Spurt, by Chris Miles

Jack is painfully aware of being the only boy in eighth grade who hasn’t started to show the effects of puberty.  He’s shorter and smaller, his voice hasn’t changed, and he’s definitely lacking the block-and-tackle and the hair to show for it.  His insecurity leads him to lie about his development (or lack thereof) to his friends to initially humorous results.  But his lies escalate and are exacerbated when a reality TV show profiles him and his alleged prowess.  Though a very lad-ish premise (the book is Aussie), the tone is very introspective – more Judy Blume (for boys) than John Green.

Jack’s obsession with body hair and having his testicles drop seems very alien to me.  Perhaps, boys today have such obsessions, but it largely seems made up (in my day, we worried more about size!).  The entire premise seems more of an effort to create a mythical boy’s version of body image anxiety.  It doesn’t play out true.  Moreover, it’s an idea in search of an audience.  Who is going to read this  (adolescent boys would be too embarrassed to do so and why would girls even care)?  The subject matter will make this a tough sell in the US for pre-adolecsents.

Jack didn’t win many points for me with his lack of veracity (constantly lying just isn’t that funny) and the really poor way he treats people (and girls in particular).  It’s nice that everyone forgives him in the end, but it didn't make me like him.  And there's only so many gross discussions about testicles and pubic hair that I can stomach.

Still Life With Tornado, by A. S. King

After experiencing a trauma in her art class, sixteen year-old Sarah decides to stop attending school.  She spends her day following a homeless artist around the streets of Philadelphia and hanging out in an abandoned former school building.  School is "unoriginal" and "nothing very happens there" but, in Sarah's world, lots of things are happening.  She's accompanied in her journey by her ten year-old self, her twenty-three year-old self, and even a forty year-old incarnation.  At first, she assumes that these manifestations are hallucinations, but others can see them.  Each Sarah has a role to play in calming the tornado that is Sarah's life.

The novel is also a story of Sarah's damaged family:  her abusive father, wounded mother, and exiled older brother.  They and Sarah come to rely on the wisdom that comes out of Sarah's "existential crisis."

My initial inclination was to discard this unusual and strange book, but I grew to like it more as it moved along.  While still prone to more navel gazing than necessary, I enjoyed the unusual character of Sarah (in all four of her forms). For me, the strong role played by Sarah's abused mother threatened to push the story out of the YA genre, but it ultimately fills out the details in a way that Sarah herself could never have done plausibly.  Dad and brother are less satisfying characters, but still believable.

The other notable feature of the story is the central focus on place.  The action is set largely in Philadelphia and Cancun, and both are described vividly, with a loving eye from a good observer.  Whether it's the claustrophobia of a Philly row house or the algae-infested Gulf off of the resort where Sarah's family stays, the settings resonate and play an active role in the story.  The overall result is a novel about abuse and recovery and manages largely to avoid actual depictions of either.

The Haters, by Jesse Andrews

Wes and Corey can't believe that they were good enough to get a spot at Jazz Summer Camp, but then, that's probably because they actually aren't.  They find themselves relegated to the losers track, where they meet free-spirited rebel Ash who refuses to play in key with the ensemble.  Faced with the dismal possibility of two weeks of camp suckage, the three of them decide to blow off the camp and take their threesome on the road. 

That they can't really play isn't as important as getting their chops giving it a try.  And that they can't find a place to place (even when Ash tries to offer the venues money to let them play) is just a complication.  Persistence, dumb luck, and some close calls follow them on an exodus from Western Pennsylvania to New Orleans.

It's a boy book with a lot of spot-on language (i.e., the two boys spend a lot of time talking about their penises).  That can get really old fast, but Andrews seems to have the sense to pull back before it goes too far.  He also has the good sense to not try to do much with Ash's character (except to make her parrot the boys' crudeness).  That works, but leaves her a bit of a cipher.  What the story has in spades is humor and from the situations themselves (which are often scary freaky, but recalled with such levity that you can't help but chuckle) to the amazing snarky observations about music and musicians, there's a lot to enjoy in the book.

Learning to Swear in America, by Katie Kennedy

An asteroid is hurtling towards Earth, with the potential to cause serious damage, perhaps even exterminate the planet.  A group of American scientists working on the problem are about to have their ranks augmented by a young Russian whiz kid named Yuri.  Yuri's a brilliant specialist in anti-matter and all of seventeen years old.  He holds a doctorate and possesses all sorts of talents, but has never kissed a girl.

Enter a girl (Dovie) and her handicapped brother (Lennon) who cross paths with Yuri by chance.  And suddenly, while the fate of the Earth hangs in the balance, Yuri finds time to sneak into Dovie's classes at her high school and even to take her to the prom!  All very cute and excruciatingly silly.  This is pretty much the tone of the book:  world crisis as seen through the alleged lens of an adolescent. In any case, you needn't worry your head about the science or even the Russian.  But yes, there's is some of the promised profanity in the book.

It's not a bad adventure, but the romantic angle doesn't click as well as it should (strikingly, Yuri's friendship with the little brother Lennon is actually much more fun).  The reason with the lack of fizz is easy enough to identify:  none of the characters really seemed that interesting.  Meanwhile, the ridiculousness of the situation was distracting for me.  It was a book that simply can't be taken too seriously:  a fluffy beach book, without the beach.

Lily and Dunkin, by Donna Gephart

Lily (or Tim, as Dad insists on calling her) wants desperately to start taking hormone blockers before it’s too late and puberty sets in.  Her sister, mother, and best friend Dare accept that she is a girl.  But her father is afraid that she’ll be subject to harassment (or worse) at school if she comes out.  And there is some justification for that fear.

Dunkin is new in town.  Big and tall, he’s still not used to his size or the way people treat him.  When some bullies recruit him for the basketball team, he appreciates being accepted into their group.  But he is torn between wanting to belong and not joining in their petty cruelty to others.  Most of all, he is afraid that they will find out about his mental illness.

Lily and Dunkin is a fairly busy middle reader that tackles not only transgender and mental illness issues, but also conservation.  It means well, but the field of books about transgendered pre-adolescents has become crowded.  While this is not a bad story, it doesn’t add much to the Canon.  It also suffers from being repetitive.  In contrast, the part of the novel dealing with Dunkin’s mental illness seemed fresh and insightful (and much more heartfelt).  As Gephart explains in the afterward, she has some skin in that game and it shows.  I would have put the focus on Dunkin rather than bringing in Lily’s story in the first place.

All in Pieces, by Suzanne Young

When Savannah's (ex-)boyfriend calls her little brother a "retard," she impales his hand with a pencil and gets sent to an alternative school.  That same fierce reaction drives her to expend any effort to take care of her little brother, who her alcoholic father has long since written off.  It's a losing battle.  Savannah's almost a child herself and juggling school, her brother, her friends' various issues, and her disintegrating life is too much.  But into that world strides Cameron, a boy with a silver spoon in his mouth and a burning desire to break through Savannah's hard exterior, with perhaps enough persistence to outlast her.

A love story in a terribly depressing setting.  One bad thing after another happens to Savannah.  At first, it annoyed me that so many of her tragedy's were self-inflicted (or at least made worse) by her unwillingness to seek or accept help.  After a while, I began to understand how central her pride was to her ability to survive.  But in the end, when she throws away that pride as well, I returned to my disgust with her ego and her arrogance.  We're told in the last chapter that she fixed up her life by accepting the help she had rejected throughout the novel, all of which seemed like a cop out.  It was, in fact, that story of learning humility, finding inner peace, and learning to trust that was the interesting part of the story...but it simply wasn't there.  It all happened off stage! 

So, if you want to read a story about a girl that hits rock bottom and then -- after a big flash forward -- fixes her life, this would be a good story for you.

The Boomerang Effect, by Gordon Jack

Lawrence lives in the crosshairs of his principal.  And to escape from potential deportation to an alternative school (or a military academy), Lawrence agrees to mentor a young foreign student from Norway named Spencer.  Seeing how socially awkward Spencer is, Lawrence has his work cut out for him.  But even if he succeeds in making Spencer socially acceptable, it seems unlikely that this small piece of good will can help rescue Lawrence.  That's because of the Boomerang Effect:  no good deed goes unpunished.

There's a vandal disguised in the school's mascot viking costume, going around and destroying Homecoming, and everyone assumes it's Lawrence who's the culprit.  But with some help from some LARPers, a wise squirrel guide, and Spencer, Lawrence will fight ninjas, climb towers, and tussle with rabid chickens to clear his name.

Every male YA author seems to wants to be John Green these days, or at least have his wit.  This usually gets manifested through snarky (and sometimes crude) writing. In Jack's case, he adds a quirky sense of the world through creating a very busy story.  In addition to the squirrels and chickens, there's Lawrence's oddball parents, his inarticulate best friend, Spencer and his possible autism, pot smoking, Lawrence's origami hobby, and numerous other characters.  Some of these matter and some just serve to entertain or distract.  Among the most interesting threads is Lawrence's inability to be comfortable in his own skin, but this is maddeningly underdeveloped.  Amidst this chaos, the story itself struggles to emerge.

Every Exquisite Thing, by Matthew Quick

Nanette's favorite teacher gives her a copy of the out-of-print cult classic The Bubblegum Reaper.  Reading it, she becomes obsessed with its Catcher in the Rye-like story of non-conformity.  Her own life is on a pathway to success (popularity, sports acumen, good grades, etc.) but the book opens her eyes to the way that her life has been missing authenticity and meaning.  She tracks down the novel's reclusive writer and makes contact with other fans.  And she and these young fans seek the answers to their lives which have been missing.  Along the way, there a variety of successes and mistakes.

An interesting story that will resonate with outsiders and introverts (i.e., the vast majority of bookish teens), although Nanette's ability to move among both popular cliques and outsiders will be alien.  The search for greater meaning is universally adolescent.  Surprisingly, while the topic is well-trod, there's room for Quick to have a few fresh things to say.

As a result, the story has a timelessness to it that will give it some legs, but is there really room for a new classic about the shallowness of modern civilization?  Do we need more rejection of the  cynical adult world?  Or are we too attached to media spin-offs and stories about superheroes?  For those who are looking for relief from mass-commercialism, this is the book!

Summer Days and Summer Nights, ed by Stephanie Perkins

Summer.  Long days.  No school.  Lots of time to explore new friendships.  Beaches.  Summer camps.  Plenty of decent material to utilize in writing a short story, right?  So, what do you get when you ask twelve YA writers to attack the subject?  Sea monsters, carnival demons, funiculars, and time paradoxes!  That's because Perkins’s anthology is the weirdest collection of summer romance stories ever!  Highlights include Francesca Lia Black’s nostalgic look at romance in the early 80s (a favorite for personal reasons, but one which will probably just seem quaint to the young whippersnappers!), Jon Skovron’s comedy of manners and riff on Jane Austen, Lev Grossman’s tip of the hat to Groundhog Day, and Perkins’s own story of love lost and rediscovered on the highest mountain east of the Mississippi.

In between, there are a bunch of largely forgettable pieces and more than a few (that I’d just as soon skip) going for the gore factor.  The overall challenge that each author faced (to mixed levels of success) was developing a character that was engaging and meaningful in just thirty pages.  Creating a story that was worth reading and had something to say in that short space was also a trial.  I found this collection a mixed bag.

Spare and Found Parts, by Sarah Maria Griffin

In a post-apocalyptic world, destroyed when the world became so overrun with the lust for data that people no longer spoke to each other, technology is both worshiped and feared.  Since the Turn, three rules now hold sway:

1)  The sick in the Pale, the healed in the Pasture.
2)  Contribute, at all cost.
3)  All code is blasphemy.

Nell is the pride of her father's Contribution: part human girl, part machine.  It is her father's prosthetics and machinery that allow her to live.  And in the world after the Turn, where people are frequently born without all of their parts, his particular technology is tolerated.  Still, she is shunned and feared.

In addition to her loneliness, Nell is under pressure to make her own Contribution (alternatively, she could join her Nan and her followers in the Pasture to pray against technology but this holds no appeal).  But until she comes across a mannequin boy's hand one day, she doesn't know what she can do.  Now she does:  she will build a companion, a friend, someone she can talk to, someone who isn't afraid of her machine parts.  But her contribution will offer much more to the world than Nell can even imagine!

A moody and often hard-to-track story that owes some gratitude to Mary Shelley, but seems just as inspired by Johnny Mnemonic and cyberpunk.  The result is original and very very strange.  When your heroine's life-altering kiss is delivered by an android with a tea pot for its head, you know you aren't dealing with typical YA tropes!

It is so rare (and so special) to find an author of science fiction with something to say and an original way to say it.  And it doesn't hurt that she's a good writer!  The writing is fluid and oft times quite beautiful and the characters strong and vibrant -- all of which makes the weirdness of the settings and events all the more strange.  Beautiful and haunting!

What Light, by Jay Asher

Every year, Sierra and her family spend the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas selling trees in California.  It's something that Sierra both dreads and enjoys.  She'll miss her friends back in Oregon, but she has a Californian BFF as well that she looks forward to seeing each year.  This year, however, may be the last time she gets to go -- her parents are thinking of switching to wholesaling their Christmas trees and foregoing the trip.

This year is also special in another way:  Sierra meets a new boy named Caleb and falls in love for the first time.  But Caleb has a dark history and just about everyone wants to break them apart.  Will their relationship be able to withstand the pressure (as well as the fact that the two lovers only have a few weeks together)?

You can probably guess what will happen.  And if you know Asher's writing you'll also know that a great deal of winding up of the tension will be met with a fizzling climax (why anyone likes his works is incomprehensible to me -- I'll consider this my last attempt to understand his success).  For example, the parental disapproval (based upon the rather smothering desire to protect their daughter from the heartbreak of a relationship doomed to fall apart more than concern over Caleb's dark past) is diffused shockingly uneventfully.  And conflicts with friends and other peers never fully solidify.  The most interesting subplot (an estrangement between Caleb and her friend Jeremiah) is resolved bizarrely.  The writing is pretty but the action of the story really goes nowhere and often makes no sense.

Asking for It, by Louise O'Neill

Emma is beautiful and tough.  Her girlfriends have her back and with boys she’s fearless.  So, as the summer begins, Emma is on the prowl.  She knows the guy she wants and she’ll be certain to have him.

But after a night of which she has no memory, she is found bleeding and beaten on the porch of her home.  Shortly afterwards, the pictures start to appear on the Internet.  Her instinct is to put up a tough front and claim that it is all good.  But when Emma realizes that her nightmare isn’t going to go away, she is convinced to accuse her attackers.  In doing so she learns a hard truth:  things will only get worse.

It's an indictment of public attitudes towards rape (set in more conservative Ireland but not much different from the States).  And O’Neill sets up a difficult scenario, making Emma reckless, promiscuous, and unreliable, but sticking nonetheless to the narrative that no one “asks” to be raped.  I’d like to believe that even as flawed as person as Emma would be believed by the reader, but the story is ambiguous enough that I could see some readers doubting her version of what happened.

As a story (rather than as a polemic), it’s a drab, depressing read, with a very ambivalent (albeit authentic) ending.  That makes the story a difficult read.  But O’Neill has a good feeling for dialog and for characters.  The various players felt quite real and vivid, regardless of age or background.

Love Bomb, by Jenny McLachlan

OK, here's something silly from the UK in honor of V-Day coming up...

Betty has got it bad for Toby.  She can't do anything else but obsess about kissing him.  And she knows he likes her back because he's even asked her to sing in his band.  But why is that the more she learns about him the more what she learns bothers her?  Why can't his hot body be attached to someone nicer like her best friend Bill?  If only she could ask her Mum for advice, but she passed away when Betty was two.  And now all she has left are letters her mother wrote to her -- letters, in which she finds wisdom and solace.

Oh, it's so so filled of cliches.  From the bad boy who's no good for the girl and the nice boy she overlooks.  From the squealing gossip and the loud crazy unchaperoned party.  There's the clueless Dad with the new (threatening, but really quite nice) girlfriend.  The awkward first kiss and the perfect one that concludes the book.  And, of course, there's the dead mother.  Do tween readers really don't care that they've read this story a hundred times before (probably not!).  In any case, there's not much new under the sun here.  The kids are fun to spend some time with, but this is light young love.

Finally, there's the awkward question of targeted age.  The kids here are so innocent about sex and romance, that I'm prone to plug this as a middle reader, but the drugs, alcohol, and criminal content definitely puts it into the adolescent category.  Is there something between tween and teen?

Ask Me How I Got Here, by Christine Heppermann

Addie's story of terminating her unwanted pregnancy and the aftermath of her decision gains that certain pathos through verse that could only have been achieved in prose with lots of ellipses.  Verse is the perfect way to tell a story where the heroine doesn't really know what she feels and grows easily anxious over that reluctance.

The most original part of this story, is the way that Heppermann explores not just abortion, but the way that other people try to oversimplify the experience. She does an excellent job of exposing this through both the meddling boyfriend (and potential father) and the well-meaning (but clueless) student-activist.  Messing the waters a bit are the matters of Addie's changing tastes in pastimes and her evolving sexual orientation.  Catholicism, as usual, does not come off particularly well.

With verse novels, the temptation to grow overly precious is a major risk.  And rather than allow myself to be sucked in by the easy final poignant phrase, I focus on the quality of the verse itself (in particular, if any of the pieces can stand on its own) and on the originality of the thoughts.  While there are a few standout pieces, for the most part the verse is high-school notebook-level stuff -- pretty, but not terribly deep.  On the idea front, Heppermann does better.  I particularly enjoyed Addie's snarky comments about the Bible (guaranteed to offend religious people with thin skins, they are just the sort of doubt that I always find vital for faith).

It was a fast read.  Combined with a decent subject, some good ideas, and competent writing, this is enjoyable stuff.  Not a classic, but certainly not bad.

Unscripted Joss Byrd, by Lygia Day Penaflor

Joss Byrd is the hottest young actress in America, but she can't help but feel like that she's a fake.  She's got talent, but she struggles to even read her scripts.  And as much as she owes her success to her mother's drive, she also fears her Mom's penchant for sabotaging her successes.  During a shoot of a movie in Montauk, Joss faces some hard cold realities about the movie business, including the cost of fame and success.

Told with sensitivity and insight by a woman who actually works in the film business as a tutor for child actors, the novel exposes an entire world that few of us know much about (even if we think we know the people so well!).  But the characters themselves are hard to relate with.  From her experiences, Joss has to be wise beyond her years and Penaflor does a decent job of capturing that, but it's hard to connect with her.  The relationships around her are also naturally superficial.

Lacking much in characters, what we really have is the story and that tends to drift from idea to idea.  The story is full of unresolved issues (the director's infidelities, the relationship with the director's sister, her mother's exploitation of Joss and the jealousy she feels for Joss's success, and Joss's feelings for her co-star) that largely just fade away.  The wrap of the film (and the story) comes so suddenly that I didn't even realize it was over until we were told that it was.

On the separate subject of marketing this story, there are different challenges.  The thematic material is probably a bit mature for a middle reader, but since Joss is per-pubescent, it's unlike that young adult readers will be interested in her.  The ideal reader would be a ten year-old with a good foundation!  And finally, what's with the cover? Couldn't they have picked a younger model?  The one depicted is obviously too old to be Joss!