Review | Blue is the Warmest Colour, Julie Maroh

9781551525143_BlueIsTheWarmestColorJulie Maroh’s Blue is the Warmest Colour is a sensitive, beautifully illustrated lesbian coming out story set in France in the 1990s. High school junior Clementine falls in love with Emma, a punkish, confident girl with blue hair. We know from the first page that the story won’t end well — the novel begins with Emma visiting Clementine’s parents after Clementine’s death. As we later then view their relationship unfold through Clementine’s journals, there is a bittersweet tinge throughout. We see Clementine’s first, confused, feelings of sexual attraction, and we see Emma’s reading and responding to these words.

Their romance is itself rather bittersweet. Emma has a jealous girlfriend at the time, and Clementine has been drilled to believe that homosexuality is wrong. And even when Clementine feels ready to take the plunge, Emma is hesitant to risk it. The conservatism of Clementine’s family takes a disheartening turn, and the story leaps forward several years, presenting a rather bleak picture that sadly feels realistic. The ending felt rather unnecessarily dramatic, but the rest of the story is told with such subtlety and grace that the novel as a whole is still really strong.

Maroh’s storytelling is subtle and her illustrations graceful and lovingly rendered. Even her sexually explicit scenes are more about making love than having sex. Her decision to render everything in shades of gray with accents of blue gives the story a dreamy feel; the treatment almost feels like music.

In a Q&A with the publisher, Maroh points out that even though the book is first set in 1994, the climate for queer youth in France still hasn’t improved much. She says, “The best thing this book could do is help queer youth, somewhere, somehow.” Indeed.

The live-action French film version of this novel was the winner of the Palme D’or at Cannes 2013. It will be released in North America in Fall 2013 through Sundance Selects/IFC Films (USA) and Mongrel Media (Canada). Given how musical the story felt even on the page, I can’t wait to see it translated on the screen.

International trailer with English subtitles below:

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Thank you to Arsenal Pulp Press for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review | Half Lives, Sara Grant

Imagine a lethal virus decimating most of the world’s population. Then imagine  that all that has survived for future generations are the words of a teenager. Not just any teenager, but one with a penchant for combining words just because she thinks they sound cool (e.g. freaking + idiot = fridiot, freaking + creepy = freepy). Now imagine a world where Facebook is the guide to living right, “crupid” is part of the vocabulary, and “whatever” is a form of prayer.

16131051On one hand, Sara Grant’s Half Lives could be seen as a sobering commentary on the devastating effects of nuclear waste. The story touches on terrorism and biowarfare, and makes a convincing argument about the horrors we humans inflict upon each other. On the other hand, the novel can also be seen as social satire — words and symbols that mean nothing to us can easily take on sacred meaning when taken out of context. Could the worship of the Great I AM, founded upon the group leader’s infinity symbol birthmark and based upon the teachings of Facebook, be a rather pointed dig at blind obedience to religious institutions? The problem is, as a reader well-familiar with the original context for these cultural icons and rather grouchily unimpressed by words like “freepy,” I was just annoyed.

The story switches between time periods and points of view. In the present day, seventeen year old Icie escapes the virus along with three other teenagers by hiding in an abandoned nuclear facility hidden inside a mountain near Las Vegas. The teens with her — spoiled rich boy, head cheerleader, and mysterious hot boy — aren’t particularly memorable, though I found Grant’s portrayal of one of the teens’ descent into madness interesting and I wish Grant had explored that character more. Random pieces of literature — To Kill a Mockingbird and Waiting for Godot — are conveniently brought into the story when the author wants to make a point, but neither is used enough to create a potent metaphor.

Generations in the future, Becket is a leader of a group of young people who live in the mountain. They have their own rules, based upon aphorisms paired with smiley faces. Again, on one hand, it’s somewhat believable and realistic; on the other hand, it’s simply annoying. Makes me wonder if some of the writers of religious texts may have included their own language’s version of “whatever” and we just have no idea. Becket’s group refuses to leave the mountain, because they believe crossing a border means instant death, as well because they fear running into Terrorists, whom they imagine as hulking beasts. This storyline had potential, and I really liked the character of Harper, Becket’s best friend and on the losing end of a love triangle. I also liked the storyline about the power struggle Becket has to face.

There are a few scenes in the book that pack an emotional punch, and the themes it raises certainly need contemplating. Unfortunately, much like the Facebook aphorisms of the Great I AM, the story remains comfortably on the surface and never quite brings the edge it promises. I wonder what an author like Margaret Atwood or Suzanne Collins would have brought to this concept.

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Thank you to Hachette Book Group Canada for an advance reading copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review | Lean In, Sheryl Sandberg

16071764I’ve had Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In on my Books to Read list for a long time. I believe passionately in her argument that women shouldn’t be afraid to “lean in” and go after what they want. I also saw a tweet from the Lean In organization which posited the question: “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?” This was from Sandberg’s book, as well as an aphorism on her office wall. I also just learned that Lean In has begun using this as a campaign. It’s a great question, a very powerful one, and one that I believe we all need to ask ourselves more often.

Sandberg acknowledges that there are many factors that prevent women from achieving equality in the workplace — social structures, unjust legislation, etc. Yet she also argues that part of what holds women back is internal, and since this is something we can change in ourselves, this is what she chooses to focus on. Her book makes some really interesting observations on how we (perhaps unconsciously) hold ourselves back. For example, after giving a talk on gender equality, Sandberg is approached by a young woman who says she learned from the talk not to put her hand down. Near the end of the talk, Sandberg said she had time for only two more questions — all the women with their hands raised immediately put them down, whereas the men kept theirs raised, and so were called on. Sandberg was horrified that she, even given the topic of her talk, hadn’t noticed the gender disparity at the end. More importantly, however, she uses this example as a call to action for women: keep your hand raised, because even a manager attuned to gender issues may not notice you if you don’t.

The book is filled with many similar examples. As a woman, I found myself realizing how many of these behaviours I am guilty of myself. She makes the case for women needing to lean in more at the corporate table and for men needing to lean in more at the kitchen table — certainly a gender double standard that is slowly shifting, and yet still has a long way to go. She also notes the disparity in gender attitudes towards work, where women are more likely than men to hold themselves back on the off-chance that a higher position would interfere with future child-caring responsibilities.

Some of what she writes is good advice for the workplace in general. For example, she talks about the importance of mentors. She writes about how many young women have asked her to be their mentor, and how when giving a talk to a graduating class, a couple of male students asked about company strategy and a couple of female students asked about more personal things, including how to find a mentor. Sandberg cautions against looking for a mentor as if looking for Prince Charming. Women, she says, are taught from a young age to await rescue, and this is an attitude that needs to change. She does give a few tips on how to go about finding a mentor, but ultimately, it shouldn’t be seen through the lens of a Disney Princess.

Sandberg advocates for setting your own limits for a work-life balance. She gives the example of a company whose employees quit because they felt burned out, and yet the boss later noticed that all of these burned out employees had unused vacation days. As that boss told Sandberg, the company will always make demands of you; it’s the employee’s responsibility to set the limits on how much they are willing to do. Granted, that’s rather naive, particularly when needing to work multiple jobs just to make ends meet, but it’s still advice worth heeding.

I only wish Sandberg had delved deeper. Her arguments are primarily anecdotal, and therefore limited. Even her examples usually focus on public figures or people she knows personally, who are inevitably CEOs or other people in power. She acknowledges her privilege and admits that for women not in power, it may be more difficult to do the things she suggests. I agree with her argument that even with those circumstances, a drive to “lean in” may still be helpful; I only wish she’d included stories and anecdotes from women who haven’t yet achieved the top of the corporate ladder.

The book as well focused only on the challenges women with children faced. As a single woman without a desire to start a family anytime soon, I wish Sandberg had gone beyond arguing that a family life and a successful career aren’t mutually exclusive. What about the issues single women without children face in the workplace? I understand that this book is primarily anecdotal, but when coaching women to “lean in,” I expected some discussion about a wider range of circumstances that prevent women from doing so.

Sandberg does give one example on this subject, with a woman complaining that she has to pick up the slack because her co-workers’ time with their children takes precedence over her own free time. Unfortunately, that woman then continues by saying that her going to a party is just as important as her co-workers’ spending time with their kids, because it’s by going to parties that she can meet a man and then start her own family. In principle, I agree that her right to go to a party should be given as much respect as her co-worker’s right to attend a child’s soccer game. But again, why does the right to go to a party have to be justified by the desire to start a family?

Even when Sandberg tries to be inclusive, she maintains a very narrow view, and I can’t help but think of all the different voices that were left unheard. Single women, women of colour, women from a lower income bracket, and so on. Understandably, no one book can hope to encompass the full range of issues women face in the workplace. However, the core of Sandberg’s message is so powerful, and so important I think for women to heed, that I really wish she’d made more of an effort to represent more of women’s voices.