Book Review: I have lost my way, by Gayle Forman

Available in bookshops nationwide. 

cv_i_have_lost_my_wayIt shames me to say that this is the first novel by Gayle Forman that I have read. However her reputation preceded her and I was keen to get into this book.

There are three central characters in this book – Freya who has lost her singing mojo, Harun who is planning to run away from home to find the boy he loves, and Nathaniel who has suffered a family tragedy and arrives in New York alone and without really knowing what he is going to do.

The three quite literally collide in Central Park, when Freya in a moment of inattention falls from a bridge on to Nathaniel who is passing below, and whom Harun thinks, for a moment, is his missing man!

The book takes place over the space of one day, during which Forman explores loss in various forms. She does this with real empathy for her characters, whose backgrounds and stories come across very well. Each one has some real issues to confront, and there’s quite a lot of insight into how some parts of the music industry, in particular, can be quite brutal.

The novel also deals sensitively with (in this particular case) gay men coming out to their families – or not – and how despite different ethnicities the issue is still, and only, that of acceptance and love.

Confronting issues of sexuality, depression, suicidal thoughts are all here, but dealt with in a way that I think would encourage readers to think and talk about issues which concern them.

The way these three young people connect, relate and provide support to one another might seem a tad far-fetched to an older, more jaundiced reader, but nonetheless it works. I was gripped from page one, and I recommend it highly to teenage readers. I hope school libraries will pick this one up too.

Reviewed by Sue Esterman

I have lost my way  
by Gayle Forman
Published by Simon & Schuster
ISBN 9781471173721


AWF18: Janesville: Amy Goldstein

AWF18: Janesville: Amy Goldstein

‘One of Barack Obama’s top reads of 2017, Janesville: An American Story, traces the lives of workers and their families, and the response of public and private sectors in the wake of General Motors’ decision to close its Wisconsin assembly plant in 2008.’

AWF18 5 Janesville

Illustrated notes copyright Tara Black

Full text by Elizabeth Heritage

A big crowd gathered in the main Aotea Centre theatre to hear Toby Manhire interview US writer Amy Goldstein. She is a Washington Post journalist and has written a book about the effects of the GFC on the town of Janesville in Wisconsin. (Manhire joked that, for those who don’t know, the Washington Post is like The Spinoff but with a print version too.) The two had a good rapport and Goldstein was a pleasure to listen to: knowledgeable, articulate, and interesting.

In June 2008, the closure of the General Motors plant in Janesville was announced. This was a significant blow for the town, where the plant was a major employer. Goldstein started researching the town in 2011, and published her book, which has been very well received, last year. It shows the domino effects of the plant closure through the stories of several Janesville families. Some workers became ‘GM gypsies’ who took work at plants a long way away, and had to live apart from their families during the working week.

Goldstein said she was motivated to write this book because, rather than a macro-economic story, she wanted to portray a ‘ground-level view of what happens when good work goes away’. She avoided focussing on the rust belt because she ‘wanted to write about place where economic trauma was new’. After the plant closure, a lot of middle-class workers became working class. ‘The American Dream is meant to have upward trajectory – people were shell-shocked.’ A lot of folk felt humiliated: those who are used to being self-reliant find it very difficult to accept help. In the Whittaker family, not only both parents but also their teenage children are working multiple part-time jobs. The children took their mother grocery shopping late Saturday night so no one would see them slip her some cash. ‘My reporter’s ear went, oh that’s good.’

IMG_20180518_165120053_LLAfter losing their jobs, many workers turned to education. Goldstein noted that there tends to be political consensus that retraining is what you’re meant to do when you become unemployed. However, she did some research on the local technical college and found that, several years after the plant closure, people who had not gone back to school were more likely to be working, and had suffered less of drop in pay.

Goldstein referred to the people in her book as ‘characters’, but they are all real people, and their real names are used in the book. It is based on hours and hours of interviews, as well as Goldstein’s observations from her time in Janesville.

Next month it will be the ten-year anniversary of the announcement of the closure of the Janesville GM plant. After being ‘in standby’ for many years, it permanently closed in 2015. It has now been sold and is being demolished. The former workers have just been offered the chance to own a brick. By the time Goldstein told us that, near the end of the session, we were so taken up in her storytelling that we all groaned. I will definitely be buying the book.

Illustrations with notes by Tara Black, full piece by Elizabeth Heritage

Janesville: An American Story
Published by Simon & Schuster
ISBN 9781501102264


Book Review: Janesville, by Amy Goldstein

Available in bookshops nationwide

cv_janesville.jpgJerad Whiteaker had worked at the General Motors manufacturing plant in Janesville, Wisconsin, for thirteen years when its closure was announced in 2008. Each of the stations he worked along the assembly line had bored him to no end, but he had stuck at it, as no other jobs in town could match the $28 an hour.

Now with the plant closure, he and so many others have been severed from a secure wage and have some confronting choices ahead of them. The repercussions ripple outwards, paying no heed to people’s circumstance, affecting a myriad of lives in different ways. Deri Wahlert, the local social studies teacher, realises that it is not just the ‘GMers’ who face the impacts, but the small shops that will no longer have customers, the freight yards transporting goods, as well as the construction workers and carpet layers – as people won’t be able to afford homes.

Janesville, by Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Amy Goldstein of the Washington Post, is an impressive and engaging feat of reporting, which extends far beyond the immediate aftermath of the town’s loss of its major employer into the years of struggle beyond, as people rally, tread water and attempt to avoid the fall in various ways.

We meet a cast of characters – former GMers, bankers, politicians (including Paul Ryan), educators and so on – and we warm to them, hoping that their efforts prove fruitful. This is a social history, an emotional history – an archive of responses, a meticulous work of lived-experience testimonies. Here the domestic sphere, which is straining under pressure from much larger forces, is political. With the number of individual threads compromised, there is to be a dramatic rift in the urban fabric.

There is a narrative of hope, which from the reader’s safe distance becomes an increasingly empty echo as we move through the book towards 2013. First the town has hope that GM might be lured back, that the manufacturing line might just be a pause. But in spite of ‘the enormous dowries in the form of tax breaks’ that are offered, the closure is final. Janesville, like many places around the world, has entered a post-industry era, and the town must shift (or sink) with the times.

There is ample grant money available for former factory workers to retrain. Bob Borreman, who runs the Rock County Job Centre, is optimistic at first, thinking that perhaps the ‘catastrophe might prove to be unbidden opportunity to help people find the work paths that would have suited them all along.’ Barb Vaughn, who worked at Lear Corp, the factory that made seats for GM vehicles, faces a reinvention of self, and retrains as correctional officer, aware that she will need to ‘shed old factory habits… and pick up new ways’.

Yet a few years down the track, people are coming out of training with no jobs, or with jobs that offer less than half their former pay. Matt Wopat began retraining as a linesman, but realising the slim chances of securing employment in his new field, takes a GM factory job some four hours away, joining the ‘GM gypsies’, whose family lives now occur as the commute allows.

There is continued cross-party agreement on money being funnelled into job training. Politicians, business leaders and the public peddle in hope: ‘The premise is that this recession would be like the past recessions and that jobs would come back at the pace they have before’. But it becomes increasingly obvious that there are no jobs to go into and that the unschooled are more likely to find work, and better paying work at that. There are homeless teenagers; the suicide rate has doubled. In Jerad’s home his daughters, who have after-school jobs, need to pay for the groceries. Any way you look at it, the standard of living has declined and working poverty is on the rise.

In a global economy, it is a complex task indeed to rebuild a prosperous city. The gradual accretion and diversification of businesses, their suppliers and networks, the housing and amenity that this then allows for – all of this takes time. Janesville is a moving and cautionary account of what happens when global forces, sunset industries and human energies coincide.

Reviewed by Emma Johnson

by Amy Goldstein
Published by Simon & Schuster




Book Review: Alex Approximately, by Jenn Bennett

Available in bookshops nationwide.

cv_alex_approximatelyAlex, Approximately is sort of a modern-day novelised equivalent of the movie, You’ve Got Mail, aimed at a new generation.

Our protagonist, Bailey, loves classic movies and follows a strict habit of avoiding things that take her out of her comfort zone. So, when things become too uncomfortable at home with her mother’s new boyfriend, she moves to a small Californian coastal city, to live with her father. The fact that her online friend, fellow film-buff Alex, also lives there is just an added garnish.

However, not one to rush into things, Bailey determines to track down this mysterious “Alex” and suss him out before even tell him that they’re in the same city. The city, resting on the Californian Coast, somewhere near Monteray Bay and with the redwood forests as a backdrop, is a surfer’s paradise. It’s also home to a bizarre museum known as “The Cave” (which I feel was loosely based on The House On the Rock in Wisconsin). Here she picks up a summer job, and also catches the attentions of sexy, if infuriating, surfer boy, Parker. Their initial meetings are typical to the genre: he gently mocks her, and ultimately seems to be intent on trying to embarrass her. She bites back. They grow closer, become friends, and eventually Bailey decides she should stop trying to lightly stalk “Alex” in favour of her new relationship, and their already fairly infrequent online conversations cease.

If you’re reading this book for discussions about classic movies, I’m afraid you’re likely be disappointed. What you do receive, instead, is the awkward world of teenage dating and a frustrating case of hidden identity, interspersed with an intriguing array of background characters (Parker’s mother is most excellent!), and a somewhat-antagonist, Parker’s ex-friend, Davey. Davey is all kinds of messed up: he injured his knee a few years ago, became addicted to painkillers, and switched from there to harder drugs. He exhibits a variety of antisocial mannerisms, including a deep resentment of Parker, and Bailey has also caught his eye…

On the surface, Alex Approximately feels like a fairly light, superficial read. The twist, Alex’s identity, is easily figured out (and is pretty much spoiled on some of the promotional material, although not, fortunately, the blurb). It does contain frequent mentions of recreational drug use (although the main characters remain drug-free), violence, and some fairly descriptive sexual content. Thus I would not recommend it for the younger or more innocent reader (I would suggest, ages 14+).

It also fails to deal with some of the harder issues, such as Davey’s drug addiction, and he is cast more as the villain in need of taking out than the teenager in need of serious help that he clearly is. Bailey, for all that her father calls her “a good detective” at one point, is possibly the worst detective I’ve seen in a young adult novel, and completely fails to figure out who Alex is, despite the fact that even her father has guessed (but refuses to tell her or even drop substantial hints, presumably because the situation amuses him).

Whilst I would describe it as extremely readable, and quite entertaining, it could have been so much more.

Reviewed by Angela Oliver

Alex Approximately
by Jenn Bennett
Published by Simon & Schuster
ISBN  9781471161049

Book Review: Olivia and the Fairy Princesses by Ian Falconer

This book is in bookshops now

Anyone who’s stepped foot inside the children’s section of a bookshop, or into a primary school classroom over the last decade would be hard pressed to have missed the delights of Olivia the Pig. This outspoken, irrepressible piglet first marched onto the literary scene in 2000 when Falconer, also a theatre set and costumer designer, as well as a New Yorker cover artist, was inspired to create a literary homage to his niece. The world is fortunate that he did –Olivia and the Fairy Princesses is the seventh book in the series, and it’s as plucky, original and visually sumptuous as the rest.

Olivia is trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up, (‘I think I’m having an identity crisis’) and is finding it tricky to avoid a model dominated by princesses. The story deals with Olivia’s attempts to differentiate herself from the pack, and while serious questions about identity and societal expectations underpin the narrative, they’re dealt to in unusual and often hilarious ways.

For instance, Olivia asks why princess are always pink, and proceeds to model a series of international princess outfits noting, ‘There are alternatives’. It’s this thoughtful treatment of issues that makes for a provoking read. Witty dialogue ‘I could be a reporter and expose corporate malfeasance’ and the interplay between Olivia and her exasperated mother will have readers of all ages giggling.

The illustrations are equally enthralling and utterly beautiful. Falconer’s spare colour palette helps us to focus on the detail of facial expressions and the outline of the pig family’s ears and noses. A favourite drawing is of Olivia ranting during her bedtime routine while donning a towel head turban and clasping her toothbrush. Dance aficionados will love the double page spread in which Olivia pulls a series of Martha Graham poses –the book is dedicated with ‘deepest apologies’ to the choreographer.

The use of the animals as metaphors for people is a formula long cherished in children’s literature and here, Falconer uses the pigs to great comic effect. Scenes are so much funnier when a ballet class is full of pigs in tutus, or when Halloween involves a pig dressed as a warthog. It’s a combination of absorbing imagery, contemporary narrative style and a gregarious heroine that sets this series apart and lends a sense of optimism to the future of children’s books.

Reviewed by Caitlin Sinclair

Olivia and the Fairy Princesses
Written and illustrated by Ian Falconer
A Simon & Schuster imprint from Penguin Group (NZ), September 2012
ISBN 9780857078872

Book review: The Next Best Thing by Jennifer Weiner

This book is in bookstores now.

The Next Best Thing by best-selling author Jennifer Weiner is set in Los Angeles and is about Ruth Saunders, a young woman who breaks into the world of TV sitcoms with her show The Next Best Thing. I’m interested in LA and screenwriting, and I think they’re great subjects for a novel, so I was looking forward to reading and reviewing this book. But it didn’t go quite the way I’d expected.

Fifty pages in I knew there was something not quite right about this novel, and so I did a little investigating. I wouldn’t normally search the internet or look at other reviews before I write my own, but on this occasion I’m glad I did.

It turns out that Jennifer Weiner co-created and wrote the short-lived sitcom ‘State of Georgia’ in 2011. To be fair she acknowledges this at the back of The Next Best Thing. But there’s a reminder that should be pinned to every writer’s wall: just because it happened in real life doesn’t mean it should be in your story. When I found out about Weiner’s cancelled sitcom, and had a look around, all the problems I had with The Next Best Thing started to make sense.

As the story slowly unfolds, we see Ruth’s ideas being taken away from her, changed piece by piece until her show is no longer the one she dreamed up. If only, I realised Weiner is telling us, if only I – sorry, I mean Ruth – could have made ‘State of Georgia’ – sorry, I mean The Next Best Thing – the way I’d wanted to it would have all been OK, and it would have been a hit.

Weiner tells us in great detail how it all happened. Dozens of pages go by while we hear about how the show was picked up, the rewriting of scenes and introduction of new characters, the studio executives getting their way with casting, and the lowly status of the writer when it comes to decisions. And what happened with audience testing. And how difficult the actors were. And so on and so on.

There’s no problem with writers basing parts of their stories on reality. Everyone does it. But Weiner’s inability to resist including endless scenes just because they happened in real life weighs the book down heavily.

Weiner doesn’t help herself by choosing to write in the first person. Everything is related to the reader by Ruth at a slow, unvarying pace. I turned the pages quickly, but not because I wanted to find out what happens. I just wanted to get it over with. There is a remarkable lack of dramatic tension. Although Weiner tries to get us engaged with her characters, there’s no depth, no emotion. There’s nothing really at stake. There should be – all the ingredients are present – but somehow it fails to ignite.

Mark Twain said he didn’t have time to write a short letter, so he wrote a long one instead. I’m quite sure Weiner didn’t give herself enough time to write The Next Best Thing. She couldn’t wait to tell the world what she thought about her ‘State of Georgia’ experience. ‘State of Georgia’ was cancelled in September 2011 and The Next Best Thing hit the bookstands on 1 August 2012. Hardly enough time to write it, let alone tighten it up. Definitely not enough time to pick up what would be called, in TV or the movies, glaring continuity errors. Not enough time to pick up the typos. Not enough time to do a quick web search to confirm that if you wanted a ‘Maori tribesman’ to give you a tattoo, you probably wouldn’t go to Australia.

And then, the ending. It’s not as if any more evidence was needed to to prove that this book was produced too quickly, but the ending provided it anyway. In contrast to the slow-moving first 350 pages, the ending is hurried, muddled and indulgent. There are premiere parties and pilot re-shoots, actors on the payroll and holidays being taken, people appearing in a scene to say one thing and then disappearing again. All very confusing. And then – well, I won’t spoil it for you.

Suffice to say some of it is based on real life events and some of it is made up. Just like all fiction, really, and that’s the thing. Transforming life into fiction is what writers do but it takes time, and I don’t think Weiner spent enough time on The Next Best Thing.

I was disappointed by Weiner’s effort. She’s a best selling author, and The Next Best Thing should have been a better, and shorter, book. I’m quite sure there’s an interesting, exciting and emotionally compelling novel hiding inside The Next Best Thing. I just wish Weiner had taken the time to write it.

Reviewed by C P Howe

The Next Best Thing
by Jennifer Weiner
Published by Simon & Schuster, 2012
ISBN 9780857208163
RRP $37