Zel, by Donna Jo Napoli

Zel is a retelling of the story of Rapunzel, told from the perspective of the girl, her suitor, and her mother, attempting to explain the motivations behind all three characters.

From the synopsis, this looked like a really good book. I guess I expected it to be a retelling with modern psychological insights. It didn't really live up to this. Instead, the story drifted a bit into magic and fantasy, and dodged the more human qualities of jealousy and insecurity that Napoli begins the story with. Like Sirena, this isn't really a children's book at all. It probably belongs with the Fantasy category instead.

Kissing Doorknobs, by Terry Spencer Hesser

Tara is pretty, popular, and smart. She has friends and a family who love her. But everytime she walks to school, she has to count all the cracks on the sidewalk. And if she loses count, she has to run back home and start again. And then she has to order her food perfectly. And pray everytime someone swears. And confess every sin she's even thought of. And kiss doorknobs. All of this confuses and humiliates Tara as she and her family try to figure out what is wrong with her.

This somewhat autobiographic and gruelling realistic portrayal of obsessive-compulsive disorder covers ground that Tashjian went at in Multiple Choice which I reviewed a month or two ago. Kissing Doorknobs is a less poetic read, but probably a better portrayal of the disease. Hesser has a somewhat clunky style (a bit reminescent of Judy Blume actually), but the writing is not bad. And her story makes up for it.

This is a good book if you're looking to understand OCD better, not such a good book for entertainment however.

Aimee, by Mary Beth Miller

Aimee commits suicide, and her friend blames herself for helping her do it. So do Aimee's parents and the police. And once the trial is over, and the acquittal, and the court ordered restraint order from ever seeing her friends again, and her parents' move away, then the narrator has to come to terms with every horrifying element of what happened and how she'll ever recover from it.

If I've painted this story a bit bleakly, I've not managed to do it as bleakly as the author has. Aimee is an amazingly depressing read, a painfully depressing one. Not only are problems just piled up (suicide, abuse, drugs, etc etc), but you don't even realize until 20 pages before the end that you've never learned the narrator's name. She's so dehumanized, so lost, that even her name is gone.

I have a tremendous soft spot for stories about suicide (one of my favorite books when I was a teen was Ordinary People) and I of course have my own personal history. This book is a tremendous accomplishment, but it is a grueling experience to read. In some ways, I'll compare it to the movie Thirteen -- both really moved me, but I could never watch/read them again. In the end, I am very moved, but not uplifted. And in the end, I wanted (and needed) something to rescue me.

Is that a strange way of saying a book is good?

Sirena, by Donna Jo Napoli

Sirena is a siren, a mermaid. She and her sisters sing songs to lure sailors in, because they have been handed a promise (and curse) that if a man should love them they would become immortal. Irena grows disgusted at love born from trickery and seduction and seeks a love that she can earn through more honest means. And when she finds it and the immortality it brings, it is not quite what she expects.

This is an extremely ambitious and powerful book, albeit a bit uneven. The book works best when Sirena reveals her adolescent curiosity and longing for love. It works less well when it tries to reach some sort of deep poetic meaning. There are sections that bring tears to the eyes or flush the cheeks, but there are also long interludes that drag on painfully. The story is a stronger concept than narrative. And it is not really a YA book. This doesn't mean that young readers would not enjoy it, but this is a story about grown up love and passion in the long run, and seems more centered on that world.

I rather suspect that most younger readers would find it a bit dull.

Hannah On Her Way, by Claudia Mills

Hannah still likes to play with dolls, make snow sculptures with her Dad, and braid her long hair. And being only in 5th grade, she feels that should be OK. But after the family's latest move, she's had trouble making friends and when she finds herself befriended by popular Caitlin, she admires her luck. That is, until Caitlin and her friends start pressuring Hannah to cut her hair, talk about boys, and wear make up. Now, she must choose whether to do those things and "grow up" or stay like she was.

I expected this to be fairly formulaic and slight, but it was a nice surprise instead. Hannah's decision is not so cut and dried as one might expect - part of her does want to grow up, so this isn't just the old peer-pressure story. Instead, Hannah has to learn what "growing up" really means for her and find her own path. In that way, the story is actually a really fulfilling pre-coming-of-age story.

Almost Home, by Nora Raleigh Baskin

OK, so I'm going to have to break from tradition and skimp on the plot description a bit here, because there isn't much I can give away (and even admitting that the book has a twist is giving way too much away).

At the end of the summer, Leah's father picks her up from camp and she finds out that her mother has gone away...to California...with her sister. Now, she must try to make a home - a new home - with her father and her father's new wife Gail. But her new home is also an old home and Leah must struggle with coming to terms with what has happened and finding a space where she belongs. An emotionally precocious boy Will plays a part (but not the part you might think).

Wow. I really liked What Every Girl (except me) Knows, so I was really looking forward to this book, but this completely exceeded mny expectations. I'm used to having a good cry at the end of a book, but rarely in the middle. This was truly incredible. Rich characters, parents that are realistic, kids that are realistic. Lots of meaning, thoughts, observations. Having just published my top ten, I'm loathe to add this right away, but I have a strong feeling that I will do so someday soon.

One interesting observation about YA lit though. Usually, authors write about characters who are slightly older than the target readership. Thus, a middle school book will have a Junior High Schooler, a teen book will have a senior, and so on. This book really goes the other direction and it was quite striking. The book reads like a Teen book (I'm not sure that the average middle schooler would get the nuances), but Leah is in Middle School (she hasn't even hit puberty yet). So, the author is inviting her readers to read about someone younger than themselves. Now, I - of course - do that with every book I read here, but it is unusual in the literature overall. All of which leads me to conclude that Baskin really is a force in literature to watch.

My Favorite Books: An Interlude

A short break from the book reviews to list out my favorite books (not all of which are reviewed here). These really are stunning books that each deserve to be read by everyone:

E. B. White, "Trumpet of the Swan"
Gail Levin, "The Wish"
Sarah Dessen, "Dreamland"
Sarah Dessen, "Someone Like You"
Dianne E Gray, "Holding Up the Earth"
Priscilla Cummings, "A Face First"
Joan Bauer, "Hope Was Here"
Karen Cushman, "Catherine, Called Birdy"
Sonya Sones, "What My Mother Doesn't Know"
Rachel Cohn, "Gingerbread"
Kate DiCamillo, "Because of Winn-Dixie"

The Bravest Thing, by Donna Jo Napoli

Laurel loves animals, but doesn't have the greatest of luck with keeping them alive. However, she works hard to do what she can to breed her pet rabbit. She also has to deal with a mother who is distraught over an ailing sister and she has been given a diagnosis of scoliosis.

These ingredients make up a story that breaks no new ground, but is a pleasant read. Laurel is a strong character who works hard for what she achieves. The story doesn't bear a lot of dramatic tension and the characters are a bit shallow, but this makes a nice read for a younger child (maybe 8-9 years old?).

Standing Up to Mr O, by Claudia Mills

Maggie doesn't want to do dissections. At first, it is because she doesn't want to touch the worm she is supposed to dissect, but as she searches her feelings, she realizes that she doesn't want to harm other living creatures. Thus evolves Maggie's conversion to Veganism. Along the way, she discovers that adults can do unfair things and that romance can make you do some dumb things as well.

This is a good read and it raises some nice issues in a context that middle school readers would enjoy. Mills teaches philisophy and this book has a good share of ethics crammed into it, but not in a way that a reader would object to. Maggie can be a bit more insightful about human behavior than a seventh-grader probably is capable of, but that makes her a bit more endearing.

A pleasant book.

Make Lemonade, by Virginia Euwer Wolff

The first of a trilogy of books, Make Lemonade is the story of LaVaughn and her babysitting job taking care of two children or a teenage mother. It's a dark and gritty story of adolescence in urban poverty, where gang crime and drugs and danger are pretty much a fact of life.

This is not a bad book, but not really to my taste. For better or worse, I tend to prefer my stories of privileged middle class white kids in the suburbs over these stories of disadvantaged kids in the Projects. Partly because stories like this are much more about survival, without any time to explore the psyche.

Wolff has a nice style -- train of conscious free verse poetry -- that causes the narrative to spin by pretty quickly. So, when I say this isn't my sort of book, it doesn't mean that it's bad. Although I do get a feeling that this is the type of "socially conscious" book that is likely to be assigned for book reports, rather than the type that kids read for fun.

Leap Day, by Wendy Mass

Leap Day is a pretty much a by-the-numbers story of a girl turning 16 and what she does on her birthday. Each chapter covers about two hours out of her day. And the adventures (crushes on older boy, getting her driver's license, worrying about her body type, etc.) are fairly typical YA material. What makes this story different isn't that Josie's birthday falls on February 29, but what goes on in alternating chapters. Between each chapter (told first person) from Josie's point of view, is a chapter where all the characters she interacts with get to give their view of what happened. Thus, we get to read not only what Josie thinks people think, but what they really are thinking, and what they think about her.

This is an interesting and original literary device. It is also an interesting tool for observing how we tend to misconstrue other people's thoughts. And it also reveals a bit about Josie as we see how she allows her own thoughts and fears to prevent her from seeing what other people are thinking.

In many ways, though, this is a book that works better with older readers than its target audience. Mass takes some of these observations of others far into the future. A character might comment that he didn't ask Josie out, but that ten years from now he will when they run into each other at a reunion. I'm not sure how many teen readers will find that interesting. As an adult reader, I found it fun and fascinating. Sort of like Mass was playing God a bit.

Perfectly Chelsea, by Claudia Mills

Again, it's nice to intersperse the tough teen books with something lighter.

Claudia Mills is a recent discovery and Perfectly Chelsea is a charming book for young middle schoolers. Chelsea is nine years old and has a lot of questions about God and about herself. She has to learn to tolerate obnoxious Danny, make up with Naomi, and - most important of all - forgive herself for making mistakes. Mills particular interest (at least in the books I've read so far) is change and learning to accept change.

These are nice themes and this is a nice book. It takes on the religion topic that Judy Blume attacked in Are You There God? It's Me Margaret but leaves out all the sexy stuff. That's quite OK for the audience of this book. In Chelsea's world, things are still pretty secure and safe and Chelsea can learn about the world (and share her feelings with the readers) without fear.

This would be a cozy book for a bedtime reading.

Gingerbread, by Rachel Cohn

Like, totally cool. Cohn has the whole kid talk down utterly, you know?

Gingerbread is the story of Cyd Charisse and her trip back East to meet her biological father. It's also about coming to terms with growing up too quickly and learning to trust those you should and stay away from those that you shouldn't.

And unlike a lot of YA novels, the book doesn't preach. Cyd learns her lessons when she's ready to and she makes fun and mocks just about every adult's attempt (including the author's) to straighten her out. This is a character that feels so real and is so spunky, that you imagine her just taking over the narrative. A truly enjoyable young woman.

All of which raises an issue that it is so hard to find YA books that aren't preachy but still have important lessons to impart. And this is what makes the book stand out.

All the Living, by Claudia Mills

Karla and her brother Jamie are spending a summer at their late uncle's cottage in Maine, and Karla can't cope with all the death around her. Her brother's problems are more immediate: an abusive and bullying father who sees his son as a complete failure. Mom sits on the sidelines and tries to cheer everyone up. This being a middle school book, no one is going to go through serious emotional trauma but there is a fair amount of self-discovery and tears.

This story had tremendous potential to become something hard hitting, but Mills steps back at each point that things get heavy. And even the fairly dramatic climax comes out of nowhere and departs pretty much without having changed much in the lives of its characters. It makes for an OK read, but one wishes that Mills had put more teeth into the story.

Changing Tunes, by Donna Jo Napoli

I had picked up this book because I had had another book by Napoli (Sirena) recommended to me and the synopsis of this one actually looked more interesting.

Changing Tunes is about a ten year old girl named Eileen who has to deal with her parent's divorce. An only child, Eileen doesn't have a lot of sources of comfort: she can't bring herself to tell her best friend Stephanie that it's even happened, every time she brings up the subject with her parents, they tell her to "accept it," and her piano has been taken away by her father. Throughout the story, piano playing is a constant theme that Napoli comes back to to explain Eileen's feelings and discoveries.

The story is a bit jumpy and the narrative tends to drift -- partially a result of having too much going on (a subplot about babysitting really doesn't add much to the story) and partly because this is a middle-school book, designed with shorter chapters and for shorter attention spans. Napoli has some of the lyrical poetic quality of Seven Kisses in a Row, but there's a lot going on here and it is a bit distracting.

Alice On Her Way, by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

The Alice series was one of the first YA books I read when I started my adult rediscovery of children's books....

The charming part of the series is that Naylor takes us very slowly through the life of a young woman growing up in Bethesda, giving us the continuity of her experiences and friends, and doing so at only a few months at a time. Counting the prequels, we've watched Alice grow from 8 to 16, and this is simply the latest continuation of her life.

In Alice On Her Way, Alice McKinley takes a school trip to NYC, falls in love with Sam and then decides to break up with him, goes through a church-sponsored sex education class, and gets her driver's license. There's some realizations of her new life with a step mother and watching her older brother grow a more independent life.

When I first started reading the books, they seems so amazingly revealing and revolutionary, but I really didn't know much about the genre. Now that I've read more, they are not nearly as appealing anymore. Naylor, like Judy Blume, has a big mission to talk about sex as much as she can. And while teens are interested in the subject, Naylor really has a crusade on -- one which even her protagonist seems to find a bit over the top! And while Naylor has her story up to date (with the girls IM'ing each other, for example), there's a certain flat innocence to the story. In Alice's world, there are no metal detectors in schools and no drugs. There is sex, of course, but it has an innocence to it, that belies reality even in a posh suburb like Bethesda. Again, YA lit has gotten grittier and it is hard to imagine teens reading these books. Maybe for the pre-teen market, Alice would still be fun.

Faultline, by Janet Tashjian

Having enjoyed Multiple Choice, I looked up other tashjian books and found this one about dating violence. It's hard to read the book without comparing it to Sarah Dessen's Dreamland (one of my all-time favorite books).

Becky Martin is a high school senior in San Francisco, working on a budding career in stand up comedy, when she meets Kip, a very talented young comic with issues. Before she knows it, she's swept away into a torrid relationship with him that becomes emotionally abusive and eventually physically abusive as well. But Becky is no passive victim and she has the strength to break off the relationship as it goes bad, until she finds out that she isn't as strong as she thought she was.

The story is a powerful one of course, but I wish that Tashjian had kept the focus more on Becky's feelings and emotional state (which is basically how Dessen treated the story) and less time on the side story of Becky's comedy career (which is more of a Joan Bauer-esque way of handling the story). There is too much going on in this thin book (transvestite nanny, comedy practice, being a tour guide) and it keeps distracting the reader from the meat of the story itself.

Tashjian does make the powerful decision to include Kip's personal musings at various points through the story. As she relates in the afterward, she does this to avoid demonizing the boy. This adds a degree of subtlety to the book that other abusive-boyfriend stories have lacked.

A mixed review then. Excellent potential, strong writing, but needed a tighter focus.

Honey, Baby, Sweetheart, by Deb Caletti

Sometimes, there is too much of a good thing....

This is the story of a young woman sucked into the sphere of a Bad Boy, in a relationship that goes from risky to dangerous to harmful. Bordering on an abusive relationship, Ruby's infatuation with Travis takes her into a minefield of dependency that even her mother has not managed to overcome.

This is a richly poetic book, chock full of metaphors and allusions, and colorful observations about life and love. It addresses at least one of my recent concerns -- the portrayal of parents in YA lit. In this one, the mother (while a real human being who must sometimes make decisions in Ruby's best interest) genuinely cares about her daughter and works with Ruby to overcome her issues. Ruby does rebel and Mom is not always perfect, but this is a story of a mother and daughter working together...and that is a beautiful thing.

So, why do I have a luke warm feeling about the book? I think the primary issue for me is that the writing is SO dense that it is a very slow read. At one point, I began to observe just how dense -- nearly every page had at least two pithy observations or clever sound bites. I began to feel that Caletti was just dumping a journal-full of these quotes into the book, finding a place to slam as many as she could. It gets overwhelming. And in the end, it makes for a pretty turgid read. I love Sarah Dessen's writings for her ability to bring out these lyric moments, but restraint is a blessed thing. There can be too much of a good thing.

The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things, by Carolyn Mackler

Another really good book (I seem to be doing better these days!).

Life in upper class Manhattan for Virginia Shreves is a hell-hole of low self-esteem, living up to brilliant siblings, and dealing with cluelessly abusively parents. The book, as is almost predictable in a book of this genre, is about Virginia coming out of her shell and changing her life, with some help from her friends and a few third-parties.

More like Meg Cabot than Sarah Dessen, Mackler ties things up a bit too neatly at the end, but at least some things are left open (Virginia never quite conquers her eating compulsions, for example). It's a good read and leaves you cheering at the end. It might even make a great movie, if Hollywood could ever get itself to make a teen movie with an overweight heroine.

But let me digress on something I've noticed a lot of in YA lit that bugs me: the depiction of parents. Now, my own parents were utterly clueless in many ways and I certainly had my reasons for disliking them, but parents are overwealmingly portrayed as either permissive or arrogant. Either the parents let the kid get away with EVERYTHING or they cut their children off and punish them for expressing themselves. Are there parents that fit this mold? Certainly! But how many more parents are there out there who try to reach their kids but don't know how to do it? It's a cheap shot to always have such two-dimensional parents. Should I ever write YA (one of my dreams), I'd like to write a story where the parents are trying, but just not getting it. Sure, they can do something mean (for dramatic effect), but let's give them some depth. I think young readers would appreciate that.

What Every Girl (except me) Knows, by Nora Raleigh Baskin

Gabby Weiss is stuck with a annoying older brother and a no friends at school, but worst of all, she has no mother, so she must spend her time observing women to figure out all the secrets that a mother tells their daughters to make them ready for the real world. But over a year, Gabby makes a special friend, nearly gains (and then loses) a step-mother, and learns that the secrets of adulthood cannot be neatly placed on a list.

An absolutely stunning and beautiful book. To begin with, the story itself is delightful (albeit with some of the typical cliches of YA novels), the writing is strong and poetic (with plenty of insights and observations), and the characters are interesting and even fun. Partly, I suppose, it is nice to read a book that takes place in a familiar setting (New Paltz NY), but the characters are truly interesting and real.

Maybe not one of my all-time favorites, but a stellar read nonetheless.

Forever, by Judy Blume

Finishing up the survey of Judy Blume (for now) with a really steamy entry...

Forever is the story of Kath and Michael (and Ralph!) and their first love -- a very hot torrid physical relationship. The story recounts everything from falling in love, to having sex, to dealing with separation, and to the eventual breakup.

There actually isn't much more story than that, although Blume does fit in teen suicide, teen pregnancy, birth control, and even drinking and drug use. There's a lot going on in this book and it is pretty explicit. In fact, it's basically NC-17 (or XXX to use the jargon in which the book is written). As before, there are lots of moments that date this book (most notably, that this group of 18 year olds go to a bar and have drinks). The most dangerous dated reference (having sex without a condom) is actually addressed by Blume in a new forward to the book.

There are certainly lovely moments in the book, like recounting the awkward physics of having sex with a new partner or the cuteness of pet names (although I used "Richard" instead of "Ralph"), but again it is a rushed book. And like so many of her other books, Blume is on a crusade and it shows. Kath is so comfortable having sex and so uninhibited (as, in fact are the adults) that it is surreal. Even for adults, it does not go that smoothly. But in the end, the whole experience is just so clinical -- Blume is basically trying to show young readers that sex is awkward and wonderful -- that the story is hollow and empty. To have written a book about how beautiful young love and passion can be would have made a fantastic read. Instead, we have a clinical and political manifesto....and one that left me feeling a bit dirty.

Lifted Up by Angels, by Lurlene McDaniel

OK, so I give up on this one. The first book in the series was borderline, but my suspicions were bourne out in the second installment...

This is the continuation of the story begun in Angels Watching Over Me and picks up six months after Leah's stay (and recovery). Longing for her Amish friends (and her love Ethan in particular), Leah spends the summer in Napannee IN, near where the family lives. She learns a lot more about the Amish and has a few adventures. A dramatic tear jerker ending that comes out of nowhere will elicit a sob or more.

The writing style grows more stilted in this book, with such amzingly bad prose as "the rose fingers of dawn" and some amzingly bad dialog. McDaniel gets her style from adult romance novels and this is basically one of those, with a slightly younger heroine. The man is a wooden figure, his stoic boring nature explained away as being Amish. Leah's swooning, recounted repeatedly through the book, never quite seems justified or real.

The book came on a recommendation from a young reader, and maybe if you hadn't read a lot of romance novels yet, this would be appealing, but the story has little to do with growing up or learning to become an adult (like a decent YA novel) or with young people coping with disease (as the author claims her goal is).

Lizzie at Last, by Claudia Mills

Elizabeth is a math whiz, with a penchant for wearing Victorian dresses, writing poetry, and imagining that she would be better off in the time of Emily Dickinson. Her quirkiness gets her labeled as a "nerd" by her classmates, but her academically-minded parents don't get Lizzie's desire to become "normal" and popular as she enters seventh-grade.

It's a bit of a hackneyed plot, with the predictable self-discovery at the end that has Lizzie deciding to be true to herslef rather than what people want her to be. However, it's lightened on the way by Mills's ability to recreate Junior High in wonderful technicolor. Again, the book suffers from being written in the third person, but Lizzie emerges nonetheless as a three dimensional character, albeit a bit of a stereotype.

Still, anyone who grew up quirky (like me) will appreciate some degree of familiarity in Lizzie's personality.

The book itself is part of a series which includes stories of several of her classmates as well. That is bound to be fun, but a bit lost on me as I'm joining the series mid-way.

Angels Watching Over Me, by Lurlene McDaniel

Now, I venture into Christian-romance territory....

The first of a trilogy about angels, McDaniel's book is about Leah, a young woman who spends a week alone in a hospital (her mother is away in Japan on a Honeymoon) with a broken finger that becomes a diagnosis for bone cancer. Her roommate, an Amish girl, and her roommate's family teach her a number of lessons about simplicity and faith in God. Along the way, there is a strange mystery visitor who no one else knows of and who the book strongly suggests (but avoids outright stating) is an angel.

I get a bit scared with books with strong religious undertones, but I have to admit that this one (I'll reserve my judgment on the next two installments) was pretty good about keeping the preaching to a minimum. Stories about Amish (I'm thinking of Plain Girl) can be great fun so I enjoyed that part of the story.

It is a bit hard that the book is written in third person. As a rule, I prefer the first-person style for YA literature. Written this way, the author has distanced us from the main character. Overall, the style is more adult romance novel than YA literature as well. There is some obligatory references to adolescence, but everyone seems terribly grown up here, and so I may eventually lose interest with the story if we don't return to some more age-appropriate action.

Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, by Judy Blume

OK, now we're in true classic territory in my survey of Judy Blume books.

This is the story of Margaret Simon, daughter of a Jewish father and Christian mother, who struggles with determining what religion (if any) she believes in. As far as the title and the synopsis is concerned, that's basically the plot. But of course, the book is really about buying her first bra and waiting for her first period, and other classic traumas of sixth-grade femininity.

Like with the other books by Blume I've been reading, I have mixed feelings about this one. This was landmark stuff when it came out and it manages to avoid getting too pedantic at the difficult moments. But, once again, Blume is on a mission to deliver a message and the plot and the characters are pretty incidental to that mission. And then, there's the unmistakable style that she has whereby Margaret sounds like every other character from a Blume novel (even like the boys). That gets a bit tiring. I'm reminded of Phyllis Naylor's Alice series and of the smart move that Naylor made at just having the same character throughout, thus avoiding any problem with having so many allegedly different kids sound the same.

Multiple Choice, by Janet Tashjian

Wow.

Hadn't read a good book in a while. I mean, I really good book.

Multiple Choice is the story of Monica who suffers from obsessive-compulsive disorder. She develops a game to try to help her overcome her compulsions but instead it makes her life much much worse.

There are a couple of things I like about this book. First of all, it doesn't have a happy ending, although it ends on an optimistic note. Not everything gets solved and her path to recpvery will definitely take longer than the story allows. Second, the subject matter is original and interesting. I felt a strong personal interest in the problem (I have some compulsions of my own so I could sympathize with her fears about making mistakes and her need to do things right all the time). I found myself being drawn into her issues.

And any book that draws me in and won't let me put it down is a definite keeper!

Deenie, by Judy Blume

Having suffered through a mile case of scoliosis myself, I figured that I'd be able to relate to this story of a girl who has to go through the stigma of wearing a brace (although I thankfully never had to wear one). What I didn't realize is the real reason that people read the book.

Given that the book was written in 1973, mentioning masturbation in a children's book was pretty advanced stuff, and discussing it several times made it more than just a gratuitous inclusion.

Again, however, Blume's writing hasn't aged well. Putting aside the references to full-service gas stations and department stores, Deenie and her friends are just a bit too wide eyed and innocent for the 7th graders they are. Phyllis Naylor and her "Alice" series has covered the same topics in the midst of IM and email with a similiar innocence.

The problem I think comes down to putting adult thoughts into children's minds. On one hand, they are portrayed are these innocent creatures, but then they are also fairly technical and clinical about their bodies. It's an odd juxtaposition. Almost as if the author is saying "hey, here are the sexual facts stuff" rather than trying to portray how adolescents understand sexuality.

To some extent, that was Blume's attempt of course -- to give girls (mostly) a safe way to find out correct information about sex, but it makes for a pedantic story. Because, in the end, Deenie's curiosity about masturbation and sexuality really don't have much to do with the rest of the story. One could argue that maybe that just is the way life actually IS, but again I think YA lit has come a long way in 30+ years.

Jacob Have I Loved, by Katherine Paterson

So, it's a classic. It won the Newbery in 1980 and a ton of awards. It's the story of Sara Louise, or "Wheeze" who grows up in a crab harvesting community in Chesapeake Bay in the 1940s. The book is largely about sibling rivalry with her sister Caroline -- the brilliant and talented.

It is a good book. But probably just not my type of good book. The writing is not outstanding in itself, although there are a few wonderful strong moments. And the story has a broader scope (travelling with Sara all the way through to her adulthood, marriage, and child). In fact, the story doesn't really seem to know how to end, and major characters are lost and forgotten about by the end. So, since I tend to derive my greatest satisfaction from strong characters who acheive some sort of change or development, I was left a bit disappointed.

That said, it is a good book. But not one that will move you in a strong emotional way. It simply is.

A Song for Jeffrey, by Constance M. Foland

This is a book in the American Girl Fiction series and, being part of that commercial line, I didn't have high hopes for it. However, it has a few good points.

First of all, it is a mildly educational book about muscular dystrophy and the troubles that children with it go through, both physically and emotionally. It is also a warm experience to watch how the heroine Dodie matures as she deals with the fact that her friend has MD and is dying. The author could have taken a lot of cheap steps to pull on heart strings and she avoided that.

The problem with the book is that it really tries to do too much. rather than focus on Dodie and Jeffrey's friendship, Foland also throws in the parental separation angle, as something of an oversight. This leads to several excruciating dialog scenes between daughter and parents about why her parents can't live with each other, and an overly sweet and tidy resolution (of sorts) to their problems.

And then there's the overly writing. Wonderful plot devices, great writing, until we get to the dialogue that just sounds flat and a bit fake. Too much preaching, vocabulary (and conversation) that's entirely age-inappropriate. Foland understands children and how they think, but she just doesn't get the way they talk down on paper.

A mixed review. Better than one would have expected, but suffers from the preachy and shallow nature of most AG works.

Catalyst, by Laurie Halse Anderson

Set at the same High School as Anderson's Speak, this is a somewhat similar (but different) story about a high school girl who has hit the success path with a grinding abandon that too many adults do. She works especially hard to be the "Good Kate" who excels at all her classes and extracurricular activities, until it all falls apart. And, of course, learns that there is more to life than excelling at education.

In a subtle moment, there is a gratuitous moment where the heorine of Speak and Kate actually meet and share a few words. But thankfully that moment is kept tastefully short. But the two girls are also surprisingly similar: overachievers with communication problems. They succeed at everything they do, except for talking about their needs with the people they love. That is sad (and a recurring theme of YA literature) and also discouraging because Anderson never shows her characters really overcoming their problems. They fix their immediate problems, but their fears that hold them back are never really overcome. That's the way modern novellists like to work (avoid the tidy ending) but in reading these stories you really wish the girls had grown in that way as well.

In this book, it is particularly frustrating: you really want things to work out somehow, but problems are unresolved at the end (with resolutions merely hinted at). I longed at the end for Kate to come up with some sort of summary about her experience and how she had changed.

But perhaps the fact that I wanted it so badly is indicative of the quality of the book. With too many other books, I could have cared less. So, I'd recommend this one and giving yourself a chance to get as frustrated over Kate's choices as I did.

Then Again, Maybe I Won't, by Judy Blume

Continuing the survey of Judy Blume books....

This little book is a ways off of my usual. First of all, the character is a boy and he's not a terribly insightful character. Secondly, the book is terribly dated (references to fancy hard top cars, expensive $30 baseball gloves, etc.). The book is about a teenage boy, but the problems he faces are terribly quaint in retrospect.

This is an early Judy Blume book and one of her attempts at trying to write about growing up from a boy's perspective. Some of the material rings true (being embarassed about getting erections during school) but some of it is just out there. The kid lives a fairly sheltered charmed life where kids still call adults "sir" and "ma'am". The most traumatic thing that happens to this kid is that his friend shoplifts. This send our pretty perfect boy into such a fit that he has an ulcer and has to spend ten days in the hospital (you can tell this was long before managed care!).

Perhaps I'm just not as interested in boys, but I think this one just falls flat. Young Tony just isn't very insightful about his life or his feelings -- not an inspiring picture for kids looking for role models in much more complicated times.

Missing May, by Cynthia Rylant

I guess that I get so used to "issues" stories, that I forget that YA literature is full of simple beautiful stories about...well, not very much. Missing May is one of those simple stories. A lot like Patricia Maclachlan's books, this story takes on the grieving process. Summer is a young girl whose elderly stepmother has died. She and her stepfather, along with a kooky neighbor Cletus, discover how to "turn the buggy around."

The story is set in West Virginia and felt very familiar. Not that I grew up in poor Appalachia, but the culture is similar to what I did grow up with so I recognize the lingo and the mannerisms.

It's a short sweet tale, the type that has me choking back tears. No major life lessons here, but wonderful lyrical material.

Blubber, by Judy Blume

Continuing my survey of Judy Blume novels...

I actually read Blubber at the age of 12 or so but I don't remember much beyond the ending for some reason. I blocked out the obnoxious little brother or the subplot about vandalizing the mean man's mailbox. I remember the humiliations though. Strange what we remember.

This is of course a classic. Probably one of the better books about peer pressure and the sheer meanness that kids can express to each other. It struck home very hard when I was little since I had been in Blubber's place when I was a kid and struggled with the desire to be a tormentor instead of a tormentee.

Blume never really gives any advice for dealing with the problem and I know I was frustrated by that. To this day, I wonder if there wasn't a better way of dealing with teasing and being teased.

The Face on the Milk Carton, by Caroline B Cooney

OK, the premise sounded really interesting: teenage girl finds a photo of herself on a missing child picture. Then the mystery and the drama of trying to discover the truth of what happened.

Great concept but absolutely lousy delivery. Perhaps I've been spoiled by reading some really good literature lately, but this was utter schlock. The author created the most amazingly two dimensional characters. These folks were so dull I raced through the book just to find some plot to keep me going. The young protagonist starts off interesting (some playfulness, anxiety, and teen angst) and she gets a boyfriend, but they end up both just putting me to sleep. They talk matter of factly about having sex, more like a mechanical thing than any talk about feelings. Her chats with her girlfriends are largely boring as well.

It seems that the author really doesn't know the first thing about teens or how they feel. Instead, there is melodrama, people crying and screaming for no real reason.

There are two other books in the series and when I started I was afraid that I would have to read them all. I won't bother.

Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, by Judy Blume

OK, so here I go into Judy Blume books. I blame Kara of course, because she bought me a pile of them for my birthday. She chose her own personal favorites, so I'll have quite a few of them coming up (although I'll try to intersperse other authors into the mix). I did actually read one or two of them wehn I was growing up, but it was a bit embarassing because they were so obviously girls' books. And the odd thing is that now I read all these "girls' books" now, I still find myself to be a bit embarassed to be reading them.

So, Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great is the story of a girl who spends a summer in tarrytown with her older sister and family. She learns to play with a yo yo and she learns to swim and she has a few adventures, but the pace goes by pretty quickly and there isn't a terrible amount of depth. I suspect that I've grown used to YA literature so intermediate reads seem terribly superficial these days. I had the same problem with the Judy Moody books. It's an OK read, but nothing terribly memorable.

Stop Pretending, by Sonya Sones

Stop Pretending: What Happened When My Big Sister Went Crazy is Sones's first book and her most autobiographical, tracing the story of what she went through when her older sister had a nervous breakdown and had to be hospitalized. Sones's style (free verse poems that run a page or two) can be a bit precious at times, but it worked well in her latter books: What My Mother Doesn't Know and One of Those Horrible Books Where the Mother Dies. In those books, the verse was often witty and individual poems stood on their own.

In this book, it is a bit thin and the poems seem largely based on what a much younger Sones might have written. Authentic, but juvenile and a bit thin.

The problem with here is that there is so much detachment. The character falls in love, but the observations are largely stereotypical and superficial. So in the end, you really don't feel much. Occasional pangs arise over the pain of a family trying to cope and a young woman having to decide what to tell her friends, but this just doesn't reach.

Thankfully, Sones gets a lot better in her latter books.

Speak, by Laurie Halse Anderson

Speak is the type of book I would like, even if it was written poorly. An "issue book" for Young Adults, I'm not really sure if the intended readership would be as gung-ho for it as I. But as a fellow survivor, like the protagonist, I can't help but relive some of my own experiences even as I read about hers.

The story, more or less like the blurb portrays it: A school year in the life of 9th grader Melinda, who loses all of her friends because she called the cops (and got everyone busted) at a party at the end of the summer before the year (and the story begins). We take a leisurely stroll to finding out what happened at that party, during which Melinda's amusing cynical observations about cliques and HS life make for amusing reading. But underneath her sarcasm, there is a achingly painful story to be revealed. And an ending that I really didn't see coming.

Anderson doesn't have a lot of poetry in her writing and there are few really memorable quotes, but the story is engrossing.

As an adult, it is hard to watch a character suffering so much pain, needing so much to reach out for help, and yet denying herself the help that she needs. However, as much as I may hate watching it happen, I have to admit that it rings very true. It took me a decade before I talked about it, so Melinda's 9 months really seems like breakneck speed.

Introduction

I've been trying to think of a good way to post reviews of the books I read, so I've decided to set up this BLOG just for that purpose.

What you'll see is that all of these books are Children's or Young Adults' books. At my age, I'm not supposed to be reading them, but I do. And I enjoy them. I hope you'll pick up a few of these and enjoy them as well.