The Carbon Diaries 2015, by Saci Lloyd

After an environmental cataclysm nearly floods England, the UK decides to pioneer austere carbon rationing in an attempt to counter the effects of global warming. The result is chaos and disorder as the severe cutbacks destabilize civilization. Worse, it doesn't reverse the damage. Instead, over the course of the year 2015, blizzards, cold snaps, drought, and flooding inundate London.

Told through the diary entries of Laura Brown, who would rather play bass in her punk band The Dirty Angels, the global events share importance with the major daily events in her own life of that year (reconciling with her sister, grades at school, trying to be noticed by the boy next door, dealing with her splintering family, etc.). The trouble is that the events all conspire together to overlap and intertwine in her life.

This is an engaging science fiction novel of a near future where the effects of global warming have become too vivid to ignore. I was a bit put off by having it placed so soon in the future (the book will not age well) but I get the author's point of wanting to make sure that the immediacy of the events would be acknowledged by readers. And while I would like to believe that the scenario is overly dire, I respect the intent. One cannot fault the plot. The story is engaging enough to make me want to read the sequel that has been recently released.

What worked less well for me was the juxtaposition of Laura's personal life with the devastating world events. There wasn't much connection between the two and I found the one distracting me from the other. Unlike a book like Life As We Knew It which told the story of environmental collapse in purely micro terms (and thus worked), Lloyd is trying to have things both ways. It just doesn't gel.

Need, by Carrie Jones

After her stepfather dies, Zara gets sent by her mother to live in Maine with her grandmother. On her way there, she notices that a strange man appears to be stalking her. And when she gets to her grandmother's, she learns that boys at her new school are disappearing. At first, she isn't sure how these events are connected, but when some new friends suggest that it is the work of evil pixies she learns that the creatures are trying to recruit her to be their new queen. Before long, she is immersed in the world of pixies, were-creatures, and a legend of magic and dark tidings that haunt this rural Maine town.

Sort of a New Moon in Maine story, but lacking the youthful charm, Jones far too quickly dispenses with any of the trappings of reality that makes Stephanie Meyer's stories interesting in favor of action and adventure. And there's certainly plenty of stuff going on, although it doesn't always make a lot of sense.

While the story did not do much for me, I did appreciate Zara's character. She has a great attititude and a healthy disrespect for the conventional fantasy heroine tropes (hurling verbal insults at the pixie king while he's trying to haunt her is pretty hillarious!). A common thread through the story is Zara's obsession with different types of phobias, but the irony in this is that she really doesn't suffer from any of them. Instead, she is one of the most fearless of the bunch.

Rage: A Love Story, by Julie Anne Peters

Peters has become one of the leaders in LGBT YA literature and in this novel she probes the dark territory of physical abuse within teen lesbian relationships. It's the kind of topic that could easily have been sensationalized or used as fodder for someone's political agenda, but Peters respects her characters enough to avoid those pitfalls.

Johanna is an emancipated minor, orphan, and gay. After being rejected by her older sister (ostensibly out of grief, but implicitly because of her sexual orientation), she struggles with feelings of low self-worth. She has good grades, a steady job, and volunteer work at a hospice to give her a sense of purpose. However, from the beginning it is clear that Johanna has problems letting people down.

Enter Reeve, the object of Johanna's sexual fantasies (which take place in fairly explicit detail in the mythical realm of "Joyland" that intersperses the book). Through tutoring Reeve's autistic brother, Johanna gets a chance to grow closer to Reeve and at first their relationship - while always rocky - is everything that Johanna needs it to be. The reality of the relationship, though, is considerably darker as is immediately apparent to the reader (but completely unfathomable to Johanna herself). Reeve systematically isolates Johanna, severing her ties with school, work, and friends, while simultaneously battering her. All of this seems understandable, given the horrendous conditions from which Reeve herself comes.

While the gay angle is unique, it isn't really essential to the story as near as I can tell (or at least Peters does not present behavior that could be described as unique to lesbian relationships). So I'll focus on this as a story of abuse in teenage relationships. For me, the gold standard in this genre is probably Sarah Dessen's Dreamland and in that light, Rage doesn't really measure up. The character behavior is realistic enough and the story sufficiently horrifying, but the motivations that would drive the characters are not developed. Certainly, we can imagine how an orphan could fall under the sway of an abusive partner and we can understand how the girls are replicating the environments in which they were raised, but that really is not enough to explain what we are reading.

I found myself more disgusted by Johanna's illusions and weaknesses than sympathetic to them. At some point, her constant refusal to acknowledge what was happening became tiresome and I lost faith in her. And, having so carefully defined how important things like her volunteer work are, it wasn't really believable that she would allow it to fall apart so easily.

Peters pretty much realizes the corner she has painted her story into at the end and attempts a radical about-face to clean up the story enough to offer us some hope. But this is rushed and the characters improve in even less plausible of a fashion than they declined throughout the story. If you are going to show character redemption at the end of the story, you really have to show them working for it and the sweat and tears that would help us understand these troubled women are missing.

Fear of Falling, by Hannah R. Goodman

This is the third book in a series (I reviewed My Sister's Wedding and My Summer Vacation in previous entries) and represents something of a break in the narrative. While those two books dealt mostly with Maddie and her family's struggles with older sister Barbara's alcoholism, this book addresses the issues of gay teenagers.

Maddie is now back in school, trying to recover from her loss last summer and fighting off panic attacks. As editor for the school paper, she receives an anonymous letter from a student revealing that he is gay and is currently the victim of an abusive partner. Maddie is surprised to find that the school officials not only won't help her respond to this plea, but in fact actively forbid her from taking action. Convinced that something has to be done, Maddie and her friends hatch a plot to raise consciousness about the trials of gay teens. In doing so, Maddie confronts her anxieties and learns to take a brave jump forward.

Of the three books in this series, this third one does the best job with storytelling, creating a challenge that helps Maddie become a better person in the end. I still find Goodman's treatment of her younger characters a bit rough, but at least they are telling the story this time. There was a lack of logic to the actions and emotions expressed that rang true for me, giving a level of authenticity to this installment which helped me believe that kids might actually do these things. In the end, this story does not actually turn over any major new leaves about gay teens, but it would make a good discussion piece for a YA reading group.

Blue Plate Special, by Michelle D. Kwasney

Three generations of women from the same family, each one telling her story as a teenager, separated from the others by 15-16 years. Each one will make their own mistakes, which in turn sow the seeds for the next generation. In 1977, Madeline meets the boy who inspires her to get the strength to stand up to her alcoholic mother and to make an effort to turn her life around, but all of that changes tragically and quickly. 16 years later, Desiree pays the price for those past injustices, while being subjected to an entirely new set inflicted by herself. And 16 years after that, Desiree's daughter Ariel struggles with her own issues of identity.

All three timelines collide together when Desiree and Ariel are summoned to come to Madeline's bedside as the elder woman lies recovering from cancer surgery. The three women have to face up to how outside forces and their own choices have formed who each of them are. In the end, they will come to the realization that hatred will only take you so far in this world and that they each have a part to play in restoring their lives.

Told in alternating chapters from each character as a teen (and with Desiree's 1993 entries completely in free verse), this is an ambitious narrative about forgiveness, generational conflict, family, grief, and rebirth. It certainly maxes out the poignancy meter (so I'm obviously going to like it!). Seriously, it manages to pull on the heart strings without being exploitative. The characters were flawed enough to be real, but strong enough to be interesting. The themes (teen pregnancy, drug abuse, sexual abuse, sexual assault, abandonment, homicide, etc.) are dark, but are used for great effect. The story (both its structure and its pacing) is a memorable work of art. Kwasney's writing is not terribly lyric (and the verse chapters are nothing special) but I loved the way the story unfolded. And I really liked this book.

How to Say Goodbye in Robot, by Natalie Standiford

In something of the quirky tradition of YA buddy novels like Stargirl, this is the story of a new girl in town (Bea) who befriends an outcast named Jonah (or the "Ghost" as his classmates call him). Their offbeat relationship consists of hitting up a favorite dive bar, listening to the same late-night radio call-in program, and a series of outrageous stunts. A small amount of drama is introduced when Jonah discovers that his twin brother (allegedly dead for the past several years) may actually be alive. This discovery initiates a search and an adventure for the two friends.

More John Waters (the book is placed in Baltimore) than Jerry Spinelli, the book stays away from most familiar teen tropes, and without much doubt this is one of the more original books of the year. The relationship between Bea and Jonah is complex (admittedly bordering on romance, but never consummating it). The result is sophisticated and refreshing.

Quirky books can make for difficult reading and there will be people who love this book because it is so difficult, while others will long for something simpler and more straightforward. I'm generally a fairly lazy reader so I prefer less challenge, but I could see why this might appeal to others.

My overall criticism of the book, though, comes from trying to figure out what was the point of the story. Bea is supposed to have gone through some major character growth (transforming herself from a "robot" into a loving young woman) but I never got that sense of growth. And the subplot about her parent's relationship difficulties seemed poorly developed (and maybe even a bit too cliche for this type of story). Overall, not a lot to really grab you. So, kudos for a creative and quirky pair of main characters, but a thumbs down on what gets done with them.

Breathless, by Jessica Warman

Katie lives in a troubled family. Her mother is an alcoholic and her father is overbearing (and ironically also a psychotherapist). As her older brother begins to lose his grip on sanity (implicit because of parental abuse), Katie is torn between her sibling loyalty and acknowledging the tragedy (which means allying with her parents). Katie's parents, recognizing that the environment has grown poisonous, decide to ship her off to boarding school. There, Katie tries to hide away the secret of her brother's illness and lose herself in team swimming. She's a great swimmer, but it's a talent that stirs up the jealousies of her classmates, particularly when she starts dating the captain of the boy's team.

The very first chapter of this book is stunning and sets a very high literary bar for the rest. That one section alone merits this book special consideration.

Overall, the quality of the the prose is spectacular. However, the story itself has an odd pacing that eventually wore me down. An intimate story like this needs a tight timeline, but instead Warman decided to stretch her story out over three years. To make this work, you can't push the speed of events (that would destroy the intimacy) so instead she lets the story jump ahead long periods (often in 8-9 month stretches) at regular intervals. This advances the story but sometimes leaves us missing key details so she has the narrator recap key events that have occurred in the intervening months. Since this catch-up is distant and rushed, we lose the closeness we feel when things are evolving in real-time. Threads developed so carefully and meticulously in one time period become irrelevent in another (these are teens, after all, and nothing stays permanent for 8-9 months!). At the end of the story, Warman does make a good attempt to pull it all together, but after so many cases of narrative whiplash, this was a hard story for me to digest, no matter how beautifully it was written. A near miss for me!

Viola in Reel Life, by Adriana Trigiani

Because her parents have embarked on a trip to Afghanistan to film a documentary, Viola gets dumped at a private school in South Bend IN. It's a long ways away from her native Brooklyn. But while Viola is sure that she will hate things at the school, she quickly is won over by her three roommates and by the school itself. And she discovers that her talent for filmmaking makes her stand out as someone special in the school community. She contributes her technical expertise to the school play and leaves a big mark. When she is invited to a freshman mixer with a neighboring school, she decides to take a risk and attend it. Within minutes, she meets the perfect boy (a fellow filmmaker) and falls in love. The boy tells her about a film contest for high schoolers and now she has a goal -- to submit a film worthy of winning against her peers.

Trigiani is better known as a writer for adults and this is her first YA novel. This shows in certain ways. For example, Viola's voice is very hard to pin down. I found it a bit too mature but I have noticed that other reviewers think she sounds immature and too young. Let's just say that it doesn't always ring true.

Far more bothersome for me was that the story has no drama or tension and an almost flat dramatic arc (this is especially ironic as the lead character makes a big point about explaining the importance of an arc in telling a story -- so Trigiani obviously knows that it is important). I came to the conclusion that Trigiani purposely chose to avoid conflict in her story (to break the YA conventions, she made Viola happy, adjusted, successful, and popular). I guess it is something different, but what's really the point? I kept waiting for something bad to happen so Viola could have a growth experience, but that isn't what this book is about. As a result, I found it all rather dull.

Carter Finally Gets It, by Brent Crawford

S'up dog? Sometimes you have to go off the deep end and read a book from the other side...

Carter is 14, mildly handicapped by ADHD and slightly more so by his hormones. He has trouble making coherent sentences and even more trouble staying focused when there are bare midriffs and breasts in his line of sight. High school is a big shock for Carter and harder than anything he ever imagined. And no matter how much he tries, he finds his efforts are never quite enough. Each little success he experiences (becoming a kicker, dating Abby, getting a big part on the swim team, etc.) seems to fall through for him, but Carter keeps trying to do his best.

Carter is also often clueless and you'll spend most of the book shaking your head in disgust at how obnoxious, immature, and ...well...14 years old he is. There is a requisite amount of farting, ogling, puking, and boy humor to make anyone over the age of 14 want to hurl. Personally, I never was like Carter, but I have to admit that I knew people who were like this, so I'll vouch for the accuracy of the portrayal. For anyone who's ever felt that boys (or even men) were pigs, this will reinforce the stereotype.

But it's often outrageously funny. Carter can be such a moron at times, that you have to shake your head and like the kid. And in the end, that is what makes this story work as a comedy. He can be cruel and mean, jealous and violent, but in the end he's sweet and his heart is in the right place (even if his brain is in his crotch!). He'll do the right thing in the end without ever really understanding why, but he'll come through. And, in making a character like Carter, Brent Crawford has crafted himself a winner!

I'm looking forward to the sequel coming out this Spring!

My Summer Vacation, by Hannah R. Goodman

Picking up a few months after My Sister's Wedding ended, this sequel continues the story of Maddie Hickman's struggles with family and friends, and in particular with her troubles with enabling her alcoholic sister. The story takes place mostly at a special art summer camp, where Maddie is serving as a counselor-in-training (CIT) and mentoring the creative writing group. She's gone to this camp for many years and is excited to see her old friends, as well as to get away from all the troubles at home. The summer, however, presents new problems: old friendships are ripped apart by jealousy and two new arrivals -- both boys -- challenge Maddie (the first one obsesses over the idea that Maddie looks like his girlfriend who just recently died, the other is obsessed with Maddie in a more romantic sense). But a summer like this is not challenging enough as is. Maddie also has to deal with her sister going off the wagon and her ex-boyfriend Justin trying to contact her.

The strengths and weaknesses of this novel are very similar to those of the first installment. Goodman does a good job with her grown up characters but struggles far more with making her teenagers come alive. Even as I read the book, I had trouble putting my finger on what the issue is. The situations are believable and the squabbles that Maggie and her friends get into are plausible. There's the old annoying bit about a teenager with an obsession for movies from the 80s (and a 70s-era obsession in music) but I've seen it in so many books now that I tend to forgive it. No, what I came to realize by the end of this book is that Goodman just pushes through her youth scenes too quickly. The result is that she (through narrator Maddie) is more telling us what is going on (like an anxious teen recounting an adventure) rather than showing it to us. Surprisingly, the same thing doesn't occur with then grownups. The contrast is quite disconcerting.

This particular book also committed the cardinal literary sin of having a dramatic shift (completely out of the blue) occur in the last 20 pages of the book. I won't spoil it by telling you what it is, but it is safe to say that absolutely nothing in the book provides foreshadowing for it. And none of it was really necessary. The story being told (Maddie continuing to work on taking control of her own life) was interesting enough (even if it was being told at breakneck speed!). To add an entirely new twist in the final inning and allow so little time to develop it is frankly bizarre!

Let me conclude on a positive note. If I was impressed with the way that alcoholism and its effects on loved ones was portrayed in the first book, this second book just takes that to a higher level. Goodman has done her homework (or speaks from a good deal of personal experience) because I not only found myself learning things about addictive behavior, but was genuinely interested in what was being taught. To the extent that these novels are really about Maddie's alcoholic sister and how Maddie and her family deal with that part of their lives, there is some really good stuff going on here. It feels true and also reveals a great deal about the human condition. Oddly enough, there is a real gap in YA lit for books like this and so this contribution recommends this book.

Once Was Lost, by Sara Zarr

Samara and her father, the pastor at a local church, have a fair share of problems to cope with. Sam's mother, whose always managed to exude a stable presence in public has been ordered into rehab, having proven unable to hide her alcoholism and crashing her car. Dad, not used to being a single parent, is both struggling to keep the house and their finances together and trying to find the words to talk with his daughter about the changes in their home. Sam is just sad and unable to express her feelings about what has happened to her family. But then things get much worse when a girl from their church is abducted by a stranger. In the ensuing two weeks, Sam comes to question her friends, herself, and her God.

Prior to this story, Sara Zarr has written a strong book (Story of a Girl) and an outstanding classic (Sweethearts -- which is in the very small number of books with a **** rating from me). This third novel doesn't really live up to those. The plot is quite ambitious but entirely too busy and unfocused. In addition to the recovering alcoholic mother (a storyline done much better in the recently-reviewed My Sister's Wedding) and the abducted child, there is an awkward romance, a possible adultery, a few struggling friendships, and a promising subplot about a boy who feels a calling to minister (or something like it). In my opinion, the family struggle is the most interesting of the storylines and the abducted-child story just distracts from that plot.

It also does not help that we have character problems. Samara is a difficult heroine to like. She is pretty good in her inner dialogues at analyzing what is going on, but she is so bad at communicating her needs that it is mostly a wasted effort. That difficultly communicating is usually a good dramatic device in YA, but when the character doesn't overcome their inability to speak by the end of the story (at least partly), it just becomes plain annoying. The overall promise for character growth never is realized and so we are left with frustration rather than sympathy.

Overall, the story just felt rough. It all probably seemed like a good idea when the writing started, but somewhere before this got published, someone should have raised a sharpened red pencil to the manuscript and started to slice it up. As for me, I'd have dumped the abducted kid and then worked on developing what was left. But regardless, some editing would have really helped.

The Sweetheart of Prosper County, by Jill S. Alexander

Austin is tired of being picked on by Dean Ottmer. In the midst of watching the annual No-Jesus Christmas Parade, she comes to a realization of how to get him to stop: she will win a place riding on the hood of a car in the parade in a sexy dress, waving at the crowd, and rising above her tormentor. But to do that, she first needs to raise a champion rooster and win the County Fair, join the FFA, and get elected as their Sweetheart so she can be in the Parade. Determined to realize her dream, she sets out to do exactly that. Along the way, she struggles against her own insecurities and her mother's possessiveness to find herself in this heartwarming story about personal growth. Some good friendships, a potential romance, and a softly-pitched story about racism and adult hypocrisy also figure in.

This gentle book presents plenty of potential tension and drama, but never falls in too deeply. Austin has her share of danger, but comes through everything just fine (as does her bird). The relationships are largely platonic, the friendships rock-solid, and the bullying surprisingly tame and amateurish. One reviewer called this "a teen book for tweens," and I agree. The heroine may be 14 years old, but much younger readers will enjoy her story.

The plotting of the story can lurch at odd speeds, sometimes lingering for too long on unimportant details and sometimes jumping quickly ahead when Alexander decides that some part of the narrative doesn't deserve telling. But in the midst of this novel, there are some breathtakingly beautiful pieces. The description of Maribel's quinceanera is one of the best-written passages of YA that I have ever read. The grappling scene with the catfish is bizarre yet an extremely ambitious literary accomplishment. The author, in sum, can certainly write. So, if this book suffers a bit from unevenness, it certainly seems possible that we could expect great things to come in a future novel.

As a result, I'd recommend this book both as something fun to read and also for its occasional brilliance. It's not the best recent book out there, but it's in a small crowd of contenders.

My Sister's Wedding, by Hannah R. Goodman

Madeline Hickman reads a lot of self-help book. In some other story, Maddie's obsession might be the cause for some amusement, but when your older sister and your boyfriend are both alcoholics, learning about the dangers of enabling might be considered self-defense. Add in a brother-in-law, mother, and father who are in denial and you have a massive dysfunctional family on your hands. Surprisingly, the wedding, from which the book's title comes, is actually only a minor part of this story about family and the ways that people lie to each other to get through life -- a description that probably makes this slim novel sound a lot more depressing than it it. Comedy it may not be, but Goodman keeps everything light enough to get us through.

There are plenty of books about alcoholic parents and alcoholic teens, but I don't remember reading one about alcoholic older siblings. And combining both an older addict with a younger one, and putting the heroine between them, is a powerful literary tool. As a result, this book stood out as something different.

I did have some problems with the tone of Maddie herself as she fluctuates maddeningly between mature and insightful and downright clueless. Similarly, younger characters in the story suffer from underdevelopment. Goodman is better with the adults, particular Maddie's mother and grandmother (and their relationship with each other), than she is with Maddie's boyfriend and friends Peter and Susan. I never really could tell what the purpose of the Peter-Susan subplot was (and don't even get me started on the non-story of the super nice could-become-a-boyfriend Sean!). In this book, the kids and their problems are fairly unimportant to the plot.

I DO look forward to Maddie's further adventures and hold out hope for her development, but this first book is really a story of Maddie's family and for that it succeeds remarkably, painting a much more complex family dynamic than we usually see in YA. It is nice seeing adults acting like adults (being neither checked-out nor stellar role-models). And we have a nice realistic foundation for future stories.

I Need You More Than I Love You and I Love You To Bits, by Gunnar Ardelius

According to the blurb on the jacket, this is the story of a young couple who struggle with their feelings for each other and with the boy's fear that he is becoming like his mentally unstable father. However, I'm not sure I got even that much out of this book, so I make no claim to that interpretation of the book's contents.

Honestly, I really wanted to like this book, which was deemed significant enough to be translated from Swedish into English. Told in nicely written short prose vignettes, the unusual style and design of the story seemed interesting and unique, and when you've reviewed 700 books or so, you're desperate for unique! But no matter how much praise people want to heap on this book, the reality is that it is a vague and inconsequential piece. And I'm not one of those folks who dotes on difficult-to-read tomes and declares them good. The characters are undeveloped, the vignettes are sometimes so vague that you can't tell who is involved, and the story is largely undeveloped and untold. As a mood piece it might work, but there's no real mood to express.

The book can boast pretty words on the page and the occasional moment of melancholy, but the emperor has no clothes and this is no literary achievement!

Burn, by Suzanne Phillips

At the beginning of his Freshman year, Cameron makes the mistake of showing up late for a gym meeting, and showing up with long hair and his Mom in tow. The incident earns him the name "Cameron Diaz" along with a slew of epithets from bully Rich Patterson and his football buddies. The name-calling escalates to physical abuse and then assault. In response, Cameron withdraws and starts to fail academically. Unable to get any effective intervention from the teachers or administrators, life at school becomes a living hell. Eventually, it all ends badly and tragically.

I found myself sucked in by the story as it progressed, but more out of horror than out of interest in the story. The book itself is well-written, with decent dialogue and realistic characters, but there were several things which bothered me about this novel:

1) The lack of sympathetic characters. As I've noted before, for me a novel has to have a character I like, one the redeems him/herself, or one that draws me in. Cameron isn't any of those things. He's abused and been through a lot, but he turns out to be just as evil as the bullies (and doesn't ever seem to face that fact). I was never able to warm to him.

2) The incoherent plotting. Somewhere in the book, we learn that Cameron suffered abuse from his father, but the idea is never really developed. Yet, despite never being introduced or developed as an idea, this abuse suddenly becomes important in the end. Another example of the plotting problems is that the story spends the first 166 pages being about bullying, but then suddenly becomes a half-hearted story about homicide and temporary insanity. While I get the link between the two that Phillips is trying to draw, it is never really connected (the best attempt is Cameron's Mom's pleas for mercy because of the prior assault and the damage it had on Cameron, but everyone - including the author - ignores her).

3) The aimless and unresolved subplots. Probably related to my previous point are all the ideas that are left out floating in this story, including (but not limited to) the special ed kid in history, Cameron's self-harming behavior, the arson in the woods, the relationship between Cameron and his brother, any of Cameron's friends, Randy's relationship to Cameron's family, and so on. In retrospect, it almost has me wondering if any subplot was resolved.

In sum, this is an easy book to get lost in and if that is what you want from a book, it will do the trick. I'll reiterate that the characters are vibrant and the dialogue is spot on. But it's not a pretty story, and push comes to shove, it isn't really that well-developed of a story either.

The Spectacular Now, by Tim Tharp

In a bit of a departure for me, this is the story of Sutter, senior and party animal extraordinaire. Once he "fortifies" himself with whiskey and SevenUp, he's everyone's favorite dude (at least in his own mind). Told in a train-of-semi-consciousness narrative, Sutter lurches from one party to the next, never bothering to spend too much time sober. But he's the sweetest alcoholic you've ever met -- generous to a fault and insightful about others (yet blind to himself and his own faults). Given that we never see the world from outside of his blurry eyes, we can get a bit suspicious about his intentions and veracity, but it is obvious he has a heart full of good intentions. Meeting a shy withdrawn A-student named Aimee provides an opportunity for him to re-examine his ways, but it's not terribly reasonable to expect someone who is this far down the path to self-destruction to change their behavior. Think of this as Catcher in the Rye meets Leaving Las Vegas as Holden Caulfield and Ben Sanderson are merged together.

This is a beautifully-written story about a truly complex character. You feel torn between respect and revulsion at Sutter and his behavior. It would be easy to hate him for the way he destroys the people around him or for his own personal cluelessness, but then he does something terribly sweet or kind. And while one could say that he harms Aimee, it is also possible to say that he did her a world of good. Nothing simple and straightforward here. Tharp is a master at portraying this complexity and never quite letting us off the hook.

The story itself is so fluid that you never really want to put this book down. Part of the reason for this is that, while the story is terribly tragic, Sutter is so adamant about keeping us in a happy "now" moment (and Tharp honors his character by doing so) that we never really get a chance to wallow in the misery until we silence the narrator by putting the book down. Recommended.

Dani Noir, by Nova Ren Suma

OK, I'll start off by noting a minor conflict of interest. I didn't realize until I read the jacket bio, but Nova Ren Suma attended a Summer writing workshop at Simon's Rock and credits it with starting her writing career. How cool is that?! So, how can I possibly say anything bad about her now?

Dani Noir is the story of 13 year-old Dani whose love of old movies (and Rita Hayworth in particular) combines with her dramatic sense of the world to make her one of the funnier narrators in Middle School reads. She's spending the Summer being bored and coping with her parents' divorce (and her father's plans to get remarried) the only way she knows how: by sneaking in to the local art theater and watching one classic film after the other. But when she discovers that her friend the projectionist is cheating on his girlfriend (her very own beloved ex-babysitter!), she decides to take matters into her own hands and expose the no-good cheating scum!

Dani is a pretty self-absorbed child, but younger readers will appreciate her good intentions and older readers can get a chuckle from her misadventures (and her obsession with the noir films). I have no idea whether younger readers will even understand what she is going on about, but this is one of those books that will probably hook a few 10-12 year-olds on classic films. No harm in that! If nothing else, it will give the kids something to discuss with their great-grandparents. That said, the story is a bit predictable so no major page-turning excitement here, but it flows nicely and Nova Ren Suma has a nice style which hopefully she can re-create in her next novel.

(Re) Cycler, by Lauren McLaughlin

Cycler introduced us to Jill, the girl with an odd pathology of turning into a boy (Jack) once a month instead of getting her period. It was an unusual premise with a lot of promise that McLaughlin exploited to turn into a story about sex roles, gender identity, and teen angst all rolled up into a fun romp. (Re) Cycler picks up where the first story left off as Jill/Jack and Jack's girlfriend Ramie have moved to Brooklyn to establish some anonymity, get Jill a job, and give Jack and Ramie some quality time together. Jill's boyfriend Tommy drops them off before heading out West to find himself, leaving Jill as the odd person out. She struggles with how she feels about being abandoned by Tommy, how she feels about Jack and Ramie, and how she feels about Ramie herself. She also struggles a bit with the dating scene in NYC. Given the rather regular metamorphosis that Jill and Jack go through, things are bound to get confusing and complicated, especially when they start changing back and fro in front of their partners.

I actually got a bit worried as I started reading this that it was going to be a lame sequel. After all, it was a clever little idea that guaranteed that the first book would be fun, but where could you go with the story? The first 100 or so pages did not seem very promising and I almost gave up hope. However, by the second half of the book things really take off (the sex scene from pp 184-191 is a masterpiece). Characters (like Ian and Natalie) who seem totally boring in the beginning become much more interesting as the story progresses and they become multifaceted. Somehow, it all picks up.

The only thing that really bothered me was the ending (not to reveal the details, but when sworn enemies become friends I tend to twitch and there were no small number of major items that stay unresolved). Perhaps, the simple fact that Jack (never all that articulate) somehow becomes introspective enough to make the concluding remarks rubbed me the wrong way.

TMI, by Sarah Quigley

Becca has a bad habit of sharing aloud whatever is in her head, which often leads to embarrassing situations. After her overly blunt appraisal of her boyfriend's kissing prowess (or lack thereof) gets her into a heap of trouble, she makes a resolution to start guarding what she says. Instead, she pours her private thoughts into an anonymous BLOG. But, as one could easily predict, the anonymity is fleeting, threatening embarrassment and far worse for Becca and her friends.

One major problem with this book is its intended target audience. Becca and her friends are tenth graders and their conversations can stray into some mature topics, but for the most part they act like Middle Graders and the story's fairly simple lessons seem more geared towards 11-14 year-olds. With a highly predictable outcome and mostly chaste storyline, older readers won't find much here. Quigley seems to recognize this issue and even apologizes for her heroine's immaturity at one point (for having Becca reading Forever so late in life). All things considered, I'll probably consider this a book for younger readers, but it's wildly inconsistent.

That comment aside, I found the story largely set-up and staged. The surprises are telegraphed so much that anyone who can't figure out that one character is gay and that the BLOG is going to become public knowledge is really just a poor reader. The major life-lessons (avoiding gossip, respecting others' privacy, and not sharing secrets in the first place) are driven home to death.

Finally, I do get so tired of YA writers who insist on making their characters share the author's own interests. Yes, the 1980s seriously rocked and I certainly am of the school that not much of cultural significance has happened since Purple Rain but I'm well aware that teens don't share that point of view. So, let's stop creating fictional teenagers who worship The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. Enough!

Fairy Tale, by Cyn Balog

Morgan and Cam are as close as a pair of nearly-16 year-olds can be. They've been friends since birth and are something of a star couple at school. But when Cam finds out that he is actually a changeling (a fairy prince swapped at birth with his human brother) and that he must now return to the world of the fairies forever, everything threatens to come apart. Morgan wants to fight to keep him, but as the day approaches even she begins to doubt her efforts. First of all, there is her uncanny ability to explain the future (which tells her that she will fail) and then there are her growing feelings for Cam's human brother Pip.

Morgan's ability to foretell the future is a bit of a red herring in this story (while an integral part of the introduction, it never really factors in to the rest of the story), but otherwise this is an interesting novel. It doesn't read so well on a literal plane (I've read some pretty scathing reviews of the lame characters and plot from teen reviewers), but it has an endearing theme: how much does a 16 year-old really know about finding the man of her dreams? While Morgan starts off the story utterly committed to Cam, even she has to admit that she can't see him in her future. And when Pip starts to tempt her, at first she blames evil magic and spells, but she quickly realizes that there are no spells. Rather, this is all her own doing. I found that a far more interesting storyline, but maybe not the sort of thing that teen readers will appreciate as much as I.

One Lonely Degree, by C K Kelly Martin

Finn is a fifteen year-old girl living in Ontario with a whole series of problems and issues including:

1) A childhood friend Jersy who reappears;
2) A best friend Audrey who falls in love with Jersy and then is forced to spend a Summer away, during which the inevitable happens between Jersy and Finn;
3) The memories of a sexual assault at a party the previous Fall;
4) Parents who are separating and a mother who can't cope with the stress of the breakup.

Whew! It's hard just keeping track of it all.

And that's really the crux of my problem with this book. It's not that Martin isn't a good writer (she definitely is!). She's got a decent ear for dialog and throws in the right amount of chick-friendly stuff to help this qualify as decent consumer-grade YA, but the story has a terribly busy plot (or plots). Any one of these story lines would have made a good book (and many good books have been written using just one of these plot lines), but trying to do it all inevitably means not doing any of them well. The romantic triangle never develops any tension, the parental separation hangs out there, and the sexual assault plot remains underdeveloped.

I came away with the impression that in fact Martin didn't know what to do with any of these stories, which is why she kept piling them in and then jumping between them. That's a shame since a good book about cheating with your best friend's boyfriend or recovering from a sexual assault would have been fantastic in the right hands. A disappointment.

And then there is my ongoing criticism of bad book covers. This one really annoyed me. Finn makes a big point of telling us that she has no figure (even noting how flat her hips are). So, why does the model on the cover of this book have to be Ms Shapely 2009? It's bad enough when they have to put some sort of pencil-thin waif with a big butt on the cover of a book to sell it, but when the author has clearly indicated that the character is not like that? Shame on Random House for stooping to the lowest common denominator! And why don't they get an art editor on staff who actually bothers read the book!

Aurelia, by Anne Osterlund

After a third attempt to murder Crown Princess Aurelia, the king asks for help from his old friend to help uncover the killer. Instead, the friend sends his son Robert. Robert and Aurelia are old friends of a sort (having attended the same school) and they have an odd chemistry (more on that later). While Robert is supposed to hide the purpose of his presence, Aurelia quickly figures it out and (no shrinking daisy) she becomes his partner in uncovering the source of the threat. Told in a vaguely 18th century setting, but with thoroughly modern teenagers, this book combines princess romance, whodunit, and bitchy High School dramatics into one cooly calculated book.

The book appears to be quite popular (based on the large number of library holds and positive reviews posted on book selling websites), but I'm at an honest loss to explain why. The romance seemed weak to me, the characters flat, the setting implausible, and the plot simplistic. This is historical romance for people who don't care about history and have fairly limited demands for a romance (the characters apparently kissed, but the heat didn't exactly radiate off the page). The author makes a point of reminding us repeatedly that the young people all went to school together, but I never could quite fathom the nature of Aurelia's and Robert's relationship. No attempt was ever made to get inside their heads or explain their motivations. And the far more important relationship betweem Aurelia and her step sister is largely neglected until it suddenly becomes crucial to the story at the end. There are so many decent historical novels out there (and even so many better written exploitative teen romances) that I think you can safely give this one a miss.

Breathing, by Cheryl Renee Herbsman

Savannah was named by her mother after the destination of a hurricane, but she hardly feels that powerful. Instead, coping with her strict Mom, her obnoxious little brother Dog, and her asthma, she struggles to get through her 15th summer in her rural Carolina home. While abandoned by her friends who have gone to see family or attend sleepover camp, Savannah figures that her days are going to be pretty long. But then (as is inevitable in books like these) she meets the Boy who sweeps her off her feet (and who happens to be a real gentleman). That happiness is short-lived though when the boy moves away and Savannah doesn't know if their long distance relationship can last. While no one else believes that her young love is worth such a struggle, she knows in her heart that it is.

On the face of it, this is a light summer romance read (much like the types of books that Savannah herself dives into), but Herbsman has crafted an above-average version of it. I can single out several things I really like about this book.

First of all, there is the setting. I'm not a huge fan of Southern fiction (the cliches wear thin) and I tend to prefer the Southern-light of Dessen or the over-the-top folksy charm of a Because of Winn Dixie. I initially cringed when I read all the "ain'ts" and "ruthers." But Herbsman originally is from these parts and she has a good ear for how people really talk. And so I began to appreciate the dialogue as I got into it. By the end, you began to realize that the community represented in the story wasn't just flavor, but an essential ingredient to the story. And I definitely had a chuckle over some of the sayings in the book (my personal favorite was "feeling as disappointed as a raccoon after the trash truck comes").

Savannah herself is a winner. Never too good nor too horrible, she has a big heart and an irrational stubborness to drive you nuts, but every move seemed true. She is the teen that teens might try to deny they resemble, but she had the right mix of responsibility and carelessness for me.

And finally, there is the mother (this is where I show my age, I suppose, appreciating the parents) who is no saint, but is as far away from the clueless parents of most YA books as you can be. I didn't always like her and she could be hard on Savannah, but she gave good advice and was one of the more successful single parents I've seen in literature. And it was great that the reward for being such a good parent was that she had a good realtionship with her daughter. Adolescence is dramatic enough without always having to pump up the parents as the bad guys.

Kudos to Herbsman for avoiding so many trite stereotypes!

The Princess and the Bear, by Mette Ivie Harrison

Not so much a sequel of The Princess and the Hound as a story inspired from the myth of King Richon first told in that earlier book. This novel takes Richon's story of involuntary transformation into a bear and expands upon it, telling how the bear and his companion hound encounter the evil phenomenon of "unmagic" and fight to defeat it. The struggle takes them to find the Wild Man, who in turn sends them back in time to set all things right (which involves not just defeating unmagic but also saving Richon's kingdom from both internal and external enemies). Themes of compassion for animals and animals' rights are interspersed throughout to add some moral gravity to this fantasy.

I really enjoyed The Princess and the Hound a lot and I was really looking forward to this book for more of the same. So, it was shocking to find not only a very different story, but such a poorly written one. In her first book, Harrison showed an immense talent for writing deep and richly textured fairy tale, but here the narrative utterly drags. In part, the story is hubbled by characters that cannot communicate verbally for a bulk of the book (not a single word of dialogue is exchanged between them for the first fifty pages). The prose is written past passive and is lethargic and boring. The characters, their actions, and what motivates them are difficult to follow. In sum, I found the whole thing a chore to get through. Everything I loved about the first book (originality, engrossing characters, beautiful story) is missing here. It is as if unmagic has sucked everything good out of Harrison's writing and left behind a gray mass.

Beautiful Americans, by Lucy Silag

Four teenagers (Alex, Olivia, Zack, and PJ) get to spend a year at the Lycee de Monceau in Paris. As you would expect, there will be joy and tears, mischief and love. But in this story, there is also scandal, sex, drugs, and a shockingly askew moral compass. If that works for you (or doesn't bother you), then there is plenty to enjoy here.

Alex is the spoiled and narcissistic one, who thinks mostly of herself and freely spends her mother's money until her Mom shuts off the Amex and stops sending money. Then Alex resorts to stealing and exploiting the other kids. Surprisingly, she is surprised when this all comes back and bites her on the derriere.

Olivia wants to dance in the ballet and has a real talent for doing so. But when her family comes for a visit, she has to face up to the fact that she doesn't want to pursue her dreams the same way that her parents do. No major breakthrough here, but a little ol' standard Afterschool Special scenario...with a little ol' R-rated twist.

Zack is the closet gay boy. Running to Gay Paree to explore his other side (and to get away from his stereotypical Southern conservative upbringing), he proves reluctant to actually make the moves. It's sweet, but again never moves far away from the second dimension of character building.

And finally, we have PJ, who has barely escaped from the United States before her parents are arrested. She tries to get herself into the graces of her host family so she doesn't have to go home to the US and have folks know what happened to her parents. What she doesn't expect is that her French host family have much darker secrets to hide...and what she also doesn't seem to realize is that there is a US Embassy in Paris to which in-danger Americans can turn (but since Silag is more interested in creating drama than realistically addressing problems, I'm sure THAT small important detail was judged to be too boring!).

It's not a badly written story. The characters are a bit flat and more than a little repellent, but the setting in gorgeous and there's enough action to keep the story moving. What is lacking though is plausibility. This is, without a doubt, the most poorly supervised group of teens in France. Authority figures never play much of a role in YA, but the extremes to which these kids go suggest outright child neglect (and not even the French would tolerate this sort of situation). I'm OK with a little fantasy here and there, but when it's stretched this far (and when it borders into child abuse, neglect, and endangerment) then I have to put my foot down. This is a trashy book -- a well-written, but ultimately trashy book. You may like it, but don't take it too seriously.

Sea Change, by Aimee Friedman

Miranda hasn't had a lot of luck or experience with boys, but when she joins her mother on Selkie Island to help clean up her grandmother's house so it can be sold, that looks set to change. Most of the boys on the Island are rich trust fund types, but Leo is different: intelligent, sensitive, local townie...and maybe something else. As Miranda gets to know him better, she becomes convinced that he is actually a merman.

For the most part, this book is fairly standard teen romance material, but the hint of the supernatural spices things up nicely. Is Leo just different because he's the right sort of boy for Miranda? Or is he actually a merman? For that matter, what of Miranda's bloodline? Does it make her susceptible to the charms of the sea? In the end, most of these questions turn out to be unimportant, but they add a nice metaphorical layer to the budding romance.

I was a bit annoyed by the ending, though, which not only wrapped things up too conveniently but resorted to adding information that should have been added (or hinted at) earlier in the story. My sense was that the ending was rushed. Aside from that, this is an above-average romance.

When the Whistle Blows, by Fran Cannon Slayton

Seven Halloweens over seven consecutive years told in seven chapters. Each one reveals a different aspect of Jimmy Cannon's life and that of his friends and town. But most of all, each one tells a part of Jimmy's relationship with his father -- a railroad worker in their town in West Virginia in the 1940s. The stories are boys' stories (spying on a secret meeting, vandalizing a car, winning a championship football game, etc.) and told with a nice folksy warmth that evokes the spirit of Mark Twain.

Given the timelessness of the stories, the individual independent strength of each chapter, and the literary flavor of the entire endeavor, this book has "instant classic" written all over it. I'm sure it will be quickly picked up on by school teachers and other book-report assigners. So act fast if you want to enjoy the book on its own innocent merits. As for me, I can recognize the greatness, but it wasn't the type of book I really like. Historicals don't tend to appeal to me and nothing makes me glaze over faster than male bonding (and football). Still, I'm sure others will like this.

Shift, by Charlotte Agell

In a dystopian future, state religion has replaced the world we know with a fear-driven society. The only alternative to the HomeState world are the nuclear wastelands of the Deadlands and the wilds of the north (current day Maine) beyond them where the crazies live.

When 15 year-old Adrian's best friend is seized by the police because he is Jewish, Adrian sets off on a trip into the North. The disappearance of his mother (right after she has been found babbling about a coming "shift" that will change the world) is just one more motivator. Terrorists, crazy computers, and a penguin figure in as well.

The overall result is a seemingly random story. It all starts off well enough as a road trip tale, but as soon as the characters cross over into Maine, that storyline gets abandoned. And what it gets replaced with simply doesn't make sense. After a while, I simply gave up trying to follow the story. I'd like to suspect that the earlier drafts did make sense but somehow it all got mangled in revisions and editing. What I did get out of it was that the author was trying to merge some of the wonder of life in Maine (and witnessing the Aurora Borealis in particular) with a diatribe against religious fanaticism, but what a frustrating mess!

Nobody's Princess, by Esther Friesner

Helen of Sparta is your typical modern fantasy heroine -- terrible at needlework, bored by feminine duties. She'd rather take up the sword, learn how to ride a horse, and set out on a grand adventure. Along with her older brothers, she gets her wish as they travel through the Hellenic Empire.

The adventure itself is surprisingly mundane and mostly serves to illustrate Grecian beliefs and culture -- the most noteworthy part of which for Friesner is the rampant misogyny of the period and the struggles that a woman who wanted to question them had to face. But as is usual in this genre, nothing is really beyond a young woman if she is wily enough to attempt it.

In other words, there is no new ground being broken here. The warrior princess archetype has now become as well worn as the helpless princess type of yore. And Helen is not the most interesting manifestation of the character. Her assertiveness, unbalanced by any humility, comes across as selfishness more than virtue (although I thought the beginning of the novel started out promisingly enough when she started challenging the gods) and overall just seemed like stubbornness. There are some interesting possibilities raised by the grown woman warrior Atalanta, who serves well as a mentor and inspiration to Helen, but she is sent away before the storyline can develop fully (perhaps to return in a sequel?). This is functional historical fantasy, but it doesn't go any where new.

It seems to me that what the genre really needs is a heroine who straddles the gender barriers more convincingly. A young woman who masters needlepoint, poise, and ALSO kicks serious butt with a sword would be interesting. Or one that struggles between not wanting to be perceived as weak and feminine yet also doesn't want to prove otherwise by killing things? So many possibilities to make deeper characters. And I think readers are hungry for female characters who get to be both interesting and introspective at the same time. After all, (to choose an off-topic example) Bella doesn't become the most interesting denizen of the undead world by being either kick-ass or wimpy all of the time (she is interesting precisely because she can do both).

Nothing But Ghosts, by Beth Kephart

In the days since her mother has died, Katie and her father have found their own patterns of living in a house that feels too big. He works away at restoring art and she takes a job gardening at the estate of a reclusive old woman. By chance, she also gets the opportunity to sort through several boxes of ephemera donated to public library. All three plot lines come together in the form of a mystery from long ago and Katie uncovers the truth about the reclusive woman.

I liked Kephart's previous book Undercover because it was an ambitiously-written YA novel, but this one may push things a bit too far. Her intent is to invoke a mood and once it is there, the story/dialogue/characters really don't matter as much (I call this the Curse of the Modern Novel). It might work for high brow adult fiction, but it makes for deadly uninteresting YA. It is a beautiful book, but without the blurb and the author's notes at the end, I really couldn't tell where this was going or why. Disappointing!

Princess Ben, by Catherine Gilbert Murdock

Told in the form of a memoir, by the aging Queen Ben(evolence), this is the story of her youth, beginning with the murder of her parents and her tutelage under Queen Sophia. Ben at this age is hardly an aspiring royal. She despises her dancing, embroidery, and poise lessons, stuffs herself with sweets, and generally causes havoc where she goes. By accident one day, she discovers a secret portal in the castle that leads her to a book of spells. Events then fall into place for her to become a much better person and to truly bloom into a princess.

The story is all good fun, full of the requisite fairy tale elements (magic, dragons, battles, fancy dresses, etc.) but with a good dose of modern sensibility thrown in (Ben's rebelliousness, the narrator's advice to young readers, etc.). It never really takes off though. As with any adventure story, you turn the pages waiting for the next surprise and this one delivers, but the characters are remarkably flat and uninspiring. The romance, such as it is, never really takes off. Ben's coming of age (so crucial for this narrative) is never believable. Worst of all, the passive narration throughout (and some unnecessarily "forsooth" language) serves mostly to distance the reader from the story and the characters. It isn't a boring book, but there are so many better recent examples of this genre to try out.

Raggedy Chan, by Camille Picott

This is a pretty hard-to-find book, so you'll have to put some effort into locating it. Is it worth the effort? That depends on what you are looking for. Let's start with the story...

When her mother returns to work, half-Chinese and half-Irish Emma gets babysat by her Aunt Gracie. The aunt, who comes from the Chinese side of the family, is a fount of Chinese culture and obviously disapproves of how Americanized (and Westernized) her niece is becoming. To rectify this situation, she devotes the day to exposing Emma to her Chinese roots. This begins with Aunt Gracie giving Emma a rag doll with black hair and almond eyes to replace the rather more traditional rag doll given her by the Irish side of the family. During the day introduces Emma to the joys of chopsticks (useful for eating the marshmallows in Lucky Charms!), making wontons, and playing mahjong. This part of the story follows fairly traditional ground of introducing an initially reluctant child to new things and simultaneously exposing the reader to some cultural diversity.

However, the story has much broader ambitions. Auntie Gracie also shares a story with Emma about Raggedy Chan (her new doll), who is actually a Chinese princess named Yao-chi. When the benevolent and rain-making Winged Dragon is stolen from her lands by the demon Drought Fury, the princess must cross the ocean to the land of the Jung-wu (America) where she befriends Paul Bunyun and Babe, who help her with the rescue.

At this point, the story probably sounds a bit like a merger of Princess Bride with The Joy-Luck Club, but Picott's ambitions go further still as the fairy tale (and even Aunt Gracie's culture lessons) become an overall story about the Chinese-immigrant experience, racism, and the pain of leaving home.

The result is an unusual book that is hard to categorize into a convenient niche. The story is complex and multi-layered. At times, it is a bit hard to follow and young readers might get distracted. The mixtures of culture and themes struck me as a particularly Californian viewpoint of the world and readers in other regions might have trouble understanding how it all fits together.

I found myself admiring the ambition of the work more than the actual result. There really are at least two (if not three) separate stories in this book and I wanted more focus, especially in a book which is probably intended for younger readers. As an unrealted issue, more sensitive younger readers might find some of the scenes (eyes being gouged out, skin being flayed) a bit too intense, or at the very least confusing.

I haven't yet mentioned the illustrations by Joey Manfre, but they deserve special note. The styles are a bit diverse (sometimes Disneyesque, sometimes quite abstract) but the artwork is consistently vibrant and interesting. Given the story's iconoclast nature, the drawings are quite appropriate and added greatly to the experience of reading the book.

After, by Amy Efaw

OK, so I'm prejudiced on this one, as it is placed in Tacoma WA and the author has definitely done her homework (the geographic details are superb). When you spend your day working at Tacoma General and then you find that your nightly read is situated there as well, it's pretty cool. And hey, the last time Tacoma featured in any part of YA culture it was as a stand-in for Seattle in Ten Things I Hate About You, but I digress....

As our story opens, Devon finds herself lying on the couch under a blanket and feeling sick to her stomach. But within a dozen pages, we learn that she's just given birth and abandoned her baby to die in a trash can out back. The problem is that Devon has no idea that it has happened. She can't even remember being pregnant in the first place.

It takes the rest of the story to help us understand how that could happen and what Devon has gone through. It's not a terribly pleasant trip (neither the subject matter nor the heroine are easy to deal with), but ultimately Efaw has a lot to teach us about teenage pregnancy, juvenile justice, mental states, and the lengths to which people will go to deny reality.

Devon is a difficult character to like, and my more regular readers know that I'm not a big fan of the unlikeable character. However, I found Devon fascinating and thus irresistible. She does some amazingly stupid things throughout most of the book (some would say all of the way through the book!), but I could understand her motives and even sometimes sympathize with them. And, far more importantly, she didn't do anything out of meanness or viciousness. Teen stupidity I can tolerate. Most significantly, Devon's cluelessness had a purpose and was part of the story. In sum, it worked.

The story suffers a bit more. Efaw is so interested in downloading information to us (about the juvenile justice system, dumpster babies, etc.) that the book has to resort to lecture mode (usually done through the mouths of an expert -- the lawyer, the psychiatrist, etc.). It gets old and it gets boring. I call this the Judy Blume curse -- the writer wants so badly to teach us something that she doesn't care what it does to the pacing of the story. The only solution to this literarry misfortune is the editorial axe: if the information cannot be revealed as part of the story, then it doesn't belong in the story.

The Miles Between, by Mary E. Pearson

There are amazing coincidences in the world, days when everything goes completely right or, as Destiny Faraday puts it, "one fair day" to counter all of the terrible ones in life. And Destiny has plenty of things to deal with: being abandoned by her parents at the age of seven and shuttled from one private school to another, never visited, and afraid to grow attached to anyone because she will inevitably be sent away when things go bad. But on this magical day, a mysterious stranger accosts her in the school's garden while she is playing hooky and challenges her to make a wish for a perfect day. This is quickly followed by her stumbling across an abandoned car which she takes with the help of three of her fellow students. Before they know it, one piece of good luck will lead to another and another and another....

A bit more like her Adoration of Jenna Fox (in the sense of being a fantasy about children with rich parents) and less like the creepy and desolate Room on Lorelei Street (of which I was in a minority of critics), this is a very lighthearted and harmless story about a day when things go right. As a story about endless good luck, there is not a lot of suspense in this story (one or two big surprises though). Instead, the story is anchored in the premise that four kids getting to know each other on a very strange road trip is enough of a story to keep us hooked. For the most part, it really does work, although the twists of luck vary widely in believability and I was less credulous about some of the more bizarre turns that the story takes. It is decent escapism, but not as thought-provoking as her earlier works. There simply isn't that much profound to say about good things, except the way that they help us to understand the bad.

The Princess and the Hound, by Mette Ivie Harrison

Prince George may be heir to the throne, but he bears a terrible secret: he possesses "animal magic" which allows him to communicate with the animals. This is such an evil thing that anyone found to have such powers is usually burned alive. And so it must remain a secret. Princess Beatrice is shy and private, preferring the company of her loyal hound Marit over the company of any human. And she too bears secrets that may be even more horrible than George's magic. When their fathers ordain that the two should be married, their match seems unfathomable. But George and Beatrice are both dutiful and will obey the will of the kings.

A strikingly beautifully written fairy tale, told in an unusually fairy-tale like voice (avoiding the typical first-person action novel approach used in most fantasy). Harrison's PhD in Germanic Lit is put to good use as this story, while bearing no resemblance to any one legend, bears the style of the best of them -- part Brothers Grimm, part Parsifal. You can read the story literally and enjoy it heartily, but there are numerous additional layers to entertain you: from the "magic" that dare not speak its name to the struggle that Beatrice and Marit have to define their identity to the troubled relationship that both of the children have with their parents. There is an awful lot here to be explored.

Some of the most memorable scenes in the story creep up on you unexpected (the confrontation between Marit and the pack of wild dogs, the duel in the Game of Kings, Lord Peter daring George to plunge into the moat). Others are much longer to develop and grow with the dramatic arc (the bear, the demise of the kings, George's coming of age). What is so marvelous is that they all flow so well together.

The funny thing is that the "animal magic" stuff, so central to the story, is the part that worked least well for me. Perhaps because it is always being suppressed and concealed, it seems underdeveloped, even non-essential for the story. Its purpose (for me anyway) seemed more to illustrate a nice symmetry between human and animal world that makes this story stand out.

And yes, I will turn to the sequel in a few weeks. Stay tuned!

Rapunzel's Revenge, by Shannon and Dean Hale

I'm not a big fan of graphic novels (see below), but Shannon Hale is one of my favorite authors, so I couldn't pass this one up.

It's the story of Rapunzel, but with a bit of a twist. Exiled to a tower in the woods by her evil witch stepmother, Rapunzel (named after the lettuce) manages to break free in the nick of time (before she starves to death or gets "rescued" by a pig-headed prince) through some fancy lassoing with her abundant hair. Those braids make a mighty fine weapon as she teams up with a boy named Jack and the two of them hunt down the witch. This isn't like any fairy tale you or I know -- Rapunzel kicks some serious cowboy butt in this rowdy Westernized variant of more than a couple familiar stories.

The story is cute, but undeveloped, as I often find graphic novels to be. The irony is, of course, that I was a huge fan of the genre as a kid (Tin Tin, Raymond Briggs' Father Christmas, and a good number of adult graphic novels when I became a teen). This stuff reminds me of them. But they are still glorified comic books. The stories tend to be heavy on action and light on character development. The plotting is all-important, the narrative secondary. So, they are fun to read, but not very filling. And most of them are not what I would consider literature.

Take this example. Hale writes some pretty good and original fantasy fiction (Princess Academy is a wonderful book, as are the Books of Bayern), but this current story is terribly thin. It's original and contains a healthy amount of modernization (Rapunzel is pretty good at taking acre of herself). There's some humor and plenty of frenetic action, but no moments that I want to go back and read. Rapunzel is an amusing heroine, but not anyone I really care about. And if one were to translate this story into straight fiction, it would have a hard time running beyond short story length.

Red Glass, by Laura Resau

Growing up with her Mom and Stepfather in Tucson, Sophie has been exposed fairly often to migrant workers and while friendly to them she has stayed largely detached. When a young boy comes to live with them (after his parents are killed while crossing the border), Sophie abandons her usual fears and opens up to him, dubbing him her Principito (little prince) after the title character of her favorite book. And when the family discovers the little boys living relatives in southern Mexico, Sophie agrees to accompany the boy on the trip back. Going with her are her eccentric aunt Dika (a Bosnian refugee), Dika's boyfriend Mr. Lorenzo, and Lorenzo's son Angel. For Sophie, who's been afraid of nearly everything around her, it is the trip of a lifetime, exposing her to strange and scary new worlds.

A beautifully written journey through Central America. The multicultural flavor of the book (Bosnians, indigenous Mexican, and Guatemala) will appeal to the folks who worry about such stuff, but like the very best books that straddle multiple cultures, none of it really matters in the end. Instead, Resau has written a book about human beings, showing how we are all creatures of circumstance. Sophie's transformation from "weakling" to fuerto is as wonderful as it is expected, but she don't neglect the others. Almost every character in the story undergoes some sort of transformation, which draws us to them (even to the bad guys).

There's a fair amount of adventure and action in here to keep restless readers occupied, but more than anything else there is good dramatic payoff in the end that makes you feel like you have been more than entertained.