Written in 1935 in the wake of the Great Depression, this is a story about a mysterious circus which comes to present a town's misperceptions to itself.  A satyr and a sea monster, a mermaid and a unicorn, a bear and a Russian for the most part give salient (and nonsensical) explanations of their lives.  It is completely befuddling what everyone is taking for granted, both at the circus and about what stories are being told, but it makes the point: aren't most explanations at their core almost always nonsensical assumptions?

This is an evil book written by a talented author which is totally enjoyable. (Another reviewer referred to Finney as a pre-incarnation of Kurt Vonnegut, Jr..)  The catalogue, a continuing list of explanations, is purely delightful.  Some examples:

"CATS: they are wild in the heart of the city, but they are tame and frightened in the heart of the woods. They don't fit anywhere any more."

and

"YOTTLE: an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent lump of bronze."

The only hard thing about this book was the ingrained and so very casual racism.  Part of me desperately wants to etch out THOSE WORDS, and part of me sadly knows they need to remain so we can see how far we've come and how far we need to go. 

It also makes me wonder, what in our world do we take so for granted that will make people 80 years from now shudder in horror? I think that question will also be a lesson for writers...

                                                                Learn more about Charles G. Finney.

Two more books from my loose reading list, in the spirit of YA.

I know Holly Black. She was one of my teachers at Clarion in Michigan. She is amazing, vivacious, oozing poetry and delight, and she is still a very popular author. She signed my copy of Valiant and it is the second book I've read of hers.  The main character I really didn't care for, but no one pegs the eery other-worldly psychology of fairies and elves likes Holly Black.

I've been procrastinating on reading The Hunger Games because I'd seen the movie already (and liked it), but I have to say that the movie is wonderful, and the book itself is also wonderful.  It is very much worth reading, and I think I do need to read the others.

All of these are wonderful to read, evocative, but... Angelfall, Valient, The Hunger Games all had the exact same plot: a teenage girl (who doesn't think she is beautiful, but really is), whose father (abandoned the family, was never part of the family, was blown up in a mine accident) and is at odds with her (schizophrenic, slutty, traumatized) mother has to do battle with (angels, elves, kids) to protect her (sister, friend, sister) and falls in love (with an angel, a troll, a baker's son).

For some reason, that depresses me.