Cruse, a cabin boy aboard the luxury passenger airship the Aurora. While on watch one night up in the crow’s nest, Matt spots a drifting balloon that won’t respond to radio calls. After a daring rescue, an old man is found on the balloon, hurt and only barely alive. Before dying, the old man speaks of beautiful creatures flying through the sky, and Matt assumes the man is delirious.

But when a young wealthy girl arrives on the Aurora a year later with her chaperon, Matt learns that the girl and the old man are connected, and that the old man may not have been delirious after all.

What follows is in a non-stop action adventure that feels like a modern-day Treasure Island. Winner of the Michael I. Printz Award for Excellence in Young Adult Fiction, Airborn is one story every reader will love.

Fablehaven by Brandon Mull

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It took me a long time to get through this book, but not because I didn’t enjoy it. I kept getting distracted by other books. In truth, Fablehaven is immensely entertaining, a wonderful read for both children and adults, and I should have read it in no time flat.

The premise is wonderfully imaginative: What if magical creatures are protected from the outside world and kept on preserves, in much the same way wildlife are. And the keepers of these preserves, the guardians, the caretakers, are sworn to secrecy and will sacrifice their own lives to protect the creatures in their care.

But here’s the catch: Fablehaven, one such preserve, is not solely for nice creatures. Dark, sinister creatures find protection in Fablehaven as well, making it a dangerous place for any human who doesn’t tread lightly and stick to certain protected spots on the preserve.

The novel’s story revolves around two grandchildren, Seth and Kendra, who go to their grandparents’ house in the country for a few weeks while their parents go away on a cruise. The grandparents are the caretakers of Fablehaven, and try to keep the preserve and all its magical creatures a secret from the children.

But kids will be kids, and Seth and Kendra discover the truth about Fablehaven. When evil creatures attack the house one evening and take Grandfather prisoner, all hell breaks loose. Seth and Kendra must rise to the challenge and save their grandfather before a powerful demon, locked away on the preserve, is unleashed.

The pace is pace and the action fun, and despite my bad example, it’s really a quick read. A wonderful addition to any young reader’s library. There are two sequels to this book, and I’m sure to give them a go as well. I’ll just make sure to read them a little faster than I did this one.

Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox

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Eoin Colfer (pronounced Owen) may very well be one of the coolest people on the planet. Not only are his books beyond brilliant and immensely entertaining, but he’s also Irish (ie. cool accent), incredibly down to earth, and bust-a-gut funny. Plus he used to be an elementary school teacher, for crying out loud. I mean, this is a one cool guy.

Recently Lauren and I discovered the promotional website for the Artemis Fowl series at (shocking) artemisfowl.com. It shows snippets of Colfer at work performing his one-man touring show: Fairies, Fiends and Flatulence. Yes, that’s flatulence. But before, you discredit Artemis Fowl as mere potty humor, give these books a try. They’re downright amazing.

I just finished the sixth book in the series, Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox, and it doesn’t disappoint. Artemis’s mother has fallen gravely ill, bewitched with fairy magic. The only cure, however, comes from a lemur that went extinct several years ago. Who’s to blame for that animals extinction? Well, none other than a much younger Artemis Fowl, who sold the animal to the highest bidder during his darker, criminal-mastermind days.

Now, to save his mother, Artemis must go back in time to outsmart his younger self and retrieve the lemur before it falls into the wrong hands. Time traveling isn’t easy, though. It’s highly illegal in the fairy world — not to mention extremely dangerous since it can shift events in the past and throw off the time stream, possibly causing catastrophic events in the future.

Fortunately, Artemis won’t have to do it alone. Captain Holly Short will accompany him, Artemis’s closest fairy friend and budding love interest. But to convince Holy to go along, Artemis lies to her, an untruth that could threaten their friendship and teeters Artemis back toward his darker-days behavior. But what can he do? His mother’s life is at stake.

Since this is an Artemis Fowl adventure, nothing is as easy as it first appears. Something much more sinister is at play here. And when Artemis finally uncovers the truth, the action really kicks into high gear.

I always say this, but this may very well be my favorite Fowl book to date — next to the first one, that is, which introduced me to this magic and universe. Colfer is at the top of his game here, and I hope the man never slows down. I’ll take an Artemis Fowl book any old day.

Simple Wins

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Advertising is a tricky business. And I think some of us in the industry forget that the simplest ideas are often the best. Too often we get caught up in the idea of creating a unique execution, a pretty picture, a flashy headline, and we forget that we’re selling a product and talking to consumers.

A new print campaign for the Volkswagen DSG does just that. They keep it simple. DDB in Belgium was asked to tout one of the car’s unique features, its 7-speed electronic transmission. I’m not sure what that is exactly, but I don’t need to know because the agency clearly communicates what that means: shifting between gears is fluid. I go from fourth to fifth with nary a notice.

The agency could have shown an image of the vehicle racing down some deserted highway and written a charming headline about the gear-shift feature. But instead, they ignored convention and break through the clutter with a single, extraordinarily simple graphic. I think it works quite nicely.

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