Interview with Switch author Tish Cohen

Hey all! Last month, I got to participate in Harper Collins Canada’s blog tour for SwitchTish Cohen‘s contemporary take on the classic Freaky Friday tale. What if you could live someone else’s life? Whose would it be? As I said in my review, I love the book, and I was impressed by how real it felt, despite the fantastical premise.

Thanks to Shannon at Harper Collins Canada, I even got a chance to ask Tish some questions! Lots of interesting answers, and best of all, good news for any readers like me, who wanted Joules to get more page time (Check out Question 6!). Enjoy!

1.      Why did you decide to stick to Andrea’s POV instead of switching between her and Joules?

I found Andrea’s point of view to be the most interesting. Her situation at home-being the only natural children of foster parents-intrigued me.

2.      I love the character of Gran. Did you base her on anyone in your own life?

I based Gran on my mother.

3.      I love that Gran gives unusual, one-of-a-kind gifts, like gloves from a fortune teller on a road in Africa. What was the most unusual gift you’ve received?

The sparkly feathered magic gloves from the book.  They were actually given to me by my mother for Christmas two years ago.

4.      In Switch, you deal a lot with the difficulties of growing up in a foster family. What interested you about foster parenting? And what in particular interested you about the only non-foster child in a foster family?

I am fascinated by the generosity of people who take in foster children. I am also fascinated by what it would be like to have your brothers and sisters constantly coming and going from your life.

5.      If you could have any famous rock star to be your father, who would it be and why?

David Bowie. He could sing Cat People to me as a lullaby.

6.      I found Joules such a compelling character, and I think she ends up having to go through even more drastic changes than Andrea does by the end of the book. Do you have any plans for a sequel, this time from Joules’ perspective?

Yes I do.

Review: The Beasts of New York, Jon Evans

My initial reaction when I received Jon Evans’ Beasts of New York in the mail was, what a beautiful book! With the rise of e-reading, I’ve long believed that the future of print publishing is in books that are practically works of art. The Madame Bovary translation by Lydia Davis released last year, for example, had such a beautiful cover that I decided against getting the cheaper Kindle ed or waiting for the paperback. I’ve also made no secret at work of my love for the Penguin Essentials series released recently, which prompted me to buy myself another copy of The Great Gatsby.

So, when I saw the absolutely beautiful way Porcupine’s Quill printed Beasts of New York, I fell in love with the textured, cream-coloured pages and the ornate letters that opened each section. I also love the wood engravings by Jim Westergard. I was totally grossed out by the one of the rats, but overall, they’re beautiful. I love how realistic the fur looks, and am amazed whenever I remember that these images were originally created on wood. This book is a work of art, an example of the kind of reading experience e-books can’t offer (an image of a wood engraving on a screen will also be beautiful, but not quite as beautiful as on this type of paper, I think).

I was also intrigued by the plot: a squirrel named Patch travels to New York City to search for food and finds out about a war in the animal kingdom. Growing up, one of my favourite books was The Secret of NIMH, and one of my favourite movies was Homeward Bound.. To be honest, the Beasts’ first chapter excerpt on the publisher’s website didn’t really grab me. With details like a squirrel’s home being called a drey, I was afraid the book would end up being like a nature documentary. Luckily, however, the story becomes much more involved than that. I quickly became intrigued by Patch’s adventures, and loved seeing New York City through his eyes. Cars become “death machines” and apartment buildings are “mountains.” In the hands of a lesser writer, I can imagine such descriptions being cutesy, but Evans pulls it off. At times, even I felt like I was traveling in a hostile, utterly alien environment, and I grew up in a city!

Politics — alliances, betrayals, war councils — in this story is wonderfully intricate. What I loved most, however, was that Evans never lets us forget that these are animals. In a particularly chilling scene, when trapped with a group of other animals, Patch sets a fox free from his cage on the condition that the fox swear on the moon (an oath deeper than blood, so powerful Patch literally feels a shudder when he does it) never to eat squirrels again. Other creatures then beg to be set free, so the fox frees a rabbit, then promptly devours it, saying, quite reasonably, that he’d never promised the same for rabbits.

The battle scenes are gory, filled with characters biting each other, and bleeding to death. The ultimate villain, the King Beneath, is an absolutely frightening, mysterious creature. He might not have been as scary if we could just label him a certain type of animal, but because we’re seeing the story through Patch’s eyes and Patch himself doesn’t know what the King is, or indeed if the King is anything more than a legend being used by the power-mad rat Snout, the King is mostly an eerie, shadowy presence to us as well.

The one thing I didn’t like was inclusion of the coyote and the turtle, especially in the last  chapter. For a book with such power in the realism of its details and dialogue, I found the attempt at mythology to be unnecessary. It was like Evans was trying to add gravitas to the story by making it part of a much larger tradition, when I was most moved by the focus of the story on one squirrel, for whom one city already seems too much for the world to contain.

Beasts of New York is a contemporary urban fable, geared for adults, but also a story that I think mature kids will appreciate. There aren’t a lot of adult books starring animals, and Evans’ animals seem less anthropomorphized than the books and movies I remember. Beasts is an exciting tale overall, and a beautiful, beautiful book.

Review: She Lover of Death, Boris Akunin (Andrew Bromfield, trans.)

A huge thank you to my sister Jessica! She introduced me to John Rebus and Guido Brunetti (both detectives and mysteries I adore!), and now she’s introduced me to turn-of-the-century Russian detective Erast Fandorin. Thin and debonair with piercing blue eyes and (quite honestly, the coup de grace) a slight stammer, Fandorin is my latest discovery in the world of gentlemen detectives I love.

She Lover of Death is the eighth book in Boris Akunin’s Erast Fandorin series. There are intriguing hints of Fandorin’s back story (a past romantic tragedy, incredible luck), but since the story is told from the perspective of a young woman who has only met him in this mystery (and in fact only knows him under an alias), I learned just enough to make me want to read the previous mysteries and find out more. Again, since the narrator doesn’t really know Fandorin, I don’t even know if he’s a private detective (he appears to have some problems with the police, so he can’t be a cop), or a Lord Peter Wimsey type character, who solves mysteries as a hobby. All I know of him is that he’s a brilliant detective, a gentleman with a protective streak who gets flustered when he interviews an artist and is faced with a nude female model, and a bit of an adventurer (near the end of the novel, he mentions going off to break a record). A charming man similar to Brunetti and Lynley, but with an air of mystery that makes him even more intriguing.

The mystery in She Lover is fascinating. In Moscow, 1900, a young woman joins the Lovers of Death, a suicide club composed of bohemians. The head of the club is a charismatic man with a romanticized view of Death. Members read poetry at club meetings, and whoever is chosen for suicide has to compose a final poem first. The mystery appeared straightforward at first — we know all about the club fairly early on — and it seemed a well-written, creepy mystery, with the main problem being how to stop the suicide club. However, Akunin introduces plot twists that hint at an actual murderer, and figuring out the identity and motives of this killer is an exciting, convoluted puzzle, and a classic detective story.

I love this book, and am looking forward to checking out the others in the series. Fandorin is a likable character, and I love learning about him from a complete stranger’s perspective. I’m used to reading detective stories from the perspective of the detective or a sidekick figure, so Akunin’s style in this book is an interesting change. The ending is one of those so-obvious-can’t-believe-I-was-fooled type revelations that I love in mysteries. The language is a bit formal, which adds to the atmosphere of the turn of the century Russia setting. The romanticization of Death and naivete of the narrator could so easily have been overdone, but Akunin handles it well. I’m so glad my sister introduced me to this series, and I’m excited to read more about Fandorin.