When a critically acclaimed book isn't that good

Last year, a young adult novel called Anatomy of a Misfit came out, and everyone was talking about it. It was all over book blogs, it received a starred review from Publishers Weekly, and in general, people were very excited about it and talked about what an amazing book it was. One of my co-workers read the book and greatly disliked it. Still, I wanted to read it, since it was so highly spoken of, and because my co-worker and I sometimes have different reading tastes. I was expecting to love Anatomy of a Misfit; however, I was very disappointed by it.

When I finished reading it, I wanted to know if anyone else felt the same way I did, so I started reading Goodreads reviews of the book. Many people mentioned the following:

• All the characters are stereotypes.
• The language is offensive (for multiple reasons, including swearing).
• The narrator was unlikable.
• The book was not well-written.
• The book tried to make a point, but missed the mark.

I found myself agreeing with what the negative reviews were saying, because the thoughts expressed in those reviews were exactly the thoughts I had while reading. Since so many people loved the book, though, I thought I'd also read some positive reviews, and one in particular stood out to me because of this: "This is not a book for everybody. This is not a book you will enjoy if slurs and slut-shaming ruin a book for you. To love this book, you need to be the type who can read a book about people as they are and not as you want them to be."

It's an interesting point, and I think a good one. There is much to be said about unlikable characters: they exist, and that's not always a bad thing. Some of my favorite books have unlikable characters, and I do enjoy reading books about people as they are: flawed and messy.

But what happens when a book shows characters as they are, not as we want them to be, and it's not a good depiction of people? For me, there's a difference between having a character who is unlikable, who is flawed to the point where I can't stand them, and having a character who is unlikable because that character is a stereotype. It's something I've been thinking about ever since I read Anatomy of a Misfit and the Goodreads reviews of it. It's important to have characters who are unlikable as much as it's important to have characters who are likable, but I think what's most important is having characters who are realistic and that readers can relate to. For me, this is where Anatomy of a Misfit misses the mark. Instead of having authentic characters, the characters were caricatures of themselves.

What I struggle with now is how to understand how and why this book has resonated with so many people. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to figure it out--all the five star ratings it's getting baffle me. As a librarian, though, I think it's important for me to at least try to figure it out, because something about this book appeals to a lot of people, and knowing why will help me be a better librarian, and, perhaps, a better reader.

Have any of you experienced a similar situation? If so, let me know in the comments!

Check This Out!

I like to check out the Guardian's book section periodically--there's always something interesting. Here are a couple of today's tidbits... --Interested in what they're reading across the pond? Check out this list of 250 Most Borrowed Titles from UK Libraries 2008-09. Three of the top four titles belong to James Patterson. --There's a new book about Emily Dickinson out in the U.K., & this review makes an interesting read for scholars of Dickinson. --Rules for Writers: This is a new series they're doing, with writers like Hilary Mantel, Roddy Doyle, Zadie Smith, & Sarah Waters weighing in. Here are Margaret Atwood's rules. --Also check out their quizzes on literature & current events! They even have an online bookclub!

Rereading Wuthering Heights

Are there any Wuthering Heights fans out there? Talk to me. Please explain what makes this novel a classic. I just reread it & I still don't get it.

First, let me explain how I came to be re-reading the book. My reading often takes me on tangents. I was reading a book of essays by Judith Thurman called Cleopatra's Nose: 39 Varieties of Desire, which contains a great essay about Charlotte Brontë. This essay recommended a couple of biographies, including Unquiet Soul : A Biography of Charlotte Brontë, which I then read (& if you're interested in the Brontës, it's a very good biography). Reading a biography of one Brontë sister inevitably leads to you to others, and Unquiet Soul waxed eloquently about the mysticism of Emily and Wuthering Heights, so I decided to give it another try.

I mean, it's an interesting read, but I feel like I'm not getting what everyone else is getting. I have even picked up Wuthering Heights, Revised; An Authoritative Text, with Essays in Criticism. In between readings on the Gondal cycle of stories and Emily's poetry, I did find one excellent essay: "A Fresh Approach to Wuthering Heights," by Q.D. Leavis. (Please note that this approach was fresh in 1969.)

Q.D. (Queenie Dorothy) Leavis suggests that Emily "had some trouble getting free of a false start-a start which suggests that we are going to a have a regional version of the sub-plot of Lear." Leavis also posits that there "are various signs thatthe novelist intended to stress the aspect of her theme represented by the corruption of the child's native goodness by Society...", and, while this a "commonplace subject" of the Romantic period, it becomes "neither superficial nor theoretic because the interests of the responsible novelist gave it...a new insight..."

Leavis talks about the "genius devoted to creating Nelly Dean, Joseph, Zillah, Frances, Lockwood, the the two Catherines, and to setting them into significant action". Catherine is the real "moral centre" of the book, and Heathcliff and Hareton are giving only "very perfunctory attention..." (She also makes a lot of comparisons, based on the Catherine-Heathcliff-Edgar Linton triangle, with the movie Jules et Jim, which, given my case history, probably means I'll have to check that out in the not-too-distant future.)

I don't want to quote the essay here in its totality, but I have found reading it very useful & I'm considering tackling Wuthering Heights in all its confoundedness again. Leavis herself says, "Why does one feel that in spite of its intensely painful scenes-painful in a great variety of ways-Wuthering Heights always repays rereading?"

What do you think of Wuthering Heights?

Speculative fiction, science fiction, and fantasy

In a recent review, Margaret Atwood reiterated her idea that she doesn't write "science fiction," but speculative fiction. The reviewer states that "she prefers 'speculative fiction.' If we have to have a label, that’s a better one, since part of Atwood’s mastery as a writer is to use herself as a creative computer, modeling possible futures projected from the available data — in human terms, where we are now."

Far be it from me to dispute such a long-standing SF luminary as Margaret Atwood, but in this case, she and the Times reviewer seem to be operating on an odd definition of "science fiction."

"Science Fiction" is one category under the umbrella of speculative fiction. The other major strain is fantasy. A third, less common, is alternate history. Broadly speaking, alternate history is fiction in which a fact of known history has been changed, and the speculation is about how that would change the present, and what the implications are. Fantasy supposes a change in natural law--a magical environment. Science fiction supposes a change in science and technology, and speculates on what that would mean. In other words, if a wizard creates a race of elves, it's fantasy. If a scientist creates a genetically modified species of human, it's science fiction. Ms. Atwood's latest book is the latter.

Now, the categories within speculative fiction overlap frequently. It's a very fluid genre. One or another usually emerges as the dominant form, but there's a lot of freedom inside the genre. An alternate history might be based on a technological change or a magical one (Kenneth Oppel's Airborn is a good example of an alternate history with different technology). A fantasy world with an advanced technology might be done. And there's no special reason an elf can't pilot a starship, though (unless you call him a Vulcan and suppose a different planet of origin) it would be hard to market to the science fiction fan base, which draws a hard line on fantasy elements entering science fiction.

There is not, however, a hard line about the time in which science fiction might be set, or what sorts of science might be the "guinea pigs" for the alteration or development. Any decent science fiction will involve "using [one]self as a creative computer, modeling possible futures projected from the available data — in human terms, where we are now." That, in fact, is a fairly succinct definition of the genre.

Is there a gosh-wow segment of science fiction? Sure, and it's as valid as the Sword and Sorcery segment of fantasy (for those not used to speculative fiction, there are quite a lot of sub-categories inside of each of the major ones--sword and sorcery, dystopian, utopian, etc). But it's certainly not the definition of science fiction. Isaac Asimov's Foundation--a, well, foundational book in the genre--is largely based on, of all things, political science. Orson Scott Card's Ender books use psychometrics and genetics, as well as sociology. Brian Aldiss's Helliconia trilogy deals with the impact of climate on societies in a binary star system. The list goes on. There's almost no scientific concept that can't be tweaked for science fiction. Ms. Atwood chose genetic manipulation. Excellent. And the branch of speculative fiction into which that falls is... science fiction.

Instead of saying "This isn't science fiction, it's good literature!", why not say, "Look! Science fiction is good literature!"?