Black Hole: Come, let us stroll arm in arm toward the event horizon

Oh hey, guys . . . do you wanna read a graphic novel that's an extended metaphor for "the nature of high school alienation itself—the savagery, the cruelty, the relentless anxiety and ennui, the longing for escape"?

Yeah, I didn't either. But then I saw the part about how the high school students in this '70s suburban Seattle neighborhood are passing around an STD that manifests in different physical mutations (lizard tails that fall off and grow back later! tiny neck-mouths that wheeze in the night!). I can't resist a good wheezing neck-mouth.

In the appropriately titled Black Hole, we see the story from the perspectives of a few different characters, infected and noninfected and soon-to-be infected alike. In a lot of ways, it’s a typical slice of high school life. You have the popular kids and the rejects, same as always. The virus is just a way of making the politics of popularity more visible than usual. And it doesn’t matter if you were the prettiest, nicest girl in school before you got the plague; once everyone finds out that you slept with the neck-mouth guy and now your skin peels off in one big piece, you might rather drop out of school and live in the woods than face the inevitable social castigation.

But, just like high school, the cruelty doesn't necessarily stop even if you remove yourself from polite society and refuse to participate in teenage politics . . . because you can be judged less worthy and persecuted (and possibly beaten with a large stick) by your fellow freaks, too.

Hurray, high school!

So you might be wondering if I actually liked this graphic novel, and I certainly wish I could tell you. I can say that I didn't enjoy it. But that means nothing because I don't think it's meant to be enjoyed, per se. Even though the illustrations are in simple black and white, they still manage to be pretty cringe-inducing. And everything feels like the '70s, which is to say . . . kind of dirty? And then you have the generally unpleasant subject matter.

But the message is universal, and any time a story can connect with the shared experience of a whole age group, across generations, that's invaluable. I'm still trying to decide whether this would be a good book to put in the hands of kids who are currently in high school, or whether it's safer to consume it with the benefit of hindsight and stabilized hormone levels.

If any of you high schoolers out there do decide to pick this up, I would counsel you to remember that the book's reality is likely bleaker than your own, even if it doesn't always feel that way. For instance, do you have a tail that prevents you from wearing skirts? *waits while you double-check* I didn't think so. Also remember this:

Eventually, most awkward teenagers...

grow up.

A Wrinkle in Time: The Graphic Novel . . . it has pictures

I FINISHED A BOOK.

It only took me a month. And it was a graphic novel . . . adaptation . . . of a children's book.

Moving on.

A Wrinkle in Time seems to have played a prominent role in my generation's collective childhood. I, personally, was convinced that I WAS Meg Murray. I had mousy brownish/blondish hair. I wore glasses (more accurately, I was prescribed glasses that my mom purchased and that I promptly stored in a junk drawer). I was grievously misunderstood by my peers. MY NAME WAS MEG.

In short, this book resonated with me when I was an overachieving member of the school orchestra whose favorite clothing item was a Mr. Bubble T-shirt and whose go-to hairstyle was Princess Leia buns. (WHY wasn't I more popular in middle school?)

But NOW? If this graphic novel adaptation is any indication of how my grown-up self connects with A Wrinkle in Time . . . not so much. And that's a giant bummer.

I already sort of talked about how I was disappointed that this adaptation wasn't designed to appeal to a more mature audience. That's not really a thing. I mean, it's a thing, but it's not a thing. Because I can definitely see what Hope Larson was going for by keeping the adaptation of a kids' classic in the realm of . . .  well, kids.

No, my REAL problem with this is that I kiiiind of hated Meg.

WOMAN I WILL SMACK YOU.

Could this whiny, stubborn, impatient, childish girl really have been one of my most prominent literary role models? I know a lot of her faults were part of the character and part of the story---the overarching message being, "Embrace your faults because they are what make you a special snowflake who will one day save the world."

But Adult Me is not buying that malarkey. And maybe that's because I know Things about The World now.

Thanks a LOT, World. You jerk.

Something that DID remain exactly as I remembered? Calvin O'Keefe.

Total. Dreamboat.

Hump Day Nerdgasm: Puberty Flashback Edition

In my awkward adolescent years, directly following my classics-only phase (A Clockwork Orange isn't suitable for 8-year-old girls? Pshaw!), I went through a period of reading ONLY from the Young Adult Science Fiction/Fantasy shelf at the severely limited Air Force Base library. After wading through a good amount of terrible-awful, I found Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time. I didn't know anything about it when I pulled it off the shelf, and I don't know what persuaded me to take it home.

Must have been the alluring cover design

But, like so many generations of readers before and after me, I was immediately entranced. And I will ALWAYS equate this book with the rare feeling of being 100% captured by a story . . . maybe for the first time (it's possible The Boxcar Children series got to me first).

This year marks the 50th anniversary of this crazy-pants book, and it's also the year it will be released as a graphic novel, custom tailored for consumption by a whole new generation of Meg Murrys, Charles Wallaces, and Calvin O'Keefes.

Coming in October!

Adapted and illustrated by Hope Larson.

First glimpse of Meg Murry.

More? Here, have this New York Times article about how Meg Murry bridged the gap between young female readers and the male-dominated sci-fi genre.