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Image Credit: Kristin Kemper

My name is Marita. I won’t tell you my last name. It would be too dangerous.

That’s right, children. Gather round for Anifesto, part one of three. GET EXCITED, Y’ALL. So, a little background: When I started writing my review for Front Lines, I ended up just talking about Animorphs for about ten paragraphs. I eventually realized how ridiculous that was getting, so I cut most of it and saved it on my computer, where it somehow ballooned into a thirteen-page diatribe. That’s how that happened.

Anyways, on with the show.

Anifesto, Part 1

Alloran: The stupidity of kindness. Charity to potential enemies. You're a fool, Seerow. A soft, sentimental, well-meaning fool. And now my men are dead and the Yeerks are loose in the galaxy. How many will die before we can bring this contagion under control? How many will die for Seerow's kindness?

For people whose lives are empty and meaningless, Animorphs is a middle-grade series consisting of sixty-four books. It’s about five kids who take a shortcut home from the mall and end up stumbling upon a crashed alien spacecraft. Out crawls a wounded alien (an Andalite, to be specific; War Prince Elfangor to be more specific). Before dying, Elfangor explains to them that a silent infiltration has been happening right under their noses: the body-snatching brain slugs known as Yeerks are slowly trying to take over the planet and enslave humanity and their hometown is ground zero.

Elfangor then breaks the Law of Seerow’s Kindness (basically the Andalite’s Prime Directive) and gives these kids advanced alien technology that allows them to morph into any animal they touch. They then proceed to use this power to wage a guerrilla war, desperately trying to hold off the Yeerks until the Andalite fleet can arrive and save the planet. Along the way they pick up Ax, a young Andalite cadet with dreams of glory (and Elfangor’s baby brother). Adventures ensue.

But that’s like describing Les Misérables as the story of a guy who steals some bread. In terms of intricacy, this is a Lord of the Rings-level series. These books span dimensions and galaxies and billions of years. And in retrospect, it is far, far too sophisticated to be considered just a children’s book series.

There are flaws, so let’s just get them out of the way right now. The middle part of the series was ghostwritten and as a result, the books are a bit uneven. The less said about the choose-your-own-adventure Alternamorphs, the better—at least they’re not canon. There’s minor continuity issues, but that is almost to be expected over the course of sixty-two books as the series finds its legs. The Helmacrons were hilarious and fantastic, but completely and utterly pointless. What was that entity in #41? All we’re left with is it stating that humans will require more study (wtf?). And what the ever-loving hell was up with the Nartec?! Just…why?

But even for its faults, this series is epic. Absolutely awesome. Practically unparalleled.

It’s about a fictional war between two alien species that humans got caught in the middle of, but the fact that it is a war is never forgotten. There are casualties and sacrifices, and it hurts.

Rachel: You worry about me? What do you think you’re going to do? Jake, you're a leader now. You make life-and-death decisions. All the time. You've learned to do that. And you've learned to use people. You use them for their strengths and their weaknesses. Worry about me? Like when all this is over you'll go back to being a mediocre basketball player and a decent student?

The Animorphs constantly struggle with the ethical implications of their actions—whether saving the planet is worth losing their humanity, whether the lofty ideals they’re fighting for are actually worth dying a gruesome, bloody death, and whether it’s okay to write off the lives of a few people to save the lives of many. They routinely lose sleep over the deaths they fail to prevent and even more so the deaths they cause. They struggle with switching between normal high schoolers and elite paramilitary warriors. They deal with serious PTSD and constant nightmares. This is, at heart, the story of six children who are thrown into a war they simply aren’t prepared for. Their only choices are to become soldiers or die.

Over the course of the series, each character is slowly broken in their own unique way:

Cassie: No. It's wrong. I won't. I don't want to judge you guys, but you're talking about strategy and risk like this is some computer game. Like there aren't others involved. Have you forgotten that we're supposed to be in this to save lives?

Gentle, kind Cassie would rather heal but must learn to hurt. Because she is uncomfortable with physical violence, she ends up deeply hurting people in more subtle ways. She parleys her natural empathy into unparalleled manipulation.

Rachel: I'm ruthless at times. But even I have enough sense to know the words “we have to win” are the first four steps on the road to hell.

Perky blonde gymnast and fashionista Rachel discovers that she likes killing far too much, and must fight to control the darkness lurking within her.

Tobias: I’m a predator who kills for food. And I’m also a human being who...who grieves, over death.

Tobias is the neglected kid from the wrong side of the tracks who’s never felt like he belonged anywhere. When he becomes trapped in the body of a red-tailed hawk due to a morphing mishap, he becomes progressively more isolated and lonely, in the end severing any ties with humanity.

Marco: Sorry, fighting a guerrilla war against parasitic aliens has amped up my already rampant paranoia.

Marco, who’s already lost his mother to the invasion, becomes suspicious and cynical and all too willing to accept collateral damage.

Ax: I was an Andalite, all alone, far, far from home. Far from my own people. Except that sometimes your own people are not just the ones who look like you. Sometimes the people who are your own can be very different from you.

Ax, the stranded young Andalite, begins to see the army he once idealized for what it is—less noble heroes safeguarding freedom for the universe, more arrogant military superpower power trying to undo its biggest mistake at any cost. Over the course of the series, he becomes more and more torn between his own people and his adopted planet.

Jake: The power made us responsible, see. Without the power, the knowledge would have just been a worm of fear eating up our insides. Bad enough. But it was the power that turned fear into obligation, that laid the weight on our unready shoulders...Power enough to win? No. Power enough to fight? Ah, yes. Just enough, little Jake, here is just enough power to imprison you in a cage of duty, to make you fight...

And Jake, the fearless leader, is haunted by the people he couldn’t save, including his brother Tom. He struggles with the knowledge that it’s not the good guys that win, it’s the ruthless ones. He has the literal weight of the world on his shoulders. His ragtag team of misfits is not humanity’s last line of defense. They’re humanity’s only line of defense.

Image credit: Claire Hummel

The real strength of Animorphs, as with all good sci-fi and fantasy, is that it uses fantastic settings and characters and circumstances to explore very real and important issues. Through the various interactions between alien species and the motivations driving various groups, the series dissects a lot of what happens in the real world (and why it happens) when different races, creeds, and political forces clash. By exploring elaborate worlds that parallel real life, the reader can examine the nature of things like inequality and stereotypes and dehumanization, but free of the historical and emotional baggage that keeps a lot of people from confronting those issues—which is of course the true value of fantastically unreal stories like this.

Marco: You Andalites. You people have a tendency to destroy what you want to preserve.

There’s a lot of great commentary on colonialism. In the end, the Andalites and the Yeerks are both colonial empires wearing very different masks. The Andalites have no need to expand, and yet their arrogance and superiority led them to benevolently enlighten the Yeerks and inadvertently unleash the parasitic slugs on the universe in the process. Stopping the Yeerks is their penance. The Animorphs eventually learn that the Andalites aren’t with the humans, they’re just against the Yeerks. If need be, the Andalites will destroy Earth to keep the Yeerks from winning. Not to mention their scociety encourages rampant sexism and ostracism of any deformed or disabled citizens, which casts them in a distinctly Nazi-ish light. Just because the Andalites present themselves as the ultimate good guys doesn’t make it so.

Aftran: We aren't all the same. See? You believe the Andalite propaganda about us. According to the Andalites, we're nothing but evil slugs. We don't deserve to be free, flying around the galaxy. We're just parasites.

The Yeerks, on the other hand, are severely overpopulated and completely helpless without a host. They didn’t choose to be parasites. They’re not truly evil, they’re just fulfilling the role evolution gave them. Is it really so wrong that they’re desperate to see and hear and touch? They just want a place in the universe, and if no one will make room for them they’ll carve out a home by force. As the Yeerk Aftran points out, “What choice do we have? Back to the Yeerk pools? Back to our home planet, with Andalite Dome ships in orbit above us, waiting for one of us to rise from the sludge, then blow us apart? Leave the universe to the almighty Andalites and the species they happen to like?”

Prejudice and racism (species-ism?) come into play in a big way, and are very much a driving force behind much of the plot. In the Animorphs universe, there’s a ton of stereotypes floating around regarding various alien species. The Yeerks and Andalites call each other “Andalite scum” and “Yeerk filth” at every given opportunity. But of course, the Andalites are honorable and good, a force for truth, justice, and the…uh…Andalite way. The Yeerks are nothing more than a plague on the galaxy, just evil slugs. The Hork-Bajir are seen as sweet, dumb beasts who clearly need a superior species to step in and take care of them. The Taxxons, the only species to welcome the Yeerk empire, are an abomination that should be wiped from the universe. And everyone agrees that the Skrit Na are just plain weird.

Dak Hamee: You almighty Andalites. There is no limit to your arrogance, is there? Well, let me tell you something: We may be simple people. But we don't use biology to invent monsters. And we don't enslave other species. And we don't unleash a plague of parasites on the galaxy, endangering every other free species, and then go swaggering around like the lords of the universe. No, we're too simple for all that. We're too stupid to lie and manipulate. We're too stupid to be ruthless. We're too stupid to know how to build powerful weapons designed to annihilate our enemies. Until you came, Andalite, we were too stupid to know how to kill.

In the beginning, our heroes only incapacitate infested humans while slaughtering infested aliens. It’s a sickening and horrifying realization for the Animorphs that the bladed reptilian Hork-Bajir they’ve been killing are actually gentle herbivores who’ve been completely enslaved by the Yeerks. And the Taxxons, giant carnivorous centipedes, are to be pitied more than feared. The highly intelligent species suffers from a powerful instinctual hunger that drives them to cannibalism. They begged the Yeerks to take control of their bodies in the hopes of finally being free from their hunger (spoiler: it didn’t work).

The harsh lesson the Animorphs learn is that just because an alien species looks, well, alien, they still deserve to be treated humanely. That knowledge has a steep price, though: They can’t give back the lives they’ve already taken, and they can’t stop killing the infested just because they feel sorry for the host bodies.

Controller: Help me. So... I'm cold. Help. Jake: Leave him, Yeerk. Get out of his head. Let him do this last thing as a free human being. Controller: I can't get out. The ears are blocked. Can't get out. Ax: We have to get out of here. They will send reinforcements. Controller: So cold. Just... Can you just get me a blanket or... Ax: Prince Jake. Controller: I'm scared. Does that... Does that make you happy, Andalite? Jake: No. No, it doesn't make me happy.

And to top it all off, there’s the existential quandary presented by the Ellimist and Crayak. As the series progresses, it is revealed that this epic battle for the salvation of the human race is nothing more than a small skirmish between these two nearly omnipotent pan-dimensional beings. The Ellimist is ostensibly good and does not “interfere in the affairs of other species,” but he has no qualms about rearranging someone’s entire existence (usually for the worse, just ask Elfangor) to suit his own needs. Crayak is undeniably evil, and considers genocide a hobby of his. And the Animorphs are trapped in the middle. In the end, none of them stumbled into the war on accident. None of their hardships were brought on by chance. They were pawns in a much larger game the whole time.

Ellimist: Then let us play a game, Crayak. Crayak: There will have to be rules. Ellimist: Yes, there will have to be rules. Crayak: And a winner? Ellimist: That, too, though it will take millions of years. Crayak: I'm not going anywhere. Ellimist: Then come, let us play the final game.

There’s an incredible number of moving parts at work here. It’s as much about political intrigue and betrayal and power as it is about fighting aliens with tigers. There’s a dozen factions at play, all with their own agendas.

The more you learn about this war, the more terrible and complicated it gets. The evil guys aren’t nearly as evil as they first seem, and the good guys aren’t nearly as good. There is no winning this war, or any war, without killing the innocent and collaborating with the guilty.

Ax: War is irrational. Though it is sometimes necessary.

Image Credit: http://veteranfangirl.tumblr.com/

Image credit: Harper Collins Publishers, Matt Murphy, Joel Tippie

Marita here. I’m apparently incapable of writing brief reviews, so buckle in.

World War II seems to be having a moment in YA, between Code Name Verity and Salt to the Sea and Wolf by Wolf (Hi, Melissa!), and it seems like I have been sucked in, too.

I picked up this book because I thought the cover was amazing, and something about the author’s name tugged on my memory.

So then I opened it up and read the first line of the prologue: “I’m not going to tell you my name, not right away.”

And WHA-BAM! It hit me. Michael Grant, the author, is married to K.A. Applegate, the author of Animorphs. For those not in the know, every Animorphs book begins something like, “My name is ____. I can’t tell you my real name. It’s too dangerous.” It’s a bit of an open secret that although his name’s not on the books, he collaborated with her on the series that pretty much defined my childhood. Some people know Harry Potter forwards and backwards, and some people know Lord of the Rings and some people know Star Wars, but I am a scholar of Animorphs.

So, yes, this made me very happy. 

The real strength of Animorphs is that it used fantastic settings and characters and circumstances to explore very real and important issues. It’s about a war between two alien species that humans got caught in the middle of, but the fact that it is a war is never forgotten. There are casualties and sacrifices, and it hurts.

Over the course of the series, each character is slowly broken in their own unique way. It is, at heart, the story of six children (OK, four children, a hawk, and an alien) who are thrown into a war they simply aren’t prepared for. Their only choices are to become soldiers or die.

It is a science fiction series through and through, but the brutality and the horror and the cost of war feels very, very real.

After reading Front Lines, I have to believe that that gritty, realistic tone was in large part Michael Grant’s contribution.

Front Lines, the first book in the new Soldier Girl series, is not science fiction or fantasy. It is a meticulously researched historical epic. There is exactly one fact that is not historically accurate, one court case detailed in the opening pages:

FLASH: “In a surprise ruling with major ramifications, the United States Supreme Court handed down a decision in the case of Becker v. Minneapolis Draft Board for Josiah Becker, who had sued claiming the recently passed Selective Service and Training Act unfairly singles out males. The decision extends the draft to all US citizens age 18 or older regardless of gender.”

--United Press International--Washington, D.C., January 13, 1940

Women became draft-eligible just in time for World War II. This is the single cog that Grant fits in to the machinery of history, and the whole thing spins out naturally from there. And my God, is it incredible.

Told in a roving third-person point of view, this is the story of three teenage girls heading to war. Rio Richlin is a sweet, innocent California farm girl who is thrown off balance by the death of her older sister in the Pacific theater. Almost on a whim, she lies about her age and enlists with her friend Jenou. Frangie Marr is small and unassuming, but dreams of being a doctor. However, because she happens to be black and female in Tulsa, Oklahoma in the 1940′s, this is little more than a pipe dream. She enlists because her family desperately needs the money, and because being an army medic might pave her way to the MD she’s hungry for. And Jewish New Yorker Rainy Schulterman just wants to give Hitler a taste of his own medicine. She’s icy and intelligent, and even though the men around her are quick to write her off, she’s determined to put her skill with languages and numbers to good use.

Our heroines make it through boot camp just in time to join the fray in North Africa and become embroiled in the Battle of Kasserine Pass.

Why is this book important? For a couple of reasons.

The one at the top of my list is that it makes war immediate and real. I’m a girl. I’ve never had to think seriously about going to war, and I don’t have any immediate family in the armed forces, either. War is a distant concept to me. I can have sympathy for the experiences of soldiers, but empathy simply isn’t possible because there’s nothing I’ve experienced that can compare. Sure, I can appreciate Saving Private Ryan, but once again, I can’t really empathize. I’m watching men I don’t strongly identify with going through things I can’t comprehend.

This book of teenage girls on the front lines made the battlefields of World War II feel personal. These are girls I could have been in another life, reacting like I would have reacted. They’re as confused and determined and angry as I could see myself being in the same situation. I may not know what it’s like to fire an M1 Garand and take a life, but I do know what it’s like to walk into a room full of boys and have them size you up and dismiss you in the same glance. And I do know what it’s like to want to show the boys you’re competing with that they’ve dismissed you at their own peril. I can definitely put myself in the shoes of these soldier girls.

(Side note: I’m almost resentful that this book was written by a grown man, but captures the feeling of being a teenage girl so incredibly well. He writes with such sensitivity about things like schoolgirl crushes and nail polish and hairstyles without being belittling or dismissive. It’s just not fair.)

There’s so many perfect scenes, so perfectly experienced by our heroines. This book is filled with countless moments that bring the war to life. Not a word is wasted. Every little instance of disenchantment and demoralization and rage and fear hits hard. You’re there on the transport ship on your way to the front for the first time, realizing that you’re still just a civilian in an army uniform. You’re there in the foxhole, aiming an M1 at another human being and hoping you miss. You’re there in the medic tent, making the impossible triage decisions. That experience alone makes this read so worthwhile.

Also important is the fact that Grant doesn’t pull any punches--not when it comes to the reality of war, and not when it comes to the prevailing attitudes at the time. This book is not for the faint of heart. There are scenes of extreme gruesomeness, and there is explicit and offensive language. It’s a hard book to read, but it has so many important things to say that you’re not doing yourself a favor by avoiding that pain.

A lot of war movies focus on the glory of battle and the unbreakable brotherhood between soldiers, how noble and brave they all are. But that’s whitewashing history. The soldiers who defeated Hitler were a bunch of scared kids. They were also, by and large, sexist, racist, and anti-Semitic. Many WWII works avoid acknowledging that the US army was still segregated at that point (probably because it would detract from our hero worship of those soldiers), but this fact is never sidestepped or excused or swept under the rug in Front Lines. In one scene, a soldier comments on the irony of sending a segregated army to fight a white supremacist and is immediately booed by the rest of his barracks, and that’s probably one of the least upsetting things that happens in the book. The fact that our three heroines are the continual targets of this bigotry drives that point home perfectly, if painfully. They don’t have to be as good as the white male soldiers they’re constantly measured against, they have to be better to earn any grudging respect.

World War II was that rare war that truly needed to be fought. Unfortunately, we’re a generation that has pretty much forgotten the lessons learned there. We’ve forgotten that Hitler was democratically elected. We’ve forgotten that the disenfranchisement of the Jews happened by inches and feet, not all at once. We’ve forgotten that the Holocaust happened because too many people saw evil happening but refused to speak up out of apathy and convenience. We’ve forgotten what it’s like for our country to go all-in on a war with rations and drafts. We’ve forgotten how it feels to live under a constant umbrella of fear. We’ve forgotten that lofty ideals don’t win wars, ruthlessness and violence do. And we’ve forgotten that the soldiers of that war weren’t glorious heroes. They were fallible, imperfect humans like the rest of us. He (or she) who forgets history is doomed to repeat it, though. By revising history, Grant manages to undo a lot of historical revisionism.

This is, all in all, an incredible tale that sucks you in, gets under your skin, breaks your heart, and shows you a whole new side to the story you thought you knew.