It was there, I was there, I picked it up and started reading it. And almost didn't stop even when my eyelids were growing heavier and heavier in the wee hours. On the first page, I noted the use of present tense, flipped back a hundred pages or so (it's a real book) and saw that it wasn't just for that section, shrugged, and kept going. It fits. I could learn to really like the present tense, I guess; here it suits the narrative, a young woman's thought processes as she navigates her completely changed world; it brings immediacy. (I'd better get used to it – this was at least the third book I've picked up this year, and another right after it.)Reviews for this are all over the place – even more, I think, than is usual. One complaint I see quite a bit down there is that Gemma Doyle, Our Heroine, is not remotely a proper Victorian young lady. Well, no. She's not. She's sixteen, and believe me when I say from personal experience that sixteen sucks. Libba Bray says in the Q&A at the end of the book that, as I interpreted it, utter accuracy to the thought and speech patterns of the era were not the most important thing to her; the basic truth of the constrictions of the time period were. So – would Victorian maidens have sounded like these girls? Probably not. But do they sound like genuine girls, wounded and afraid and fighting their way through all the obstacles thrown up in front of them by an unfair universe? Yes.We're all looking glasses, we girls, existing only to reflect their images back to them as they'd like to be seen. Hollow vessels of girls to be rinsed of our own ambitions, wants, and opinions, just waiting to be filled with the cool, tepid water of gracious compliance. Gemma has been brought up to the age of sixteen in India, where her father is serving. She is in fact turning sixteen on the day the first chapter describes, and she's not happy. She wants to go to England. She is tired of India, and longs for the homeland she's never known, and her mother's constant refusal to let her go home to school frustrate her into temper tantrums. As her mother walks with her and her maid to the home of a friend, where Gemma has cake and very dull conversation to look forward to, the argument crops up as usual, and – as is becoming usual for her – Gemma says some rather unforgivable things and storms off. Then things become weird. She finds herself lost, and in the confusion of the marketplace is beset by a terrible vision of a man being killed, of her mother taking her own life. And the vision turns out to be true.Next thing she knows, Gemma is getting her wish, and is off to school in England. And to continue the theme of "be careful what you wish for", it's dreadful. The school is a huge, forbidding fortress, imposing on the outside and gloomy inside; the other girls range from the "in crowd" of evil pretties and their hangers on to Gemma's roommate, the scholarship student Ann, whose standing is not helped by her stutter. It's about the worst possible scenario of a boarding school barring physical mistreatment. Being new would have been hard on anyone in that situation. Being new and fresh to the country and still guilt-ridden and mourning her mother and still trying to figure out what's happening to her, along with never being possessed of the best social skills – this is Gemma's plight. It isn't pretty.Remarkably, and partly through blackmail, she does wind up finding a circle of friends, of a sort. These are not, quite, the friends most young adult novels give their heroines. These are not the girlfriends with whom you'd make popcorn and watch chick flicks. These are the girlfriends who start up a vicious game of Truth or Dare which results in tears and possibly arrests.But that's why they're there, these girls, in that school: no one wants them at home. They're in the way, and little enough is expected from them that any benefit they can gain from this dismal school will be to the good. Ann will be a companion or a governess. Lovely Felicity and Pippa will marry rather well – their looks will ensure that, and if they can pretend to draw and speak French so much the better. And Gemma? No one really ponders Gemma's future. She's slotted away for the time being, so that her brother can continue with his life as best he can while quietly dealing with their opium-addicted father, and what happens after will happen."Their sin was that they believed. Believed they could be different. Special. They believed they could change what they were – damaged, unloved. Cast-off things. They would be alive, adored, needed. Necessary. But it wasn't true. This is a ghost story, remember? A tragedy. … They were misled. Betrayed by their own stupid hopes. Things couldn't be different for them, because they weren't special after all. So life took them, led them, and they went along, you see? They faded before their own eyes, till they were nothing more than living ghosts, haunting each other with what could be. What can't be." Felicity's voice goes feathery thin. "There, now. Isn't that the scariest story you've ever heard?"All of this makes the vein of magic that runs through the story all the more alluring. It gives access to another world which is everything they could ever want. Arrogant in their confidence that they know what they're doing, and desperate for a way to carry the wonder over into their miserable lives, they ignore all the warnings they've received. And of course the consequences are dire.I liked it. The writing engaged me – I guess I'm over the present-tense phobia – and while I have no warm and fuzzy feelings about any of the characters I do appreciate the way they're drawn, and the mythical pseudo-Victorian world they inhabit. The theme is easy to sympathize with: There's got to be something better than this.But… Hold on. To quote Robert Sean Leonard as Neil Perry, "Oh my." I hadn't quite caught the really really strong parallels to a certain film before this very moment (see spoiler below). Oh dear. This changes things, a little...Dead Poets Society: Set in boarding school in which there is no one of the opposite gender, at all (though boys illicitly meet with girls at parties and such). Main characters Neil and Todd, part of larger loose group. Parents of main characters cold and not exactly caring, with plans to dispose of their offspring in ways that will be most advantageous to the family. Inspiring and provocative English teacher Mr. Keating who quotes poetry and encourages free thought. Students leave school grounds at night for secret club meetings – reviving a defunct club they've learned about. Neil defies parents and acts in a play, and has a moment of triumph, but it is short and he ultimately is punished with the threat of a military academy. Kills himself. Keating winds up the scapegoat blamed for the death and leaves the school in disgrace.Great & Terrible Beauty: Set in boarding school in which there is no one of the opposite gender, at all (though at least one girl meets with a boy in the woods). Main characters Gemma, Pippa, and Felicity, part of larger loose group. Parents of main characters cold and not exactly caring (or dead), with plans to dispose of their offspring in ways that will be most advantageous to the family. Inspiring and provocative drawing teacher Miss Moore who quotes poetry and encourages free thought. Students leave school grounds at night for secret club meetings – reviving a defunct club they've learned about. Gemma defies just about everyone and does things with her magic; and Pippa defies her parents and tries to wriggle out of an odious engagement, and has a moment of triumph – but it is short and she is ultimately punished by having the wedding date moved up. Kills herself by insisting on remaining in magic world. Moore winds up the scapegoat blamed for the death and leaves the school in disgrace.Um. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
It's telling when most of the popular goodreads reviews of this book, positive as well as negative, contain some sort of disclaimer about needing to cut this book slack because it's a YA book. But is a juvenile audience a legitimate excuse for juvenile writing?The story is this: It's 1895, and 16-year-old Gemma Doyle's mother has just died a tragic and mysterious death in India. Gemma, as a result, is shipped off to an England boarding school where rich young ladies (and one scholarship student) learn the important skills of painting, waltzing, and French. Gemma's roommate, Ann, is the one scholarship student -- orphaned, plain-looking, lonely, deliberately cutting her skin as a means of relief. Gemma also meets a clique straight out of the movie "Mean Girls" -- Felicity (the dominant leader), Pippa (the beautiful and dumb sidekick), and a few other forgettable hangers-on. It's fierce enmity at first sight, with a variety of nasty pranks exchanged until Gemma discovers an incriminating secret about Felicity. Whereupon Gemma and Felicity immediately become the best of friends (nothing like blackmail to forge a deep friendship), forming a new foursome comprised of Felicity and Pippa, and Gemma and Ann. Gemma gradually discovers that she has magic powers which can take her to supernatural realms, and that she can even bring her new bosom buddies with her. But -- surprise, surprise -- there's a dark side to all this power, and it proves dangerous.Where to begin? Well, first of all, the story is rather anachronistic or just plain artificial in a lot of ways. I guess I'm kind of a purist, but I can't help feeling that if you want to write about this era, do it right. When I read Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, I actually felt like I was reading a Victorian novel even though it was written only a few years ago. Here, I alternated between feeling like Libba was superimposing modern-day sensibilities and feeling like she was grossly exaggerating the norms of the times. On the one hand, you've got these Victorian teenagers drinking and discussing sex graphically from a pretty well-informed perspective at a time when revealing an ankle was considered scandalous. On the other hand, you've got a singularly beautiful girl being completely forced by her parents (absolutely no veto power granted to her, even though Jane Austen's heroines seemed perfectly capable of rejecting unwanted marriage proposals) to marry a man 40 years older than she is (come on, with her beauty they couldn't at least find a younger guy?) because he has money. I can't claim to know enough about that era to know whether either, or both, of those things were completely inconsistent with the times but they sure didn't ring true to me. Ditto for the boarding school where the girls seem to get away with murder because the headmistress (called Mrs. Nightwing even though she's apparently a spinster -- did I miss something?) drinks sherry at night and remains blissfully unaware of the girls sneaking out at all hours. And Gemma's cynicism and inner sarcasm also beg the question of anachronism; I'm not saying people didn't have negative thoughts back then, but I think that expressing them in that particular way, even inwardly, is distinctly contemporary. Someone I work with once told me that her teenage daughter says things to her that (and this is a direct quote), "I never even dared to think about my mother." I think there's something to that -- if you go back a few generations, there were certain thoughts that not only weren't expressed, but weren't indulged. You'll never find this kind of direct snarkiness in real Victorian books; if it's there at all, it's expressed in a far more subtle and classy way. Little aside/disclaimer here: truthfully, I'm not sure how much to criticize Libba for what was arguably a legitimate artistic decision. As she says, "There's definitely an element of 'fusion cooking' at work here. I wanted to have all the trappings of that [Victorian:] era...But I wanted [the girls:] to have a universality to them, too; a sort of modernity of feeling." Is it wrong to try to set a book in Victorian times and, at the same time, try to give your heroine some thoughts and feelings that would make her more relatable for 21st century readers (especially teens)? When I think back on the Victorian books I've read, though, I found the heroines quite relatable within the confines of their being consistent with their context. I didn't need them to express 21st century cynicism in order for me to empathize with them.Complaint #2 -- way too many coincidences/artificial contrivances. Kartik, an attractive (of course) young man who witnessed Gemma's mother's death, keeps popping up conveniently at the right places at the right times -- first in India, then camping outside of Gemma's British school with the gypsies -- and is somehow present to warn or protect Gemma at practically every critical plot turn. Didn't he have a life? Was it part of the magic angle that he always knew where to be and when? And when Pippa has her seizure while the girls were practicing waltzing under the headmistress's supervision, naturally it was Miss Moore, the avant-garde art teacher (think Julia Roberts' character in "Mona Lisa Smile" or Miss Jean Brodie) who was conveniently present (why? It wasn't art class) to help out and as a result, to be available for a significant heart-to-heart with Gemma. And when Pippa later tries to break off her engagement, why is the headmistress involved? And why does she call a meeting not only with Pippa, but with the other members of the clique, to discuss the whole thing? Wouldn't this be more appropriately dealt with between Pippa, her fiance, and her parents?Finally, I have to try to articulate my irritation with the writing. Here's a phrase I got from goodreads reviews that I've been longing to use -- the prose was clunky. CLUNKY. CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK. I felt like I was watching a bad movie. Transitions were abrupt or nonexistent, not to mention flat characters and often stilted dialogue.The one good thing I have to say is that it was a fast read, and for all my complaints, not quite awful enough to abandon. And here or there, there was actually an interesting insight embedded among all the tripe. Hence the two stars.
Do You like book A Great And Terrible Beauty (2003)?
Had I read Libba Bray’s A Great and Terrible Beauty when I was 12-14 years old, this probably would have been close to a favorite of mine. There’s something about the way it is written (Bray’s exploration of insecurity, the quest of finding oneself, budding sexuality and subsequent doubt, yearning and curiosity, conflicts with family, struggling with authority, self-image, etc) that is absolutely perfect for Bray’s young adult audience. Please keep the genre in mind while you read--perhaps then you won't feel too disappointed. This book deserves a chance, I think. It does seem misguided at times, but it's not complete tripe. I appreciate what the author is (and often succeeded in) doing here. Try not to turn your nose up at it.*I must make an important note here, digress and ask: has anyone else noticed that using the word “gingerly” is practically a prerequisite for young adult authors to consider themselves thus? Seriously, I could (and if I ever have the time, will) make a list of young adult lit that employ that infamous word! Nowhere else have I seen that adjective/adverb so frequently used. It’s certainly never used in common speech. I’m going to test it out–just to see whether or not people look at me as though I have three heads if I actually say something like: “I gingerly took the antique mirror from its place, high upon the wall.” Seriously, who says it? Do publishers force young adult authors to throw the word in for good measure? Is it an ingredient, like paprika, that the potato salad of young adult lit just wouldn’t be the same without? For Libba Bray’s sake, I must note that she used it only once, if I’m not mistaken...and it wasn’t poorly used, by any means...It just makes me smile every time I come across it. Back to the book–It was well done, although there were portions of the book that seemed a bit forced. Great & Terrible Beauty is set (during the first 30 pages in India) in turn-of-the-century England, at an all girls preparatory school. Gemma, the main character, has experienced a mysterious tragedy, and enters the school with a sense of foreboding that she cannot shake, or seem to share with anyone. After a very short time, the reader is introduced to what will become an unlikely group of friends, consisting of the archetypal cruel, power-hungry beauty (Felicity), the fickle follower (Pippa), the spirited upstart (Gemma) and the dowdy outcast (Ann). Certain aspects of the book annoyed me. One of the subplots consisted of Ann’s injuring herself, by scratching at her wrists. While I’m certain women of all eras have harmed themselves in order to remind themselves that they “can still feel”, I couldn’t help but feel as though Bray was taking an idea from a more modern story (about the more modern phenomenon of cutting, for example) and trying to push it into this novel...The lasting effect resulted in the proverbial round peg, square hole dilemma. It didn’t seem too necessary to force that type of character development on Ann, and again, seemed glaring only because it took me out of the time period that was intended for the story. There are certain scenes that seemed to have been a bit too familiar. The most predictable scenes, however, were often followed by something pleasantly unexpected (I must be vague here, as I despise spoilers). I have to give Bray credit for writing such a solid story with a main character who is clearly immature and flawed, yet still strong and likeable. I also appreciate the fact that Bray managed to tell an entertaining story, while trying to instill (in her primarily female audience) ideas of feminine power–a celebration of independence, strength and individuality. As the reader continues on Gemma's journey, the existence of magical realms and an ancient, mystical Order takes over the bulk of the plot. The magic of the realms teeters on the edge of becoming a metaphor for drug use; at times I thought the narration of the story would break, and the reader would be told that the “magic” was really heroine, or something like it. My guess is that Bray was trying to find a venue for the exploration of Power, and what potential harm it can do to a person who thirsts for it without any thought of the consequences. If you’re looking for a slightly creepy, entertaining novel, you’ll enjoy A Great & Terrible Beauty. I want to read the sequel, Rebel Angels, which I consider a good sign.
—Cristin
I swiped this out of the classroom one day because I had lunch duty and my choices were A) stare at the perpetual hacky sack game for 30 minutes or B) read something. As you can see, I didn't have much of a choice at all (it was one of those Eddie Izzard "Cake or death?" scenarios). When I began the book, I was immediately hooked--exotic locale, spirited protagonist, hint of the supernatural. However, it was a case of infatuation-at-first-sight that burned out rather quickly. After finishing the book, I was left with an overwhelming sensation of "meh."Why did the book lose my interest so quickly? Here's a quickly compiled list of possible reasons:A) Began in India, but then switched to an isolated boarding school for girls in Victorian England. Come on! They lost me as soon as they left an amazing setting with all kinds of possibility for a mediocre one.B) It's a young adult book and those don't always sit well with me. I just couldn't connect to the four girls that form the clique in the book. Case in point: they begin dabbling in witchcraft and one uses her power to create the perfect Prince Charming and one uses hers to--shock!--be beautiful. Puh-leaze.C) Speaking of the four girls, stereotypes in the extreme: the mysterious one with a dark secret; the beautiful, but tragic one; the rebellious spirit; and the plain girl who doesn't belong in this world of prestige and riches.So why did I give it a 3? It's fairly well written, it has an interesting premise (though the execution falls flat), there are a few genuinely funny moments,and it will probably appeal to the intended audience. I may read the sequels, but it will be a bit before I muster up the interest in doing so.Cross posted at This Insignificant Cinder
—Amanda
This book is exceptionally okay. It is like really, really, really, really okay. I think it would be more good and not so much okay if it started out less good in the beginning. As it is, I felt like it had a lot of promise it didn’t live up to. But, it didn’t exactly waste my time, either, so I can’t really say I disliked it or anything. It is just SUPER mediocre. Almost good, it’s so mediocre. Even, throughout, I would think things were going somewhere, but instead things would kind of stay the same. But, the expectation of things going somewhere kind of kept my attention.This book is about a girl who has special powers. So, right there you’ve basically got me. I mean, there are still only about five books about girls with special powers, right? Female special powers automatically give this book has a bunch of points in its favor. But, after that there is not much to the whole story, so not a lot else going for it. But, speaking of that, let’s list the books with girls who have special powers.The main contenders:1. Golden Compass2. Hunger Games3. Daughter of Smoke and Bone4. Blood Red RoadI didn’t include Buffy because, even though the eighth season is written down, the bulk of the story is on TV. And then there is Twilight, where the super power is kind of appalling. And then you have sort of middle-ground books like Shiver, Uglies, Wicked Lovely, City of Bones, Wither, Darkfever, etc., where there is a girl, and she is the protagonist, and there are fantastical things, but the girl doesn’t really have a power, you know? Like, I don’t think falling in love with a dog or seeing fairies is really a power. If anything, it’s a lame power and more similar to the Twilight power. Also, it is scientifically proven that the ol’ magic vagina, or the wikimagvag, as it’s popularly called, is not a super power. And if we’re going for positive role models, I’d kind of rather see nothing fantastical than see super-creepy-mom power or super-child-prostitute power or super-animal-sex power keep cropping up all over the place. So, that’s my take on the current state of girls with special powers. Actually, now that I think about it, even in my main-contenders list, only Daughter of Smoke and Bone actually has a girl with extra powers that are above the people around her. Even Katniss is just a girl who grew up tough and learned how to shoot stuff in the woods. Man. What is up with girls not getting super powers, huh? That’s kind of a bummer. I know about Kitty and the Midnight Hour and Anita Blake, but I have not read them. Do they actually have special powers, or is that the wikimagvag all over again? And feel free to tell me about any girls I should know about.In A Great and Terrible Beauty, our girl Gemma has some magical powers, so that’s pretty cool. The thing is that the rest of it isn’t so exciting. There’s kind of a mystery and this group of girls kind of (view spoiler)[almost destroys, but conveniently saves the world (hide spoiler)]
—Sparrow
