Smile for the Camera, by Kelle James

At the age of sixteen, Kelle decides to leave her abusive father and go to New York City to pursue her dream of becoming a professional model. Innocent and naive, she has a fair share of problems getting started, ranging from financial insecurity and unsafe living arrangements to dealing with sexual predators. But with the right friends she learns how to navigate the dangers of the modeling industry and eventually succeeds on her own terms.

As this is an autobiography, there isn't much of a point in criticizing the story itself. The bigger question is whether it is worth reading? There's no denying that the subject matter (small-town girl struggles to make it big in the big city) has inherent appeal and any girl who has dreamed of becoming a model will find the lessons taught here to be valuable. But, as told here, the path from rags to riches, is not terribly compelling. There is certainly plenty of difficulties in the beginning, but actually finding work doesn't seem to take Kelle very long and there never seems to be much risk of failure.

The story is also cluttered with a tangential subplot about a friend who is accused of murder. And this causes other subplots about things that would normally be considered important in a story like this (her strained relationship with her family, for example) to be underdeveloped and sidelined. Flashbacks to Kelle's childhood are also surprisingly unrevealing. The writing itself is technically strong, so there is no denying Ms. James's talents, but the narrative is rough and poorly executed.

Ship Breaker, by Paolo Bacigalupi

In the near future, Nailer is a lucky boy. He's small enough to crawl inside of rusting old tankers to help salvage crews strip the wrecks of copper wire and other useful parts. It's rough work and his people live dangerous and hard lives. But things may be changing for the better.

After a heavy storm, a luxury boat washes up on the shore and, while salvaging it, Nailer finds a girl inside, barely alive. The easy solution would be to finish her off and claim the fortune in salvage that awaits. It could be the very break that he needs to start a new life elsewhere. But instead, something causes him to rescue her, launching a high stakes race to save much more than Nailer could ever have dreamed possible.

Rough and explicitly gruesome, this is a hard book to stomach. In comparison with, let's say, the last Hunger Games book, this is excruciatingly violent. And, like Matched, after a while the violence just numbs you because it comes on so hard and heavy that there really is no way to raise the volume. So, as with my review of that book, I'd say that Bacigalupi could benefit from learning that less is truly more. I was also distracted from the obvious pitch to get Hollywood interested in the story. Every description seemed designed to guide a screenplay. And it left it difficult for me to enjoy the story as a novel.

But that much aside, this is gripping stuff. While only explained in bits and pieces, this is basically a post-global warming world (think Waterworld for the obvious parallel) with a number of logical conclusions about the nature of things. Just the right mix of Mad Max and An Inconvenient Truth. The characters are rough and mean (there's not much human development here), but they get the job done and it's very effective. And if it is all a bit derivative, so much the better for making it familiar.

Okay For Now, by Gary D. Schmidt

When Doug's father loses his job, he drags the family to Upstate New York, settles them in "the Dump" (as Doug calls it), and Doug and his brother are forced to eke by in "stupid" Marysville. Doug hates the town, he hates snooty Lil Spicer, he hates the teachers (and they hate him), and he hates his angry abusive Dad.

But things start to change when Doug discovers a copy of Audobon's classic drawings of birds in the town library. With some patient prodding from a librarian, Doug discovers his own talent for drawing. And when Doug learns that the town is cannibalizing the book (selling individual pages out of the book) to pay its bills, he sets out to "make things whole." This mission, along with working things out with his brother and father (and an older brother returning from Vietnam), present a series of challenges which Doug manages (sometimes implausibly) to resolve through a mixture of luck and mature insight.

Schmidt is a great writer and has given Doug a very distinctive voice which makes Doug seem very uneducated despite his insightfulness. It's a stereotypical New Yowrk voice (think Neil Simon's Brighton Beach Memoirs as an example) and a bit less original that Schmidt's other heroes, but he still draws you in. Besides Doug, there are a lot of characters here and Schmidt manages to make each of them distinct. The narration, meanwhile, is well-done and spare (for a children's book, surprisingly little is spelled out, leaving the reader to often do the work of inferring what has happened). Schmidt also works in a number of subtle historical details (the story is set in 1968-69) that will intrigue readers and inspire further study. Schmidt does seem to feel the pressure to give the book a too-good-to-be-true ending, but is brave enough to leave a few crucial plot threads unresolved to give the reader a dose of reality.

All that said, there is an odd tension in the book that causes me to withhold giving it the high marks that others have offered. While Schmidt paints a pretty dreary view of Doug's life (poverty, illiteracy, and abuse), he seems scared to really run with the ramifications of this darkness. And so, in almost the counterpoint to his oft-quoted phrase "when things start to go pretty good, something usually happens to turn everything bad," every time something bad happens to Doug, a miraculous solution presents itself and Doug (often in implausibly mature fashion) digs himself out. How else to describe ridiculous subplots like getting cast in a Broadway play and having baseball idol Joe Pepitone asking for his autograph? I get the idea that Schmidt wants to show how even a young person can think their way out of trouble, but given the dark nature of the book, I little more honesty seemed called for.

Other Words For Love, by Lorraine Zago Rosenthal

When Ari starts at Hollister, her best friend Summer (who already goes there) isn't around to guide her, but she quickly befriends another girl, Leigh. Leigh comes from a wealthy family in Manhattan and, in turn, introduces Ari to an entirely different lifestyle of fancy penthouses, parties in the Empire State, and hired cars. Leigh also introduces Ari to her cousins Del and Blake. Ari is immediately infatuated with bad boy Del, but Leigh warns her off. Instead, it is Blake that gets Ari under his spell. Despite her mother's warnings, Ari is swept away. Soon, her grades, her friendships, and her family life begin to suffer from her infatuation. When it ends abruptly, Ari is devastated and has to rebuild her life.

Set in the 1980s, there are obviously autobiographical elements present in the novel. This helps fill out details (and the book is chock full of amazing details). But, as usual, my worry is whether Rosenthal actually has a real work of fiction within her -- it's one thing to tell the story of your life, but can you write as well when it doesn't all come from within? We'll only know when/if she brings out her second novel. One thing is for certain, she has cut no corners in depicting her characters in depth, with the sympathy that can only come from living for each and every one of them and having decades to separate herself from the inspiring events. The book is dark and depressing, but captivating and addictive. What we get here reminded me an awful lot of the film "An Education" (a decent film set about 25 years earlier in London) -- same idealistic girl going places and getting sidetracked by love.

The details can grow burdensome. Somewhere after 200 pages, Rosenthal seemed to realize that the pace needed to be picked up. As a result, the ending is more than a bit rushed. Some of this is also because the story (so interesting when it was in the romance-phase) just doesn't hold much once we're in the recovery phase. Hardly anything is said about the healing process, which is a shame since it probably would have been the best part.

So Shelly, by Ty Roth

Imagine if the bad boys (and girl) of early 19th century English Lit (Keats, the Shelleys, and Byron) were alive today, and if (instead of being iconoclastic, gifted, and idealistic young writers) they were gifted and narcissistic contemporary adolescents. This is what Roth invites us to do in his novel, which is part ode to the ideals of the Romantics and part mash-up of early-modern and contemporary culture and values.

Ostensibly, the story is about Gordon Byron and John Keats's plot to steal the cremains of their mutual friend Shelly from her funeral and to scatter them on an island in Lake Erie. But the exercise becomes an excuse for Keats (the overall narrator) to reminisce about where the three of them have been and to hash through their ideas and ideals. As one would expect, Byron plays a larger than life role in all of this and Keats mostly exists to humbly record Byron's extravagance and Shelly's neuroticism.

It's a fascinating concept and often works in its ability to find clever parallels between the often self-centered life of these literary titans and the insular world of a contemporary teen. The idealism of the trio in this novel sounds authentically adolescent, while simultaneously mirroring the models. But there are problems with the parallel as well, not least of which are the age discrepancies. The commitment and agency of the originals doesn't translate well to the cloistered life of 21st century young people. More to the point, it's hard to accept that these young people could be as artistically successful (or educated) as their role models were. This makes the idea of Gordon's early literary prowess implausible (could a contemporary teen write Manfred?).

As for Roth's writing, it is inconsistent. The first eighty pages or so are witty and smart, but Roth starts to lose steam after that. His overall weakness is dialogue and as the characters grow chattier and engage in philosophical observations about life, the narrative grows dull. The words are mostly out of the 19th century and out of synch with the characters.

Still, as someone who is himself rather obsessed with the Romantics (and the Shelleys in particular), I can definitely see the appeal in the idea. Laying out the youthful optimism of the period and pointing out its relevance even 200 years later is a valuable insight. As imperfectly as it may have been implemented, it is a wonderful concept.

Bitter Melon, by Cara Chow

Frances has lived her life so far (or rather, had it lived for her) in the name of her mother and her mother's needs. Couched in the terms of Confucian filial loyalty, she has devoted herself totally to pleasing her mother, which has meant focusing of her education so she can get into Berkeley and then go to medical school (and thus care for her mother financially and physically for perpetuity). It's a clear plan and one that Frances's Mom drives into her head constantly. But when a clerical error lands Frances in a speech class (instead of Calculus), an unorthodox teacher helps Frances discover her talents as a writer and public speaker. And she discovers that she has a lot to say in her own voice.

Starting as a stereotype about tiger mothers, and a predictable tirade against Asian child-raising techniques, the story morphs into abuse as the story progresses. There's a point at which this becomes less plausible and more one-sided, and thus less compelling. It's also a depressing affair and the book doesn't really attempt to redeem itself. So, while the writing is good and the characters (especially the daughter, but there are some attempts to explain the mother) are well-developed, there is an overriding helplessness to the narrative that makes reading less-than-enjoyable.

As usual with novels that seem so transparently autobiographical, I have to ask whether Chow is really capable of writing fiction. Does she have another story in her that isn't just settling scores with her childhood? Having told this story of a familiar childhood, will she be able to move on to something else?

The Fortune of Carmen Navarro, by Jen Bryant

A shy military cadet meets a sexy and enticing gypsy girl who works at the local convenience store and dreams of becoming a popular singer. They have a passionate affair but the girl loves her music most of all and eventually finds the boy's attentions too constricting. The boy doesn't handle the rejection well, becomes obsessed, and chases after the girl, with tragic results. If the story sounds a bit familiar already, this last detail will clinch it: the girl's name is Carmen.

Loosely based on the story that inspired Bizet's famous opera, Bryant has not just modernized the tale (placing it in contemporary Valley Forge), but added more nuances to the title character. More than a seductress, this Carmen is a young woman with vision and will. She know who she wants to be and will fight whatever demons she has to in order to fulfill her dreams. It is Ryan (this version's Don Jose) who is the relatively less substantial character. Both Ryan's best friend Will and Carmen's best friend Maggie play substantial roles as well.

It's a good adaptation that just may draw a few readers to the opera, by showing that a great story is a great story. I don't see it is earth shattering (and it is obviously not original), but it performs the valuable purpose of decent modernizations: taking a classic story and making it accessible to a newer audience.

The Girl Who Became a Beatle, by Greg Taylor

With perhaps the coolest book cover of 2011 so far, this is a playful fantasy on the dangers of wish fulfillment. In this case, Regina is obsessed with The Beatles and her tribute band (The Caverns) is her means of relating to the world. This all starts to look unhealthy when her band breaks up and Regina loses it. As she hits bottom, she makes a desperate plea for fame (keep the band together and make them famous). When she wakes up the next morning, her wish has been granted. She has become as famous as The Beatles or, more to the point, she has replaced them -- taking credit for both Lennon and McCartney and all of their compositions. Naturally, the question that arises is whether fame is everything it is cracked up to be.

It's a clever idea with a satisfying ending that moves beyond the fantasy to say some original things about wishes and self-empowerment. This, in spite of the fact that the ending won't surprise anyone (and isn't meant to). And the story, which is very much at risk of becoming ridiculous, saves itself quite handily by not being entirely predictable. After all, the idea that The Beatles (or a band like them) could exist - even in an alternate universe - in the contemporary day is ludicrous. The music of The Beatles was very much a product of its time and was essential for what followed. So, the idea that Dr Dre, the Edge, and Madonna could be hearing "Yesterday" for the first time in 2011 is implausible (since they probably wouldn't exist without The Beatles paving the way). But taken less literally (and the novel offers its own explanations), the concept works well as a medium for an allegory.

A minor criticism would be the need for better editing. Taylor packs in a lot of subplots (reconciling Mom and Dad, Regina's relationship with her mother, fighting for her bandmate Lorna) that simply get lost in the story and which would probably have been best left out altogether.

Exposed, by Kimberly Marcus

Liz prides herself on her fine eye for a photo and her ability to frame an image. So, it takes her by surprise when her best friend Kate suddenly stops talking to her after a sleepover. She's even more surprised when Kate comes out and accuses Liz's older brother of raping her that night. Liz wants to believe her best friend, but it's hard to see her own brother as such a monster. When Kate decides to press charges, Liz finds herself torn between her loyalty to her best friend and her ties to her family.

The plot has wonderful dramatic potential, but the decision to write it in verse adds a challenge that Marcus never really rises up to. Verse works when it has something to say. In this case, it sounded more like an attempt to avoid having to writing annoying transitions. To me, the decision in this case felt like lazy writing.

And the cost of choosing to write this in verse is that it is much harder to fill out the characters and give them life. Kate never really gets the development she needs and Liz's family is similarly flat. As a result, I didn't really feel the pain that Liz was going through choosing between them. And the potential impact of the story was diminished.

Delirium, by Lauren Oliver

In Lena's world, falling in love is a disease - the deliria nervosa. Thankfully, the state has a cure for it. Unfortunately, you don't get the treatment until you are 18. Lena can hardly wait. Her own mother died of the disease and Lena is determined not to follow in her footsteps. However, when Lena meets Alex, she begins to fear that it might be too late. Alex is beautiful and enchanting and Lena is swept off her feet. She can feel the disease getting its grip on her. But Alex is far more dangerous than Lena suspects. He reveals another side to the world she lives in -- a side of darkness and deceit. Soon, the stakes are much higher than any love-struck delirium.

As dystopias go, the premise of this one is silly and implausible. Only an adolescent could really believe that grownups want to take away your ability to love. Even as a metaphor for human agency, the set-up doesn't really work. In the end, the setting is really just there to create the action. And for that, Oliver certainly throws up the volume pretty high. There is plenty of action and enough visuals here to power the film that is slated to go into production soon.

The writing suffers from poor pacing. I got pretty bored of the constant mention of "unbearable shooting pain." As they say in Princess Bride, "you keep using these words, but I don't think they mean what you think they do." How much agony and terror can Lena take? And how much more of it do I have to read about? At the very least, I wanted Lena to admit that the pain/terror/fear she felt twenty pages back was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. The ending (and its accompanying cliffhanger) won't really surprise anyone either. I'd suggest waiting for the movie and skipping the book.

Inconvenient, by Margie Gelbwasser

Alyssa has the normal problems of a 15 year-old YA heroine (a boyfriend who may or may not like her, a best friend who has grown distant, etc.), but then she also has some less usual issues (being a Russian-Jewish-American and having an alcoholic mother). Her father, in denial, tries to convince Alyssa that her Mom's struggles are just an "inconvenience." However, Russian stereotypes aside, we get to see how Alyssa's mother's disease grows and threatens the entire family through the course of the novel.

I loved the Russian cultural details (reminding me of my many Russian-Jewish friends in the 1980s). I really liked the sensitive and nuanced way that Gelbwasser handled the topic of alcoholism (particularly in a culture that has trouble admitting that it is a disease). Avoiding any melodrama, we get a knowledgeable and sympathetic portrayal of how addiction destroys families. And the ending, as devastating as it is, felt honest and authentic.

With such a strong setting and a superb theme, I was maddened by the cluttered state of the rest of the story. So many themes (racism, the romance with Keith, teen substance abuse, and even the beautiful butterfly imagery that starts off the story and graces the cover) never get developed. I wanted the number of themes weeded down and the ideas allowed to grow. There is so much beauty in the writing, but a more ruthless editor could have made more happen with it.

Red Riding Hood, by Sarah Blakley-Cartwright

For years, the village has been victimized by a werewolf, but the town has had an implicit deal: regular sacrifices are left and the monster leaves the villagers alone. But something has changed and the werewolf has begun to attack the villagers brazenly. Valerie, unbeknownst to her neighbors, has always felt a link with the creature, just as she has also been drawn to outcast bad boy Peter. Her parents would have her marry rich boy Henry, but her heart belongs to Peter. And Peter may be far more than he initially appears. With peace and order disturbed, an inquisitor and professional werewolf slayer arrives to rescue the town, but his efforts unleash blood and mayhem across the village.

While loosely inspired by the fairy tale, this book (and the movie on which it is based) is largely drawn from the success of the Twilight series and represents (in my mind) the quintessential werewolf fantasy -- girl falls for local bad boy who is probably also a lycanthrope, she forsakes her family and friends (who conveniently disown her), and she gives herself over to his ... er... desire. Neither she nor the boy really have much more than lust going for them, so this is basically YA porn. But you all know that, whether you like it or condemn it.

I haven't seen the movie, but my sense is that it must be fairly violent based upon the body count and the graphic descriptions in the book (the sex is pretty graphic too, but I'm more bothered by the violence). The characters seem pretty shallow here, which is striking since a novelization should have afforded the opportunity to expand where a film could not. And the plot is nonsensical (or missing the details from the screenplay that explained the flow). In sum, I wasn't terribly impressed. The exercise seemed largely derivative, even though the idea (riffing of the Brothers Grimm) was promising.

The Exile of Gigi Lane, by Adrienne Maria Vrettos

Gigi Lane is an A-list girl, and an over-the-top caricature of the popular girl, or in her words, a "head hottie." In her junior year, she has her sights set on one thing, being inducted into the position officially, as leader of the "Hot Spot" (the very highest clique in her school -- Swan's Lake Country Day). And the cliques at Swan's Lake are carefully and explicitly regimented: the "Mr. T's" (drama), "Vox Foxes" (school paper), Cheerleaders, "Whompers" (LARPers), and so on. In this world, it really would seem that Gigi's self-affirmation ("I'm Gigi Lane and you wish you were me") was true. She's the top dog and destined for greatness.

But then, a major scandal at the year-end Founder's Ball endangers Gigi's ambitions. She is disgraced and sent to Alaska for the summer to clean fish. When she returns, she has lost all of her status and has to rebuild her disgraced brand from scratch. While readers will expect her to eventually succeed in her rehabilitation (and maybe to develop a conscience and a soul along the way), the ending is so completely unexpected and bizarre that readers have an exciting surprise to look forward to. Suffice it to say, that the mean-girl genre never was skewered so brilliantly before!

If you read the book straight, Gigi's utter meanness will be very unappealing. And the exaggerated portrayal of high school cliques will bother most readers as unrealistic. But both criticisms miss the point in this social satire. The usual cliches are all present, but sent up in such a ridiculous fashion that they cannot be taken seriously. The result is a contemporary novel in the grand tradition of Oscar Wilde or George Bernard Shaw, but without all that pesky literary mustiness. Enjoy the laugh!

The Queen of Water, by Laura Resau and Maria Virginia Farinango

Born in a poor rural area of Ecuador, Virginia had a tough beginning. In a community of subsistence farmers, where alcoholism and domestic violence is rife, no one really expects to make much of their life. Children are seen as commodities and, at the age of seven, Virginia is given away to a middle-class family in the city as a servant. While Virginia thinks that it is to be a temporary arrangement, the family enslaves her, subjecting her to physical (and eventually sexual) abuse, until she manages to escape and rebuild her life. Strikingly, despite the years of abuse she has endured, Virginia remains thankful for the opportunities that the family has given her and goes through regular struggles with rejecting them altogether.

From an early age, Virginia realizes that a good part of her struggle is fighting the racial prejudice that exists between the indigenous peoples and the mixed-race (and lighter-skinned) mestizos. Without any direct help, she figures out the logic of this system of inequality and develops her own strong viewpoints and sense of self-worth. The strong tear-jerking ending provides the emotional payoff that the reader needs having survived Virginia's struggles and near-disasters along the way.

In gripping detail, The Queen of Water outlines the true story of Virginia's efforts to overcome her roots and society's prejudices. It's a magical story, made all the more enticing by Resau's beautiful writing and her multi-layered approach to Latin America culture. The fact that this is a biography narrated and co-written by its heroine makes it interesting, but in lesser hands than Resau (who acts as an experienced cultural translator) it could well have become pedantic and dull. Instead, Resau brings in extensive local color and just enough education to make the book seem "good for you" but not so much that it seems like a reading assignment.

Cryer's Cross, by Lisa McMann

It's a huge shock for the small town of Cryer's Cross when freshman Tiffany Quinn goes missing. Nearly the entire town turns out to help with the search, but she is never found. When Kendall's best friend (and possible boyfriend) Nico also disappears, the shock hits closer to home. She is devastated. And while the town's suspicions fall on brooding newcomer Jacian, Kendall develops an alternative explanation when she starts hearing voices and seeing signs that no one else notices. Is she going mad or does she have access to clues through her OCD that could lead her to Tiffany and Nico?

Chilling and creepy, this is a story that will give you goosebumps while you read it and nightmares afterwards. It combines McMann's signature obsession with voices from beyond (see the Wake series) and gives it a moderately more plausible situation in the form of OCD-suffering Kendall. The result worked for me and is not nearly as silly as it might sound.

Kendall is also a much more interesting character for me than Wake's Janie (who went from tortured soul to whining super-detective a bit too quickly for my tastes). Kendall's OCD is easier to grasp and her rather human hesitations and weaknesses seemed more real. The potential romance with Jacian is predictable but handled nicely and doesn't interfere with what is otherwise a nice creepy ghost story.

Never Been Kissed, by Melody Carlson

Elise is almost sixteen years old and she's never been kissed. While she impresses a younger girl in her apartment complex with her (exaggerated) worldliness, Elise knows that she's a fake. But when she meets a cute boy named Asher, she wonders if he could be the one. He's friendly enough and is sending her flirtatious emails. The problem is that he's taken.

From there, the story could have predictably become a sweet romance about boy and girl trying to find each other and Elise (maybe) finally getting her kiss. But that's not what Carlson has in mind. Instead, the subject of being unkissed gets sidelined by serious criminal accusations lodged against Elise. She must do everything she can to protect her reputation. Thankfully, she has faith in God to pull her through.

I am always on the lookout for YA books that address honest explorations of faith, but this sort of "inspirational" literature makes my skin crawl. Harping on about how "being a Christian" making you better than Lutherans (or anyone else) and proving your faith by attending services and judging others who do not isn't faith -- it's prejudice and arrogance. So, I tried my best to ignore the gratuitous references to faith here and didn't bother taking them seriously.

Oddly enough, the book actually worked as a decent whodunit. Yes, I think I might have preferred a more innocent book about kissing, but I enjoyed what the book was really about (integrity and making good decisions). There were a few plot points that seemed blazingly obvious, but the story unfolds nicely and I kept eagerly turning the pages.

This isn't a book for those with an interest in strong character development. The characters are flat and some of them (like the adults in authority) are grossly exaggerated, but Elise herself is appealing and multi-faceted. In many ways, this helps to keep the focus firmly on Elise and keeps the pace brisk.

Banished, by Sophie Littlefield

Hailey has always been at the bottom of the social hierarchy in Trashtown MO. But when a girl in her gym class suffers a serious injury, Hailey discovers that she has the ability to heal people. That's when things start to go terribly wrong. Strange men show up looking for her. Her grandmother starts acting suspicious. And when Hailey's long-lost aunt shows up out of the blue, all heck breaks loose. Soon, Hailey and her aunt are on the run from a greedy scientist, hired goons, a sociopath neighbor, and zombies!

I liked the way the book began (with a struggling teen trying to fit in amidst some pretty dark settings), but by the time we got to the marauding zombies I had pretty much lost interest. The ending gets pretty busy and ends on a cliffhanger (which suggests a sequel, of course, but doesn't really seem justified), which left me with too many unsatisfying loose ends. Hailey begins as an interesting heroine, but once the violence level kicks up (there's an amazing amount of non-fatal gunshots here), she becomes rather drab.

Trapped, by Michael Northrop

When school is cancelled early because of a snow storm, Scotty's first worry is that his big game that evening will be cancelled. But when he and six other kids find themselves trapped at the school in the middle of an incredible blizzard, things take a more serious turn. By the time their tale of survival has drifted into days, events have grown fatal. What develops is classic disaster novel stuff, but told through the lens of a group of resourceful teens.

This isn't a very touchy feely book, focusing more on the action than the books I normally read, but there is a certain amount of male posturing and psychological drama. In addition, some intimations that a romance might develop are factored in, but as Scotty himself says, this isn't a boy-meets-girl story. What it is is a pretty decent adventure story with a group of fairly believable teens, who make a couple of decent choices as well as a fair share of stupid decisions. It all seems in character.

The novel is hardly earth-shattering, but it's entertaining. Northrop knows how to keep the pace up and ratchet up the suspense. The ending comes on a bit sudden but it's satisfying, even if not terribly deep.

The Properties of Water, by Hannah Roberts McKinnon

When a tragic accident takes Lacey's older sister and mother away, Lace and her Dad must try to cope with maintaining the house and healing from their losses. Simply maintaining the house is struggle enough. Enter Willa Dodge, housekeeper extraordinaire, who whips things back into shape. While Lace initially distrusts Willa, she learns that she can be a powerful ally. A tiff with her best friend and a romance with an older boy also play a role in helping Lacey come to terms with what has happened to her family.

A short and nicely written novel that unfolds in a highly surprising fashion. It's hard to tell the whole story here as it would reveal too many of those surprises. Suffice it to say that there is a lot more to the tale than is immediately apparent. I enjoyed that and especially liked the way that it all grew in complexity as we went along. The characters are somewhat less interesting and I think the strength of the novel lies mostly in the storytelling and not the narrators.

The Absolute Value of Mike, by Kathryn Erskine

Mike's father is absolutely convinced that Mike should become an engineer. Never mind that Mike is hopeless with math or spatial relationships. Dad is obsessed. So, when Dad gets an opportunity to go overseas for the summer, he decides to send Mike to his distant relatives Moo and Poppy in rural Pennsylvania to help Poppy build an "artesian screw" and hone his engineering skills.

That's when the fun really begins. Moo is half-blind and confused, and her driving is downright terrifying. Poppy is grieving his dead son and completely tuned out. The entire town is obsessed (and united) around the goal of raising enough money to adopt a Romanian orphan named Misha. As Mike gets sucked into the plan, he discovers that he may make a lousy traditional engineer, but he's good at getting this oddball group to come together.

Erskine has a wonderful ability to come up with lively and original stories. So far, she hasn't fallen into a rut and each of her three novels has been unique. While stories about quirky small towns tend to drive me nutty (as they usually come across as big city stereotypes of what life in rural areas are like), this one doesn't fit the mold. For while the characters all seem like crazy hayseeds at first, their behavior is eventually explained. All of which sends a message to Mike (and the reader) that initial impressions are deceiving.

Mike is also an appealing character. He's quick tempered, jumps to conclusions and a bit stubborn, but these are traits that actually serve him well (and to which boys as a whole will relate). He occasionally comes across a bit too insightful for his age (14), but struggles realistically with self-identity and his maturing relationship with his Dad. While many classic YA books have done this too, it's fallen out of vogue. It's nice to find a good coming-of-age boy book. And it's particularly nice to find a book for boys that focuses on human relationships and not blowing things up or winning the big game.

As You Wish, by Jackson Pearce

After Viola discovers that her best friend and ex-boyfriend Lawrence is gay, she feels alone and invisible. The solution, she is convinced, is to find a way to get over Lawrence entirely and find someone new. If she could pull that off, life would be so much better!

So, when a jinn (a genie) shows up and grants her three wishes, it might well seem like a perfect solution. However, Viola is smart enough to realize that she cannot simply wish herself to happiness. In fact, she finds it difficult (if not impossible) to imagine a set of wishes she truly wants. But a strange thing happens: the longer it takes her to decide three things to wish for, the more clearer she becomes about how to achieve happiness. Ironically, it will come to depend on her ability to not use up those wishes. A battle of wills erupts with surprising consequences all round.

A fascinating twist on the Aladdin story. Pearce has fun reimagining the story as a more blatant exploration of adolescent identity and self-discovery than the traditional tale allows. All well and good and it might have made a memorable riff. The ingredients are all in place for a fable about how happiness truly comes from within. But somewhere along the way, Pearce decided that that wasn't the book that she wanted to write. Instead, she plunges midway into a more traditional romance. This is unexpected and will appeal to a particular audience, but seemed like a waste of a good story to me.

You Are Not Here, by Samantha Schutz

Told in verse, You Are Not Here is the story of Annaleah and Brian's short-lived romance, cut short when Brian suddenly dies. In the aftermath of Brian's death, Annaleah falls into self-pity and shuts herself off from her friends and family in grief. It doesn't help that her friends never liked Brian and that Brian never publicly acknowledged the relationship. Isolated, with her right to grieve unrecognized and unvalidated, Annaleah spends day after day at Brian's grave, trying to draw some sense of it all. Slowly, she manages to pull herself out of her depression, helped along by persistent friends and a chance for new love in the form of a guy at work.

Verse novels, I'm fond of noting, are very much hit or miss. I find them so risky that I usually avoid them altogether. This is one of the successes. It doesn't succeed so much on the strength of the poetry (some of which is good) or on the occasional poignant observation (far too easy when continuity is optional). It works in this case because of Schutz's keen sense of the human psyche. The grief that Annaleah is feeling is authentic and her feelings in general are real. Surprisingly, for a novel about grief, there are some really hot sex scenes in here as well (a particularly memorable shower scene sticks out). All of which is to say that Schutz sees a world that is full of many emotions, where a character can cry and laugh, grow angry and even lust -- all in one package. A fair share of sage advice about overcoming grief is a valuable side benefit.

The Big Crunch, by Pete Hautman

June has been dragged from one town to another by her "never look back" father. She's learned that everywhere she goes, schools and kids are pretty much the same. That is, until she meets Wes. It isn't love at first sight, but after a few false starts, they fall for each other. Unfortunately, soon enough June has to move again. This time, though, is different and June and Wes struggle to stay together, realizing that friends in life are not always interchangeable.

While there isn't much of a plot, it's an interesting book. The romance, despite the hype of the dust jacket (which also strangely refers to the girl as Jen), is by-the-numbers. But that really isn't the point here. It's the characters who are interesting. Their language is refreshingly frank and sounds authentically real. And not just the kids -- the adults also sound painfully real. Cliches like the totally self-absorbed teen or the arrogant/clueless adult are tossed out, and replaced by real human beings. The result are people who are plain appealing to read about. So what if the story breaks no new narrative ground? I could read these folks reciting the phone book and would still be interested!

The Running Dream, by Wendelin Van Draanen

Jessica has nearly always thought of herself as a runner. From when she was little, running meant freedom. And running on the track team has been her favorite thing in the world. So when an accident crushes her leg and the limb is amputated, she has to redefine herself. How will she ever survive not being able to run again?

Step by step, Van Draanen shows how Jessica heals her physical and psychic wounds as best she can, and how she re-learns her abilities and her limits. Along the way, she befriends a younger handicapped girl who helps her in her recovery.

Most of the novel is good but average -- a well-researched story about amputation and rehabilitation. There's lots of nice details about how prosthetics are fitted and how they work. I was reminded of a similar book I read a few years back by Priscilla Cummings called A Face First (about a girl recovering from significant burn damage). It's one of my all-time favorite books. The challenge with this type of story is taking all of that research and making the story still flow -- combining entertainment with the education. Cummings pulled it off, but I didn't feel like Van Draanen did as well here. For its majority, the book is more a string of episodes -- related to each other but never quite flowing together.

All of this changes in the last sixty pages or so, when Van Draanen seemingly discovers the unifying theme for her story and brings it all home. Having gotten 2/3 through the book, I wasn't expecting such a strong finish, but it easily made the rest of the book (which isn't bad!) worth reading.

Jumpstart the World, by Catharine Ryan Hyde

When 15 year-old Elle's mother decides to settle down with her new child-hating boyfriend, Mom decides that Elle should be settled down in her own apartment. Despite feeling hurt by the abandonment, Elle doesn't really mind because she's always been a loner (and also because Mom has never been very attentive in the first place). Elle has learned that she can't really allow people into her life.

That starts to change through the adoption of a rescue cat and her hard crush for the older man next door. The cat isn't terribly friendly and the man next door is a bit different. In fact, Elle's entire new world is full of misfits and colorful characters, but somehow she finds what she needs from the diverse group.

"Jumpstart the world" as a phrase will probably not resonate as well as Hyde's earlier "pay it forward," but she is attempting to weave the same magic: telling a story that is deceptively simple while delivering a bigger message. As a story, though, it didn't work. In this case, the message is hindered by the narrator, who is maddeningly contradictory. She's astute and well-spoken, but immature. She's capable of taking care of herself and articulating complex feelings, yet prejudiced and selfish. Being so articulate, her self-realizations sound fake (you find it hard to believe she was ever so ignorant in the first place) and her changes are too sudden.

The supporting characters are also very thin. In some cases like Elle's Mom or Molly this works very well, leaving open plenty of room for reader-supplied elaboration. With others, like Elle's schoolfriends, the flatness seems a bit lazy.

Matched, by Ally Condie

It starts with the matching ceremony where Cassia, against all odds, ends up betrothed to her childhood friend Xander (she can't believe her luck, since the matching ceremony usually links you up to a complete stranger!). But when the face of another local bad boy named Ky accidentally appears instead of Xander's on the forms, the mistake triggers a series of events that has Cassia questioning the rules and customs of her society.

In this future dystopia, choice has been replaced with statistical predetermination and planning. Even the act of teenage rebellion is carefully charted, observed, and controlled. Cassia though is one tough nut to crack and for every revelation of official control, Cassia has a couple of secrets up her sleeve to strike back.

While the novel starts off as some sort of YA love triangle (and occasionally drifted back into that territory), author Condie is sharp enough to not dwell on that for long. Cassia knows that there is more at stake in this world than her romantic feelings.

I liked Cassia. She's bright, brave, and insightful. Condie lets her be girlie enough to make her realistic and relatable, but she has strength. Her rebellion against unjust authority will universally resonate with her readers (and it's nice to remember that Huxley's Brave New World appealed to the young in his day as well).

The Absolute Value of -1, by Steve Brezenoff

Told mostly in three separate voices of allegedly close friends, this is the story of Lily, Noah, and Simon -- three teens finding love and getting high. Noah's dad beats on him and Simon's dad is dying. Lily seems to be mostly obsessed with trying to go out with Simon (while Simon's interests lie mostly elsewhere). Is there a point to all of this? It's hard to find one!

There are plenty of clever ideas and some smart dialogue, but I found myself getting lost while trying to follow who was whom and what their motivations were. By the time I was half-way through the book, I wasn't really able to tell anymore how the action fit together. The characters are numerous and largely indistinct. The overall result is a messy read with an inconclusive ending.

Freak Magnet, by Andrew Auseon

Charlie is a definite freak. He says whatever comes to his mind (often with hillarious results) and gets worse when he's nervous. Gloria is a self-described "freak magnet," who somehow attracts the attention of every strange guy she meets. Their initial disastrous encounter is no surprise. What is a surprise is how well they eventually hit it off, discovering kindred feelings driven by similar hardships and dreams.

The result is a charmingly off-beat romance. It can get a bit weird at times (the narrative is terribly random), but Charlie and Gloria are endearing. While Charlie's flaws are immediately apparent, Gloria's take some time to reveal themselves. Their self-absorption is both realistic and dramatically interesting. And you'll find yourself liking them in spite of it all.

If you like a tight tied-up ending, this one's loose ends will drive you nuts, but it drives home the message that the ending is really not the point -- it's the trip we take to get there.

The Complete History of Why I Hate Her, by Jennifer Richard Jacobson

Nola loves her little sister Song, but after years of worrying about Song's health (she has a brain tumor), Nola needs to get away and have some time for herself. She goes up to Maine to spend the summer waitressing, and immediately befriends Carly. At first, Carly seems the perfect antidote -- energetic, fun, resourceful -- and Carly is drawn in. But slowly, Carly reveals a possessive streak that borders on a pathology and her behavior becomes more and more threatening.

The story starts a bit slow and I was left wondering where it was actually heading, but once Carly's dark side started to appear, I got sucked in. What that tells me is that Carly was a much more interesting character than Nola. Evil is generally more enthralling and Carly has a lot of interesting stuff going on (and so much more that wasn't even discussed -- why is she the way she is?). Nola goes through some growth and re-bonds with her sister, but she's terribly passive and easily manipulated. It's hard to really care very much about her.

The Dark Divine, by Bree Despain

Grace Divine has a hard time maintaining her reputation as the pastor's daughter. Folks talk and eyes are always on her. So, when bad boy Daniel shows up again, it is not all that surprising that Grace's older brother Jude makes Grace promise to keep her distance. But the thing about promises is that they are so hard to keep! As could be predicted, it doesn't take long for Grace and Daniel to hook up, but the level of familial hostility they encounter suggests that something serious is up. It's about then that the bodies begin to pile up and you know that this is no simple forbidden teen romance, but rather one of those supernatural thrillers where "immortal soul" and "prom dress" feature in equal importance.

Yes, I have found myself digesting a werewolf romance novel. Worse, it's the first installment of a series! If anyone has some spare silver weaponry nearby to cure, let me know.

But seriously, how was it? Not bad, if you get beyond the sheer exploitative value of this new franchise. There's nothing even vaguely original here and the plot's silly, but if you want a hot romance mixed with supernatural powers, this is basically your number. And for those who thought that the Twilight franchise (and Bella in particular) was an insult to intelligent young women, you probably want to give this one a pass. But if you like cute heroic boys who have nothing better to do than to lock you in "hard, but soft" ... err... kisses, then this is the place!

Mostly Good Girls, by Leila Sales

Violet has always been a little jealous of her best friend Katie. Katie is effortlessly perfect: great grades, great looks, and wealthy. In contrast, Violet has always had to struggle to make it. But in their junior year, Violet finds that -- with a lot of hard work -- she can do a "mostly good" job. Meanwhile, Katie seems to have lost all interest in playing by the rules and is losing her veneer of perfection. The changes begin to drive the two girls apart.

It's a nicely written story about the girls and their friendship, but it doesn't really go anywhere until within 100 pages of the end when a plot finally develops out of the story. The tension is brief and resolved quickly and seems secondary. The meat of the story is really the relationship between Violet and Katie. So, if you like girl-bonding, this is a very satisfying read in terms of content, detail, and realism. But my sense was that Sales only seemed to realize the important of telling a story late in the process and I found the book insubstantial.

Please Ignore Vera Dietz, by A. S. King

In the aftermath of the death of her best friend Charlie, Vera reflects on their times together and tries to cope with her grief and guilt. This is all complicated by her recovering alcoholic father and his tendencies towards denial. A school bully also stirs things up.

Dark and worldly, King pulls no punches in showing a landscape of teenage and adult hypocrisy. And she does an equally capable job of producing a strong heroine who can rise above it all and become reborn. Vera is caustic (like the best YA heroines) but insightful and revealing. She rather reminded me of Melinda from Speak (still one of my all-time faves). Vera struggles a lot and can be annoyingly indecisive, but her growth is rewarding and affirming.

King has a strikingly original voice. Certainly, this book's Printz Honor was deserved, but this doesn't mean that the book is particularly easy to consume. The narrative is purposely disjointed, jumping back and forth in time and voice. The result is artistic, but not always enjoyable. You'll have to decide for yourself whether it works for you.

The Year Money Grew On Trees, by Aaron Hawkins

When thirteen year-old Jackson is offered a chance to farm his neighbor's apple orchard, he can't believe his luck. Her offer (the deed to the orchard itself if he does well, plus the proceeds of the apples he sells minus $8000) seems generous. Jackson however knows nothing about apple farming and he quickly discovers it is a lot of work! But with the help of his sisters and his cousins, the kids find a way through their troubles. The resulting story of hard work, honesty, and learning to appreciate the fruit (!) of one's labor is appealing and heart warming.

One could certainly offer a few complaints that the kids are almost too good to be true (the Waltons do Johnny Appleseed) and the message of clean living can be a bit saccharine. A more significant literary criticism would be that Jackson starts off so mature and grown up that it doesn't seem like he has much room left to grow (so the dramatic arc is a bit stunted). Finally, you can lodge a reasonable complaint that all of their challenges and problems are a bit too easily resolved. But all that would be missing the joy of a story where you really are rooting for the kids. This is good clean fun (and maybe a bit too idyllic), but it is a satisfying story.

The Unidentified, by Rae Mariz

Strangely apropos of recent local politics....

Katey and her classmates live in a world which, while quite different from ours, will seem eerily familiar. In their universe, teens "play" their way through school, scoring points on video games to learn their lessons, while being carefully monitored by the corporations that pay for their education. Internal social networking sites monitor their every thought and the sponsors spend considerable effort to use their thoughts and preferences to fine tune their marketing efforts. The kids, bribed by constant corporate giveaways and encouraged to form their cliques to promote sales for the sponsors, live enthralled by the sparkly world presented to them (part actual education and part advertisement). However, a rebel group of students are trying to subvert the paradigm and Katey (always something of an outsider) finds herself recruited by both the rebels and by the school's sponsors/administrators.

What starts off as a pretty heavy-handed fable about the dangers of materialism becomes over its course a nicely nuanced critique of the insidious influence of commercialism into public education (perhaps, the dream of our current Governor here in WI?). While obviously exaggerated, it would be hard to deny the extent to which most of the situations described in this alternate reality have some basis in our own, whether it is privacy concerns on social networks, corporate sponsorship in our classrooms, commercialization and co option of teen culture, and so on. I'd like to think that this book would make a very interesting catalyst for a hearty teen discussion about these issues.

Beyond its polemical nature, the story probably suffers a bit. The characters are thinly drawn and the narrative is cumbersome (slow at first and rushed at the end). So, as straight fiction, the book could be considered a bit weak. But I keep coming back to the message and its value as a sensationalized way to open a discourse on some serious non-fictional discussion.

Sharp eyes will notice that the UPC symbol on the cover is the book's actual code.

Grace, by Elizabeth Scott

In a dystopian totalitarian world, Grace is a fallen "Angel" (a young woman raised to be a suicide bomber to help her People strike back at the state). She was sent from her village in the Hills to eliminate the Minister of Culture. Once in place, however, she loses her will and ends up fleeing for her life. Exiled by her home as a failure and hunted by the regime as an enemy of the state, she flees for the border. Helping her escape on a train to the border is a young man with issues of his own. During their long trip, she reflects upon her life, her calling, and her reasons for failing to fulfill her mission.

While well-enough written, the story is thin and consists mostly of recycled stereotypes of totalitarian regimes, recycling the many horrors which should be familiar to anyone who has taken World Civ. As such, it isn't really clear what this particular piece adds to the cannon. For a better version of the same story, consider Ayn Rand's We the Living, Zamyatkin's We, or (of course) George Orwell's 1984. The point being that the basic theme here (totalitarianism sucks, but the human desire to survive is more powerful than any regime) has been done before.

The Ruby Notebook, by Laura Resau

In this "companion" (i.e., sequel) to The Indigo Notebook, it is a year later and Zeeta and her mother have moved from Ecuador to Provence. Zeeta is looking forward to being reunited with Wendell after a year apart, but she is also worried. Even though they have stayed in touch through daily emails and phone calls, a lot has changed in the past year (and it isn't just that the color of her notebooks that have changed!). In her mind, it seems like she is an entirely different person. Complicating matters, she's met a new boy and, while she isn't sure how she feels about him, it makes her wonder if Wendell is really the love of her life or just a phase from another time and place.

Various mysteries involving pigeons, fountains, and secret societies also figure in, as well as a "ghost" who keeps slipping special mementos into Zeeta's bag.

This fairly busy story shows much of the same love for cultural detail that is found in Resau's other books, but with a twist. In previous reviews, I chided her for always writing about the same things (indigenous subcultures in Latin America), but by switching to France, she's attempting to prove that she's far more versatile. While I can claim no credit for her change of scene, I will give her serious props for stretching herself. That said, however, I found the actual result a bit disappointing. She obviously knows the region, but not as well. And she lacks the obvious affection for France that she holds for Mexico. The result lacks the warmth that was so noticeable and noteworthy in her previous novels.

The current volume is also a more somber affair that plods fairly heavily through Zeeta's doubts and fears (focusing on her "ghost" and the search for it), before finally taking off in the last 100 pages or so with an unrelated (but much zestier) adventure.

7 Souls, by Barnabas Miller and Jordan Orlando

Mary's 17th birthday starts off very strangely, waking up naked in a display bed at the downtown Crate & Barrel shop. Her day goes decidedly downhill from there, as just about everyone ignores her, her boyfriend dumps her, and she ends up dead at the end of the day. But then things get plain weird as she finds herself taking possession of other people's bodies and slowly unravels what happened and why it did. By the end, she will be well enveloped in the world of brand name consumption, bad role-modeling, and Egyptian curses -- a combination which can only make sense in a book like this.

The story suffers a great deal from its general incoherency. As it careens from weird point to even weirder point, I kept hoping that an explanation would finally pop up that made sense. I didn't even mind when the plot shifted to supernatural explanations, but in the end things just don't make any sense and I'm not sure the authors ever intended them to do so. Rather, it's much more fun to just let the characters play Gossip Girl schtick (by which I mean pointless material consumption with no consequences or parental supervision) and throw in a lot of ultimately meaningless action.

I'd give this a miss. Miller is apparently a former hack for Alloy Entertainment. I think that basically says everything you need to know about this book.

Girl, Stolen, by April Henry

Griffin's attempt to carjack goes terribly awry when he finds Cheyenne in the backseat of the car. At first, Griffin is afraid that Cheyenne will identify him, but when he learns that she is blind, he realizes that she cannot. And being blind and addled with a case of pneumonia, Cheyenne is in no position to cause much trouble.

But Cheyenne is no passive victim. Her handicap has taught her to be self-reliant and she makes several decent attempts to escape her kidnapper. Griffin might have even let her go as he mostly just wanted the car. However, when Griffin's father learns how much money he could make from ransoming her, the situation turns decidedly more dangerous. Eventually, Griffin and Cheyenne find themselves as unlikely allies in a desperate attempt to escape with their lives.

For the most part, this is pretty innocuous suspense stuff. There's some attempt to inject educational material about blindness, burn recovery, and dyslexia into the story, but this is not a story with any deep literary pretensions. I really liked how resourceful and tough Cheyenne is and that she avoids being a hapless victim. Unfortunately, no one else really ever gets interesting and the adult bad guys are uninspired.

Revolution, by Jennifer Donnelly

In the aftermath of the violent death of her younger brother, Andi struggles with depression and survivor's guilt. Her concerned father brings her to Paris to separate her from her equally-depressed mother and to give Andi a fresh start. There, she stays with a family friend who is researching the French Revolution. Amongst the papers and other memorabilia of the period that this friend is collecting, Andi discovers a two hundred year-old diary written by Alexandrine Paradis, caretaker to Louis-Charles, the youngest son of King Louis. Alexandrine is nearly the same age as Andi and she finds herself quickly drawn into the account of Alexandrine's doomed efforts to save her charge, finding parallels with her own failure to protect her brother. But as the story veers towards its inevitable tragedy, Andi finds it harder and harder to separate present from past, and reality from illusion and madness.

This very rich novel combines fine historical detail with contemporary hipness in the streets of Paris. There's an awful lot going on (Andi's worries about her sick mother, struggles against her father, on-and-off relationship with a Parisian taxi driver, her music, and never mind all that French Revolution stuff!). Thankfully, there's 470-odd easily-turned pages to get through it all! While I had some minor quibbles with Donnelly's shaky grasp on contemporary music, her 18th century material is strong and her storytelling more so. I was sucked in, even when the story seemed to jump off a cliff (or a tall building?), I wanted to see what happened next.

All of that said, this novel isn't really YA despite its younger heroine. The teens in this story are mostly grown up and definitely independent of any pesky authority (Donnelly explicitly acknowledges the lack of a cultural concept of adolescence in 18th century France and makes little attempt to explore it in 21st century either). This isn't a story of coming of age, as much of making life-changing decisions, that is, standard adult novel material. As such, it is excellent.

The Wager, by Donna Jo Napoli

When a young and spendthrift Don Giovanni has his fortune wiped out by a tsunami, he finds himself a beggar on the roads and through the towns of Sicily. In a moment of dire desperation, the Devil approaches him and proposes a trade: he will give Don Giovanni a purse that produces endless money in exchange for a pledge that Don Giovanni will not bathe or change his clothes for three years, three months, and three days. In the ensuing ordeal, Don Giovanni learns many lessons about himself and the people around him, but can he make it to the end?

Napoli does a wonderful job of retelling classic stories. Through thorough research, she is able to pull out details that elucidate period history and use them to point out modern relavence. Her work, in sum, is the classic example of what a historical novel should be.

Given the sheer volume of her work, it is natural that some of it is better than others. This particular book falls somewhere in the middle. The source material of only 2-3 pages is a bit thin for a full-length novel, as Napoli herself admits. The story itself suffers from being spread over such a long time period (with the inevitable result that the long stretches of time are hard to fill with anything of interest). And so the tale plods along and is laden with repetitive and extended references to hunger and disease, which simply grows tedious. Don Giovanni, while he shows some growth from being vain and self-important, really starts off as a not-so-bad guy and ends up pretty much the same. His personal growth is simply not terribly obvious.

Under the Green Hill, by Laura L. Sullivan

With a fever spreading in the States, Meg, Rowan, Silly (Priscilla), and James get sent away to spend the summer with their distant relations in England. While the parents think that this is safe decision, the relatives realize that it is poor timing. During the approaching summer, the fairies that populate the woods around the house are preparing for their once-every-seven-years war. The children, through their curiosity and disobedience, manage to get themselves involved in the conflict. The solution involves the help of two other children who were sent to England with them. In the process, everyone learns lessons about cooperation, respect, and getting along.

Sullivan's writing is beautiful and evokes the sheer innocence of the Narnia series or classic adventure books for young readers (like Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys). While set in a world that claims to be contemporary, the children's lives are strangely devoid of iPods, cell phones, and American Idol. Instead, they are enmeshed in good clean outdoor fun (if attempting to slay your great-grandfather in order to avoid a fairy curse can be counted in the category of "good" and "clean"!). The sheer naivete of this world doesn't really work for me (contemporary children's lit is more knowing and cynical) but I appreciate its beauty and the nostalgia for a time when children's lives were simpler. The richness of the vocabulary used in this book may flummox some readers (it sent me to the dictionary a few times!), but even that comes from a bygone era when children's lit was written in sophisticated prose.

Stork, by Wendy Delsol

When Katla and her mother move back to Minnesota, Katla manages to offend two popular boys (sleazy Wade and enigmatic Jack -- guess which one she's going to end up with?) within her first weeks there. She also stumbles across a secret society of elderly women. The women, convinced that she is a "stork" (with a power that allows her to foretell when a woman is about to conceive), induct her into their coven. The plot thickens as long-suppressed memories and some ancient vendettas get inserted into the mix.

It's a story that is a bit complex to explain (especially, without revealing the more interesting plot turns). At times, I honestly got a bit annoyed at some of the more improbable twists (e.g., the suppressed memories), but the story all comes together pretty nicely in the end. The actual story elements will not surprise anyone. The key ingredients for YA fantasy (magic, peer competition, a dance, and the expected parental conflict) are all present. However, the story itself has enough unusual developments to keep the story interesting.

Her and Me and You, by Lauren Strasnick

Alex and her mother move to Meadow Marsh after her father announces that he is leaving them for a younger model. Meadow Marsh is Mom's hometown, but she's so lost in despair that Alex has to fend for herself. When Mom's friends' children end up being poor allies, Alex befriends Fred and his twin sister Adina. From the start, Alex observes that the twins seem really close (and wistfully notes that it is like Alex and her estranged BFF back home used to be). However, as Alex and Fred's friendship starts to grow, Adina's response turns from jealousy to something a bit more psychotic.

I really liked the premise of this story. It's fresh and original and has a lot of potential as a psychological thriller. The characters are interesting and the portrayed landscape of jealousies and insecurities feels very honest (albeit a bit painful to read). Unfortunately, the actual story is thin. Strasnick gets the job done, but it could have gone so much farther. The drama and tension could have kicked up a notch or two without growing exploitative, by extending the time it takes everyone to observe Adina's unusual behavior. Stretching things out, would have made more of a page-turner! The relationships with the adults are left grossly undeveloped, despite their importance in explaining the motivations of the kids (Alex's susceptibility, Fred's denial, and Adina's dependency). Relationships between these three kids and their peers would also have been ripe with possibilities (despite the importance of Alex's separation from her friend back home, that plot thread is never explicitly tied to the overall issue). In sum, I like what is here but I wanted more!

Rose Sees Red, by Cecil Castellucci

Rose has learned to hide from people. When she was forced to choose between her manipulative and controlling "best friend" and her love for dance, she found out how impermanent friendship could be. As a result, she closed up. But a chance encounter with a Soviet girl (it is 1982) who lives next door opens a new world for her. In one wild and magical evening, Rose explores all of the things she might be, if she stopped holding herself back.

The novel is an odd riff on a series of stereotypical icons of the early-80s (MTV, the High School for the Performing Arts, the Cold War, and anti-nuke rallies). I'm of mixed minds about the result.

The story is quite thin and feels more like a writing exercise than a true novel. While there is character growth that would be required in a coming-of-age genre, the story unfolds randomly. The changes of the characters are too obvious, too sudden, and ultimately manipulative. But Rose herself is drawn with great depth and a familiarity which suggests an autobiographical nature to this story. Certainly, Castellucci knows her setting. Despite the rather silly name-dropping of MTV bands that a reasonable New Yorker of the era would have been ashamed of, the feel of the place, the description of East and West meeting, and the lay of New York itself all feel right (and I can speak on that from first-hand experience). But one wonders what a modern teen will make of this historical piece (especially with such a thin plot)?