Literary Presents I Wish I Could Give Alyssa

Well, the Twelve Days of Christmas, Eight Nights of Hanukkah, Week of Kwanzaa, and Anniversary of Alyssa's Birth have passed, and the gift-giving season is over. For some of us that meant that we exchanged the perfect presents already, but I suffer from some perfectionism tendencies and know I came up short this season. Not that my gift-giving failure was entirely my fault. . . (hint hint MWT and GRRM) In celebration of the end of the winter holidays, I have made a list of all the fantastic literary gifts I wish I could have given Alyssa this year. It's pretty obvious that none of these are waiting at her house for her return, but we can dream or plan for next year (Happy belated everything, anyway, Better Half of our blog!).

1. Attolia #5 by Megan Whalen Turner

So this is a somewhat sad start to this list because there is no publication date in sight for this book, which will follow four previous BRILLIANT books about conscientious, clever, and cool thieves/rulers/advisors of a Byzantine-like world. But I wish wish wish I could have told Alyssa that this one was coming out soon.


I only wish I could take credit for this illustration





2. The Winds of Winter by George R.R. Martin

Is it more realistic that we could hear news of this book (compared to Attolia) because it already has a planned name? And millions more dollars riding on its publication?



Not the right one...





3. Armada by Ernest Cline, audiobook narrated by Wil Wheaton

I’m making progress towards realizable wishes! I have no idea if Wil Wheaton is going to narrate the audiobook of Ernest Cline’s 2014 novel, but he did such a great job on READY PLAYER ONE that I can only wish it for Alyssa.








4. Code Name Verity dolls

Author Elizabeth Wein has a much more talented friend than Alyssa has in me, because for a birthday gift, Wein’s friend found dolls to be Maddie and Verity and sewed an entire wardrobe for them. Any fan of the book would agree that these dolls could outfly and outshoot Barbie any day.








The One by Kiera Cass

This one is scheduled for next May, but having a copy now would be ever so lovely.








5. SteamDrunks: 101 Steampunk Cocktails and Mixed Drinks

I cannot think of anyone more suited to appreciating this book simply based on the title than Alyssa, who already has cooked her way through A Feast of Ice and Fire, but a book of cocktail recipes is fun for anyone.








6. Griffin and Sabine notecards

If you have not read or seen the Griffin and Sabine books by Nick Bantock, find a copy somewhere and check them out. The first trilogy weaves an eerie mystery through postcards and letters addressed to the characters, and each bit of stationery is beautifully illustrated by Bantock. Chronicle isn’t selling these anymore, likely because the Griffin and Sabine cult following has mellowed out, but the art is timeless.








7. Abhorsen Bells

The only thing that could ameliorate our not having bells with powers to keep the dead from the world of the living would be having tiny versions of the bells on a charm bracelet. Also out of stock.

Our Top 6 YA-Lit Dads

Girls in Capes is celebrating Father's Day in the best way possible--pointing out that there are no positive father relationships in geek culture, and that dads in YA only are deemed heroic when they've died young. Maybe this isn't the best way to celebrate Father's Day after all...

But as sad as the negative images of fatherhood are, we decided not to dwell on them this weekend, and to instead find ten examples of YA-lit dads who have excellent relationships with their children.

To qualify for this list, children had to be teenage main characters, and the books had to be on Susan's shelf this weekend. Dads we thought of who didn't meet these qualifications are welcome to apply again next year. (Specifically, fathers in The Fault in Our Stars, The Selection, and The Thirteenth Child.

6. Gen's Father, The Thief / Megan Whalen Turner (1996)

Gen, a young thief, has been telling his travel companions that his father has been disappointed with him for years for not becoming a soldier. Everyone thinks this means that Gen has disappointed his father, but they learn that Gen's father loves him regardless of his career choice.

I heard [the magus, Gen's travel leader] address someone as Minister and thought that probably meant minister of war. ... The magus described the fighting with the guard in detail and made me look very good indeed. The minister of war snorted. The magus didn't recognize this as high praise, and he said stiffly, "I've been told that his father wanted him to be a soldier. I'd be happy to inform his father that he has a son to be proud of." I stifled a snort of my own in the silence that followed. The magus must have been tired. ... He was talking to my father. ... While the magus, realizing his error, was trying to word an apology, my father came to look in at me. "I thought I heard you laughing up your sleeve," he said. ... "I'll come by later." Before he disappeared from the doorway, he nodded once, and that, I knew, would be his only sign of approval for all my hard work. He was not a man of many words.

In the world of Megan Whalen Turner no character speaks much. Hence scenes that would seem kind of cold in other books are the ones in MWT that are SQUEE moments. This scene is one of them (though perhaps a lowercase squee). Not only is Gen's father snorting and nodding in approval; he's also the model for Gen's own behavior. Gen's snort mirrors his father's but with a slightly different meaning, just as Gen's fighting skills are like his father's but used in slightly different circumstances. In the sequel to The Thief Gen relies on his father more than ever, and they become a pair in battle. (SQUEE)

5. Pop, Cherry Money Baby / John M. Cusick (2013)

In this novel, set to be released in September, high school senior Cherry Kerrigan lives in a trailer with her father and brother. Cherry has no plans for her life other than to marry her boyfriend, who lives next door and is planning on following his father into being a school janitor. Cherry's pop responds to these plans with a firm, "Nope." He encourages his daughter to work hard, sets firm limits about her behavior (it's refreshing to see a parent dole out a grounding, as well as a daughter who weighs whether being grounded is worth staying out past curfew), and hopes she will have more choices in her life than he has had in his. But what really got him his spot on this list was his ability to see past blame in the midst of a family tragedy:

[Cherry said,] "I shouldn't have left Stew alone."

Pop took another draw from his tall boy. "Yep. Wish you hadn't done that." He squeezed her tighter. "Accidents happen. I'm just glad we're safe. And together."

They were silent awhile, watching the blues deepen to oranges and reds in the sky.

"You don't hate me?"

He kissed her forehead. "I could never."

4. Ed Boone, Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time / Mark Haddon (2003)

Christopher is a fifteen-year-old mathematician with behavioral problems and sensory differences. Because of Christopher's special needs, his parents marriage became strained, and a few years later Ed can tell his ex-wife:

I cooked his meals. I cleaned his clothes. I looked after him every weekend. I looked after him when he was ill. I took him to the doctor. I worried myself sick every time he wandered off somewhere at night. I went to school every time he got into a fight. And you? What? You wrote him some fucking letters.

To be fair, this is what we would expect any normal dad to do. It's touching to see the little things too, like Ed's fighting the school to make sure Christopher can take his maths A-levels, or his hand-touching compromise on hugs. Ed's not perfect though—frustrated one day he grabs Christopher, and another day he tells a massive lie. What makes Ed exceptional is that after he loses Christopher's trust, he is completely honest with his son, and he starts to work on their relationship with sensitivity and this speech:

Christopher, look...Things can't go on like this. I don't know about you, but this...this just hurts too much. You being in the house but refusing to talk to me...You have to learn to trust me...And I don't care how long it takes...If it's a minute one day and two minutes the next and three minutes the next and it takes years I don'tcare. Because this is important. This is more important than anything else.

3. Wizard Derk, Dark Lord of Derkholm / Diana Wynne Jones (1998)

Derk is an unconventional wizard whose interests lie in magical genetic engineering. With his wife, he has two human and five griffin children. Seven children ensure that life at Derkholm is never quiet or without sibling bickering, but it also means that when Derk must take on the job of Dark Lord for the tours that fuel the economy in his land, there are seven additional helpers eager to make their father's life easier.

Derk's fatherhood is one of the central themes of the book—what dangers he lets his children undertake, what roles he lets them play in making the most of their natural talents, and what sacrifices he's willing to put up with just to keep them safe are considerations that play out over the course of the story. But our favorite aspect of Derk's fathering is that he seems to have very natural relationships with his kids even as they try teenage rebellions. Here he is with his oldest griffin son, Kit, after Kit has failed to carry out an assassination:

[Kit said,] "It was a pity. I could have killed him in seconds, even with that demon in his pocket, but he would have been just like food. He wouldn't have felt guilty, and neither would I."

"I'm glad to hear you think you ought to have felt guilty," Derk observed. "I was beginning to wonder whether we'd brought you up properly."

...Derk was thinking things through, fumbling for an explanation. Something had been biting Kit for months. Long before there was any question of Derk's becoming the Dark Lord, Kit had been in a foul, tetchy, snarling mood—bloodthirsty, as he called it himself—and Derk had put it down simply to the fact that Kit was now fifteen. But suppose it was more than that. Suppose Kit had a reason to be unhappy.

..."Kit, come clean. You're another like Blade, aren't you? How long have you known you could do magic?"

Derk does what the best fathers do—gives his growing children space, listens closely to what they're saying and not saying, and then helps them find solutions to their problems.

2. Carson Drew, The Secret of the Old Clock / Carolyn Keene (1930)

Nancy Drew, sixteen-year-old super sleuth, needs no introductions, and it doesn't take long to see that she has a great father. This is actually an understatement because Carson Drew appears on the first page of the first Nancy book, The Secret of the Old Clock, and his positive relationship with his daughter is instantly apparent. Carson Drew stops reading his newspaper and gives Nancy "his respectful attention" so she can tell him about inheritance rumors. A few pages later we see that this type of conversation is common in the Drew household:

Carson Drew, a widower, showered a great deal of affection upon his daughter; it was his secret boast that he had taught her to think for herself and to think logically. Since he knew that Nancy could be trusted with confidential information, he frequently discussed his interesting cases with her.

Seriously, how cool is he?

1. Mr. Murry, A Wrinkle in Time / Madeleine L'Engle (1962)

When we meet thirteen-year-old Meg Murry, her father has been missing on physics research for a year, and everyone in town is convinced that he's abandoned his family. Meg embarks on an adventure across the universe to find her father and rescue him from the Black Thing.

Mr. Murry is an amazing father. In earlier years he would play number games with Meg, talk to her about her insecurities, reassure her that he loved her and that she was exceptional, and call her various nicknames, like "megaparsec." When Meg and her youngest brother find Mr. Murry imprisoned on a far-away planet, Mr. Murry jumps right back into parent-mode. First he carries Meg through a dark column (scarier than it seems from that description), and his presence calms Meg:

She tried to scream, but within that icy horror no sound was possible. Her father's arms tightened about her, and she clung to his neck in a strangle hold, but she was no longer lost in panic. She knew that if her father could not get her through the wall he would stay with her rather than leave her; she knew that she was safe as long as she was in his arms.

Isn't that what every child wants to feel in the presence of her (or his) father?

The best thing about Mr. Murry, though, is that within pages he turns out to be fallible. Despite Meg's mantra of "Father will make it all right," Mr. Murry has to leave his son in danger in order to save Meg. Mr. Murry isn't bad--he's managed to coach Meg through a horrible experience by tossing math problems her way--but he isn't a superhero like Meg had believed.

Meg's growing understanding of her father's imperfection allows her relationship with him to mature. Even though he has disappointed her, his words and assurances allow her to fight her final battle.

Recipe Challenge: The Thief (Part 2)

Last week, in the hope of getting Alyssa to finally get over her PTSD from the POV switch in the second book of Megan Whalen Turner’s Thief sequence (only traumatic if you’re in middle school, I think), I challenged her to cook something inspired by the books. I think it’s working!

As I was describing my idea for the challenge to Alyssa, she and I basically jinxed ourselves by saying “Mediterranean Food!/?” at the same time. The wording probably wasn’t exact, or we don’t count alternate punctuation marks in jinxes, because we both continued talking happily that night. A few nights later Alyssa asked me if I had any ideas for what I was making. Possible spoiler “Sumac?” I added, otherwise clueless.

A few nights later, I was in bed with my Kindle, skimming the series for mentions of food. The series is set in a land somewhat like the Byzantine Empire could have been if the ancient Greek gods were still worshiped. Setting-wise, this excludes tomatoes, potatoes, corn and any pepper you’d chop. Since those are some of the most adaptable foods for cooking, I knew I would need some inspiration from the books. Unfortunately I forgot that about half the series involves journeying, and foods on the road tend to be bread and hard cheese, with a stolen chicken for a treat. Even when characters are sitting for a meal, there isn’t too much time spent on describing the food. Soup comes up a few times, everyone drinks wine, olives are stored in jars, and court meals involve soft cheese spreads and lamb. Somehow all this was less than inspiring without the prospect of a tomato to balance the saltiness.

I went back to the books. Agriculturally, olives are a big deal—Gen, the thief, doesn’t just pass through the Sea of Olives on his travels; another character tells him an etiological myth for the trees. In terms of relevance to the cooking challenge, though, olives interest me only in the form of olive oil. I dislike the texture of canned and jarred olives, and am particularly disgusted by the smell of brine.

I had almost resigned myself to the possibility of making a bowl of barley for breakfast and calling it my inspired meal, when I reread a passage about wheat. I love wheat.

The meeting on wheat production seemed to be a recitation of the yield of every wheat field in the country in the last year. Costis tried unsuccessfully to pay attention. They were a half hour into the list when the king asked, “What’s the difference in the wheat?”

“If Your Majesty would like to see, I have samples here.” [Pilades] reached into a variety of small bags that he was carrying and dumped handful after handful of grain onto the table. Dust rose in a cloud, and the king winced, waving his hand in front of his face. Pilades didn’t notice. He called the king’s attention to the formation of the seeds, to the number of the seeds, to their shape. He dumped more piles onto the table and explained the advantages of each, which one yielded the largest crop, which survived the most inclement weather, which could be planted summer or fall. Many facts Costis knew, having been raised on a farm. Some were new, and the lecture, once begun, was clearly unstoppable.

The king, who normally wandered away to a window during meetings like this, sat immobilized. He had little choice. If he so much as shifted in his seat, Pilades moved in closer, hovering over him with zeal. No doubt he rarely got a chance to expound to this extent and was reluctant to lose the king’s attention. The king made a few abortive attempts to escape but was ultimately forced to sit and listen.

… When Pilades finally wound down, the king, his face blank, thanked him. He thanked the two men he’d begun the meeting with and suggested that perhaps they could finish their business at another meeting, or better—they could just give him a written summary and he would look over it sometime himself. They nodded; the king rose and escaped into the hall. Once there with the door closed, he put his face in his hand.

“Thank gods I didn’t ask about fertilizer,” he said.

--Megan Whalen Turner (2006)

In fact, wheat confuses me even more than it confuses the advisors initially present in the meeting described above. In an attempt to replicate a Marks and Spencer salad last fall, I went on a grain-buying trip to Whole Foods, where I discovered that spelt and farro look almost exactly the same, both being varieties of wheat. Farro is the more expensive of ye olde wheats, and also takes about three times longer to cook; spelt sounds as rustic as you can get.

With that passage in mind, I decided to adapt a Middle Eastern rice soup recipe from the Around the World Cookbook Alyssa and I used in college. The rice became spelt, the beef meatballs became cubes of Quorn because I’m meat-adverse but the soup needed the textural contrast, and all the fresh herbs changed to dried ones from last summer’s garden.

I’m still not sure the spelt is the most likely wheat that the characters would find at an inn in Sounis, but unlike the characters in the series, I never had a lecture about varieties of wheat.

Sounis Soupis

1 large onion, chopped
2 Tbsp. olive oil
½ Tbsp. ground turmeric
½ cup yellow lentils
6 cups water
1 cup chicken (I used Quorn Chik’n Tenders + 1 veg bouillon cube)
1 cup spelt
~1 Tbsp. each, dried parsley and mint
~½ Tbsp. each, oregano and dried lemon-thyme
1 clove garlic, sliced thinly
dab of butter
small pinch of saffron strands

1. Heat the oil in a saucepan over medium-low heat, and fry the onion, stirring often.


2. When the onion is golden (or when some of the pieces look like they might start to burn if you don’t do something soon), add the turmeric, lentils and water.
3. Bring lentil-onion mixture to a boil, then put the top on the pot, and lower the heat to simmer for 20 minutes.
4. Add the protein, spelt and herbs (except the saffron). Stir, and simmer for another 60-90 minutes, depending on how crunchy you are willing to leave your spelt. Spelt, like rice, will plump with water. Spelt will absorb more water per dry cup than rice will, so most of the water in the pot will disappear by the time the soup finishes. When I served my soup, the spelt was plump and its kernel was splitting open. My thinking now is that it would make more sense to put the spelt into the pot with the lentils.





5. For the saffron, pour some boiling broth over the strands in a small bowl. Let the strands dissolve in the water, and add the liquid to thesoup towards the end of cooking.
6. Garnish soup with garlic, lightly fried in butter.

Recipe Challenge: The Thief

As our first ever recipe challenge, Susan challenged me some time last week to create a recipe inspired by The Thief, by Megan Whalen Turner! Now, this book has been one of my top 5 since I read it way back when in 7th grade or something—it completely blew my mind, in a way that few books have done before or since. I don’t want to ruin anything if you haven’t read it, BUT YOU SHOULD READ IT. It’s not the kind of book where you say it’s good…for YA fiction. Nope, no qualification necessary. It’s a just plain good book, whether you are a YA or not. In the decade and a half since The Thief’s publication, the series has grown to a total of 4 books so far, with more to come. The WordNerds (the Skype book club Sus and I belong to) planned to read all 4 and discuss them for our December meeting, but I had some other things going on and wasn’t able to finish all 4 in the allotted time. I am still working my way through them, with reviews to come in the future, I imagine. I finished up my re-read of the second novel, The Queen of Attolia, a few days ago (no link to that one—I’m serious about avoiding spoilers on these gems!). So with my brain in the correct frame of mind, I set about concocting a recipe worthy of the world of Gen, the Magus, Sophos, Ambiades, et al.

A little background for anyone who hasn’t read these books: They take place in a fictional world that takes its cues from the Mediterranean climate and ancient culture of our own world. Very Greco-Romanish in its religions, mythology, agriculture, clothing, names, and so on. Lots of olive trees. The most part of the books’ action takes place in the three neighboring countries of Sounis, Eddis, and Attolia. Sounis and Attolia are the lowland countries on either side of Eddis, which is a smaller nation up in the mountain range separating the other two. For some reason I always got the impression that Sounis was more arid and desert-y than Attolia, although it is on the sea, and that Attolia has much more arable land. Eddis, being up in the mountains, doesn’t have much in the way of agriculture and relies on trade for much of its food. I only mention these random bits of information because they were what I pondered while trying to invent a dish that might be consumed by the characters in these books. Of course, I can take some inspiration from Greek and other Mediterranean cuisines, I thought to myself, but I don’t want it to just be a Greek-style recipe that I plop down in the world of the books. I wanted it to still be something unique that would fit into that world naturally, taking into account the kinds of foods that would be available there, but not have it be something, like, the gyro recipe from that little Greek shop down my street. And this is what I came up with.

Side Dish: Cucumber Yogurt Salad

So this is my take on tzaziki, the Greek staple. I imagine it’s quite likely something like it exists in the world of The Thief (I seem to remember something involving yogurt when they’re at an inn in the first book, but I could be wrong), and as it’s simple, tasty, and cooling, I can imagine it being consumed by peasants and rulers alike during hot Sounisian and Attolian summers.