Review: Awaken

The irony of posting this online does not escape me.

Awaken by Katie Kacvinsky is one of the most believable dystopian novels I have ever read. Unlike some authors, who exaggerate to the point of absurdity and/or horror (I’m looking at you, Huxley and Orwell), Kacvinsky’s world is just a few logical (and still unnerving) steps away from ours.

We had 9/11. They have M28, short for March 28, 2048, a day on which a terrorist group (not an Islamic one though; that would complicate the story even further) bombed 17 elementary schools as a protest against overpopulation. The result? Digital School, a free online program developed by lawyer and educator Kevin Freeman, which has become mandatory throughout the U.S.

We depend on the Internet. (I know I do.) In Kacvinsky’s future, that hasn’t changed. On the contrary, it’s gotten to the point where Madeline Freeman, Kevin’s daughter and the story’s heroine, is really shocked to see her new friend Justin Solvi standing at her door instead of texting her like a civilized person.

In our world, even in “first world’ countries, state-sanctioned violence happens more often than many of us care to admit. Workers at a juvenile detention center in Australia were recently found to have abused their charges (see this article). So when Madeline learns that Justin spends his life rescuing teenagers who are being brought to detention centers for refusing Digital School – they need to be rescued beforehand, because once they leave the centers, they refuse any human contact – I was somewhat less surprised than she was.

Justin’s mission is to make Digital School a choice again. To that end, he does everything in his power to get Madeline on his side, so she can hack into her father’s confidential files – again. Madeline is not your average dystopian YA heroine, the innocent follower of the system who needs her eyes opened by a charismatic rebel. She already knows she disagrees with her father’s education policy. The only question is whether her father – whom, despite their polar-opposite beliefs, she still loves – matters more to her than personal freedom.

Justin’s recruitment tactics are, of course, highly effective: fresh-baked chocolate cake (as opposed to ready-made meals, which are ubiquitous in Maddie’s world), live music, sunsets on the beach, a witty and warm-hearted group of fellow rebels – who wouldn’t give up the Internet for that? The trouble is, his efforts to make her fall in love with reality have the side effect of making her fall in love with him. Sparks fly, physically and intellectually, as the highly self-controlled resistance leader has his own arguments for living life to the fullest turned back on him by a girl as smart and stubborn as he is. Their growing relationship is the driving force of this novel; since Maddie narrates in first person, we see Justin through her eyes, and when he challenges her to think for herself and question authority, you might just find yourself doing the same.

Kacvinsky is not anti-tech. If she were, the book wouldn’t be half as interesting. Kevin Freeman’s motives for creating Digital School, though misguided, are both logical and compelling: no one can deny that teen violence, pregnancy and drug use would go down if teenagers didn’t leave their houses. Some of the anti-Digital School rebellion’s most valued supporters are computer experts, following the precept of “know your enemy”. Justin himself enjoys new technology; the cars he drives on his rescue missions can swim and even fly. The author’s message, though clumsily and didactically expressed, is simple:

“You can see all of this online. But that's cheating. No computer program can compare to the physical experience. It's like learning how to play a virtual sports game. You're not really playing anything, against anyone. You're just a spectator. People are becoming spectators of their own lives instead of living them. But the best part is getting in the game. That's when it's all worth it.” (e-book, ch. 5, p. 14).

On that note, let me just go cross-post this to my four different social media accounts …

Seriously. We need more books like these. Please read it.

Review: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

I don’t recommend this book – or script, to be exact – to anyone who hasn’t read the original series. But, since that’s a pretty small group by now, I think it’s safe to say that for anyone else, Platform Nine and Three Quarters can be relied upon to open once again. I warn you though, this is not going to be objective.

Speaking as a fangirl, this story was everything I hoped for and more. It tackled all the important questions we on the Internet have been asking for years: What was Dumbledore thinking, leaving the would-be savior of the world to be raised by the Dursleys? What is it like for Albus Severus Potter, growing up with a name like that – especially if he does end up in Slytherin? Will Draco Malfoy and the Golden Trio ever bury the hatchet? What was really going on between Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange? Did Cedric Diggory really have to die? And, last but not least – for me, anyway – can Ron and Hermione’s marriage really work?

Rowling and her co-playwrights, John Tiffany and Jack Thorne, serve up their answers with equal parts passion and precision. If you don’t believe it’s possible to return home to familiar ground and still be surprised, think again. The villain of this story is someone you’ll never see coming. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione themselves have changed and matured. It’s ironic – and satisfying - to see Harry as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, calling someone out for reckless decision-making. Karma has come full circle there.

I don’t want to talk too much about the plot, for fear of spoilers. It does, however, involve Time-Turners. There must be thousands of Time-Turner fanfics already published, but Rowling, Tiffany and Thorne approach the subject with the intelligence and subtlety it deserves. Every person’s choice affects another; changing even one thing can lead to unpredictable – and in this case, terrifying – consequences. As Albus and his friends hop from one parallel future to the next, wreaking havoc on the timeline with the best intentions in the world, they run into old friends and enemies, see them through fresh eyes, and find answers to questions they never had the opportunity to ask.

Ironically for a story about time travel, however, this story is about making peace with the past. Harry may be forty, a family man and a national hero, but he still has demons left to fight. For someone who’s been fighting all his life, sometimes the hardest thing is knowing when to stop – and when to let the next generation take up the battle.

Review: On The Fence

Kasie West has the gift of handling complex issues in beautifully simple prose. This book is very aptly titled: the life of Charlotte “Charlie” Reynolds, its heroine, is indeed a balancing act that requires all her strength and skill.

Charlie, as you can guess by her nickname, is a tomboy. Raised by a single father and three older brothers, with her male neighbor Braden for a best friend, she’s more comfortable on a soccer field than anywhere else. So when she is obliged to find a job to pay off a speeding ticket, and the only one available is at a clothing boutique, she feels very much out of her element. Learning about fashion and making friends with other women turns out to be good for her, but since she is afraid of being teased by her brothers and Braden, she keeps her new life separate from her old one. Talking to Braden at night over the fence between their houses is her only outlet for the stress of her double life; Braden, however, is part of the problem, since she’s falling for him.

This book is a strong example of the social pressures that teenage girls still face in developing their identity. Charlie is not a traditional girl to begin with. Still, she suppresses any so-called feminine traits she has – a newfound fashion sense; worries about body image; crying when upset; missing her mother – because she is afraid that being feminine will make her appear weak and/or promiscuous in the eyes of the men around her. “Are you wearing crap all over your face?” one of her brothers asks the first time he sees her wearing makeup. “I shouldn’t be worried that you work in the red-light district at night, right?” (p. 153). Charlie’s late mother, a clinically depressed woman who took her own life, adds an even deeper layer to Charlie’s troubles. She is afraid that taking on her mother’s gender role might make her vulnerable to her mother’s disease. Her brothers, who have been frightening away potential suitors behind her back, appear to feel the same way. “No wonder my dad and brothers thought I was so breakable (…) I’m sorry I wasn’t another boy,” Charlie thinks (p. 264).

On the other hand, she is equally afraid that being who she is - athletic, competitive, and outspoken – makes it impossible for any man to feel attracted to her. A stray comment of her brother’s about another girl who plays sports – “She’s probably a dog, some aggressive, burly thing” (p. 86) – sticks in Charlie’s mind for weeks. When a handsome boy sees her with her co-workers in “girl mode” and asks her out to a baseball game, she feels compelled to pretend total ignorance of the sport, even though she knows more about it than he does. Braden’s reaction is the reader’s first clue that he loves her: he is not only jealous of the other boy, but disappointed in Charlie for trying to hide what makes her unique.

By presenting Charlie as strong and beautiful at the same time, and having Braden love her because of her “masculine” qualities and not in spite of them, West plays with the idea of gender in interesting ways. The subplot involving Charlie’s mother and her mental illness is handled with equal compassion and finesse. West is never didactic; she never forgets that she is writing a YA romance, not a sociology text. But for anyone who likes their love stories to be fresh, healthy, modern, and unencumbered by stereotypes, this is the book for you.

Review: The Dean's Watch

When Dean Adam Ayscough, a high-ranking clergyman in an English cathedral town in the 1870’s, stays home from work because of a cold, the last thing he expects is to make a new friend. But when Isaac Peabody, the clockmaker who repairs the Dean’s pocket watch, stumbles into his employer’s office and speaks his mind – “It’s a beautiful watch, sir, and you overwind it. You should take better care of it, sir” (e-book, ch. 5, p. 38) – a friendship forms between the two lonely, eccentric men that is exactly what they need.

Adam’s fierce campaigns for social and ecclesiastical reforms have given him a terrifying reputation, but that same reputation, combined with his lifelong shyness, has made it difficult for him to actually talk to the people he is fighting for. Meeting Isaac becomes a catalyst for a series of encounters that shock Adam out of his comfort zone and teach him to translate his Christian beliefs into action, even as they teach Isaac that his own father’s abusive fanaticism is not the only way to practice religion.

Their kindness to each other spreads in circles until it includes the entire city. Adam’s search for an apprentice for the frail, overworked clockmaker leads to Job, who is secretly dating Polly, Isaac’s maid. Job, a talented and temperamental workhouse orphan, is under a contract to the bullying fishmonger Albert Lee. Adam determines to save them both, victim and abuser, from their unhealthy association. Meanwhile Emma, Isaac’s unmarried older sister, struggles with jealousy of Polly and Job’s romance, and with Isaac’s friendship with one of the most powerful men in the city. Adam has to battle his own dislike of the bitter, narrow-minded woman in order to bring some peace to his friend’s unhappy household. Even Elaine, Adam’s vain and superficial wife, slowly begins to learn the value of her husband, just as she is in danger of losing him for good.

This is one of the few novels I have ever read about, for lack of a better word, professional pride. Isaac’s clocks, Adam’s religious texts, Job’s woodcarvings, Polly’s cooking, the work of Adam’s lawyer, doctor and butler, the long-ago construction of the cathedral, and even Elaine’s fashion choices, are all labors of love. “Genius creates from the heart,” Adam observes. “And when men put love into their work there is power in it, there is a soul in the body” (ch. 7 p. 90). This novel highlights the joys of craftsmanship, but also its challenges, such as Adam’s writer’s block - “Who was he, that he should dare to take a pen in his hand? And how puerile was the result when he had done it” (ch. 14 p. 33) – or Isaac feeling overshadowed by Job’s talent – “He must increase, but I must decrease” (ch. 14, p. 10). This theme of creativity ties in to the story’s sense of faith; whether they acknowledge it or not, the characters’ gifts can all be traced back to the divine. During one of his debates with Isaac, Adam even compares God to a clockmaker:

  “I don’t believe in God,” said Isaac obstinately. 

“I wish I could believe you,” said the Dean. “I should be thankful to believe that you had parted company with the God of your boyhood. But I believe he is with you still in a darkness that shadows your mind at times. Disbelieve in him, Mr. Peabody. Believe instead in love. It is my faith that love shaped the universe as you shape your clocks, delighting in creation. I believe that just as you wish to give me your clock in love, refusing payment, so God loves me and gave Himself for me. That is my faith. I cannot force it upon you, I can only ask you in friendship to consider it.”

-       ch. 15 p. 41-42

 This is also a novel about power, its uses and abuses. Adam does his best to use his wealth, intelligence, and authority as Dean for good, but even he makes mistakes. As a former schoolteacher in an age when corporal punishment was the norm, he knows how difficult it is to draw the line. His attempt to bribe Albert Lee to cancel his contract with Job backfires badly; his classist assumption that money will fix everything collides against Albert’s pride. Albert, on the other hand, is a classic abuser; he gets drunk and beats Job regularly. Emma Peabody is a more subtle example: she resents her brother Isaac for lowering their status by going into trade. She takes it out on him with small things, such as making wool mats that make him slip on the floor, forbidding him to smoke or to chat with Polly, and passive-aggressively reading the Bible to make him feel guilty.

The author, however, instead of reducing these characters to simple villains, shows them to us fully rounded and real. We learn how their harsh actions are, in their own minds, simply defenses from an equally harsh world; it doesn’t excuse them, but it makes them easy to understand. For example, Albert beats his apprentice because he knows Job is smarter than he is, and it makes Albert feel powerless. As for Emma, when Adam reluctantly pays her a visit, a simple gesture – the way she brings out her best tea service for the rare occasion – unlocks a wealth of empathy inside her guest because it shows how lonely she is. Abuse is not a straight line; it is a cycle, and it takes a strong effort to break it. 

Most of all, however, this is a story about love. Sexual love is part of it – Polly and Job share a passionate romance in spite of Emma’s best efforts to stop them – but it is far from being the only part. There is love of place – the city and the cathedral are almost characters in their own right – and love of work – for example, the clocks. The most important love in this story, however, is between people: the friendship between Isaac and Adam, the mentor-student bond between Isaac and Job, Adam’s fatherly love for his lawyer’s granddaughter Bella, the strained sibling relationship of Isaac and Emma, and the complicated marriage of Adam and Elaine.

Of course, none of these relationships are perfect. They all include the potential for hurt and misunderstanding. As Miss Montague, a friend and advisor of almost everyone in the city, says to Adam: “If you turn for your joy to the intractable and explosive stuff of human nature, it’s in for a penny, in for a pound.” (ch. 13 p. 57). Besides, the author understands perfectly how challenging it can be for an introvert to talk to people at all. Then again, the reward is more than worth the effort, especially when shared interests form a bridge over the awkwardness: “Love of the work strengthened the love of each other. Love of each other enriched the work” (ch. 14 p. 12). 

Even Isaac, the atheist, feels that “the dark would not entirely get him” while his clocks keep time and his friends remember him (ch. 1 p. 33). Adam, the Christian, holds the same belief with even greater certainty: “Love. The only indestructible thing. The only wealth and the only reality. The only survival. At the end of it all there was nothing else” (ch. 94).

High Tea at the Fairmont Laurier

“What are those rocks?” said my nine-year-old cousin, poking the contents of a stainless steel bowl in the middle of the table.

“Sugar,” said my aunt. “It’s meant for putting in your tea.”

“Can I eat them?”

“No.”

Table manners aside, afternoon tea at the Fairmont Laurier Hotel was the perfect finale for our day trip to Ottawa. We sat by a window in Zoe's Lounge, beneath a sparkling chandelier, and had our hot water poured from a silver urn. I chose the Orange Spice tea, a zesty and powerful blend suitable for cheering up even the most exhausted of summer tourists. My father chose Lapsang Souchong. "Tastes like smoked salmon," he said. (Coming from him, a descendant of Baltic Sea fishermen, that's a compliment.) My aunt chose Earl Grey, with perfectly calibrated amounts of milk and sugar. My cousin ordered a pot of hot chocolate, which was served with whipped cream in place of a lid.

We ordered the full Chateau Laurier Tea Experience: scones with jam and clotted cream, finger sandwiches, macarons and cake. "Classic," was my father's verdict. "Not too adventurous." (That's also a compliment.)

My aunt, who had never heard of clotted cream, picked up a tiny portion with the tip of her knife. Her eyes lit up. 

For my part, two days later, I'm still daydreaming about the lemon poppyseed chiffon cake. If the name makes you think of smooth and delicate layers, you're absolutely right. The layers consist of cake, raspberry jam, and the finest possible sliver of vanilla pudding. 

"Pink cookies!" said my cousin, and proceeded to set up a brisk trade across the table: sandwiches, scones etc. in exchange for our macarons. The small sizes of the food made it ideal for trading. 

"Look at this," said my father. "We're wheeling and dealing here!"

"Salmon roll for a lemon cake?"

"Sure."

(Photo by Dirk Peters.)

If I had to rack my brain for something less than perfect, I'd say it was the waiting time. To be fair, though, we did arrive twenty minutes before our reservation. Also, my cousin objected to the frosting on his cupcake - he found it impossible to bite through - but that may have been fatigue.

The Fairmont Laurier has always had a reputation for being inclusive as well as beautiful, ever since its construction in 1912 (see this article in the Ottawa Citizen). When it first opened, rooms cost $2 a night, which amounts to $50 in modern currency. That may have been the reason they let us in, even though one of us (yours truly) was dressed in jeans and carried a clunky backpack. I haven't been this relaxed in such an elegant environment for a long time.
Then again ... I'm not the one who had to pay the bill.