Guest post by Alexander Gordon Smith, plus Lockdown and Solitary giveaway!

Today on the blog I'm lucky enough to be hosting Alexander Gordon Smith for the blog tour promoting the release of the second book in the Escape from Furnace trilogy, Solitary!  If you missed my reviews of Lockdown and Solitary yesterday, you can find them here, and don't forget to check out the next spot on the tour at Chick Loves Lit!  Psst...I also have a set of Lockdown and Solitary to give away...but first, Alexander Gordon Smith on horror and why it's important:

Hi Maggie, thanks for letting me write a guest post for your blog!

I was having a conversation the other evening with a writer friend of mine (he shall remain nameless!) who made a point of telling me how much he hated horror. His argument wasn't that it scared him (although I can easily imagine him cowering beneath his duvet after reading some King or Shan or Campbell or Lovecraft) but that it was a lazy genre. "All you do is go boo," he said, "and expect the reader to spend the whole book running away screaming."

Needless to say, I wasn't happy! I love horror. I always have done, ever since I was a kid. I love to be scared the same way almost everybody loves to be scared – when, as Alfred Hitchcock points out, "they're in a safe place." For me, horror isn't a lazy genre at all. In fact, horror is the complete opposite of this because it doesn't just concern itself with what is, it attempts to understand everything that might be. Horror authors write to the very edge of the universe and beyond, they push themselves to the limits of everything they know and then they keep going. To me, horror is the most hardworking of genres, and the most challenging, because in so many ways it is unknowable – and yet somehow there it is, written on the page.

I didn't do an amazing job of communicating this on the night (I blame a little too much scotch), but the whole thing did get me thinking about why I love horror so much, why I think it's a great genre for young adults, and why it's really the only thing I want to write these days. It got me thinking, too, about why people like to be scared. I'm no psychologist – my sister is the one in that field – but there must be something hardwired into us that lets us enjoy being afraid. It's a hormonal thing, that sudden rush of "fight or flight" adrenaline that once upon a time guaranteed our survival against a predator. That rush makes us stronger, faster, smarter and more aware – in essence, fear turns us from humans into superhumans. It makes heroes out of us.

This sensation is old, it’s older than we are as a species. We once needed it for our very survival – and still do, if we're unlucky. Without it, humankind never could have evolved to where it is now. It's such an instinctive, powerful part of who we are it's no wonder, really, that we're captivated by and drawn to it, especially when we can experience it from the safety of our own armchairs and beds. In reading something terrifying (or watching, for that matter), we get a taste of what it was like to face up to danger, to fight it or run from it, to be challenged and victorious, tested and triumphant – to survive. Like I say, though, I'm no psychologist!

I read a lot of scary books when I was a teenager. I think that teenagers are probably the biggest consumers of horror. I didn't really think about it this way then, but looking back I wonder if I enjoyed horror because it was helping me come to terms with the huge changes in my life. Horror books give us that sense of what it’s like to encounter danger and fight it, it lets us experience what it's like to survive and overcome. Speaking for myself, that's what I desperately wanted when I was a teenager – I needed to know that I could face the challenges of growing up and be victorious, I needed to know that I would survive. Even though I wasn't aware of it, the horror books I read were giving me the confidence to live my life the way I wanted to – in the same way, I guess, that grisly fairy tales implant vital lessons in the unconscious minds of young children.

As a writer, too, horror helped me overcome and survive a very dark time. Not long after I’d started writing Furnace Lockdown, I suffered a personal tragedy. It was a really, really dark time, the worst in my life. I threw myself into the book as a way of coping with it, a way of forgetting. I genuinely felt like I was imprisoned inside Furnace Penitentiary, locked away a mile beneath the ground in this hellhole. Like Alex, the main character, I had no way out, no way to escape this nightmare. We were both sentenced to rot at the very bottom of the world. But in Alex’s story I found a way to cope with my own emotions. In the writing of his life, I managed to save my own. I triumphed, I survived, because of horror.

I always thought of horror as escapism. I loved the idea that you could open a book and be taken anywhere. Because horror is really the only genre where absolutely anything can happen. There are no rules. The laws of physics, psychology, biology, religion – everything – can fall apart without warning, plunging you into the abyss. There are countless different kinds of horror, but they all have this in common: they are rule-breakers, they make a mockery of everything we take for granted. I loved the incredible feeling that everything you thought was real might suddenly turn out to be wrong, that the fabric of the universe might peel away to reveal something else, something terrifying beyond. Horror is terrifying, yes, it makes us hide behind the sofa, or cower under the duvet, but it also allows our imaginations to soar, it pushes back the walls of reality and lets us believe that anything is possible.

But the truth is that horror isn't escapism at all. I think it's as far from escapism as it is from laziness. As horror authors, we do go "boo", like my friend said. But we don't want our readers to spend the book running away. We want them to stand up to their own very real fears, to confront and triumph and survive. When we say "boo", we want people to say "boo" back, because that's what horror does – it scares us but in doing so it makes us stronger.

And that’s exactly what I’m going to say next time I go for a drink with my friend!

 Thanks, Gordon!  To enter to win a set of Lockdown and Solitary, leave a comment on this post with the title of your favorite horror novel or movie, or, if you don't have one, the one you'd most like to read or see.  This contest is only open within the US and Canada...sorry, international followers! =( I'll announce the (random) winner on February 11th, so stay tuned.

Double Review: Lockdown and Solitary

Lockdown and Solitary by Alexander Gordon Smith
Find them at a local indie!

• Why I read them: Good old fashioned chills, juvenile delinquents
• Disclosure: Received both as part of a Solitary book tour - thanks!

Furnace Penitentiary: the world’s most secure prison for young offenders, buried a mile beneath the earth’s surface. Convicted of a murder he didn’t commit, sentenced to life without parole, “new fish” Alex Sawyer knows he has two choices: find a way out, or resign himself to a death behind bars, in the darkness at the bottom of the world. Except in Furnace, death is the least of his worries. Soon Alex discovers that the prison is a place of pure evil, where inhuman creatures in gas masks stalk the corridors at night, where giants in black suits drag screaming inmates into the shadows, where deformed beasts can be heard howling from the blood-drenched tunnels below. And behind everything is the mysterious, all-powerful warden, a man as cruel and dangerous as the devil himself, whose unthinkable acts have consequences that stretch far beyond the walls of the prison. Together with a bunch of inmates—some innocent kids who have been framed, others cold-blooded killers—Alex plans an escape. But as he starts to uncover the truth about Furnace’s deeper, darker purpose, Alex’s actions grow ever more dangerous, and he must risk everything to expose this nightmare that’s hidden from the eyes of the world.

Why isn't there more YA horror?  There's some creepy, sure, and a glut of terrifying dystopia a la The Hunger Games - but where's the make-your-blood-run-cold-sweat-in-the-middle-of-the-nightmare kind of horror?  The kind that keeps me racing to the finish and awake for hours after I reach it?  It's a genre that seems to be almost entirely targeted to adults, even when many of the characters are kids and teens.  (Think Danny from The Shining.)  The marketing gap here has never made sense to me, but I'm even more confused after Lockdown and Solitary, the pulse-pounding, compulsively readable, and terrific novels that make up two-thirds of the Escape from Furnace trilogy.

The strength isn't in the characters, though Alex's desperate desire to be good is touching.  The strength isn't in the formulaic writing, though it works for the story.  The strength is in the author's understanding that teens have more to be scared of than anyone else, juvenile delinquents or "good kids."  While Furnace Penitentiary isn't quite plausible if you take it literally, the horrifying wheezers and blacksuits, mutant rats, and gangs make for an interesting commentary on your average high school.  If they make it to eighteen, prisoners move up a few levels.  Coincidence?  I doubt it.

Beyond my philosophical musings, these books were just plain fun.  They're quick, full of cliffhangers, and genuinely terrifying.  I'm not easily scared by books (movies are another story), but descriptions like this from page 39 of Solitary - "No trees, no life, other than the cluster of grinning forms standing before us, so close that we could make out the silver eyes and black suits, the rusting masks and filthy trench coats, the glistening lips peeled back past canine teeth." - are meant to be shivered over.  The action doesn't slow down for a second between Lockdown and Solitary, and despite problems I had with sloppy writing and Alex's melodrama in places, I was too sucked in to really care - always a good sign.  I don't usually say that books would "be great for reluctant readers," because I hate that label, but this would indeed be a good book for someone easily bored by books: I highly doubt they'll have that problem with these.

All in all, it's not high literature, it's not a work of genius, and that's okay.  It's a solidly scary and entertaining read, and sometimes that's all I'm asking for.  I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for the third book, Death Sentence!  Four out of five stars.

Who would you put on an iconic American authors list?

My grandma passed on a copy of this week's American Profile over lunch, thinking I'd appreciate their cover story, "The Write Stuff: Saluting 20 of America's iconic authors and poets."  Of course, I always appreciate bookish things (thanks, Grandma!), but I was distinctly disappointed in their roundup.  Not only are all twenty white, only four of them - Emily Dickinson, Willa Cather, Harper Lee, and Margaret Mitchell - are women.  (If you saw my earlier Twitter rant that said only three, a later reading caught Margaret Mitchell hiding in the crease.)

I understand that by "iconic" they pretty much mean "old" - the most contemporary author of the bunch is J.D. Salinger - and while I haven't read all of the authors, I understand their impact and importance on the American literature scene.  I'm still stunned, though, that so little of America's cherished "Melting Pot" culture is represented here.  While Harper Lee, Mark Twain, and John Steinbeck certainly tackled racial and cultural conflicts in their work, their perspective is quite different than, say, Zora Neale Hurston's, Alice Walker's, and Toni Morrison's.  I'm not asking for a "token black person" here, but I find American literature difficult to imagine without Their Eyes Were Watching God, Beloved, and The Color Purple.  How about writers working from a primarily immigrant/culture shock perspective like Amy Tan?  Also, old white guys or no, I'm shocked that Kurt Vonnegut and Joseph Heller didn't make the list.with classics like Slaughterhouse-Five and Catch-22.

I guess it all comes down to the reason I hate "classic" and "best of" lists in the first place - it's just too subjective, and you're going to piss people off no matter what you do.  Heck, if I was in charge of a best American authors list, I'd probably put Barbara Kingsolver and Octavia Butler near the top, even though most of my friends have never heard of or read them.  "Pop culture" writer or no, I can't imagine leaving Stephen King out, either.  And don't even get me started on iconic children's and teen writers like Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary.

So, followers, what do you think?  If you could rewrite that iconic authors and poets list, who would you give a shout-out to?

Review: The Ruby in the Smoke

The Ruby in the Smoke by Philip Pullman
Find it at a local indie!

• Why I read it: Author I love, mystery, Victorian era
• Disclosure: Got a copy as a Christmas present from Santa, which tells you how long ago it was - can't believe it took me this long to read it!

Sally is sixteen and uncommonly pretty. Her knowledge of English literature, French, history, art and music is non-existent, but she has a thorough grounding in military tactics, can run a business, ride like a Cossack and shoot straight with a pistol.
When her dear father is drowned in suspicious circumstances in the South China Sea, Sally is left to fend for herself, an orphan and alone in the smoky fog of Victorian London. Though she doesn't know it, Sally is already in terrible danger. Soon the mystery and the danger will deepen - and at the rotten heart of it all lies the deadly secret of the ruby in the smoke...

If I had to name a children's/teen's author of the past twenty years most likely to be remembered over the next few centuries, it would have to be J.K. Rowling - it's hard to ignore an author that rewrites an entire culture.  If we're talking runners-up, though, it's Philip Pullman hands down.  Not only did he write one of the most exquisitely crafted and original fantasy trilogies ever in Northern Lights/The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass, he also has written exquisitely crafted and original novels pretty much everywhere else.  Don't believe me?  Check out his Wikipedia bibliography.  Despite the incredible variety of his work, from modern-day fairy tales to plays to comics to a kids' activity book titled Using the Oxford Junior Dictionary, he's special in that he never loses his quirky, playful, and eloquent voice - though perhaps it was strained in that last title.  

Actually, why don't I quit the uber-reviewer jargon and justification and cut to the chase: I am a proud Philip Pullman fangrrl.  I'm working on the T-shirts.

That's why I'm kind of astonished that I made it through this many years of fandom (eight and counting) without picking up his second most well known series, the Sally Lockhart trilogy - of which The Ruby in the Smoke is the first installment.  Unlike 95.1% of the time (very scientific statistic there), I didn't have the excuse that I was broke and couldn't get a copy, because my parents were nice enough to stick it in my Santa stocking the Christmas I was nine years old.  I seriously have no idea how a book by an author I love manages to kick around my bookshelves for almost seven years without being read or lost or both, but this one managed it, and in hindsight maybe that's not terrible.  While this book wasn't quite on par with Lyra and Will and company, I still have a whole new set of characters to fall in love with.

First of all, Sally is a bad@$$ - capable, smart, and no-nonsense - but she's also not perfect.  She gets in over her head, is bossy, definitely not great with kids, and sometimes she gets downright freaked - just like a real sixteen-year-old.  (A side note for fellow Doctor Who fans, Billie Piper got the role in a 2007 TV movie adaptation.)  Rosa and Frederick are delightfully boho-ditzy-artist types, while the ensemble is sinister and entertaining by turns.  The setting of grimy, pea-soup-foggy London is so vivid it's almost a character in and of itself, full of opium dens and seedy alleyways and big-eyed orphans.  If you're not already a convert to the steampunk/Victorian scene it might make for heavy going, but for addicts like me it's a heady thing.

The thing I loved the most about it is the sensation that not one word is wasted - it's a short, small read, perfect purse-size.  Pullman is a master at sucking you in without draining you, something I'm only truly starting to appreciate three weeks into spring semester.  After school and homework I'm exhausted and cranky, and all I want is a book that will entertain me and distract me from that hideously difficult Comp II assignment that's due tomorrow, while also being well-written enough that the literary snob in me doesn't fall into a saccharine coma.  The Ruby in the Smoke fits that bill perfectly, and I can't wait to pick up the sequels.  Philip Pullman, you're still my hero!  Five out of five stars.

In My Mailbox #12/Read This Week #11

In My Mailbox is a weekly meme hosted by The Story Siren, who has a pretty awesome mailbox.  You should check it out.  This week I received only one book, but it looks like a good one and I'm excited!

Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly.

BROOKLYN: Andi Alpers is on the edge. She’s angry at her father for leaving, angry at her mother for not being able to cope, and heartbroken by the loss of her younger brother, Truman. Rage and grief are destroying her. And she’s about to be expelled from Brooklyn Heights’ most prestigious private school when her father intervenes. Now Andi must accompany him to Paris for winter break.
PARIS: Alexandrine Paradis lived over two centuries ago. She dreamed of making her mark on the Paris stage, but a fateful encounter with a doomed prince of France cast her in a tragic role she didn’t want—and couldn’t escape.
Two girls, two centuries apart. One never knowing the other. But when Andi finds Alexandrine’s diary, she recognizes something in her words and is moved to the point of obsession. There’s comfort and distraction for Andi in the journal’s antique pages—until, on a midnight journey through the catacombs of Paris, Alexandrine’s words transcend paper and time, and the past becomes suddenly, terrifyingly present.
Jennifer Donnelly, author of the award-winning novel A Northern Light, artfully weaves two girls’ stories into one unforgettable account of life, loss, and enduring love. Revolution spans centuries and vividly depicts the eternal struggles of the human heart.

Being a historical fiction addict, this looks right up my alley.  I went through a bit of a French history obsession...actually, there are few periods in history I haven't been obsessed with at some point...so I'm looking forward to the refresher course.  Also, the cover is gorgeous!

What did you get in your mailbox this week?  Please leave your links (with a thoughtful comment) below!

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Read This Week

Jazz in Love by Neesha Meminger

Those Who Save Us by Jenna Blum