Multiculturalism by Charles Taylor is a unique look on an age old problem of providing an environment compatible with various diverse cultures. I’m not sure thatI can explain it exactly, I just know I really enjoyed it and the philosophy it presented. It’s so far outside my usual zone that I’m not sure I can judge it on the same scale as, say, Once Bitten, Twice Shy. It was a fantastic book, though, and, I believe, one that could inform the teaching styles of teachers in diverse communities, or anyone who would deal with an accurate cross-section of said community.

Just read it, y’all.

That is, if you’re in the mood for a pretty intense book.

Deja Dead was a beautiful, charming detective story. (That is, if you find eviscerated bodies charming.) I loved this Temperance Brennan, loved her different back story and character, loved her passion and (comparative) normality. She was different than Bones, but awesome all the same.

The last hundred pages or so are where the book wraps a decomposed hand around you and refuses to let go. I loved watching her work through the mystery, and I loved that the “best friend” character is not the “best friend” forever.

Just read it! Watch the show! Fall in love!

The characters don’t try to be relatable, or likeable, there will be no “Hi! I’m Jane Doe, and I’m just an ordinary girl!” catch-phrase. The characters aren’t trying to make you love them. They just are. They are, despite their supernatural tendencies, like real people, not people playing the protagonist for a camera.They have faults. And at the beginning, that seems to be the only thing evident. But they also have emotions. They’re real. And I think Yuzuki brilliantly contrasts to the beautiful lie about vampires and their tortured pasts, how usually they turn out to be charming, if brooding, but essentially gentle creatures. Not so here.

And when I finished the book, and was thinking of what to write in my review, I was trying to think of why I liked it. It was a subtle book. And a strange book. It was an insidious book that somehow creeps into your subconscious and rests there. Perhaps it’s the sadistic humor. Or the balanced romance where it doesn’t seem like every other word is hitting you over the head with how in love they will be. (So many vampire books bludgeon you with it. You know the type. The type where you’ll see: “His midnight hair! His devilish smile! Oh, I’d swoon, but he’d drink my blood! Oh no!” going on for three pages only to begin again. Bleah. Not the case here.)One that you find that urge to read, find yourself picking it up, and at the end feel satisfied as though you had eaten a filling meal.

I’m not sure how to describe it. Subtle. Strange. Creepy, at points, funny at others. Here’s one thing I will say: I’d love to know more about the characters. It’s so rare to find a protagonist who’s not nice, or heroic, at least not classically so. It’s one of those books that leaves you grasping for a word to describe it, one of those books where you feel like there’s a wealth of things to say coagulating at the back of your throat, but no words.

You know the sort of book I’m talking about.

Delight in Cruelty is one of those books.

1. She’s cute.

2. If a burglar broke in, she would scare them off, because they would think the harpies of hell were after them.

3. She “sings” (Or, screeches, as you say. potato, po-tah-to.)

4. Momal likes her.

5. The hell-mouth only sends one demon at a time She’s it.

6. You’ll never have to worry about sleeping really late because your alarm didn’t go off.

7. You’ll never be bored because there’s always cleaning to do.

8. She gives you a convenient scapegoat to be mad at.

9. If you ever need an excuse to remove yourself from a phone call, you don’t even have to lie, you can just say: “I need to go shut that bird up.”

10. She’s really pretty.

Now, reasons why Denise should love the bird are not the same as the reasons I do love her. So here are ten:

1. She’s cute

2. She makes me feel responsible when I clean her cage

3. She provides comic relief

4. She drowns out Disney Channel

5. She’s fun to make fun of

6. She drives Denise insane (not always a good thing, but a charming thing nonetheless).

7. She gives me a basis, which made me enjoy Winging It by Jenny Gardiner all the more.

8. She keeps mommy from getting another prairie dog (while they are fantastic, three is enough.)

9. She’s beautiful.

10. She’s mine.

Really, who could hate such a “lovable”, “inconspicuous”, “discreet” pet?

Denise could.

But she shouldn’t.

At least, in my opinion.

Stephan? Who’s Stephan? OMG, he’s a vampire! Wait, please tell me this isn’t like Twilight.

(And, no, it is not like Twilight.)

Then:

Adam? Who’s Adam? OMG, he’s a werewolf! Wait, please tell me this isn’t like Twilight.

(No, seriously, not at all like Twilight.)

After that:

Magical walking stick? Ohhh…now I’m starting to see that this is not like Twilight!

(Right you are! But now it’s starting to sound more like Once Bitten, Twice Shy by Jennifer Rardin, and, by the way, the last book in that series came out, and I am currently reading it. Cute series.)

Right, well. This book is not a stand alone. By any stretch of the imagination.

So Anyway, River Marked is a very interesting book. I really liked the sea monster. Well, river monster. I’ve noticed that there are very few stories about those nowadays. Or maybe I’m just reading the wrong books.

Here’s why I love short story anthologies: If you hate one of the stories, it’ll be over soon. If you love one of the stories, you’ve found a new author who you can then buy all the books of. Also, if you get one where you hate all te stories except for the one that the author you got the book because, well, there’s still that story.

Anyway, It was a great book: there were a lot of fabulous teen authors in it, in fact, many of the same who wrote in Zombies vs. Unicorns. So, if you liked that, you might like this. Even though it has a ridiculous name. The Eternal Kiss? Seriously?

Anyway. It was a really good book, but I liked The Poison Eaters by Holly Black and Strange Candy by Laurell K. Hamilton better, so if you like Pretty Monsters, you may want to read those also. Or, if you’re looking for something supernatural, but not chilling, or if you are more looking for some more lighthearted short stories, A Touch of Dead by Charlaine Harris, or for Potter fans, The Tales of Beedle the Bard by J.K. Rowling. Some of the stories in Beedle were a little childish, of course, but personally, I was quite fond of “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart”.  For a little bit of creepy, a little bit of funny, and a whole lot of weird, there is nothing I would more recommend than Zombies vs. Unicorns. I did a review on it a while ago, and I don’t think I can do it justice. I think that the awesomeness of short stories and novellas is often underestimated. Short stories are charming, creepy, funny, whatever, and in anthologies with multiple authors, helpful for finding new favorite authors.

Speaking of authors. I love prolific authors, authors who have, arguably, the opposite problem as Kelly link. Authors who, some would say, have written “too many” books. But for series readers like myself, these authors are perfect. I love authors like Laurell K. Hamilton and Patricia Briggs who have written about a million books.

But seemingly, these two examples, who are, unfailingly, two of my favorite authors, Laurell K. Hamilton, however, residing first in my heart (though Patricia Briggs is getting there, now that I’ve read The Hob’s Bargain), have both fallen short in my estimation. Where. Are. My. SEQUELS?! Nightseer had gorgeous characters, an interesting plot, so much potential…and no sequel. In one of her Anthologies, Laurell K. Hamilton, even says that she had writtenm a sequel, but her publisher rejected it. But that was back in the day (Nightseer was her first book), and now she has more clout. The Hob’s Bargain was so good. I LOVED Caefawn, I loved the characters, and it felt to me like a series could have gone to fabulous places. Sigh. I know this sounds like a rant (and it is, of course) but there could be no greater recommendation, and, actually, of these two books, I enjoyed The Hob’s Bargain more, actually. But they were both awesome.

“Karma”

Everyone knows one. That quiet girl in your class who nobody can come up with a description for, who nobody likes, but nobody dislikes either. The ungainly boy who move jerkily, like a badly manipulated marionette. The teacher who speaks just a little too slowly, not enough to pin it down, but something’s always just off. Take a look to your left. Take a look to your right. You’ve just seen one. Now, the most prudent course of action is to locate the nearest exit. Just in case.

Charlotte made her way through the crowded hallways, a seasoned sailor pushing through the seething waves of people who populated the oceanic straits of ETHS. She felt clearly the weight of the backpack that latched like a starving tic to her shoulders, she felt the everyday anxiety that was attributed to the stress of trying to get to class on time, she mentally double-checked that she had her homework. And, as she sat down in the seat she always did, as she half-listened to whatever inane tale her friend Amanda was telling, as she stared at the mold spots on the ceiling, she thought: There has got to be something beyond this. There has to be something beyond this battle this struggle for friends, for popularity, for…for what? For a place to fit in? For “friends” who you pretend to agree with because you don’t want to be alone? Why? Why would I claw my way through this murky swamp of emotions, of cruelty and prejudice simply to be one of the cruel and the prejudiced? I won’t. I will not permit myself to sink to such a level. And so, staring at the mossy fungi that had infested her science rooms ceiling, Charlotte made a vow. A vow to be free. A vow to cut the chains of her desperation for social standing. Charlotte wanted to be free, truly free, more than anything. And, within a week, she fell from mildly popular, to the most socially pathetic girl in school. Save for one.

Sarah was a quiet girl. She had a steady “B” average in all her classes that never degraded to a “C” nor improved to an “A”. Her dark hair fell in a tangled disheveled mass to her waist, and hung in her eyes, but she never spared the effort to brush it away from them. She was sallow and pale, her eyes sunken in and underlain by dark shadows that emulated sleepless nights. Her clothes were ragged, fraying at the hems and she shuffled more than walked, as if those sleepless nights had posed such a burden that she could barely lift her feet. Charlotte drew in a breath, and approached her.

“Hi?” she ventured, shuffling her feet. Hmm, she mused, maybe I’ll like Sarah after all. I’ve certainly got the walk down.

“Hello,” Returned Sarah, the corner of her lip twitching.

“So…I…uh…” Charlotte was scrambling, searching for a comment to make to this girl, this girl whose impenetrable stare brooked no nonsense. “I’d really like to get to know you better.”

“Hmm,” Considered Sarah, her unblinking gaze fixed on Charlotte. After a nerve-wracking pause, she continued. “Why?”

“I really would like to be your friend. I have recently realized that we may not be so unalike.” Oh, my gosh. I sound like a low-quality “The Power of Friendship” movie. Charlotte cringed inwardly, her forced smile becoming more strained still. Both corners of Sarah’s lips twitched and Charlotte realized that this was how she smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

She started noticing posters adorning walls in the hallways. “National Coming Out Day!” They proclaimed. “Join us for a Free lunch in the courtyard!” Charlotte smiled. The cheery colors and charming, if stilted by it’s brevity, message made for a lovely poster. Charlotte turned and saw Sarah talking to a boy, Bryan, and, startled by this unusual occurrence, sidled over.

“What are you all talking about?”

“Oh!” Sarah jumped. “Bryan is organizing the Coming out day festivities.”

“Yeah,” He added, his voice carrying the same halting quality as Sarah’s. “I’m really excited to finally show the world what I am.”

“I’m happy for you,” Charlotte interjected. “It’s wonderful that you’re embracing your sexuality. I had no idea that you were gay.”

“Oh, I’m not gay,” He smiled, and a shiver raced like icy rat’s feet down her spine.

“Oh.” She said, deadpan. There was no way that she would pursue that enigmatic response. When they were alone, Sarah turned to Charlotte, and, with a fervency and vigor never before encountered, whispered:

“Don’t come. Please, don’t come to the Coming Out day. Just…please.”

“Why?”

“Do it for me. You’re my only friend. The others…aren’t like you. Don’t come.”

That afternoon, there was an assembly about the exclusion. Charlotte hated it. She thought it was aimed, not at the people doing the excluding, but at the excluded. People like her. They didn’t really care if the bullies stopped or not, but really it was to make sure that they could stand on their moral high ground, eyes cast towards the pristine blue sky as the victims drowned in the flood below them, and, as the waters just missed the shiny toes of their boots, whisper a mantra of “I did what I could, I did what I could…”. They spoke so sternly, but Charlotte just heard a chorus of “I don’t want to be held responsible”, and all she could think was: What do they think is going to change? Do they think that these children will surrender their cliques, their fun, their precious scapegoats upon whom they showered their own self-doubt, insecurity, and excess emotion in the face of a few people on a stage telling them not to, and a worksheet? Do they really intend to hand out a piece of schoolwork and miraculously, combat the evils of exclusivity with the power of busy work? Charlotte thought not. But one line caught her ear:

“It’s called karma. You hurt people, and karma will find a way to hurt you back.”

Coming Out Day rolled around, and, as per Sarah’s instruction, Charlotte played sick, and stayed home. She lay in bed, giving a little cough or an anecdote about how sick she felt every time a parent checked up on her. The day passed without event, and that night, she fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of Sarah, her breath smelling of blood and rotting things, leaning in and whispering the word “karma”.

The next day’s headline read: “Massacre at Local High School Indicates Cannibalism”. The stry went on to tell of how, at the Coming out day at ETHS, the brains of 500 students were eaten by a “zombie” cult. Charlotte snapped the paper closed as a knock at the door punctuated the air of the kitchen which suddenly felt stale and heavy. She opened the door with a shaking hand.

“You,” she whispered. “Why did you..”

Sarah giggled, her clothes stiff and tacky with dried blood. “We’re not a zombie cult. We are zombies.”

“No!” Charlotte softened her voice, now aware that she was dealing with a madwoman. “No. You just…you just need some help. You Think you’re a zombie, but…”

“You don’t see, do you? Coming Out Day was us zombies coming out, you assumed, that it was related to sexuality, because that’s what’s normal,” She spat “normal” as if it were venom that would land on flesh and burn through. “What you think of as normal is but a facsimile, a lie. I can show you the truth. Do you want to see the truth, or do you want to bury your head in the sand, remain ignorant because you don’t want to learn? We exist,” She put emphasis on we, making it mean more than it ever was meant to. “And we will be powerful. Soon. Come with me.” Sarah held out her hand, and Charlotte looked from the palm to her dark eyes that were wide and alight with manic, frenetic energy.

“I can’t. What you did to those kids…I can’t.”

“It was karma, don’t you see, karma! They were figuratively brainless, now they are literally! Come with me,” She coaxed again.

“The truth will set you free,” Charlotte whispered. She wanted to be free. More than anything.

“Come with me,”

Charlotte placed her hand in Sarah’s.

She was free.

Yeah, not my best. Probably because zombies are so inferior to unicorns. Hope my unicorn story is better.