Heather Seggel

YA FictionYA

A different kind of pageant queen

Review by Heather Seggel

Willowdean Dickson is fat and doesn’t care what anyone thinks about it. But she’s growing up in Clover City, Texas, where the church, high school football and the annual beauty pageant are all equally revered. Will’s mom is a former pageant queen who begins to tune her out as the event draws near. But with two potential boyfriends, a shaky relationship with her BFF and the usual crap from bullies, Will has nowhere to turn for advice.

Author Julie Murphy draws a clear distinction between Will’s confidence, which is largely unshakeable—truly, she’s awesome—and her fears about getting closer to hot boyfriend Bo. She has a lingering sense that people will wonder how she landed him, and so she takes unusual chances, aided by her love of Dolly Parton, her late aunt and several drag queens who know a thing or two about pageantry. As these pressures bring out Will’s worst as a friend and girlfriend, they also show a clear path to her best self.

Dumplin’ is inspiring while never lecturing, sexy but still classy, and may inspire you to roll down the windows and belt out “Jolene” next time you’re on the highway.

 

This article was originally published in the September 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Willowdean Dickson is fat and doesn’t care what anyone thinks about it. But she’s growing up in Clover City, Texas, where the church, high school football and the annual beauty pageant are all equally revered. Will’s mom is a former pageant queen who begins to tune her out as the event draws near. But with two potential boyfriends, a shaky relationship with her BFF and the usual crap from bullies, Will has nowhere to turn for advice.
NonfictionMemoir

A gilded cage

Review by Heather Seggel

Negroland is not a geographic locale. It’s the name Margo Jefferson gives to the place, time and circumstances of her upbringing in the upper echelons of black society. Her memoir, which reads with the blast force of a prose poem, looks back with love and no small amount of anger at a life spent navigating the freedoms of class while flirting with, and occasionally skirting, the imposed limits of race. 

Jefferson was born in Chicago in 1947 to a socialite mother and a physician father who was head of pediatrics at a prestigious hospital. Their family had hired help, but Margo and sister Denise were expected to clean in advance of their arrival, to keep the habits and inflections of vernacular blackness at bay, to assert their privilege by keeping distance between themselves and those who didn’t share it. This often afforded them a rarefied perch, passing as white when it suited their needs, and allowing them to look down on poor blacks and all whites with equal distaste. 

When the family takes a vacation without first vetting the hotel, only to have their reservation downgraded and the red carpet withdrawn the minute they’re seen, it’s a bitter reminder that their gilded cage doesn’t always allow access to the larger world.

Jefferson offers some broader historical context for her place and time, including thumbnail biographies of some “privileged free Negro(es),” then dives into personal stories, each helping to frame her highly particular circumstance and make it somewhat easier to understand. She is unsparing when describing her college years; if her life was unique, the melodrama she brought to bear on it is still a hallmark of that stage of life.

“ ‘Sometimes I almost forget I’m a Negro,’ my mother wrote seventy years ago. It wasn’t a disavowal, it was her claim to a free space.” This line from a letter Jefferson’s mother wrote to a friend reappears throughout Negroland. It’s a stinging reminder that identity can’t always be chosen but may be tailored to one’s advantage for those who have the resources in hand.

 

This article was originally published in the September 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Negroland is not a geographic locale. It’s the name Margo Jefferson gives to the place, time and circumstances of her upbringing in the upper echelons of black society. Her memoir, which reads with the blast force of a prose poem, looks back with love and no small amount of anger at a life spent navigating the freedoms of class while flirting with, and occasionally skirting, the imposed limits of race.
NonfictionTrue Crime

An intimate look inside a chilling, dark heart

Review by Heather Seggel

True crime fans know the formula when it comes to serial killers: Take one messed up childhood, add a domineering mother and shake repeatedly until something snaps. It was certainly true in the case of Michael Ross, who raped and murdered eight women before he was caught, tried and ultimately put to death. By the time journalist Martha Elliott met Ross in prison, he'd received extensive treatment and refused a new trial on the grounds that he didn't want the families of his victims to be further traumatized.

The Man in the Monster, Elliott’s account of getting to know Ross, is not an easy read on any level. The crimes that Ross committed, and the fantasies that he obsessed over, are horrifying. The anguish and rage of his victims' families is chilling. Elliott is initially terrified to even speak to Ross on the phone, but over time they develop a friendship. She questions him in depth and is quick to call him out when he becomes manipulative or defensive.

He would sometimes call her at home and, hearing her toddlers asking for her attention, bark at her to tell them to wait; she’s quick to put his arrogance in check at times like this. Seeing Ross in his entirety makes it impossible to ignore the human being standing behind the rap sheet, which may be the most disturbing thing of all.

It's never crystal clear whether Ross refused retrial to spare the victims' families or as a form of state-sanctioned suicide. He believed, and many who examined him concurred, that he was mentally ill, making institutionalization, not imprisonment, a more appropriate sentence.

True crime usually allows the reader to think of criminals as unlike the rest of us; no such luck here. Ross committed horrible acts, yes, but we can't look away from his humanity. The Man in the Monster is arresting at every turn.

True crime fans know the formula when it comes to serial killers: Take one messed up childhood, add a domineering mother and shake repeatedly until something snaps. It was certainly true in the case of Michael Ross, who raped and murdered eight women before he was caught, tried and ultimately put to death. By the time journalist Martha Elliott met Ross in prison, he'd received extensive treatment and refused a new trial on the grounds that he didn't want the families of his victims to be further traumatized.
YA FictionYA

Big changes keep on coming

Review by Heather Seggel

Dan Cereill (say “surreal,” not “cereal”) was OK with being an outsider—one best friend and two parents ought to be enough for anyone, right? But when his father comes out as gay and leaves Dan and his mother penniless, starting over in a new home and new school is too much, too soon. His crush on new neighbor Estelle is just one more of the Six Impossible Things he has to face before life begins to even out.

Author Fiona Wood (Wildlife) infuses a story full of serious themes with great humor. Dan’s mother opens a boutique wedding cake business but chases away her clients by persuading them not to get married. Dan is equal parts bully magnet and adorable charmer, an easy guy to root for even when he’s messing up (which happens often). His crush feels like “someone has changed my default setting to ‘Estelle’ without my permission, or she’s become my brain’s screen saver.” If you are, or ever were, a teenager, you can likely relate.

The numerous secondary characters and finely detailed suburban neighborhood outside Sydney, Australia, feel true to life, and Dan’s struggle to accept his dad’s new life and the changes to his own is bittersweet. Six Impossible Things manages the near-impossible on its own, balancing insight and rollicking entertainment.

Dan Cereill (say “surreal,” not “cereal”) was OK with being an outsider—one best friend and two parents ought to be enough for anyone, right? But when his father comes out as gay and leaves Dan and his mother penniless, starting over in a new home and new school is too much, too soon. His crush on new neighbor Estelle is just one more of the Six Impossible Things he has to face before life begins to even out.

NonfictionBusiness & Finance

Feeling bossy? Think again

Review by Heather Seggel

Ever dreamed of owning your own business? Paul Downs has been living that dream for nearly three decades and has the battle scars to prove it. After sharing his experiences on the New York Times “You’re the Boss” blog, he decided to narrow his focus, documenting a year in the life of his small woodworking company in a book. Boss Life: Surviving My Own Small Business may inspire you, but it will also have you asking hard questions before you hang out a shingle somewhere.

When Downs started woodworking in 1986, he worked alone making furniture. Over the years, he took on employees and developed a specialty in crafting boardroom tables, but he rarely noticed how these changes affected his company. Downs extols the strong, silent temperament common to woodworkers, but it takes ages for him to realize that a shop full of rugged individualists needs cohesive leadership or the end product will suffer. A fancy table ends up being made with mismatched types of wood because every person in the chain of command assumed the previous one had signed off on what turned out to be, in essence, a typo; nobody bothered to ask. 

Downs is straightforward and brutally honest about others’ shortcomings as well as his own. His humility about the ways he failed and the nail-biting number crunching that keeps him up at night should be a caution to others. From the outside, a business making more than a million dollars a year seems like a success; in truth, that’s rarely the case. Downs often declined his own salary to ensure that his employees took home a fair wage. One year his income averaged only $3.79 per hour. 

Small business owners and those who dream of joining them need to read Boss Life. Anyone who has a boss can learn a lot here, too. It’s not always as rosy on the other side of the counter as we may suspect, and the view from this angle can help an employee become an asset with a little extra effort. There’s every reason to follow a dream you’re passionate about, but do so with your eyes open; Boss Life can help.

 

This article was originally published in the August 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Ever dreamed of owning your own business? Paul Downs has been living that dream for nearly three decades and has the battle scars to prove it. After sharing his experiences on the New York Times “You’re the Boss” blog, he decided to narrow his focus, documenting a year in the life of his small woodworking company in a book. Boss Life: Surviving My Own Small Business may inspire you, but it will also have you asking hard questions before you hang out a shingle somewhere.
NonfictionHistory

A fight to the bitter end

Review by Heather Seggel

Robert Kennedy often worked in the shadow of his brother John, but he found a sense of purpose and identity when he committed to wipe out corruption in the labor movement. His white whale was Jimmy Hoffa, president of the Teamsters Union, who was uncannily able to evade charges for years despite being up to his neck in criminal behavior. In Vendetta: Bobby Kennedy Versus Jimmy Hoffa, author James Neff follows their clashes against a backdrop of Vegas lounges, the Hollywood tabloid press and Washington politics.

We know today that this story doesn't end well for anyone involved; Kennedy was gunned down in 1968 and Hoffa disappeared in 1975, the likely victim of a mafia hit. That said, reading about their years of conflict is as grabby as a James Ellroy-Mario Puzo mashup. Neff's straightforward reporting dazzles us with the odd cameo appearance from Marilyn Monroe, and amps up the shock of violence that includes dousing a reporter with acid.

Hoffa was born poor and was proud of his self-made status, sneering at the Kennedys and their coddled lives. Robert Kennedy plays into this perception when he first takes on Hoffa, barely bothering to build a case against him since his guilt seems self-evident. When that fails to bring him to justice, hundreds of investigators hand-copy IRS documents to build a case, yet once again there's little punishment. Hoffa's cockiness goes too far when President Kennedy is assassinated; upon hearing the news, "(H)e was said to have stood up, climbed on a chair, and cheered," a move that caused several of his employees to quit. Refocusing on building the case against Hoffa helped Kennedy heal after the devastating loss of his brother.

Vendetta makes it clear that crime sometimes pays very well, and that justice can be anything but swift. It can also make for highly entertaining reading.

Robert Kennedy often worked in the shadow of his brother John, but he found a sense of purpose and identity when he committed to wipe out corruption in the labor movement. His white whale was Jimmy Hoffa, president of the Teamsters Union, who was uncannily able to evade charges for years despite being up to his neck in criminal behavior. In Vendetta: Bobby Kennedy Versus Jimmy Hoffa, author James Neff follows their clashes against a backdrop of Vegas lounges, the Hollywood tabloid press and Washington politics.
Children's & YAPicture Book

Grumpy bear undone by bunnies

Review by Heather Seggel

Bear enjoys his house in the woods and the perfect solitude it offers. When a group of rabbits build a house up the hill and get too neighborly, he’s less than kind about it. Can he learn to adapt, or will Those Pesky Rabbits destroy his peace?

Author-illustrator Ciara Flood has fun with these incompatible neighbors. Bear’s pleasant seclusion is a bit undone by the mouse who appears in many scenes, pilfering a bit of tea or cake. The rabbits are solicitous to the point of sarcasm, but the snow-bear they make on the hill wears a big frown. Flood's artwork is warm and energetic, and Bear and the rabbits could be second cousins to animals from classic Disney animation. Warm browns and nighttime blues give way to jazzy fall colors and scenes that pop against a plain white background. There’s a nice visual gag in the end papers as well.

It’s clear that when Bear makes peace with his neighbors, it’s imperfect—a scene with the rabbits baking a cake (and making a mess) shows him covering his eyes in dismay. But Those Pesky Rabbits still turn out to be more than neighbors, but friends to watch the stars and share books. This is a sweet and charming debut.

Bear enjoys his house in the woods and the perfect solitude it offers. When a group of rabbits build a house up the hill and get too neighborly, he’s less than kind about it. Can he learn to adapt, or will Those Pesky Rabbits destroy his peace?

NonfictionBusiness & Finance

Economic theories made easy

Review by Heather Seggel

Despite being a vast topic, economics seems at the simplest level to be about connecting buyers and sellers. But what about exchanges where money's not involved? From life-or-death matters like organ donation to finding Junior a spot in that prestigious preschool, "matching markets," where both sides must choose each other, are also an economic force.

In Who Gets What—And Why: The New Economics of Matchmaking and Market Design, Stanford professor and Nobel laureate Alvin E. Roth is plainly passionate about his subject matter. Thankfully he's also adept at translating the big concepts here into lay language. Much of his work has focused on kidney transplants and expanding the available pool of donor organs. When someone offers a kidney to a patient in need, if they turn out to be incompatible, the story can end abruptly with no transplant performed. As Roth has demonstrated, kidney "exchanges," where willing donors extend the offer to anyone who's a good match, can result in kidneys being paid forward many times over, improving the outcomes for numerous patients.

This model can affect school choice, sports team playoffs, even something as mundane as the judgment calls made when choosing a parking space. Understanding how these matches work can hopefully lead us to choose well without too much equivocation, whether we're bidding in an eBay auction or applying for a job. 

Roth's goal for the book is to bring awareness of economic forces to our attention, but also to point out that they're amazing, much as the natural world becomes more seductive the closer you look. At first glance the ideas in Who Gets What—and Why can seem tangled, but tease them apart a bit and you'll find Roth has met his goal. This is heady science that will change your view of the world around you.

Despite being a vast topic, economics seems at the simplest level to be about connecting buyers and sellers. But what about exchanges where money's not involved? From life-or-death matters like organ donation to finding Junior a spot in that prestigious preschool, "matching markets," where both sides must choose each other, are also an economic force.
YA FictionYA

The risks of the spotless mind

Review by Heather Seggel

Aaron Soto lives in the Bronx projects, crammed into a one-bedroom apartment with his mom and brother. Aaron’s still reeling since his dad committed suicide, so when he meets Thomas, their friendship lifts him up—until he realizes his feelings go beyond just being friends. But in Aaron’s scary, concrete world, there’s a trendy new scientific procedure that offers a fantastic possibility. The new Leteo procedure can wipe his memory clean: no more tragedy, no risk of beat-downs for being gay, no Thomas.

Author Adam Silvera is at his best when he’s taking readers through Aaron’s neighborhood. The bodegas and hangout spots feel real and like home, albeit one that can turn on you with frightening speed. The details of the Leteo procedure sometimes drag the story down a bit, but the ethical questions it raises are juicy ones: How much of your past are you willing to surrender for the relative safety of a fresh start? And what if who you are can’t so easily be erased?

More Happy Than Not wrestles with several big questions—at times it seems too many, and the book suffers for it. But the grittiness of the setting combined with sci-fi flourishes make the novel a sure bet for reluctant readers and a great pick for reading groups. This is not dystopian fiction; the sad world portrayed here is all too real and comes to eye-opening life on the page.

Aaron Soto lives in the Bronx projects, crammed into a one-bedroom apartment with his mom and brother. Aaron’s still reeling since his dad committed suicide, so when he meets Thomas, their friendship lifts him up—until he realizes his feelings go beyond just being friends.

NonfictionMemoirHumor

Growing up goth

Review by Heather Seggel

There’s probably no place that’s ideal for a teenage boy to realize he’s gay, but among the truly suboptimal locations consider San Antonio, Texas. The heat melts all the product out of your hair, and there’s a good chance your classmates know your secret before you do and are prepared to start torturing you well in advance of your coming out. So it was for David Crabb. 

When a classmate knocked him cold with a pair of encyclopedias, he vowed to tone down his natural exuberance, ultimately toning it down so far he became a goth, a virtual garbage disposal for narcotics, and something of a Bad Kid.

Crabb, a favorite on the Moth storytelling circuit, delivers an account that’s shot through with sadness—abusive friendships, beatdowns from skinheads and his father’s struggle to accept him are just a few of the tough spots—yet Bad Kid is often laugh-out-loud hilarious. When he’s forced to move to his mother’s new home in Seguin, a conservative cow town, Crabb tries once again to cultivate an anonymous, button-down look for school. “By midweek I had the nickname ‘RuPaul,’ . . . Seguin kids were so taken aback by me that their nearest cultural reference point was a seven-foot-tall, black drag queen.”

After venturing out on his own, Crabb begins to find confidence and a more grounded place in his relationships. That’s a lot of personal growth in a book that will change the way you look at both pickles and litter boxes for entirely freaky reasons. If Crabb was truly a Bad Kid, at least he grew into a man with the chops to tell the tale, and it’s one we’re lucky to have. 

 

This article was originally published in the June 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

There’s probably no place that’s ideal for a teenage boy to realize he’s gay, but among the truly suboptimal locations consider San Antonio, Texas. The heat melts all the product out of your hair, and there’s a good chance your classmates know your secret before you do and are prepared to start torturing you well in advance of your coming out. So it was for David Crabb.
NonfictionMemoir

Stepping on paws

Review by Heather Seggel

So-called “blended” families are a complex ecosystem, where kids can play adults against one another and even the goldfish gets a say about who does what on the chore wheel. It’s therefore not so unusual that one family was thrown into disarray by a possessive mutt. Enter Eddie, the Stepdog of the title.

For Mireya Navarro, it was easy to fall in love with Jim—both were successful reporters at the New York Times, and they had much in common. Mia could work well enough with Jim’s two kids, but Eddie seemed to have her number. Defying every command, ecstatic to see Jim or the kids while he barked at Mia, Eddie made it clear how he felt about the newcomer. When her attempts to befriend the dog fell flat, she began scheming to get him out of the picture.

Navarro’s story is ostensibly about the dog, but go beyond that and you’ll find a layered tale of family love. Mia and Jim know they’re right for one another, but her relationship with the kids never becomes “parental” despite living with them half the time. Jim loves Eddie in large part because he loves Jim unconditionally, a rarity when juggling the needs of so many humans. And Eddie? Mia’s psychological read on his behavior—that the dog is jealous—gets turned on its head by a canine counselor, who helps the two form a friendship of sorts.

Stepdog is fun and often funny, but it will be of special interest to anyone with a blended family life. It’s a powerful reminder that all you need is love, and possibly kibble.

 

This article was originally published in the May 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

So-called “blended” families are a complex ecosystem, where kids can play adults against one another and even the goldfish gets a say about who does what on the chore wheel. It’s therefore not so unusual that one family was thrown into disarray by a possessive mutt. Enter Eddie, the Stepdog of the title.
NonfictionMemoir

Larger than life

Review by Heather Seggel

Not long after his family moved from Memphis to rural Mississippi, young Harrison Scott Key began to notice how out of step he was with his surroundings. Willing to rise at 4 a.m. to accompany his father and brother on hunting trips, he nevertheless preferred to read, or bake, or simply not shoot things. With The World’s Largest Man for a parent, though, those options often took a backseat to a day spent in camouflage with gun at the ready.

Key’s memoir is frequently hilarious. His storytelling pulls no punches: Pop was physically abusive, somewhat racist and entirely sexist, and while Key is different in many ways, some of his father’s worst behaviors are handed down and threaten his own marriage. Yet this material is all fodder for stories that balance wit and gut-punch delivery. When a Thanksgiving dinner is blown off course by Pop’s ruminations on breastfeeding, Key muses, “If I’d had a gun, I would’ve just started shooting everyone, to save the world from us.”

Like Jenny Lawson’s Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, The World’s Largest Man is about a willful Southern father, a wife trying to eke out a little sanity for the family and the kids who nevertheless bear the scars of such an upbringing. And as was true with Lawson, Key continues to look for the familiar in his adult life. When his creepy neighbors in Savannah, Georgia, burn trash in the yard and tear out all the landscaping with a truck, his annoyance is clearly tempered with some nostalgia.

Both laugh-out-loud funny and observant about the ways we become our parents while asserting ourselves, The World’s Largest Man is a wise delight.

 

This article was originally published in the May 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Not long after his family moved from Memphis to rural Mississippi, young Harrison Scott Key began to notice how out of step he was with his surroundings. Willing to rise at 4 a.m. to accompany his father and brother on hunting trips, he nevertheless preferred to read, or bake, or simply not shoot things. With The World’s Largest Man for a parent, though, those options often took a backseat to a day spent in camouflage with gun at the ready.
Children's & YAPicture Book

Can’t shake this shadow

Review by Heather Seggel

One day, a man in a dapper tuxedo discovers that a skunk is following him. There seems to be no shaking the stinky stalker—but when at last the man succeeds, his thoughts drift to The Skunk and whatever new mischief he’s making.

Caldecott Honor winners Mac Barnett and Patrick McDonnell take readers on a tale that yo-yos between pursuit and capture. McDonnell neatly divides the story by color: Man and skunk coexist in a universe that’s black and white and red all over (with a wash of peach here and there), but there’s a sequence in the middle of the story that takes on a brighter, Wonder Bread-y palette to suit the changing mood. The drawings here echo the style of McDonnell’s MUTTS comic strip—take the stripe out of the skunk’s tail, and he could be one of the squirrels who bonk passersby with nuts.

The simple story and clean layout include lots for young readers to identify (a cafe, trucks, a Ferris wheel, an opera house). The ending is funny and might provide a gentle opening for talk about “stranger danger” and when it’s OK or not to follow someone, or about the wild animals who live alongside us in urban places. The Skunk is a cool romp that’s wild at heart.

One day, a man in a dapper tuxedo discovers that a skunk is following him. There seems to be no shaking the stinky stalker—but when at last the man succeeds, his thoughts drift to The Skunk and whatever new mischief he’s making.

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