Added Dimensions

Joyce Adams Burner, Curriculum Connections -- School Library Journal, 9/13/2007

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A touch of the supernatural can evoke metaphysical questions for high-school readers. Take a look at these current young adult novels that weave humor, irony, suspense, and fantasy into gripping reads—they offer plentiful hooks for intriguing discussions and creative-writing activities wrapped around the themes of good, evil, and destiny. 

“Faery-boy leaned closer and whispered….He sniffed her like he really was some sort of animal….” Reticent teen Aislinn is pursued by blindingly gorgeous Keenan, the faery Summer King who has chosen her as his Summer Queen. His mother, cruel Winter Queen Beira, is viciously freezing the mortal world, and only Keenan and his Queen can destroy her, but Aislinn has other plans. Melissa Marr’s Wicked Lovely (HarperTeen, 2007) deftly twists urban faeries, punk culture, traditional lore, and dark fantasy together with a surprising conclusion in an engrossing tale of love and self-sacrifice. Pair it with Keith Donohue’s nuanced The Stolen Child (Doubleday, 2006), the story of a boy snatched away by a ragged band of hobgoblins and the changeling who takes his place in the contemporary world, and engage readers in comparing these fantasy/realism blends, replete with grungy fey-folk, to traditional folklore. 

“I do not carry a sickle or scythe. I only wear a hooded black robe when it’s cold. And I don’t have those skull-like facial features ….” Death narrates The Book Thief (Knopf, 2006) by Markus Zusak, a genre-defying bestseller set in Nazi Germany, which appears on several “best of the year” lists. Liesel Meminger, nine, lives with her foster parents in the village of Molching. She steals books—from a gravesite, a bonfire, and the mayor’s house—and writes one about her life, her friend Rudy who longs to run like Jesse Owens, and Max, the Jewish man hidden in her cellar. “Haunted by humans,” Death’s ironic voice is affably detached as he ponders his work. “There is death…. On the surface: unflappable, unwavering. Below: unnerved, untied, and undone.” Imaginatively penned, The Book Thief lends itself to multidisciplinary units with its existential questions of life and death, its portrayal of Nazi death-camp prisoners, and its recurring consideration of the nature of war. Death laments, “To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thing, incessantly: ‘Get it done, get it done.’ So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss, however, does not thank you. He asks for more.” 

In David Almond’s modern-day Clay (Delacorte, 2006), altar-boy Davie befriends odd newcomer Stephen Rose, who brings clay figures to breathing, squirming life. When Davie and Stephen create a “monster” and town-bully Mouldy dies, Davie grapples with guilt and fear. Succinctly written in a lyrical U.K. accent, Clay’s suspense is laced with deeper questions about creativity. “Do you think…that an artist is a kind of god?”
“[O]ur passion to create goes hand in hand with our passion to destroy.” “Could that be human destiny—that we are driven to create our own destruction?” Almond traces a fine line between madness and malevolence, revenge and redemption. Clay hands no easy answers to either Davie or readers. Should it be interpreted literally? Figuratively? Spiritually? Provocative discussion is assured.

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