Genre: Children's literature
Year Published: 2004
Yes, I picked up The City of Ember and its sequel simultaneously at the library. What can I say? I'm a fan of sequels. (Although, to continue yesterday's analogy, I didn't much care for The Giver's sequels, Gathering Blue and Messenger. I could honestly continue the comparison, as The People of Sparks resembles Gathering Blue in some ways, but I don't want to beat that horse to death.)
The People of Sparks picks up where The City of Ember left off (so if you're interested in reading the latter, you may want to stop reading this review now): the people of Ember, having received a message from Lina and Doon aboveground, make their way to the surface as well. They wander for a few days before finding a small settlement of people who agree to take them in for a short period of time until they can get onto their own feet.
The circumstances of the world we know are made clearer in Sparks: there has, in fact, been a "Disaster" (three plagues and four wars) that has wiped out most of humanity. People are just starting to build viable settlements again, devoid of electricity, gasoline, telephones, or much understanding of the past.
The problems start immediately: there are more Emberites than Sparks people; Emberites are, on the whole, unused to manual labor; the people of Sparks begin to resent the Emberites' drain on their jealously guarded resources. Soon violence erupts, and the future of both groups of citizens is very uncertain.
It's probably a mark of how good the premise of this book is that I wished I were reading the same novel, but for adults. The possibilities floated through my mind as I read: women would prostitute themselves for more food. Inevitably, romantic entanglements between the two groups would occur. Emberites, never having been exposed to most human illnesses, would be highly susceptible to deadly diseases. The lack of privacy in the Emberites' quarters would lead to quarrels and dissatisfaction. The social customs (e.g. for marriage, childbirth, death, etc.) of the two groups would be highly disparate, and so would cause consternation among the opposite people.
But it's a children's book, and DuPrau has to navigate within those constraints. And with that in mind, she does a very good job of showing what could go wrong under those types of circumstances. My only problem with the book is that at times it feels more like a cautionary tale or parable than it should. The "violence is bad" message gets hit a little too hard at times -- although what seems blatant to an adult may seem more subtle to a child. (But I doubt it.)
Recommended? Yes. (Same age constraints as the original.)
Showing posts with label jeanne duprau. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jeanne duprau. Show all posts
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Saturday, January 27, 2007
The City of Ember (Jeanne DuPrau)
Genre: Children's literature
Year Published: 2003
The great dystopian children's novel is, of course, The Giver. I consider myself privileged to have been born at just the right time to read that when I was just the right age for it.
The City of Ember is similar to The Giver in many ways: in both cases, the reader is dealing with a futuristic civilization (that may or may not have been founded after some sort of apocalyptic event) that is utterly isolated and also idiosyncratic in its traditions and daily life. Both civilizations lack history, most arts, and non-human creatures. The main difference is that while The Giver is all about human life without humanity (e.g. love, sex, choice, death), The City of Ember is about human life without natural light.
If that sounds like a flimsy premise, reconsider: think about what life would be like if the only light we had access to was electric light. And Jeanne DuPrau does an excellent job of imagining a city without the sun: electric lights go on and off at preordained intervals; buildings are built low to the ground so as not to block light; anywhere outside Ember's boundaries is absolutely dark, and thus unpassable (as the people of Ember do not have "movable lights"). In the introduction to the book, we are told that 220 years after the city's founding, a box will open with instructions on how to leave the city. But within the first couple chapters, we know things have gone awry: 220 years have come and gone, the lights that create daylight are faltering, and food in Ember's storerooms is running low.
Of course, because this is a children's novel, it is two children who eventually find and believe in the instructions. And because it is children's literature, few of the grim possibilities imaginable in a city like Ember are carried out. But not everything is smooth sailing for Lina and Doon, our protagonists: as the city-dwellers' time is clearly running out, some of the more powerful adults in Ember take it upon themselves to get theirs while the getting is good -- utterly predictable, to an adult reader, but interesting to see through the children's naive eyes.
DuPrau excels in two things that very much helped this book: 1) the imagining and subsequent description of Ember, and 2) the creation of believable and evocative suspense. I often have a difficult time picturing places that are only described to me, but Ember was very clear in my mind as I read the book. And as Lina and Doon got closer to solving their puzzle, I was genuinely eager to know how all the problems were going to be resolved.
Certainly The City of Ember raises none of The Giver's existential questions, and its prose is nowhere near that level. But it's an enjoyable read, and I think that these kinds of books open up new avenues for kids' imaginations -- always a good thing.
Recommended? Yes. (Reading level: maybe third grade at the youngest, if they can get through a book with twentyish chapters, and seventh grade at the oldest, if they haven't already moved on to adult post-apocalyptic literature.)
Year Published: 2003
The great dystopian children's novel is, of course, The Giver. I consider myself privileged to have been born at just the right time to read that when I was just the right age for it.
The City of Ember is similar to The Giver in many ways: in both cases, the reader is dealing with a futuristic civilization (that may or may not have been founded after some sort of apocalyptic event) that is utterly isolated and also idiosyncratic in its traditions and daily life. Both civilizations lack history, most arts, and non-human creatures. The main difference is that while The Giver is all about human life without humanity (e.g. love, sex, choice, death), The City of Ember is about human life without natural light.
If that sounds like a flimsy premise, reconsider: think about what life would be like if the only light we had access to was electric light. And Jeanne DuPrau does an excellent job of imagining a city without the sun: electric lights go on and off at preordained intervals; buildings are built low to the ground so as not to block light; anywhere outside Ember's boundaries is absolutely dark, and thus unpassable (as the people of Ember do not have "movable lights"). In the introduction to the book, we are told that 220 years after the city's founding, a box will open with instructions on how to leave the city. But within the first couple chapters, we know things have gone awry: 220 years have come and gone, the lights that create daylight are faltering, and food in Ember's storerooms is running low.
Of course, because this is a children's novel, it is two children who eventually find and believe in the instructions. And because it is children's literature, few of the grim possibilities imaginable in a city like Ember are carried out. But not everything is smooth sailing for Lina and Doon, our protagonists: as the city-dwellers' time is clearly running out, some of the more powerful adults in Ember take it upon themselves to get theirs while the getting is good -- utterly predictable, to an adult reader, but interesting to see through the children's naive eyes.
DuPrau excels in two things that very much helped this book: 1) the imagining and subsequent description of Ember, and 2) the creation of believable and evocative suspense. I often have a difficult time picturing places that are only described to me, but Ember was very clear in my mind as I read the book. And as Lina and Doon got closer to solving their puzzle, I was genuinely eager to know how all the problems were going to be resolved.
Certainly The City of Ember raises none of The Giver's existential questions, and its prose is nowhere near that level. But it's an enjoyable read, and I think that these kinds of books open up new avenues for kids' imaginations -- always a good thing.
Recommended? Yes. (Reading level: maybe third grade at the youngest, if they can get through a book with twentyish chapters, and seventh grade at the oldest, if they haven't already moved on to adult post-apocalyptic literature.)
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