I love it when procrastination still leads to useful stuff getting done.
It makes me forget I'm actually procrastinating.
How to Ditch Your Fairy, Justine Larbalestier
In New Avalon (almost) everyone has a fairy. Fairies are invisible, and technically theoretical, but their effects can be pretty damn obvious. Charisma fairies lead their people to fame and socialite stardom (famous for no reason at all, other than being famous), spare change fairies help their people find spare change, and shopping fairies score their people great deals on shopping trips, where every outfit they try on makes them look amazing. Charlie, the book's protagonist, has a parking fairy; her fairy makes sure there's always a great spot available whenever Charlie is in a car. The problem? Charlie is fourteen, hates cars, and loathes her fairy--mostly because people use her for her fairy's effects. Anytime someone has an appointment or something, Charlie's stuck going along to make sure that there's a good spot available. One of her schoolmates even kidnaps her on occasion to make sure he gets a good spot. I can see why she'd want to get rid of it--can you picture being seven or eight, and getting dragged to countless banks, visits to the doctor, and other sundry and boring places, just so your neighbor doesn't have to walk an additional twenty feet?
For me, the part of the book I found most interesting was Larbalestier's world-building. New Avalon is a mix of Australian and American cultures, with some fantasy (i.e. fairies) thrown in for good measure. It sort of reminds me of Terre D'Ange; though not everyone in New Avalon is impossibly smart, beautiful, graceful, and wonderful, if you want to find the people who are best at something, they'll all be New Avalonians. The best doctor in the world? Went to school in New Avalon. Best football player? Ditto. Most gorgeous supermodel? Well, you get the idea. People born and/or raised in New Avalon are just better than folks who weren't, and everyone in the whole wide world knows that. What kept this from being annoying (and kept me from rolling my eyes to the detriment of my reading) was that you start to get the idea that Charlie's not the most reliable narrator around. She has a crush on this guy who just moved to New Avalon from Ravenna, and his opinion of New Avalon and its inhabitants is less than laudatory. He finds them all hopelessly self-absorbed; not only are they convinced of New Avalon's superiority, but they're completely ignorant about the world outside of New Avalon's borders, and, worse yet, they don't care to learn more. The only time Charlie ever shows curiosity about Ravenna is when she asks what they think about New Avalon there. But I digress.
I would have liked to read more about New Avalonian culture. Because Charlie is the narrator, we only get to see stuff that she thinks is important, and she has a LOT of blind spots. Through her, we learn that schools are segregated by topic: Charlie goes to Sports school, her younger sister goes to Arts school, I'm assuming there are other schools out there, but we only hear about those two. At Sports High, they have a ton of gym classes, and then a few regular classes like stats (where they figure out batting averages and the like) and PR (how to spin news reports). Before starting school there, they sign a contract with hundreds of fiddly rules that apply both in school and out (no kissing!), their calorie intake is measured (again, both in school and out) as well as what those calories are made up of (proteins, veggies, ice cream, etc). The rules and restrictions these kids deal with are stupid and insane (kissing is an unforgiveable offense--you can get expelled for it), but almost all the kids think that it's great to have them all. The constant monitoring sorta reminded me of 1984, except Charlie gives every indication that she likes it. Again, this brings her reliability into question, especially since one of the lesser themes explored in the book is the abuse of power. Charlie "can't" rat on the guy who kidnaps her during school hours because he's a star on the national lacrosse team, and crossing him is not the best idea out there. So Charlie keeps getting in trouble for ditching class, on top of being in trouble for her constant tardiness--she's been walking everywhere for the last two months in an effort to 'starve' her fairy and get a new one--which leads to her missing out on games and whatnot, but that's STILL better than telling on him.
In the end, we get a lot of information about her school, some information about general school-age culture, a LOT of slang, but not much else about New Avalonian culture. I hope that in future NA books, Larbalestier will explore that more. Oh, and I want to see more about what the outside world REALLY thinks of New Avalon. I have a feeling that will be hilarious. Speaking of hilarity, this book is meant to be comical, but I wouldn't catagorize it as 'laugh out loud funny.' It had some amusing bits, and Charlie's narration can get a bit dryly ironic at times, but I wouldn't say it was funny enough to be comedic. It was charming and entertaining, which I appreciated.
My biggest issue came from the fairy conceit, though. I find it odd that there are ways that people can ditch their fairies and then catch a new one without any real effort. Through most of the book, Charlie sweats to get rid of her parking fairy; it takes a long time and comes at significant personal effort and cost. It's working (at one point, she discovers that her parking fairy is almost gone and a new proto-fairy is forming), but it's a process. Then she and another girl perform a ritual (which involves blood) to swap fairies, only to discover that having the other's fairy sucks just as much as having her own, which, y'know, is a decent life lesson. But, in the end, Charlie just gets a new fairy, one that she considers to be really awesome, by basically napping in the sun with colored banners around her. This is me not kidding. I just feel like if your fairy is such an integral part of you, there should be more of an effect when you get a brand new one out of the ether. The book focuses so much on personal responsibility and fairness and honor that the new fairy seems like a little kid's ending, the equivalent of "and they lived happily ever after."
My other problem Is a moral/ethics question. So, Charlie goes to Sports High, and that school emphasizes discipline, practice, hard work, etc etc. But some people have fairies that make them better athletes, like a "never fall off your horse" fairy or an "always make your free-throw" fairy. I feel like using those fairies in sports is kinda like cheating. The kid who always hits home runs because of his fairy is lauded more than the kid who only hits home runs half the time, but has a "her hair always looks great" fairy, and that's not fair. Sure, part of that can be blamed on the unhealthy obsession with sports and being the best that New Avalon has, but I don't feel as if Larbalestier emphasizes that enough in relation to the fairies. If she were using the sports-fairies to make a point, that would be one thing, but I don't think she was--at least, I didn't get a real sense of her doing so.
Charlie is a good narrator; again, she's self-absorbed, but I don't think you can escape that in a first-person narrative--especially from a 14 year old's point of view. Larbalestier does a good job of having Charlie learn lessons and grow up without the 'brick to the face' effect, including the old standby "be careful what you wish for, you just might get it." Another aspect that rocked my socks was that there were two off-hand references to gay kids. The first, Charlie's talking to a friend who falls under another girl's 'all boys like her' fairy, and hates it because he likes boys, but when the girl is around, he has no real choice in the matter, and there's a later scene with another guy who has a boyfriend. These characters aren't important to the story, and Larbalestier doesn't go "OMG! I AM SO PROGRESSIVE, I HAVE THE GAYS, SEE LOOK!" Instead, they're presented as just regular, random kids that Charlie goes to school with, nothing fancy about them. I like that gays are included in a YA book, and that they're not used to make a statement. This book was fun, light, and charming. I'd like to read more set in this city.
3 stars
Interesting coincidence: Justine Larbalestier is married to Scott Westerfeld.
How to Ditch Your Fairy, Justine Larbalestier
In New Avalon (almost) everyone has a fairy. Fairies are invisible, and technically theoretical, but their effects can be pretty damn obvious. Charisma fairies lead their people to fame and socialite stardom (famous for no reason at all, other than being famous), spare change fairies help their people find spare change, and shopping fairies score their people great deals on shopping trips, where every outfit they try on makes them look amazing. Charlie, the book's protagonist, has a parking fairy; her fairy makes sure there's always a great spot available whenever Charlie is in a car. The problem? Charlie is fourteen, hates cars, and loathes her fairy--mostly because people use her for her fairy's effects. Anytime someone has an appointment or something, Charlie's stuck going along to make sure that there's a good spot available. One of her schoolmates even kidnaps her on occasion to make sure he gets a good spot. I can see why she'd want to get rid of it--can you picture being seven or eight, and getting dragged to countless banks, visits to the doctor, and other sundry and boring places, just so your neighbor doesn't have to walk an additional twenty feet?
For me, the part of the book I found most interesting was Larbalestier's world-building. New Avalon is a mix of Australian and American cultures, with some fantasy (i.e. fairies) thrown in for good measure. It sort of reminds me of Terre D'Ange; though not everyone in New Avalon is impossibly smart, beautiful, graceful, and wonderful, if you want to find the people who are best at something, they'll all be New Avalonians. The best doctor in the world? Went to school in New Avalon. Best football player? Ditto. Most gorgeous supermodel? Well, you get the idea. People born and/or raised in New Avalon are just better than folks who weren't, and everyone in the whole wide world knows that. What kept this from being annoying (and kept me from rolling my eyes to the detriment of my reading) was that you start to get the idea that Charlie's not the most reliable narrator around. She has a crush on this guy who just moved to New Avalon from Ravenna, and his opinion of New Avalon and its inhabitants is less than laudatory. He finds them all hopelessly self-absorbed; not only are they convinced of New Avalon's superiority, but they're completely ignorant about the world outside of New Avalon's borders, and, worse yet, they don't care to learn more. The only time Charlie ever shows curiosity about Ravenna is when she asks what they think about New Avalon there. But I digress.
I would have liked to read more about New Avalonian culture. Because Charlie is the narrator, we only get to see stuff that she thinks is important, and she has a LOT of blind spots. Through her, we learn that schools are segregated by topic: Charlie goes to Sports school, her younger sister goes to Arts school, I'm assuming there are other schools out there, but we only hear about those two. At Sports High, they have a ton of gym classes, and then a few regular classes like stats (where they figure out batting averages and the like) and PR (how to spin news reports). Before starting school there, they sign a contract with hundreds of fiddly rules that apply both in school and out (no kissing!), their calorie intake is measured (again, both in school and out) as well as what those calories are made up of (proteins, veggies, ice cream, etc). The rules and restrictions these kids deal with are stupid and insane (kissing is an unforgiveable offense--you can get expelled for it), but almost all the kids think that it's great to have them all. The constant monitoring sorta reminded me of 1984, except Charlie gives every indication that she likes it. Again, this brings her reliability into question, especially since one of the lesser themes explored in the book is the abuse of power. Charlie "can't" rat on the guy who kidnaps her during school hours because he's a star on the national lacrosse team, and crossing him is not the best idea out there. So Charlie keeps getting in trouble for ditching class, on top of being in trouble for her constant tardiness--she's been walking everywhere for the last two months in an effort to 'starve' her fairy and get a new one--which leads to her missing out on games and whatnot, but that's STILL better than telling on him.
In the end, we get a lot of information about her school, some information about general school-age culture, a LOT of slang, but not much else about New Avalonian culture. I hope that in future NA books, Larbalestier will explore that more. Oh, and I want to see more about what the outside world REALLY thinks of New Avalon. I have a feeling that will be hilarious. Speaking of hilarity, this book is meant to be comical, but I wouldn't catagorize it as 'laugh out loud funny.' It had some amusing bits, and Charlie's narration can get a bit dryly ironic at times, but I wouldn't say it was funny enough to be comedic. It was charming and entertaining, which I appreciated.
My biggest issue came from the fairy conceit, though. I find it odd that there are ways that people can ditch their fairies and then catch a new one without any real effort. Through most of the book, Charlie sweats to get rid of her parking fairy; it takes a long time and comes at significant personal effort and cost. It's working (at one point, she discovers that her parking fairy is almost gone and a new proto-fairy is forming), but it's a process. Then she and another girl perform a ritual (which involves blood) to swap fairies, only to discover that having the other's fairy sucks just as much as having her own, which, y'know, is a decent life lesson. But, in the end, Charlie just gets a new fairy, one that she considers to be really awesome, by basically napping in the sun with colored banners around her. This is me not kidding. I just feel like if your fairy is such an integral part of you, there should be more of an effect when you get a brand new one out of the ether. The book focuses so much on personal responsibility and fairness and honor that the new fairy seems like a little kid's ending, the equivalent of "and they lived happily ever after."
My other problem Is a moral/ethics question. So, Charlie goes to Sports High, and that school emphasizes discipline, practice, hard work, etc etc. But some people have fairies that make them better athletes, like a "never fall off your horse" fairy or an "always make your free-throw" fairy. I feel like using those fairies in sports is kinda like cheating. The kid who always hits home runs because of his fairy is lauded more than the kid who only hits home runs half the time, but has a "her hair always looks great" fairy, and that's not fair. Sure, part of that can be blamed on the unhealthy obsession with sports and being the best that New Avalon has, but I don't feel as if Larbalestier emphasizes that enough in relation to the fairies. If she were using the sports-fairies to make a point, that would be one thing, but I don't think she was--at least, I didn't get a real sense of her doing so.
Charlie is a good narrator; again, she's self-absorbed, but I don't think you can escape that in a first-person narrative--especially from a 14 year old's point of view. Larbalestier does a good job of having Charlie learn lessons and grow up without the 'brick to the face' effect, including the old standby "be careful what you wish for, you just might get it." Another aspect that rocked my socks was that there were two off-hand references to gay kids. The first, Charlie's talking to a friend who falls under another girl's 'all boys like her' fairy, and hates it because he likes boys, but when the girl is around, he has no real choice in the matter, and there's a later scene with another guy who has a boyfriend. These characters aren't important to the story, and Larbalestier doesn't go "OMG! I AM SO PROGRESSIVE, I HAVE THE GAYS, SEE LOOK!" Instead, they're presented as just regular, random kids that Charlie goes to school with, nothing fancy about them. I like that gays are included in a YA book, and that they're not used to make a statement. This book was fun, light, and charming. I'd like to read more set in this city.
3 stars
Interesting coincidence: Justine Larbalestier is married to Scott Westerfeld.