Every summer Matt & his friends set themselves a challenge. Past challenges have been things like collect a hundred frogs but this year, the 15-year-olds have decided upon a much more mature challenge; to see a real, live naked girl. Their goal is somewhat hampered by the fact that none of them even have the courage to ask a girl out in the first place.

Don Calame’s first book is a masterpiece of hilarious male teenage awkwardness. In their on-going quest to achieve their goal, Matt agrees to swim the hardest stroke in their swim team meet, the boys buy non-alcoholic beer to get into a party, & they dress in drag in order to sneak into the girl’s locker room. The boys’ antics are nicely off-set by Matt’s grandfather’s equally hare-brained scheme to hook up with their widow neighbor. I can’t remember the last time a book made me literally laugh out loud, but this one sure did. I giggled my way through my lunch breaks while Matt & his friends pursued their elusive quarry. Calame does a great job capturing the boys’ voices – their thoughts, their words & their actions are refreshingly honest and true to life.

Swim the Fly gets a solid Put it on hold NOW! – especially for teenage boys, their parents or anyone working with them! The book is solid, hilarious & fun to read – especially for the summer.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is a series of graphic novels chronicling the adventures of eponymous League; a collection of Victorian literary figures brought together to save England from the dire threats of literary villains. The first volume opens with Miss Wilhelmina ‘Mina’ Murray (formerly Mrs. Mina Harker of Bram Stoker’s Dracula) collecting other literary notables such as Allan Quartermain, Dr. Jekyll, Captain Nemo & The Invisible Man to serve as agents for British Intelligence. With their force assembled, they save London from the villainous Fu Manchu. In volume 2, H.G. Wells’ Martian invaders have landed in England & the League is dispatched to stop them. Both volumes are wonderfully illustrated by Kevin O’Neill & set the stage for a vaguely steampunk Victorian England replete with living literary characters. Though written for adults, the comics are presented in a ‘Boys own Adventure’ style with fictional advertisements, novellas, games & countless other extras included in the back of each volume.

I never really read comics as a kid. In fact, the first comic I can remember buying was in college (I could have bought one earlier, but I don’t remember any). Even then, I wasn’t really ‘into’ comics by any stretch of the imagination. Growing up, my best friend had a lot of comics (or maybe his brother did) that I sometimes read & that we would talk about; so I’ve always been familiar with the major characters & stuff in & about comics – but I didn’t really read them. I only actually started reading graphic novels a couple of years ago; part of it’s professional development, part of it’s the convenience of published graphic novels over serial comic books, but mostly it’s a genuine fascination with the convergence of great writing & great art in a single piece of work. On that note, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen does not disappoint. Moore’s writing is (of course) amazing & well-matched to O’Neill’s great artwork. Furthermore, the entire world of The League is endlessly fascinating. One can spend hours looking for all the nuanced allusions to the host of literary characters which appear in the graphic novel (although the number of character who I did not get was significantly high enough to make me feel woefully uncultured).

Of the two volumes, I enjoyed the first the most. The second was good, too, but not as much happened. Mind you, the story was good & it was just as full of clever literary innuendos – it was simply more straight-forward. The first volume, with its gathering together of diverse heroes, just had more going on & did a better job of mixing a selection of stories together.

The League is great. It gets a solid Put it on Hold rating. Though I haven’t read all of his work, at this point I’d really recommend reading any graphic novel by Alan Moore – the guy’s a genius. A couple of warnings, however – The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is a graphic novel for adults – it’s not kid-friendly & I would hesitate to put it in the hands of teens. Also; please, please, please do not make the mistake that I did years ago & watch the lamentable League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Movie. I had written off this whole great series based solely on the sins of a couple unfortunate hours of Hollywood dribble.

In 1914, Europe’s great powers prepare for war. The assassination of Archduke Ferdinand sends the Kaiser’s mighty dreadnaughts stalking across the land while England’s gigantic flying whales take to skies to defend Britannia…

Yup, that’s right – England’s giant flying whales.

Westerfeld’s Leviathan is a sci-fi/ fantasy alternative history of WWI which blends steampunk sensibilities with an incredibly imaginative & innovative take on genetic manipulation. The story follows Alek, the (entirely fictional) only son of Archduke Franz Ferdinand (not to be confused with the other Franz Ferdinand) as he flees the “Clanker” (i.e. Central) Powers of Austria-Hungary & Germany to the relative safety of neutral Switzerland. Meanwhile, Deryn Sharp poses as a boy in order to enlist in England’s royal air corp in order to follow in the footsteps of her aeronaut father & brother. England, France & Russia (the Entente Powers) are all “Darwinist” states; instead of mechanical technology, they use genetics to ‘evolve’ hybrid monsters designed for war – such as the Leviathan of the book’s title; a gigantic hydrogen-filled zeppelin-like flying whale. The Clankers eschew Darwinist ideologies; using instead sophisticated mechanized walkers ranging in size up to the 6-legged warship-like land dreadnaughts.

I have very mixed feelings about Leviathan. This is the first of Westerfeld’s books that I’ve read (I know, I know, shame on me for not reading the Uglies series), so I don’t know how they usually go, but frankly; I found the story clumsy. So clumsy in fact, that I would be sorely tempted to write it off entirely were it not for the INCREDIBLY imaginative world that the story’s set in. The Clanker half of the equation is well done & creative – novel enough in itself, but following an established topos. For the Clankers alone, I would have read the story. However, the whole concept of the Darwinists simply blew me away. The WWI British army using ‘elephantines’ to pull their tank-like war-chariots!? Jellyfish-based living hot air balloons for reconnaissance? Communication lizards which can record & mimic human voice-messages! Flechette bats which eat fruit filled with chunks of metal – only to ‘release’ them upon enemy positions!? Not to mention the Leviathan itself – not just a genetically-engineered flying whale, but an entire ecosystem unto itself; sustained by flocks of designed birds & bees who harvest food for the system from the surrounding countryside. It’s not often that I’m so floored by the power of an author’s imagination, but the world of Leviathan is simply incredible. Furthermore, Keith Thompson’s fantastic illustrations bring the entire world to life in an almost magical way. The Clankers’ mecha is everything you could hope for & Thompson’s Darwinist monsters manage to balance their strange surreality with the mundane everyday feel that they’re supposed to have. If I have any critique of the illustrations, it’s simply that they feel more WWII –era that WWI, but with the advanced technology of the Leviathan world, this is entirely understandable.

So, perhaps you’ll understand my sorrow about how crummy the story itself is. Naturally, Alek & Deryn’s respective stories are brought together & a fast friendship is formed. But here’s the thing: Deryn is a jerk. Her jerkiness is so utterly jerktastic that there is NO WAY her & Alek should become friends. Mr. Westerfeld; the entire situation strains credibility sir! I mean, ok; I’ll believe the whole Alek has to flee to Switzerland thing & then risks his own life & that of his men to save the downed British luftwalfisch which is, by the way, considered a shudderingly-verboten abomination in the eyes of the properly God-fearing Clankers but he approaches it anyway. And, ok; I’ll believe the Deryn-posing-as-a-boy to join the service/ getting rescued by the most famous ship in the sky/ being the best middie on the crew/ becoming the favorite lackey of the famous Boffin thing, too. That stuff’s the meat&potatoes of YA lit. But that Aleksander, son & heir of the Archduke of Austria-Hungary should not only take such jerkitude from a tiny blustering little English jerkshipsman, but then become friends with him(her) is simply too much. I can handle convention, but would it kill the author to provide at least a pretence of natural interaction!? The narrative did a good job giving us a tour of Westerfeld’s amazing world, but as a story it stunk.

So where does this leave Leviathan on mr. eugene’s book rating scale? I’m giving it a Check it Out rating. It really should be read – it is simply mind bogglingly creative & the illustrations make the book itself an absolute gem to flip through (there’s an incredible map of Europe with Clanker & Darwinist states depicted as an amalgam of their collective technologies on the inside of the cover). However, the bummer of the story itself really detracts from the book. It’s so sad when something which really should be so good ends up so bad. There’s obviously a sequel on its way, but I unfortunately can’t look forward to it without cringing just a little.

Quicksilver. New York: William Morrow, 2003. 927pp.

The Confusion. New York: William Morrow, 2004. 815 pp.

The System of the World. New York: William Morrow, 2004. 892 pp.

I finally finished Neal Stephenson’s Baroque Cycle.
wow

This has been somewhat of an epic undertaking for me; I’ve been working my way through the Baroque Cycle during my lunch hours at work – an hour a day, five days a week – & have been doing so since some time in November. 2,600+ pages of dense prose where not a single word is wasted. I literally hung on every sentence – savoring each paragraph. Stephenson’s monumental work is worthy of every bit of praise you’ve read & much, much more.

But I get ahead of myself.

The Baroque Cycle is a 9 volume work split up into 3 books; Quicksilver, The Confusion & The System of the World. I heard about it through i09’s 20 Best Science Fiction of the Decade List. However, it doesn’t really feel like science fiction. It reads like historical fiction. Dense historical fiction. The ‘science fiction’ portions are subtle. In fact, if you the reader want to believe, as many of the characters themselves do, that the extraordinary elements of the story are all just fictions or coincidences, it would be easy to do so. The story takes us from the middle of the 17^th century through the first couple of decades of the 18^th – & bears witness to many monumental acts of history, but is chiefly concerned with the birth & flowering of the Enlightenment. Though the main characters are fictitious, the story includes such Baroque luminaries as Isaac Newton (who, because of Stephenson’s depiction, I have Taken a Disliking To), Louis XIV (to whom, for similar reasons, I am now Fond Of), Gottfired Liebniz & Robert Hooke (both of whom now top my Favorite Natural Philosophers Ever list), & Charles II (towards whom my emotional response remains pretty much unchanged). The main characters include: Daniel Waterhouse; the son of a (fictional) puritan radical, friend of Isaac Newton & esteemed natural philosopher; Eliza; a former slave girl & commercial genius; & Jack Shaftoe, a noted Vagabond. Through the lens of Daniel, Stephenson examines English religion & politics & the birth of modern science. Eliza’s character explores the end of mercantilism, cryptography, & Baroque nobility & Jack literally circumnavigates the globe; showing us glimpses of the late 17^th-century Europe, the Middle East, India & America – then returning to England to delve into numismatics.

And yet, somehow, though Stephenson is inundating us with all these facts, we’re thoroughly distracted by a hugely entertaining story along the way.

Rarely did I put The Baroque Cycle down without wanting to look something up; was that real or did Stephenson make it up? As Mark Twain predicted, most of the really weird stuff is real. Stephenson’s use of language is a pure delight & he presents a wonderful variety of words that we take for granted as they might first have been used – investing the simply idea of a clue (a “clew”) with a whole weight of meaning that I had never even before considered.

As I write, I realize that I could go on & on & on about how great this story is, so instead I’ll wrap it up with this:

Now that I’m finished, I find myself in withdrawal – The Baroque Cycle is one of those rare epic stories that we stumble upon by chance, but that completely takes us along for the ride. I stretched it out as long as I could – I really didn’t want it to end. When it did, I had become so emotionally invested in the characters that if it hadn’t ended well… well, I don’t know what I would have done. I would have been crushed. I can think of no complement so great as to say this: Daniel, Jack & Eliza have become as enduring & iconic to me as any literary figure I can think of. They’re as moving as Romeo & Juliet & as compelling as Captain Ahab. They are characters I will carry with me for the rest of my life; vital, moving & unforgettable.

The Alchemy of Stone came in trailing a lot of praise. It tells the story of Mattie; an intelligent automaton; who finds herself caught up in a political maelstrom while the steampunk city she calls home crumbles around her. An alchemist by trade, Mattie is approached by the gargoyles who wish her to find some way to prevent them from eventually turning to stone. Though ostensibly emancipated, the mechanic who made her refuses to relinquish to the only key that can re-wind her clockwork heart. Alchemy has been described as “A gorgeous meditation on what it means to not be human.” (1)

I think Alchemy had a lot of layers, sub-narrative, meta-narratives & depth. But I’m not sure that really got it. Considering all the hype it came in with, I was expecting to be “wowed!” Instead, I was only “…meh ’d.” Again; I may not have gotten it. There were definitely some feminist undertones which, I think, eluded me & I’m sure that there was some sort of discussion on the relationship between the creator (God?) & the creation (mankind?). There was also this whole is-progress-&-technology-really-all-that-worth-it thing going on. There’s personifications of self-sacrificing compassion (the Soul-Smoker), mortality (the gargoyles), a creator who is both loving & cruel (Loharri), the victims of racism & xenophobia (Niobe), & radical ideology (Sebastian). In fact, in writing this, I’m wondering if maybe there was just too much in there. Sedia’s world is wonderful blend of steampunk-fantasy – thoroughly enjoyable, but no where near fleshed-out enough for me. It was too descriptive to offer the mystique of the unsaid, but not descriptive enough to satisfy. I wanted MORE. A classmate of mine described herself as a ‘greedy reader’ & I really liked that phrase – it definitely applies to me, as well. There was so much in Alchemy that really should have taken hold of my tiny little brain & ran off with my imagination; but it didn’t. Not once did I feel compelled to pick the book back up after setting it down. Reading it wasn’t a chore, mind you – it was pleasant, just not compelling. Mattie herself is really the gemstone of the tale – she’s sweet & naïve & altogether charming.

I’m giving this book a Check it Out rating. It strikes me as a good book club-style book; there’s lots to discuss, but I think it almost demands that sort of dialogue – reading it on my own felt, as I said, somewhat lacking. I don’t think it’s steampunky enough to appeal to steampunkers, nor does it feel fantasy enough to appeal to true fabulists. It may, however, be a good recommendation for someone who’s not really into either genre, but that wants something truly unique.

I have a “tell” for books that I’m really enjoying; I milk them out. I read them slowly with the intention of prolonging the story. Not wanting it to end. King Rat was one of these. I had to cradle each page in my mind & savor it; making it last as long as possible.

King Rat is China Miéville’s first novel; a gritty, modern epilogue to the Pied Piper of Hamlin tale. It tells the story of Saul, a seemingly-ordinary guy who turns out be related to King Rat – the anthropomorphic animal lord of all rats. As Saul learns what it means to be rat, the Pied Piper is methodically hunting him down. It seems as if King Rat & his animal lord friends – Anasazi the spider & Loplop, the Bird Supreme are all that can save Saul & his human friends.

This is Miéville number 2 for me (see The City & the City). I’m still waiting on Perdido Street Station, but King Rat was excellent. For me, a good fantasy/ SF novel is one that really gets my imagination going – one that starts me thinking up new ideas & concepts, or one that adds a magical over-lay to the way I see the world around me. King Rat had both of those powers: it got me thinking & it noticing thing I wouldn’t normally. I found myself looking for signs of rodents; smelling the world around me & especially looking out for the smell of piss (the Smell of Piss is almost a character in King Rat unto itself). I considered dumpsters that I would normally overlook & thought about the rotting food inside & how much different it must all look to a rat. Good stuff.

The real stand-out for me about King Rat was the way Miéville really thought through what it would mean to be rat. A rat with the size & intelligence of a grown man, but who eats trash & lives in the sewers. It’s gross, urban & gritty. This isn’t your animal-superpowers kind of thing (although Saul’s rat-powers do lend him super-human abilities & he jokes to himself about being “Ratman”); it’s much more raw than that. It’s a what-it-means-to-be-animal sort of thing. It’s easy to see how Miéville made his mark on the weird fiction scene with this first novel; it’s got the strange creativity of a Philip K. Dick combined with the dark postmodern grit of a Palahniuk.

The only critiques I have of King Rat are, I think, mere reflections of it being a first novel. From what little I know of Miéville, he seems like a man with an agenda. In King Rat, he seems to be trying to explore too many things at once. The socialist message, starting with Dad the Commie, is fine, but ends a little too heavy-handedly &, perhaps, too obviously with the rat socialist utopia in the epilogue. Saul’s self-deprecation at this point helps blunt this message, but not enough. There’s also this thing about music – specifically Drum n’ Bass (aka Jungle) dance music – that comes off as a little awkward. You can see where he’s going with it, but the ride there feels uncomfortable & contrived. The multitude of ideas that he seems to want to convey comes across as a little chaotic & discordant. By contrast, The City & the City feels tight & polished.

Not only is this a great novel for adults & sci-fi fans, I think it’s a great addition to the Adult books that are good for Teens category. I think it would have a lot of teen appeal, especially for older teen guys. It would be a great booktalk book. It does has a lot of F-Bombs, so parents beware, but overall the content doesn’t feel too adult. I’m giving it a Put it on Hold NOW! rating.

Legion of the Dead is the third installment in the adventures of Barnaby Grimes. Barnaby is a tick-tock lad; a delivery boy – who plies his trade by running along the rooftops of his fair city in true Highstacking fashion. In a Victorian city which is not-quite London, filled with all manner of odd goings-on, Barnaby’s quick wits & indomitable character keep him just ahead of the dangers lurking around every turn. In this thrilling volume Our Hero stumbles across a mysterious rash of grave-robbing; only to discover that the truth is far more horrifying than he could possible imagine.

I’ve quite enjoyed the Barnaby Grimes series (Legion of the Dead was preceded by Curse of the Night Wolf & Return of the Emerald Skull). Barnaby is a fun, admirable, but not too goody-goody sort of character & the mysteries into which he embroils himself are both interesting & imaginative. Legion of the Dead follows suit & while much of Barnaby’s adventure has a strong ‘I saw that coming’ factor, Stewart & Riddell manage to keep a fair number of surprises on hand as well. Barnaby inhabits an almost steampunky Victorian world full of strange artifacts & curious doings. The world itself, with its specialized lingo (such as ‘Highstacking’) is as much of a character as Our Hero himself. In addition, the excellent illustrations throughout really add to the book & to the not-quite-real city that Barnaby inhabits. I’ve generally found that most of Stewart & Riddell’s books are far more visually appealing than they are to read, but the Barnaby Grimes series seems to break that trend. While they’ll never be high literature, they make great little reads for boys. There was even a scene in Legion that I found a little scary – it had a genuine creep factor which is more than I usually expect of a book of this stripe. My one critique also holds true for the other books in this series, which is this: Barnaby is definitely a boys’ series. This may not even be a critique; I like that books are being written for guys – we need them – so maybe this is more of an observation. S&R’s other books, while also obviously boy-books, have relatively strong or interesting female characters, but in Barnaby Grimes, the ladies are little more than pretty faces for Our Hero to admire. Is that bad? I dunno, but it is somewhat striking.

All in all, I would recommend the Barnaby Grimes series to boys ages 8 – 12ish; especially if the kid likes supernatural stories. Or, for adults who like kids books like this. They’d be good Halloween-time reads, too. I would definitely recommend them before the Edge Chronicles or any other Stewart & Riddell books. On my super-fancy rating system, I’d give Legion of the Dead (& for that matter, the other Barnaby Grimes, too as this has really turned out to be a review of the series rather than the individual title) a Check it Out rating. They’re good; they’re worth reading, but I wouldn’t go much out of my way to get ahold of them. I do, however, think that they should be a staple for a library’s collection.

The City & the City tells the story of inspector Tyador Borlú, of the Beszel Extreme Crimes Unit. Borlú lives in the city-state of Beszel – a county unto itself which occupies the exact same geographical space as its rival city-state of Ul Qoma. Confused already? Beszel & Ul Qoma are physically & geographically the same city. However, parts of the city belong to Beszel, while other parts belong to Ul Qoma – & not just certain areas – some streets (“crosshatched areas”) have Beszel buildings right next to Ul Qoma buildings. The inhabitants of the cities are trained from birth to “unsee” people, cars, buildings, dogs, etc. in the other city. Ul Qoma is distinguished from Beszel in a hundred different ways; architecture style, colors of lighting, clothing, etc.; the type of food they eat, the perfumes used – even the way people hold & carry themselves. The inhabitants of the two countries speak two different (though related) languages. A single building in the city serves as the border between the two states; requiring passports, etc. in order for people to literally “travel” to a store that might only be a block away from their home. The whole house of cards is held together by fear of the mysterious power known as Breach. Those who Breach – by looking at someone in the opposite city, perhaps – disappear forever. Inspector Borlú uncovers a murder which may or may not involve Breach, but one which certainly involves both The City & The City.

I have been fascinated by the person of China Miéville for some time now, but this is the first book of his that I read. I first came across his short story, Reports of Certain Events in London in McSweeney’s Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories & wanted to know more this author who had such a strange name (I thought he was a woman). Turns out, he’s this huge British geek socialist political activist punk influenced academic sci-fi fantasy guy who writes “Weird Fiction”… so; An Author of Interest.

I’ll definitely read more Miéville, but I have a suspicion that The City & the City may not be the most indicative sample of his work. The book feels more like speculative fiction than full-blow sci-fi or fantasy. Although strange indeed, his idea of two political states existing in the same geographic location are is not really all that unrealistic (or at least, his skill in presenting the idea makes it seem as such). The fantasy element is subtle, with vague allusions to strange artifacts from the past. What’s more, it’s an out-&-out detective story. Through Borlú’s first-person narrative, we follow his investigation – which (naturally) turns out to be bigger than anyone could have thought & involves both cities & the shadowy elements in between. I’m not really a mystery sort of guy, but even on a simple cop-story level, Miéville’s book is compelling. The real gem, though, is how we get to explore the strange dual cities through the lens of Borlú’s case. It’s an obvious convention used to examine this fanciful idea of Beszel/ Ul Qoma, but Miéville uses it very well. Furthermore, the allusions to strange doings & ancient artifacts are suitably mysterious & alluring; in the tradition of the great “Weird Fiction” authors of the past, Miéville tells, but never explains. What is left unsaid is far more powerful than what is actually said.

On mr. eugene’s rating system, I’d give The City & the City a “Put it on Hold” rating. I really, really enjoyed reading it – but I don’t love it. As I said, I suspect that it’s not overly indicative of Miéville’s writing overall, so I’m withholding opinion on him until I get my hands on Perdido Street Station. Also, as a cop novel, it’s not really up my ally; again, I enjoyed it, but it didn’t make my imagination run wild.

I’ll be posting a few reviews in rapid succession over the next couple of days because I read them over the course of the semester, but I didn’t want to post them here while this was still an assignment.

Oh, & I’ve come up with a fancy, entertaining & ever-so-witty book rating system. Since becoming a librarian, I’ve been hesitant to actually purchase books – I mean, hey; they’re FREE at the library, right!? So, the few books I’ve purchased (or would be willing to purchase) have been truly exceptional. So;

Top Shelf – WOW. don’t just buy it; keep it in a place of honour. Best. Book. Ever.

Buy It! – seriously, if someone as cheap as myself is recommending you spend money on it, it’s gotta be really, really good!

Put it on Hold NOW! – this is a must read; go to your library website & put a hold on it! get it in your hot little hands as soon as possible! in fact; stop reading this & do it NOW.

Put it on Hold – yes! excellent book! you really should put a hold on it at your local library. but, you know, no big rush. do it today, by all means, but don’t like, drop the cat & rush to the library or anything crazy like that…

Check it out – hey, it’s a good book. If you see it at the library, grab it! check it out! spend some time with it; you’ll like it. really.

..meh - <sigh> yeah. it’s alright. it’s not a bad book by any means; maybe it’s just not really up my ally. I mean, you might love it, right? As for me, I could take it or leave it.

Don’t bother – um… yeah; don’t bother.

Waste of time - if you have paint to watch dry, that would probably be a better use of your time. Or well… pretty much anything would be a better use of time than reading this book. Reading this blog, for example.

Do your fellow library patrons a favor & “accidentally” drop it in the toilet – now, as a librarian, I really don’t condone the wanton destruction of books in any way, shape or form. Books should be treasured, kept, adored & loved. In light of this, perhaps what I’ve just read should really be re-classified as something other than a book…

14-year old Georgia is trying to balance high school, her bed-wetting little sister, a half-wild pet cat Angus, & her crush on Robbie the Sex God. Unfortunately she’s out-classed by Robbie’s girlfriend – who wears a <gasp!> thong. She worries she’s not pretty enough, takes kissing lessons & tries to shrink the size of her nose. Rennison writes in ‘British,’ but fortunately, she includes a translation dictionary for us Americans. Angus, Thongs & Full-Frontal Snogging is a laugh-out-loud treasure of teen chick lit.

My previous co-worker/ mentor children’s librarian loves Rennison & has been recommending I read her as my sampling of teen chick lit for years, so I was happy to get the chance in this class. Angus, Thongs & Full-Frontal Snogging was a very fun read & I’m glad I finally gave it shot. It’s a regular on banned book lists (“The Texas ACLU chapter recorded two challenges to… “Angus, Thongs, and Full Frontal Snogging” (a slang term for kissing), alleging inappropriate language and sexual content”[1]), so I expected it to be rather scandalous. In fact, I was surprised at how tame it was. The title led me to expect all sort of sordid teenagery, but instead of being shocked by the content, I was merely shocked that anyone could have objected to it. It was fun, delightful & I felt, thoroughly age-appropriate. Georgia may be a bit precocious, but is entirely believable as a 14 year old girl.

Booklist gave it a Starred Review, saying; “This “fabbity, fab, fab” novel will leave readers cheering, “Long live the teen!” and anxiously awaiting the promised sequel.”[2] LibraryThing carries a lot of favorable reviews, calling Angus, Thongs…, “LOL! One of my favorite all time books,”[3] “one of my favorite books out of my entire library! This is a REALLY good book. I recommend it to ANYONE,”[4] & “my ultimate guilty pleasure in middle school! I remember reading it between the aisles in my local library, too fearful of my mother’s wrath to even take it home.”[5] However, a few readers found it, “very poorly written… drags on in some parts and makes it very dull to read,”[6] and have suggested that it has a “lackluster plot.”[7] Despite a couple of poor reviews, however, the overwhelming popularity of the Georgia Nicholson series really shines through.

Rennison is one of the top names in teen girls literature; the Georgia Nicholson series is a must-have for any public or high school library collection. Angus, Thongs & Full-frontal Snogging would a be a great booktalk title for any group or teenage girls & it should have a place of honor on any YA Chick Lit list.

[2] “Angus, Thongs, & Full-frontal Snogging,” Booklist Reviews. 2000, July #1. as found in Baker & Taylor’s Title Source 3. http://ts3g.informata.com/TS3/record.jsp?rn=11&ps=12&fr=0&anc=11&bs=1&fb=0&n=E%3A%5Cwebapp%5Cts3%5Cmain%5Cusers%5Cls000650.rec&FirstRec=Y (accessed 9 May 2010).

[3] kpickett, “Angus, Thongs & Full-Frontal Snogging,” LibraryThing, 29 April 2008. http://www.librarything.com/work/12333 (accessed 9 May 2010).

[4] hayleyd, ibid, February 2008.

[5] krysbrenzinski, ibid, 27 October 2009.

[6] okmliteracy, ibid, 2 February 2009.

[7] KhrystiBooks, ibid, 6 December 2007.