How to Build a Girl

How to Build a Girl
Caitlin Moran

 I had almost neglected to write this review, seeing as it has been so over-reviewed already, but when I saw a friend reading it and laughing all the way through, I felt the need to offer my thoughts.

All those who know Caitlin Moran know her story by now - a clever girl raised on a council estate who lands a teenage writing prize and goes on to blag a column in The Times. Moran insists that How to Build a Girl is fiction, but it is hard to distance this novel from her own reality.

But it is not the plot of this novel that I want to celebrate, rather the little snippets of hilarity that are simultaneously completely familiar and obsurely unique. The teenage self-consiousness that convinces Johanna Morrigan she is singularly responsible for her family's poverty. The misreading of social convention that makes dressing solely in black seem like the best idea, and her mother's concern that she is acting like a dark crow that has decended upon the household. The naivety that allows her to have so much sex and so few orgasims.

Whether or not you like that fact that Moran seems to only write about one thing, you cannot deny the fact that she is honest, realistic and frankly hilarious.

The Forward Book of Poetry 1995

The Forward Book of Poetry 1995
London, Forward, 1995

I love the idea of an impromptu poetry reading from Carol Ann Duffy, Jean Binta Breeze and William Sieghart. Apparently, this is what happened during the meeting of the judging panel for the 1995 Forward Prizes. 

As Cressida Connely notes in her foreword, this collection consists of such an incredible variety of poetry, though much of it is rather longer than my usual preference. There are poems about music, from Marvin Gaye to Joe Meek; poems about love and family and loss; and even poems about poems. 

Peter Sansom's 'Today We Are Shooting Poets' is a funny, clever piece of writing, in contrast to Ann Sansom's celebration of variety in voices. 

There are also brilliantly strong women in this collection, possibly a reflection of Carol Ann Duffy's presence on the selection panel. Helen Dunmore's 'Three Ways of Recovering a Body' is simultaneously tragic and uplifting, but packs a punch alongside the words of Jackie Kay and Louise Hudson. 

And there are poems in here I want to read again and again, and that I think might lead me to writing my own response; particularly Peter Didsbury's 'A Malediction', which just oozes inspiration in it's structure, form and subject. Time to get writing, I guess...

Eleanor & Park

Eleanor & Park
Rainbow Rowell
London, Orion, 2012, 325p

Eleanor & Park has been in high demand amongst many of my students - of a similar vein as John Green's novels, it tells the tale of two misfits trying to go unnoticed, who can't help but notice each other. 

Park is a quiet, comic-book reading boy. He isn't bullied, but you couldn't say he is particularly popular. Eleanor is new, and on her first day, finds herself sat next to Park on the bus. They travel to and from school together every day in silence, until Park notices that Eleanor is reading his comics over his shoulder. They start to share some of the loves and hates, until they realise they love each other. 

It is clear why Rainbow Rowell has become incredibly popular - she appeals to that part of every one of us that feels uncomfortable in social situations. I would have loved this as a teenager, but experience has made me a cynic. 

Romeo and Juliet is referenced as the kids' English books, and the themes of that classic are reflected in Eleanor & Park. They quickly fall deeply for each other, and like first love, cannot imagine life without each other. Park's parents are mostly supportive, but Eleanor has a difficult home situation, with an aggressive and drunk stepfather. 

Unfortunately, just like I couldn't get around Romeo and Juliet killing themselves, I struggled to engage with the idea that Eleanor and Park's first loves would possibly be their last and only. 

Nevertheless, Eleanor & Park is an easy and engaging read, and it feels very contemporary, reflecting the current trend towards a reminiscent adoration of past popular culture (the story is set in 1986 so bands like The Smiths are prominent!). 

This Song Will Save Your Life

This Song Will Save Your Life
Leila Sales
London, Macmillan, 2013, 288p

I was unexpectedly impressed and wowed by this novel. Having struggled to concentrate on reading recently, I did not think a book about a teen misfit in high school would be what got me back on track. 

Having spent all summer trying to learn how to be cool, Elise is disappointed when her first day back at school goes terribly wrong. She has the right clothes, knows what to say about music, and is sure this will be the year she makes friends, but after just one day back she is ready to take her own life. 

The second chapter of this book will haunt me for some time, and I remain unsure how I feel about it. Elise resorts to self-harming, as her social rejection becomes increasingly difficult to ignore. Today, I spent this morning chatting with my school counselor, and have given her the book to read - I want to share this book with my students, but feel under prepared about how to talk to young readers about it, as the scene was unbelievably heartbreaking and yet shockingly common. 

And I am undecided on how I feel about the outcome and resolution of Elise's depression. Jenna Sales skips through the six months following Elise's suicide attempt, briefly noting that her parents had started to keep a closer eye on her. When the story picks up, Elise is still unhappy at school, though she has two girls to sit with at lunch time (both also rather socially awkward, they are wannabees, and follow the popular crowd, longing to be part of it). 

At night, Elise walks through the streets, taking advantage of the time to herself. One night, she stumbles upon an underground club, and though only fifteen, is admitted to a world she never knew existed - where the clothes hark back to better times and the room is filled with old rock classics. Her passion for music leads her to being noticed, and the DJ takes her under his wing to show her the ropes. 

The challenge with writing a book about depression is that a novel always has a beginning, a middle, and an end. But depression doesn't always have an end. And young girls and boys don't always stumble upon their dream social scene in a warehouse in the early hours of the morning. Perhaps it is okay just to know that books like this get the conversation started, and help us acknowledge the existence of depression. 

Rooftoppers

Rooftoppers
Katherine Rundell
London, Faber & Faber, 2013, 278p

As I neared the end of this book, I had no idea how it would possibly come to it's conclusion with so few remaining pages. After a slow and leisurely build up, I was impressed that everything managed to come to a conclusion so quickly and smoothly. 

When Sophie is orphaned in a shipwreck, she is adopted by the eccentric and loving Charles. He teaches her about books and dreams and she learns to never ignore a possible. But as she grows up, the authorities become increasingly concerned about whether it is appropriate for Charles to remain her guardian, as she is less feminine than is expected of her time. So hiding on rooftops from the authorities, Sophie sets out to find her mother, presumed lost in the wreck, but Sophie still has hope. 

The opening of the novel is rather slow of pace - you are introduced to Charles and Sophie and their little domestic absurdities, which I loved. For Charles, education is the most important thing to distill in his ward, but the children's authorities have other ideas about how a girl should be raised. Considering the novel is caused Rooftoppers, much of the book was given over to Sophie's life with Charles, so that I found myself missing Charles' peculiarities once Sophie took to the roofs. 
  This is Katherine Rundell's debut novel, so it can be forgiven that the balance between introduction and "rooftopping" did not seem quite right; especially since her prose style is so inviting and soothing, written like a classic children's fairytale with feisty modern characters and a dangerous path of adventure. 

To see the rest of my Carnegie reviews, click here.

The Real Rebecca

The Real Rebecca
Anna Carey
Dublin, The O'Brien Press, 2011, 256p

For some reason, the Bechdel test keeps coming up in conversation or my reading recently. This is a standard used by some feminists to judge and critique films, books and other media. The criteria ask

1. Are there at least two women in the film / novel / other
2. who talk to each other
3. about something other than men?

Subconsciously, I often use these points to judge what I read, especially with fiction targeted at young women. Many novels written for teenage girls have an element of romance within them, but it is the addition of other causes of drama that make such novels enjoyable.

Rebecca is the subject of one such novel, though in a rather unconventional way. Her mother is an author who has just decided to delve into the world of young adult literature. She has written a book which she claims is based on the 'antics' of her two teenage daughters, and Rebecca is overwhelmed with embarrassment at her mother using her life for inspiration. So she sets out to show everyone The Real Rebecca, by rebelling against everything that characterised her mother's new protagonist. 

The teenage girls written about by Rebecca's mother are boy-obsessed, fashion-obsessed and have even started their own pop band. So when Rebecca and her friends set out challenge the assumption everyone had about the character being the same as Rebecca, I was surprised when they started their own band, albeit more indie than pop. The friends are working towards an upcoming Battle of the Bands competition, which they are entering in part to show off to Paperboy, the man of Rebecca's dreams. 

As you can see, in trying to show her real self, Rebecca seems to be reinforcing the similarities between herself and her mother's fictional character. And yet, I didn't abhor the character, as I sometimes do with books like this. The Real Rebecca just scrapes through the Bechdel test, but the female protagonists are well-developed, interesting and probably just the sort characters I would have enjoyed reading about as a young girl.