Don't be a cow.

In general, I don't read (or 'read' depending on your definition of reading) books on CD, mostly because I have an attention span that can be measured in nanoseconds, but also because audiobooks are most effective on long-distance hauls, and I tend to use those occasions to sing/shriek along to Joni Mitchell and Neko Case. But I stuck with Catherine Gilbert Murdock's young adult novel Dairy Queen, and I don't regret a moment of lost belting time. As read by actress Natalie Moore, Murdock's fresh coming of age novel sparkles with earthy humor and a genuinely believable protagonist in D. J. Schwenk.

At first glance, D. J.'s story may seem a bit of a stretch: she's a high school sophomore who practically runs her family's Wisconsin dairy farm on her own after her father is laid up with a hip injury. The only daughter in a football mad family, she also struggles in a family with serious communication issues: her younger brother hardly speaks, her father is a demanding figure short on sympathy for his overextended daughter, and her mother fiercely maintains a facade of normalcy over all the damage underneath. D. J.'s also struggling through school, and constantly has to tend to her one (and only) friend Amber. And that's only the status quo at the start of the book. The action actually begins when D. J. is recruited to help get a rival football team's quarterback into shape over the summer. Incredulous, D. J. puts Brian to work hauling hay bays and running sprints, all the while seething over his privileged background and wimpy attitude. But as she starts to work out with him, she finds out that she's slowly falling in love--with football.

Well, there's other stuff going on with Brian, but D. J. is such a well realized character that some formulaic touches are forgivable. Even though she has so much going wrong in her life (and there's more major issues than the ones I've discussed here), D. J. comes across as a thoroughly normal sort of teenager--she handles her responsibility as best as she can, she doesn't get hung up on herself and she doesn't react to the changes in her life with over-the-top actions. She's the right mix of child on the cusp of adulthood, a character that you can imagine meeting at the local high school. And after a year schlepping manure and rising at dawn to milk, D. J. has decided she doesn't want to go through life blindly obedient like a cow.

D. J. decides to try out for the high school (male) football team as a running back, which brings the expected tension of solitary girl in a male dominated sphere--not to mention playing against Brian. My complaint here is that Murdock does tend to fall into the expected scenario of the two facing off against each other on the field. But she doesn't tie up some of the other loose ends as well, for D. J.'s experiences will continue in The Off Season. D. J. is a character worth rooting for, both on and off the football field.

Behind the fourteenth door.

Neil Gaiman's Coraline is a bit of a departure from my usual reading in a few ways: I don't usually read children's works, nor do I tend to listen to audiobooks. Yet in the name of trying something different and because I was facing a lengthy drive to see family, I picked up Gaiman's little tale.

First the audio aspect: Gaiman does his own reading on this three disc set, accompanied by the spooky electronic sounds of The Gothic Arches. First-time listeners might need to get a little used to Gaiman's British accent, especially over the din of a rough hightway, but he does a marvelous job of personifiying of each of his quirky characters. The major complaint that I had was in the timing of the individual tracks. There are only about 5 tracks per disc, which translates to roughly 15 minutes per track--entirely too long for easy browsing. It's puzzling that the discs were recorded as such, as Gaiman's text has numerous natural pauses that would be ideal for a new track.

Coraline is Gaiman's first novel for children, and has the blend of the fantastic and the real world that is Gaiman's trademark. Coraline is a girl bored with her surroundings and oddball neighbors until her harried mother recommends that she count the number of doors and windows in their new flat. Discovering a door that opens to a brick wall, Coraline's interest is piqued. The next morning, the door suddenly opens to reveal a long hallway leading to her own flat and her Other family. Lured by the promise of things to do, Coraline is tempted to stay, but is uneasy with the Other Mother who seems just a bit too intent on her remaining. When Coraline discovers the bodyless voices of lost children in a closet, Coraline knows she must escape through the door to her old life. Thrown into a battle of wits with her Other Mother, aided only by a scheeming cat, Coraline has to find the souls of her real family and the lost children before she can return to the life that she now fully appreciates.

I wouldn't call Coraline a plucky heroine--determined and strong are adjectives that suit her better. Her early boredom with her life and struggle with the lure of her Other Mother makes her human, and one can't but pull for her while she fights her way back home. When Coraline appeared in 2002, it was awarded the Hugo and Nebula Awards for Best Novella, as well as a few others. I don't usually read fantasy novels, but Gaiman's fantastic worlds are just a warped enough version of reality to appeal to those who generally avoid the genre. Its fable-like premise might turn off teen readers, but for upper elementary and lower middle school kids, Coraline's parallel world is worth exploring.