Today I finished Eireann Corrigan’s Ordinary Ghosts. Emil is coming to grips with the recent death of his mother, and the abrupt and unexplained departure of his older brother. Using a secret master key to the private boys’ school where he attends, he starts sneaking into the school buildings late at night, meeting a mysterious girl who’s sneaking in for her own reasons, and trying to find a way to leave his mark.
The story has a lot going for it, most notably Emil’s complex and somewhat tormented relationships with members of his family, each absent in its own way. There was a story worth telling here. Where it disappointed, though, was in the author’s seemingly insistent “edginess”. I’m fine with books which address the teen experience in a forthright manner, but Corrigan seemed a bit too in-your-face with it. (I told you I’d get to it.) Within pages of starting it was clear that the book was going to include foul language, drug use, and frank sexual references, and that we would be reminded of the author’s commitment to such elements on a pagely basis. Yeah, we get it. Ooo. Edgy. Can we move past it and get on with the story? If I had to read the word “ricockulous” again, I was going to smack someone.
Dear Ms. Corrigan:
I get it. You take pride in being all gritty and for “keepin’ it real”. If you want to see how to do it right, read the works of E.R. Frank. Let it flow from the story; don’t force the issue.
Sincerely,
Me
I also read Volume One of Bizenghast, a manga by M. Alice LeGrow (“Marty LeGrow”). In a nutshell, this little gothic horror maga is about an orphaned girl who somehow finds herself in a dark contract that binds her to the task of freeing lost, pained souls bound to a mysterious cementary in the town of Bizenghast. Heck, I read the book and I still find myself using the term “somehow finds herself in a dark contract” because I don’t know how that happened. It just sort of ... is.
Still, a promising premise, right? Right? Well, here’s the problem ... or two. Each ghost must be freed by solving a riddle on its headstone and then helping the spirit to resolve it’s issues. These mini-stories within the bigger are woefully underdeveloped, unfortunately, and the “rules” which govern this middleworld are nebulous at best. Sometimes attacking the ghostly apparition of a victim’s attacker is what’s needed, sometimes turning into a tree (?) works, and throwing a girl off a rooftop might be what frees her. Huh? Add to that the inconsistent quality of the artwork, and I’m left a little cold. The story is further complicated by the fact that the graveyard is apparently run by a manager, a staff, and a cleaning crew (who are, apparently, bad) and the real-world dilemma of Dinah’s perceived dementia. I so wanted to enjoy Bizenghast, as I’ve not really become a manga person, but want to understand the appeal better.
Plus, why do guys in manga look so darned pretty? At one point, I didn’t realize that the character in front of me was Vincent in another setting, though I’d already spent a third of the book with him. Hmmm.
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