Friday, August 30, 2024

Book Review: Wishing Disappoints

 The Wishing Game, by Meg Shaffer (Ballantine)

I was intrigued by the premise of an updated Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with emphasis on the plight of kids stuck in the fosterage system. As much as I was predisposed to like this book, especially in light of it earning “Best Book of the Year,” I found in it one disappointment after another.

First, the protagonist: Lucy Hart, rejected by her family in favor of her chronically ill older sister, ought to have been a sympathetic viewpoint character. She has gone from one miserable life situation to another. As a child, though, she had the gumption to run away to the island fortress (Clock Island, site of the eponymous, wildly popular children’s book series penned by the mysterious recluse, Jack Masterson) and demand to become his apprentice. Of course, this did not go well, although she, Jack, and gifted cover artist Hugo have never forgotten one another. At the opening of the book, Lucy is working at a dead-end job as a teacher’s aide. She’s barely able to make rent, let alone provide a suitable home for Christopher, the foster kid she’s determined to adopt. Herein lies my initial and enduring inability to connect with Lucy. She seems to be no more emotionally mature than an average adolescent, even more so when she decides that the only solution to her life problems is to enter and win a fabulous prize offered by Jack, the only copy of his unpublished next Clock Island novel. Her wish appears to be coming true when she is selected as a finalist and travels to Clock Island.

Aside from one writer to another: One copy?? Give me a break! No agent, editor, publisher, publicist, beta reader, copy editor, proofreader, online writers group, professional association, or trusted friend (looking at you, Hugo) would ever allow such irresponsibility as printing out one copy and then destroying all the files of the previous versions (or the equivalent typewritten manuscripts). (At the beginning of my writing career, I typed out drafts (at least three) with carbon paper and kept them all, using them as show and tell for school presentations.)

Second aside: many aspects of this novel read as if written by someone ignorant of the publishing business, yet Jack is a many-times-over best seller, supposedly with an agent and editor with whom he’s had a long relationship. It didn’t take long for me to suspect that the naïveté was on the part of this book’s author. I confess to a prejudice against “Creative Writing” folks who all too often have no clue about how genre storytelling works. I can’t think of another explanation for the prevailing ignorance.

These issues paled beside the huge red flags. Here are but a few: Lucy decides that the key to happiness is to adopt a kid. Other than the limited, structured interactions with students her job, she has no experience with parenting. Her interactions with Christopher come across as sugar-coated wish fulfillment (except for a few small afterthought details in the last chapter). There’s no chemistry between the two of them; their stereotyped interactions could have come straight out of 1950s family sitcoms. As Lucy’s history is revealed, it’s clear that because she felt unloved as a child, her solution is to shower another child with the love she never received. Not to resolve her own issues, not to learn to love (and forgive) herself, not to let go of her resentment of her sister and parents.

Friday, August 2, 2024

Baycon 2024 Report


Baycon is my local science fiction convention and I’ve been attending it, more or less regularly, since the 1990s. It’s moved from one hotel and city to another over the years and I have followed, “as the tail follows the dog.” My attendance came to a screeching halt in 2020 with the pandemic. The last convention I attended in person was FogCon in February of that year. We knew that a nasty virus was afoot but nobody wore masks. We “elbow-bumped” instead of hugging. If anyone got sick, I never heard. Then came the lockdown, as we called it. Conventions switched to virtual attendance. Althought I’m a somewhat slow adopted or tech, I’d become used to video chatting back in 2013, when I took care of my best friend in a different state while she was dying of cancer. My husband and I stayed in touch (via Skype, if I remember correctly). Then when my younger daughter attended medical school on the other side of the country, we visited by video chat regularly. She moved back to this area for her residency. Her final year was 2020, during which her regular service rotations were replaced by caring for dying Covid patients. Needless to say, I became quite cautious about my exposure. So even when conventions began to move from virtual-only to hybrid to in-person, I reconnected slowly. Even when I was ready to attend a convention in person (2023, which shows you how long it took me), armed with masks, hand sanitizer, and rapid tests, the universe conspired to jinx my plans. It was hard. I missed my friends and all the chance encounters and spontaneous expressions of community. All this is a prelude to my first successful return to in-person conventions.

Baycon programming had asked potential panelists to suggest topics. Two of mine were accepted, including Writing Beyond Trauma. Here’s the description I wrote:

These are perilous times for many of us. As survivors or the loved ones of survivors, how has our experience affected us as writers? How do our stories transcend and heal? Escape? Educate our audience? Are there times when the pain is so great, the words simply will not come--what do we do when we have lost our voice and how do we use writing to regain it? In this panel, we will strive to listen respectfully and to leave time between each speaker to absorb more deeply what they have said.