Val Muller

In celebration of Halloween, my favorite holiday, I decided to dedicate the month of October to reviewing horror books and books with a spooky bent. That said, I realized one month just isn’t long enough. So I’ve extended my reviews into the month of September, too. So get ready for nine weeks of horror reviews!

Food for Crows by Aurelio Rico Lopez III

I sat down intending to read a few pages of this zombie novella while waiting for someone, and I ended up reading the whole thing in one sitting. Needless to say, it’s a compelling read. But as is the case with most zombie stories, you have to be a fan of gore, violence, and profanity. The story follows a protagonist named Paul who finds himself one of the only survivors of an unexplained zombie apocalypse. He meets a boy named Rey who insists they save his sister, Camille, who was last seen being chased by a hoard of zombies.

What I enjoyed most was the narrator’s personality. From the start, he was a sympathetic character, even with his rough edges. His tone, though angry at times, was laced with humor and wit. We learn about his past—he is/was a fan of music and instruments, and he even begins teaching Rey how to play the guitar before venturing to save his sister. These details, coupled with the impossible conditions he faces and disturbing nightmares, made me root for him the whole time.

The shortcoming of the novella is that… it’s a novella. It’s a quick read, and fans might be itching for more.

There’s just something interesting about zombie stories. Of course they’re terrifying—with the prospect of being torn apart every time we leave our homes and waking up a zombie. But there’s something thrilling about vicariously experiencing a complete breakdown of society. Watching Paul roam the deserted streets for canned food at a Seven Eleven. Viewing the wreckage of cars and stores. It’s fascinating to experience something so different from our organized and regulated world. And there’s nothing like a good zombie story to make you appreciate every little convenience in your own life.

The bottom line: for fans of zombie horror, this is a quick, engaging read that you will enjoy.

This is the second book in a trilogy, and I read this book about a year after I read the first one. I remember having liked the first one, but I didn’t go back and review the plot. That said, it took me until about page 30 to remember everything that had happened. Then it all came back. The trilogy is a middle-grade/young adult fantasy following Calwyn, a chanter who escapes her home in the icy mountains and discovers an entire world—a troubled one—that needs her help. In this installment, Calwyn and her diverse group of friends (some have the gift of chantment; others are good at sailing, others at navigating the desert or healing) are on a quest to rescue chanters from dire living conditions. In this world, chanters (who use song to control the world) are feared in society and exploited by those with evil intentions.

But aside from the main quest, there are plenty of subplots to keep things interesting. At the end of the first book, Calwyn’s love interest, Darrow, has left her. Though they seemed—at times—perfect for one another, Darrow never fully opened up to her. In this second book, Darrow is still missing, and Calwyn wishes he would return. She thinks of him when her quest becomes difficult or lonely. At times, imagining what Darrow would do in a situation even provides her strength. To keep up the suspense, the author provides some of the chapters through Darrow’s perspective. He is returning from his own journey, and he thinks about Calwyn, too. He is disappointed when she isn’t waiting for him at home. I enjoyed the alternating perspectives, especially because I learned much about Darrow’s troubled childhood and his motivations for acting so unpredictable (I won’t spoil this, as it is revealed slowly throughout the novel). That said, I was disappointed when they finally did reunite. While they definitely helped each other as far as the quest was concerned, their romance seemed short-lived and fizzled when Darrow would not open up to Calwyn, hiding elements of his past from her. The spark that each of them imagined never manifested in reality.

Aside from the innocent romance, I enjoyed the underlying themes and the diversity of characters. For example, some of the characters were raised along the sea or in the forest, while others grew up in the desert. When they encounter desert or water, the characters show interesting opinions on what is scary versus desirable in life—and as you can imagine, their views differ. This helps to stress the reason so many of the factions in their world are at war. In the end, it turns out all everyone needed was a little dose of understanding. Still, although the external conflicts are resolved for the time being, Calwyn experiences her own troubles. She has been discovering slowly that she has a talent for many gifts of chantment (chanters can normally only sing one kind of chantment). In the first book, an evil man had been traveling the globe in an effort to learn all the types of songs, fulfilling a prophesy that someone would eventually become the “singer of all songs” and wield great power. Many of the characters hint that Calwyn is on her way to become this singer, and the implications disturb her greatly. There is also a question over whether the villain was actually killed in book one—a question left to be answered in the final installment. I won’t give away anything else about this conflict as it seems to be the most important part of the story.

From a writer’s point of view, I enjoyed the alternating viewpoints and the use of interpersonal conflicts to mirror global ones. I would have liked just a bit more imagery to describe some of the settings, though I thought the desert was particularly well described.

The bottom line: This is a fun read for a middle-grade or young adult lover of fantasy.

This is the first book in a series, a middle-grade fantasy novel following the life of Tal, a boy who wakes to find his whole world changed. His father is missing and presumed dead, his mother is gravely sick, and his two siblings depend on him. But with his father missing, his family is in need of a Sunstone, a magical stone that provides light and warmth to the family, and allows them entrance to a forbidden part of his world, which consists of a castle of seven towers. But everything seems to have turned against Tal: his cousins are indifferent at best, one of the authority figures does everything in his power to ruin Tal’s chance for success, and Tal’s siblings are too young to be of help.

For a middle-grade reader, this book is a “gateway” novel to the world of fantasy. With sunstones and magic shadows that change shape in helpful and sinister ways, to magic involving light and sound, to a caste system with more hidden beneath the surface than Tal could ever expect, the author establishes a new and intriguing world.

This first book focuses on Tal’s attempts to secure a new Sunstone for the family. He tries to win it, but when his talent is foiled by the evil Sushin. Tal even ignores protocol and tries to secure a Sunstone from the Empress, with disastrous results. Finally, Tal finds the Icecarls, a group of people he had never heard of—non-magical people who live on the ice. They, too, are in search of a Sunstone, and they assign Tal to work with Milla, an antagonistic girl on her way to become a Shield Maiden—whose primarily goal seems to be killing Tal! Here, Tal is challenged by his inability to use his magic or his protective shadow and must use courage the way the warrior-like Milla does. They confront extreme cold, darkness, and giant beasts called Merwin.

I won’t ruin the ending. I’ll only say that it was a quick read that establishes an interesting world and, for young readers of fantasy, is an intriguing start to what promises to be a compelling series.

I chose to read this book after hearing some of my students talk about its unique point of view. This historical fiction novel shows readers the Holocaust from the point of view of a child who doesn’t fully understand it. We might consider the narrator and protagonist to be “special” or “slow.” He operates on a different wavelength than the rest of humanity—ignorant or innocent, depending on your outlook. His names throughout the novel (because the orphan never learned his real name), include “Stopthief” and “Misha.” Other characters refer to him as “runt,” “stupid,” “silly,” “cuckoo” and other names to help provide clues to the reader about Misha’s state of mind vis a vis the rest of society.

Misha (it’s what I’ll call him) reminds me of Isaac Bashevis Singer’s “Gimpel the Fool” in his noble innocence and in the way the reader questions exactly what Misha knows/understands and what he chooses to see beyond. For example, Misha is tiny enough to sneak out of the ghetto, which he does nightly. He returns every night, though, bringing food to his friends and (adoptive) family. When asked why he doesn’t simply run away from the ghetto, Misha admits it’s a question he cannot answer. Like “Gimpel the Fool,” Milkweed never makes it completely clear what Misha’s motives are. Is it complete ignorance? Is it the qualities of an anti-hero? Is it simply innocence that allows him to see the best sides of all people? Neither Gimpel the Fool nor Misha are willing to question much about what they are told. In Milkweed, however, even Misha cannot completely forgive the Nazis, illustrating the horror of their deeds.

When the story begins, Misha admires the “Jackboots,” the Nazis who have been trained to walk in perfect precision with their shiny boots. Misha enjoys well-defined tasks (such as standing at attention), and walking like a Nazi is right up his alley, so their robot-like ways appeal to him. He even tells everyone that he wants to be a Jackboot one day. An orphan, Misha is often asked whether he is a Jew. He does not understand the question: he knows that Jews are people with beards who get to have their naked bodies painted with yellow paint (which he admits sounds fun), or have to use their long beards to mop the sidewalk while a crowd of onlookers laughs. More than once, Misha comments that he is not a Jew—and is glad he is not one. His simple innocence is not his personal judgment of Jews; rather, it is a reflection of the stereotypical beliefs of the time period. Instead, he tells everyone he is a Gypsy. At one point, a friend makes up a cover story for him, complete with details about Misha’s siblings, parents, grandparents, and family history. Misha loves adopting this identity, reciting the story to himself and others almost to the point of obsession. He also “adopts” a sister, whom he coaches in the ways of sneaking and stealing. Though it’s a novel about the Holocaust, it’s also Misha’s own search for an identity. As he grows, he realizes the Jackboots are not what he thought, and he decides he hates them. In the end, we are left with the story of Misha as an adult, though the ending comes quickly and glosses over much of Misha’s life. I won’t give away the details, but it’s this last part that, for me, solidifies the connection to “Gimpel the Fool.”

From a writer’s perspective, I enjoyed the book’s unique point of view. The naïve viewpoint is an interesting perspective to examine the difficult topic of the Holocaust. Though it does cause a sort of distance between the narrator and the reader (the same way I felt when reading “Gimpel the Fool”), it allows for insight through repeated motifs that bring meaning to the story. For example, Misha synthesizes people’s beliefs about heaven and life, concluding that there are invisible forces that take away dead bodies (those who have died of starvation or death and are covered with newspapers, only to be gone the next day). He’s also told different ideas about the human soul, such as what happens after death and what part of us lives on. Misha concludes that there are angels all around us, invisible angels. When Misha watches people die, he squints hard, trying to see the angels coming out of their bodies. Such motifs are repeated effectively throughout the novel, making it poignant at times despite the morbid outlook of the rest of the book. At other times, Misha’s viewpoint offers imagery that is gruesome, yet because we only hear it from Misha’s point of view, a younger reader may not entirely understand exactly what it is Misha is describing (I think this makes it more chilling!). It was a fast, engaging read—I read it in a few hours while stuck at the airport one day—that treats the difficult topic of the Holocaust in a new and engaging way.