Amy & Roger's Epic Detour, by Morgan Matson

Amy's family is falling apart. Her father is dead. Her brother is in drug rehab. Mom has moved across the country, leaving Amy alone in California. Now, she wants Amy to drive the family car and join her in Connecticut. Amy's terrified of driving ever since the car accident that killed her father so Mom carves out a compromise: she finds the son of a family friend named Roger to do the driving. And thus is launched a road trip.

Her Mom's carefully-planned itinerary quickly gets bypassed as Amy and Roger decide to explore a few side-destinations along the way. And what starts as a few detours becomes a much more important journey for both of them as they confront a series of issues and clear up some serious emotional baggage.

The story works on a number of levels. There's the overly predictable love story, which is pretty lame, but develops at its expected speed. There's the similarly predictable shedding of issues which at least is paced realistically, albeit in a way that was more tedious. If this was all that the book had going for it, I'd probably toss this out is slight formulaic fodder. But there's all sorts of lovely touches, from the play lists to the travel guide of burgerology, which liven the story up and make it fun. All sorts of great research went into the travel aspect (for all the places which I knew, the details seemed right) and I enjoyed that part. So, while the story telling itself didn't really offer anything new, I liked the details and enjoyed the trip. And even a formula can be fun with the right dressing.

Friend Is Not A Verb, by Daniel Ehrenhaft

Hen's older sister has been missing for a year, so it's a big deal when she suddenly shows up again (although, suspiciously, his parents don't seem so surprised by the news, suggesting that they may have known where she was for the past year). Unfortunately, his sister's reappearance coincides with Henry getting dumped by his girlfriend and getting kicked out of her band. The latter is short-lived as he gets invited back into the band (albeit not into his ex-girlfriend's bed).

Somehow, despite his total lack of talent, everyone seems to think that Hen has what it takes to be a rock star. His parents are encouraging him to study music. His prodigal sister wants him to take lessons from her fugitive boyfriend. Hen himself is just confused.

Written in a wise-cracking and uber-trendy style that is guaranteed to date itself in weeks, Ehrenhaft's prose will bring a smile to your face (the book, at the very least, has the best title of the year). As literature, however, it left me cold. The characters are fairly thin (why do male writers do such a crappy job with emotions and motivations?) and are largely vehicles for one-liners. There's a decent collection of embarrassing anecdotes and some great physical humor, but the story is going in several directions at once and has a hard time getting off the ground.

Illyria, by Elizabeth Hand

Madeline and Rogan share a love for the theater and for each other. Descendants of a famous stage star and also first cousins, they share a number of secrets (secret hideaways, secret rendezvous, and a special secret attic with a magical miniature stage). However, their forbidden love for each other and for the stage threatens to destroy them both. Told completely in the hindsight of adulthood from Madeline's viewpoint, we learn about their growth into stars and their loss of innocence and love.

This is a beautifully-written short novel, but it is problematic for me because (beyond describing a life full of disappointments) it lacks much of a story. The narrator's perspective (an adult looking wistfully back on the folly of youth) is not really YA, but rather an adult's book about childhood. And finally, the book is a stylistic mess. Themes ranging from explicit incest to sheer fantasy are picked up carelessly and dropped just as quickly. The overall mood is dreamy and random. The result is pretty but not terribly compelling.

Forgive My Fins, by Tera Lynn Childs

Lily has always had a crush on swimming hunk Brody Bennett, but all she ever seems to get is unwanted attention from her obnoxious neighbor Quince. The worst part is that she is running out of time. Lily is a Thalassinian princess - a mermaid - and if she doesn't bond with Brody by her 18th birthday, her underwater kingdom will go without an heir. An unexpected prank at the Prom from Quince causes complications when he accidentally bonds Lily to himself (instead of to her true love). Now, she must prove that her affections are really with Brody and not with Quince to be free of the bond.

The story is tried and true, and utterly familiar and predictable. We all know that she will end up with Quince, since even though she despises him from the beginning, everyone around them thinks that they will be a great couple. We simply have to wait for her to recognize it as well. The key is whether the journey to the predictable conclusion will be worthwhile. I'll freely admit that "true love" romances are not my thing (more on that below), but this one in particular really didn't break any new ground. Mermaid stories (especially ones that compare mermaid life to American high school life) have been common enough in recent years. This one is so lacking in tension and suspense, that I found myself counting the pages until we got to the part where she would get over herself and fall for Quince.

OK, so why so cold on the true love theme? You might rack that cynicism up to me being a guy, but I suspect that age has more to do with it than gender. I like a good romance, where the characters struggle with their feelings and fall in love, but the idea that one can just be in love without any effort is so unrealistic and so uninteresting. Why would you care about people who don't have to work at it? In the end, I wasn't really convinced that Lily's feelings for Quince were any deeper than her infatuation with Brody.

As Simple As It Seems, by Sarah Weeks

In fifth grade, Verbena learns that her parents are not her real parents. She was adopted. In her mind, this explains why she is such a screw-up. After all, how could she not be when her biological parents are an alcoholic and a murderer? Just the idea of it drives Verbena nuts and triggers her (in her mind, inherited) short temper. She is angry and upset and closes off to her parents and her friends, spending the summer between grades struggling with her mixed-up sense of identity.

Enter Pooch, a "flatlander" from NYC, spending the summer in Upstate New York in Verbena's neighborhood. He's got his own problems (not least of which is that he's convinced that Verbena is actually a ghost!). But from the start, you know that the two of them will help each other through the issues and aid in each others' self-discovery.

With one of the most misleading titles, this economic (180 page!) and tightly-written novel is far from simple and has a lot to say about growing up. While definitely intended for middle readers, there is such a complicated storyline that young readers may get lost or bored. But this is good writing with a timeless setting that will keep this story around for a long time. All of which are the makings of a classic.

In general, I liked the story. The kids were funny, the story lacked any nasty bad guys, and it avoided meanness. There was a bit of gratuitous animal death, but in general this is a gentle tale with universal themes.

Invisible Girl, by Mary Hanlon Stone

Stephanie has taught herself plenty of tricks for surviving her mother's abuse. She has her Nancy Drews to inspire her and her vocabulary of "Warrior Words" to give her strength. She knows how to hide when her mother has been drinking and is in a mean mood. But when it is finally decided to rescue her from her mother and send her to a wealthy family on the other side of the country in Los Angeles while things get "sorted out" as home, she is completely unprepared to deal with the meanness of the girls she meets there. At first, she finds herself meekly accepting her peer's abuse (following the model she learned from dealing with Mom), but when another (and much stronger) new girl arrives, this new girl's kindness motivates Stephanie to stand up for herself.

While the story of finding one's inner strength in the face of mean peers and hapless adults is tired and old, there are two things that make this book stand out: the careful plotting of the way that a nasty cohort of teens can develop and maintain its hold, and the strikingly unrelated exploration of being a Muslim American. The former is also not original, but Stone figures out the logistics of young teen peer pressure quite well (and in a much more interesting fashion than you might find in a Clique novel). The diversion into Muslim life is a bit of a bizarre twist (and largely not organic to the story), but is interesting nonetheless. Unfortunately, it (along with the end) seems to be a bit of a rush job. The story halts awfully abruptly, leaving a number of key issues unresolved (but leaving room for reader imagination).

After the Kiss, by Terra Elan McVoy

Two seniors, getting ready to graduate and move on, remain stuck on a boy - the same boy. At first, neither one of them knows about the existence of the other. Camille is new in town, a victim of having been moved around the country regularly by her Dad. Her scenery has changed so often that she no longer even registers the changing names of her latest BFF. When she meets Alec at a party, she has no way of knowing he is already taken. The other girl, Becca, is Alec's betrayed girlfriend. When they accidentally become friends (without realizing who the other one is at first), it is Becca who is the first to realize who Camille is and what she has done. While she has the advantage, Becca toys with Camille and plans out revenge, yet something holds her back from carrying out her plans.

It's an interesting story, although not as original as McVoy's previous novel Pure, and has an unusual structure. Camille's sections are all written in lower-case second person prose. Becca's chapters are in verse (with frequent parodies of poetry lifted from the Norton Anthology). Becca's poetry can at times be a bit twee but at other times shows real strengths (and was certainly the best part). I'm undecided about how I feel about that wide variance (there's something stereotypical about a teen who writes bad poetry). Camille's sections, on the other hand, really got on my nerves. Second person narrative is exhausting (coming across more as constant criticism and accusations) and the lower-case spelling makes it all very hard to read, without adding much.

It's Not Summer Without You, by Jenny Han

From the cover and the title, you could be forgiven for thinking that this was a summer romance with a beach and a boy. And it actually has both things in it, but this sequel to The Summer I Turned Pretty is really a story about grief and the acceptance of loss, tackling those subjects in a poignantly mature, yet totally age-appropriate, way.

It's one summer later since the first novel and the world has changed dramatically. Conrad has gone missing from school and Jeremiah seeks out Belly to help him try to find his brother. Through flashbacks, we quickly learn the most important events: Conrad and Belly's failed romance and the death of Susannah to breast cancer. The latter event hangs on everyone -- the boys miss their mother, Belly misses Susannah as the mother she never really had, and Belly's mom misses her best friend. Of course, ultimately they overcome it, but it's the voyage that matters.

There is a tendency in YA to assume that teen readers aren't interested in the adult world. And while I suppose there is some truth in that, Jenny Han takes a very different approach in this series. The novel is very much about the kids, but the children exist in the context of the adults and the two parties react/respond to each other in realistic and measured ways. Perhaps as a grownup myself, I appreciate the fact that we aren't segregating the worlds. And it really works with Han's interest in nostalgia and skill at portraying what is lost in the process of growing up (showing children halfheartedly seeking adulthood and adults wistfully recalling youth).

I also like the fact that this sequel isn't rehashing its predecessor. While it includes the same characters and there is some continuity in themes, the story has moved on and deals with a completely different topic than the first book.

Glimpse, by Carol Lynch Williams

Hope and Lizzie have always looked out for each other. Hope always figured it was her job to take care of her older sister, but when she finds Lizzie with a shotgun to her head, that illusion shatters. As Hope copes with what has happened and tries to uncover the meaning of her sister's suicidal urges, she is forced to come to terms with the facts of her family's existence and the brutality that lies under it.

Told in taut verse, this 480-page novel is an extraordinarily fast read (I devoured it in a little over two hours). Verse novels, as I have written several times before, are a risky proposition. The good ones can stick with you and suck you in in a way that regular prose cannot. The vast majority of them, however, are trite and sentimental. This novel falls into the former category.

Williams's previous novel (The Chosen One) was a shocking story of polygamy, but this one pulls out more of the stops, showing the brutal life that Hope and Lizzie live in through Hope's halting lyrical voice. One could fault the story for portraying the girls' mother so harmfully that one wonders how any one could love her, but you won't forget the experience of glimpsing Hope's world.

The View from the Top, by Hillary Frank

In seven chapters, told from six different viewpoints and stretched over several months, we get the stories of a group of recent high school graduates who are spending their last summer together. There's a certain complicated intertwining of relationships and the chapters reference each other, but for the most part each chapter has its own theme and stands on its own. The chapter titles ("A Mix Tape for Bears", "How to Eat a Chocolate Boob") are the best part.

I have to put this book in the category of "I don't get it." I'm no fan of artsy books and this one is very proud of its deep meaningful dialogue and largely non-existent storyline. Most of the action occurs between the chapters and so is (re)told in the past tense. The chapters themselves are exercises in navel gazing (and not the type that teens actually enagge in). The overall experience of reading this book was alienating and boring (and I don't read YA to be bored!). I'd suggest skipping this one, unless you actually get it.

Leaving Paradise, by Simone Elkeles

After nearly a year in jail, Caleb is eager to get home. One night a year ago, he got drunk and behind the wheel, and he ran over a girl. The girl was his next door neighbor and his twin sister's best friend Maggie. And as eager as he is to come home, she's equally obsessed with never seeing him again. Once upon a time, they were close friends, but because of the accident, everything has changed.

Nothing goes as either of them plan. Caleb returns to a family and a town that can't forgive him for what he did and Maggie, who must live with the injuries she sustained, has lost even more. But a series of coincidences (and a few convenient twists only found in novels) send the two of them towards a reconciliation.

While I could see where this story was heading for the most part, I didn't really mind the manipulation of the story as it allowed me to explore the complex process of forgiveness. And the story had a certain poetic quality that I enjoyed reading. However, a startling -- and quite unnecessary -- plot twist on page 230 sent the story out the window. It was as if, after writing a completely predictable romance, Elkeles panicked and decided that the best thing to do would be to totally take the story off the deep end. It certainly suprised me, but it didn't make sense. Without giving away the ending, let's just say that there is a terribly neglected storyline about the relationship between Maggie and Caleb's sister. Perhaps if it had been explored a bit, I might have found the plot twist to be more believable.

Mistwood, by Leah Cypress

When Prince Rokan places the bracelet around Isabel's wrist, binding her to serve him as his bodyguard (his "Shifter"), she feels no fear of revulsion. In fact, she feels nothing at all, for she has no memory of how she acquired this role. She merely knows that it is her duty. For as long as anyone can remember, the Shifter comes when the kings of Samorna call and the Shifter protects them for as long as they need the help. But this time something is not quite right. Isabel knows what she should be able to do, yet she seems limited and hemmed in by strange new limitations. It doesn't help that the Prince doesn't quite seem to be who he is supposed to be either. And as danger approaches, Isabel must make some difficult decisions about who to trust and how to do the right thing.

Good fantasy stories have little to do with magic and fairy tale castles. They are about human concerns. Isabel's struggles with knowledge, love, and loyalty will feel very familar to most young women. Her transition from living in a world of magic to becoming a strong, yet vulnerable, human will elicit sympathy. Her realization that the world is not full of certain absolutes, but rather of vague grey lines, will ring true to any adolescent facing the adult world. The major difference is that by placing this complicated coming-of-age story amidt magic and fantasy, Leah Cypress has made it much more beautiful and breathtaking. But the story is still intended more to speak to readers in the here and now. It does an excellent job but making coming of age into a large allegory about transformation and destiny.

The Clearing, by Heather Davis

After getting out of an abusive relationship, Amy decides to go live with her great aunt in rural Washington. Things don't go terribly smoothly for her and she has trouble making new friends in such a close community. Instead, she finds solace wandering through the woods. One day, she walks to a clearing and becomes curious about a deep fog on the edge of it. Passing through the mist, she finds a boy on the other side who appears to be from an entirely different time.

Henry (the boy) is in fact living in the summer of 1944 on a continuous repeating cycle. It all started after the death of his brother and shortly thereafter his mother. Praying to be able to avoid all of the horrible things that happened at the end of that summer, he got granted his wish. Now, he isn't so sure that it is what he wanted because he sees the costs of living solely in the past.

Each of them in their own way is living in denial of their past and fighting their future. The true question is not why they find themselves drawn to each other, but whether they can find a way to break out of the cycles they are in and move forward.

I found this to be a highly original and entertaining fantasy (and far too underrated in my opinion). Time travel is such a tired concept and the story will remind folks of Tuck Everlasting, but Davis has breathed an new life into what could have been a very trite story. I enjoyed Amy and Henry and found their search for redemption and rebirth to be uplifting. I would not go so far as to claim that it is some sort of literary classic (Davis is shooting more to entertain than to achieve that lofty status), but this is a nice story with characters who are meaningful and delightful. I recommend it.

Two Way Street, by Lauren Barnholdt

Two weeks ago, Courtney's boyfriend Jordan unceremoniously dumped her. Unfortunately, now the two of them are stuck in a already-planned cross-country road trip to Boston College, where they are both starting school in the fall. It's awkward to say the least! But there's a lot more to the story of their break up than immediately meets the eye (and in fact the relationship has always had a bit going on behind the scenes). Through a lot of flashbacks and told in alternating voices between Courtney and Jordan, we learn the truth about their relationship. And through the trip itself, Courtney and Jordan get a chance to reconsider their decisions.

The story is well-enough written, but it never took off for me. The conflict between the two of them is so contrived that it's neither believable nor even interesting. Instead, it is mostly based around ego and an inability to communicate. Courtney is extremely narcissistic and self-centered (even by teen standards). Jordan alternates between arrogance and horniness (or both simultaneously) -- in the ever-clever vocabulary of the book, he's a bit of a "tool." As a result, I nearly immediately disliked both of the characters. None of this was helped by the story. As road trips go, not a whole lot happens on this one aside from Courtney spending a lot of time barfing. So, the story becomes more about the author doling out the Truth is small dollops.

Nothing, by Janne Teller

When their classmate Pierre Anthon quits school, announcing that "nothing matters," his classmates in 7A are initially amused. But as Pierre takes up residence in a tree and starts mocking them for continuing to go to school and continuing to insist that their lives are meaningless, the students become obsessed with proving him wrong. Their method is to assemble a pile of "meaning" (items which are valuable to each of the children). And while the task starts out innocently enough, it escalates into cruelty and sadism. And yet still the meaning of meaning remains elusive.

Read literally, the book is disturbing and unpleasant, delighting in imperiling children and animals in the horrible way that Scandinavians seem to enjoy in literature and art much more than the rest of the world. Anyone with a weak stomach or low tolerance for cruelty will probably want to steer clear. However, take the story as a parable and it becomes more interesting and thought-provoking, but still not really YA. The search for meaning will of course be understandable to all ages, but the jadedness of the way it is presented reads more like an adult novel.

This is not a novel for interesting characters as everything is passively narrated from a single perspective and all of the characters are symbolic anyway. And it's not a novel for story since that too is simply an extended analogy and the action cannot be taken seriously. In the end, this is more of a book for discussions (ironically enough, about what it all "means") which, if we believe Pierre, simply brings us back to the book's title.

Out of My Mind, by Sharon M. Draper

Fifth-grader Melody has a photographic memory and is incredibly smart, but no one knows it. She has cerebral palsy and is unable to speak. For years, people around her assumed that she was as dumb as she appeared. Until she gets a computer that helps her form sentences, she's been limited to a very small vocabulary of words on a tray chart, which hardly persuaded them otherwise. The only exceptions were her parents, a care-giving neighbor, and a few isolated teachers.

This may all change for her this year when she is granted the opportunity to compete in a national Whiz Kids contest. Despite the reservations (and outright prejudice) of her peers and teacher, she reveals a strong talent. But the struggle to be accepted by her classmates is far more important to Melody and may be the one thing she can't quite pull off, no matter how many quiz questions she can ace.

Draper has crafted an easily understood story about disability, pride, and struggle that will appeal to young readers. I got a little tired of the two-dimensional portrayals (the bad people are downright mean and evil, while the good ones are perfect), but one assumes that Draper was aiming down for her audience. Melody is a notable exception to this oversimplification and her complex feelings and struggle for peer acceptance is universally relatable. It's not all puppies and roses at the end, but you'll find it hard to suppress a cheer for her nonetheless.

Compromised, by Heidi Ayarbe

Maya and her father have managed to get by. He always has a trick or a game, and Maya has sheltered herself in that comfort and in the world of the science documentaries and the scientific method. Living from one con to another, he's taken care of her. But when the Law catches up with Dad, Maya becomes a ward of the State of Nevada. Finding out quickly what that means (cruel orphanages, neglectful case workers, and scary foster homes), Maya decides to flee with a fellow orphan Nicole. Maya has found out that she may have an aunt (the sister of her long-dead mother), but given the source of this information (her father), it may just be one final con job. However, that doesn't dissuade her and Nicole from running to Boise to find out where this aunt may be.

What results is an unusual road trip story. Between Maya's obsession with the epistemological method and Nicole's more bizarre obsession with the Mob, we have the requisite odd couple dynamics. Joining them eventually is a troubled young boy with Tourrette's Syndrome. But what starts out as a simple quest to find lost family heads fast towards tragedy and death.

An engrossing but disturbing novel about at-risk teens. The story is definitely too intense for younger readers, but mature ones will find themselves locked in in anticipation of how it will end up. To get there, you will have to travel through vivid scenes of drug use, sexual violence, disease, death, abuse, and more than a little petty crime. But in a story like this, moral compasses are largely irrelevant. The ending is satisfactory, but definitely bittersweet. This is not the realm of the happy ending.

I actually liked the story. I don't think it had much deep meaning and I certainly didn't find much uplifting material here, but Ayarbe writes a taut suspenseful story that had me turning pages eagerly. Life on the streets is definitely not glorified but Ayarbe avoids becoming exploitative at the same time. Instead, I felt the genuine respect that she had towards her characters and the dignity of them that she wanted to portray. They are certainly very vivid kids with personalities and quirks that you'll remember long after finishing the last page.

It is a downer to read, however, so you may want to turn to something light and funny when you're through.

Gimme A Call, by Sarah Mlynowski

Reflecting on the painful end to her high school romance with Bryan, Devi wishes that she could go back in time and warn her 14 year-old self to stay away from him in the first place. If she had, maybe she would have spent more time with her friends (instead of losing them all) and even doing better in school. In the midst of that thought, she accidentally drops her cell phone into the Mall's wishing pool. When she manages to fish it out, it no longer works like normal. Now, it calls herself -- three and a half years younger!

So, if you could speak to your younger self, how would you use the power to change your future through the past? What changes would be for the better and what would simply complicate your life? And, in the end, with such a power would you ever be satisfied with what you had become?

It's a fascinating premise and delivered with great pacing and a good sense of humor. In many of her books, Mlynowski has had a lot of fun crossing supernatural events and fantasy with common teen angst, and this particular book delivers a fun adventure with some great life lessons. It's all very thought-provoking, yet overall fun. For being basic escapism, this novel still manages to pack in some substance. I enjoyed it and suspect you will too!

God Is In the Pancakes, by Robin Epstein

Assisted suicide is a pretty unusual topic for a YA book, so this is already off to a notable start....

When her father moves out on his family, Grace becomes disillusioned and bitter about the subject of romance. The fact that her sister's boyfriend is two-timing her doesn't help matters much either. But her perspective starts to change when she takes a job as a candy striper at an old age home and meets a man dying of Lou Gehrig's Disease. At first, he serves as an obvious surrogate father figure, but when he begs her to help him die, things take a more serious turn.

She struggles with what to do about his request, especially as she gets to know the man's family. But she has other issues with which to deal: helping her sister confront her boyfriend, wrestling with whether she wants to reconnect with her estranged father, and dealing with a romantic entanglement of her own.

For its originality and its sensitivity, I liked the main plot of the story (the assisted suicide), but the rest of the story seemed less well-developed. I got the fact that Epstein was tying all of the subplots together with the themes of love and loyalty (with each story illustrating a different perspective of the themes), but the subplots are tired cliches (awkward boyfriend, jealous sister, absent father). Only the elderly couple struggling to end their relationship in dignity and Grace's wonderment at observing it seemed fresh and new. In many ways, the story would have benefitted from a trimming.

Lucky, by Rachel Vail

Phoebe considers herself to be pretty lucky: she's beautiful, popular, and rich. So, it comes naturally to her to plan, with her best friend Kirstyn, the world's greatest middle school graduation party. But then things start to go badly. Her mother loses her job. Credit cards start to get declined. Her parents start having hushed conversations. Worst of all, her parents inform her that she'll have to cancel the party -- an act which would mean embarrassment in front of her entire class. All of which probably makes Phoebe look like a spoiled brat (and she is accused of being so on several occasions) but the issues are actually more complicated.

As one would expect, facing the dilemma of how to save face (and even protect her family's reputation) makes Phoebe evaluate her values and friendships. And she makes some startling discoveries that will take even the reader by surprise. In the end, it all is wrapped up neatly, but not before a carefully-engineered climax has the tears flowing.

The engineering of the conclusion says a lot about the book and the writer. Vail is a great writer with a list of successful books to her credit and she certainly knows how to craft a story. While certainly not as vacuous as some novels out in the mass market, this will still appeal to casual "Summer" readers. It sets no major literary milestones, but it is an enjoyable book with more than a few thought-provoking thoughts and heart-warming moments.

How to Steal A Car, by Pete Hautman

A friend asked me while I was reading this book, "It's not an instruction manual, is it?" Not really. It's ostensibly a work of fiction, but the moral vacuum in which it is written (combined with the details which it describes) left me wondering what the author's intent really was.

It's a story about Kelleigh and her decision to start stealing cars. Step by step, we see how a whim becomes a prank, and blows up into a criminal career. Told in first-person past tense, the tone is more of a confessional, which implies a bit about how you would expect the book to end. Surprisingly, it doesn't wrap up so neatly.

When it comes to YA books that deal with crime, I have a pretty hardcore viewpoint that they need to end badly (for the criminal). But aside from a small amount of lip service to the idea that what she is doing might just be wrong, this story never really gets to the idea that crime does not pay. So, the ultimate message is that it is dangerous but fun to steal cars. And I'm not sure about what is the value of that position.

It also seems that Hautman avoided the issue by filling up the book with too much other stuff. From the unimportant fact that Kelleigh is color blind to the red herring that Kelleigh's Dad is having an affair, the story is awfully busy with subplots that neither are resolved nor related back to the main plot (would it have been so hard to have her - because of her colorblindness - steal the wrong car or run a red light?). With the affair thing, I suppose that we're trying to set up a justification for Kelleigh's behavior, but it's a pretty lame one and we certainly never connect the dots. What a mess!

The Beautiful Between, by Alyssa B. Sheinmel

In Connelly's mind, her high school is some sort of fairy tale feudal state. The nobility sashay around, barely noticing the commoners like herself. But then one day Prince Charming (in the form of her classmate Jeremy) does take notice and sits with her at lunch. Ostensibly, he only wants to get help on his vocabulary for the SATs (and he offers physics tutoring in exchange), but something else is up.

He lets slip that he knows how her father died -- a statement which shocks Connelly for two reasons: first of all, because she has never told anyone that her father was dead (instead, she has maintained a lie for years that her parents were just divorced), but more importantly she is surprised because even she does not know what caused his death. This is because, even after thirteen years, her mother won't tell her.

The truth of the matter is that Jeremy is struggling with an impending loss of his own. He hopes that somehow Connelly can help him cope with his problems. Between Connolly's grief for a father long passed and Jeremy's fear of the future, the two of them find an uncommon bond and form an unusual friendship.

This is truly an amazing book and probably one of the best books I have read so far from 2010. Connelly is an insightful and observant narrator -- wise beyond her years, but not distractingly so. She's eminently sympathetic as well. I found that I totally got her and really felt like she was a kindred spirit. And yes, I don't know much about being an adolescent girl, but you don't have to in order to understand Connelly's anxiety and insecurity. These are far more universal feelings and she articulates them well. Sheinmel has a gorgeous writing style that articulates complex feelings in simple but beautiful prose.

I also liked the friendship that develops between Connelly and Jeremy. Rather than have them fall into a predictable romance, they become close friends. This is an unusual approach and, in the end, it is so much more powerful than a romantic relationship would have been.

Finally, the relationship between Connelly and her mother is both realistic and painful. Both of them are hurting and it takes some effort to overcome the barriers they have erected in the years since Connelly's father's death. While this part is less original, it is still powerfully written and highly effective.

I have no issues with wholeheartedly recommending this book. It will totally blow you away!

Nothing Like You, by Lauren Strasnick

Holly knows that there is no future in her relationship with Paul. For one thing, he's way out of her league. For another, he's got a girlfriend (the equally fantastic Saskia). But when Paul makes the moves on her, she finds it hard to resist and she'll do anything to hold on to that feeling. The relationship that starts with no future becomes a serious danger to her other friendships as she finds it harder to hide what is going on from her best friend Nils and as she grows closer to Saskia. But even though she knows it is wrong, she continues to fall in deeper and deeper.

While I'd like to be an optimist and hope that not everyone can personally relate to this story of betrayed friendships and infidelity in the halls of high school, I imagine that most of us have been there. It would be easy enough to despise Holly and her lack of will power (as well as her constant mistakes) but Strasnick does a fantastic job of making her believable and sympathetic (and the pure evilness of Paul makes this a bit easier as well). And she does it without resorting to some more obvious tactics. For example, the death of Holly's mother some months before the story opens would form a perfect justification of the lapses of judgment, but Strasnick never plays the cards that way. Holly's mistakes are truly her own.

Holly's (mostly) platonic relationship with Nils is a wonderful part of the story. On the one side, he perfectly illustrates the unevenness of the sexes in these romance games, but he also provides a nice foil for Holly. And the stresses and strains in their relationship share the authentic flavor of the rest of the story.

If I have any complaints, it is probably with the adult characters. Holly's father Jeff is definitely not checked in on his kid (probably because he is blinded by the loss of his wife, but it is never explained). Holly's drama teacher is a throwaway -- I kept expecting something profound to come from the relationship but it just never got there. Given the total lack of adult supervision going on here, I think that the grown-ups could have been left out altogether with little harm done.

A Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, by Brenda Woods

Nine tenth-grade students in an urban high school in Los Angeles are taking Ms Hart's creative writing class. To get them thinking about alternative concepts of fame, she gives them an assignment to imagine a world in which stars on Hollywood Boulevard are handed out for lots of reason (beyond just acting) and to describe what they might do to earn one. During the two week period in which they have in order to complete the assignment, the rough life of these kids frequently intervenes to color their perceptions on how to answer the question.

As a child of the suburbs, I generally prefer to read about kids growing up in the suburbs (or in rural areas). Also, books like this always seem a bit calculated to win acclaim from politically correct suburban librarians. My cynical mind sees marketing ploy, and Woods' array of awards reinforces rather than dispels those biases (I'm a fervent believer that the Coretta Scott King award was designed to ghettioize non-white literature to justify not considering books like this for a Prinz... but I digress).

While it is true that there is a bit of the usual static (tough kids, well-meaning liberal middle-class teacher, cue the "Stand By Me" music?), this book shines on its own merits. Woods has a great ear for dialog and the characters speak in an angst that sounds (to my privileged ears) like the real thing. With a very large cast of characters in a wafer-thin book, it would have been easy to create identical voices (or fall back into stereotypes), but the kids in this book really come forth as individuals, each one of them truly shining like a star.

The ending is a bit heavy-handed and pedantic (as if the author doesn't trust the reader to get the gravitas of the story without having it shoved down their throat), but I can indulge her a bit because I enjoyed the ways in which this book both met and exceeded my expectations.

Turtle in Paradise, by Jennifer L. Holm

In the midst of the Depression, eleven year-old Turtle and her mother struggle to get by. And so, when Mom finds work as a housekeeper for a woman who doesn't like children, Turtle gets shipped off to Key West to stay with her aunt and cousins. The children are surprisingly resourceful and have a number of adventures. For her part, Turtle learns to appreciate the joys and problems of large families. And the reader learns a lot about Key West in this much earlier era.

This nice gentle middle reader covers a little-known world of the Keys before they were a major tourist destination and when the place and times were a bit more innocent. I always have a soft spot for books that take me places I have never been, so I'll have to recommend this book on that basis alone.

But this book has much more going for it. The characters are vivid and interesting. Many of them break stereotypes (for example, who would have ever dreamed up a babysitting service run entirely -- to many humorous results -- by a gang of boys?). The inhabitants of the Keys are obvious quite quirky and Holm delights in showing them off to us (and we, in turn, delight in learning about them). A fascinating historical end note from the author explains how much of the story is based on fact and may make readers want to learn more. For actual young readers, the scenes where the children have to weather out a hurricane may be a bit scary.

Fat Cat, by Robin Brande

Cat is a brilliant science student. She's just completed an internship on insects and is hoping to spin that work into an science fair award-winning project for Mr Fizer's honors class. But instead she gets assigned a topic in pre-historic hominins (early humans). She has no idea what to do with the topic until she gets an inspiration. Musing that prehistoric women are never depicted as fat (and as she's grown tired of her weight and body shape), she decides to copy their diet (or, at the very least, an organic diet) and see what effect it has on her.

The physical impact of switching to such a diet can certainly be expected to be major and over several months, she loses a good deal of weight. But what this does for her social life is completely unexpected by her. Boys are coming out of the woodwork and noticing her. Now, if she could only get her ex-friend (and now sworn enemy) Matt to leave her alone. After betraying her cruelly four years ago, he keeps acting as if they were friends!

In many ways, this is a charming story about how a concerted effort to change your life can be empowering. Cat is a mostly endearing character (see below) and her self-discovery is interesting to read about. No one is particularly deep, but Brande understands good dialog and realistic staging.

So, why my reticence and restraint in reviewing this book? Well, there are simply major issues with the characters. Cat's hatred towards Matt is so painfully and stubbornly adhered to that even a preschooler would recognize its unhealthy stupidity. It's hard to feel sympathy for a character who you know is behaving like an idiot. And a mean one to boot!

My Name Is Memory, by Ann Brashares

Best known for the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series, Ann Brashares ventures into strikingly different territory with this broadly-scoped story of reincarnation, revenge, and undying love.

In her final year of high school, Lucy feels strongly drawn to a loner named Daniel. But she never works up the nerve to even speak to him, until in a very awkward moment, they get the opportunity to confess their feelings. This potentially romantic moment goes very wrong when Daniel insists on calling her "Sophia" and doing so, for some reason not quite understood by her, scares her off. He flees away and Lucy, while initially relieved, becomes obsessed with finding him again.

There is a reason to this madness. They are both reincarnated souls. As it turns out, many people are, but Daniel is special: he remembers all of his previous lives. And he knows that he and Lucy have repeatedly been lovers in the past. Lucy, for her part, has no such memory but is open to the idea. Lucy slowly learns the truth and puts the pieces together. Will they be able to be together in this life and end a millennium of searching and loneliness?

Brashares is a good writer and her rather lengthy story manages to keep the reader's interest throughout. But I'd still have been happier with some more judicious editing (there is only so much angst and ponderous statements of endless love that one can take!). The tropes (love at first sight, love never dies, etc.) that fill the book are pretty traditional old material. But for lovers of romance novels, this pretty much has everything, including a little bit of action. And it hangs together well as Brashares paces everything beautifully. The book is pitched in such a way to appeal to all ages. The characters are young enough to make this YA, but old and mature enough to bring in adult readers.

The beautifully open ending (and a significant number of unresolved questions) invites the inevitable sequel. With its supernatural themes, this is Brashare's answer to the Twilight franchise. Who needs vampires, when you can be reincarnated instead?

I Now Pronounce You Someone Else, by Erin McCahan

Bronwen has always had trouble feeling wanted. She can't manage to communicate with her mother. Her stepfather, while nicer, has never wanted her (proof: when Bronwen was 13 years old, he promised that he would adopt her but then failed to do so without ever bothering to explain why). She's just about convinced that she was switched at birth and really belongs to another family.

In her senior year, she starts to date Jared and falls in love with both him and his warm family. Overwhelmed by their kindness, she doesn't hesitate a minute to accept when Jared proposes marriage to her. But as time passes and the wedding day approaches, Bronwen finds that marriage -- far from giving her a new family in which to develop -- will actually mean sublimating her individuality. She begins to wonder if it is really the right decision for her.

This book, which is really about identity and finding oneself, seems oddly packaged. The book's title suggests a humorous book, while the blurb stresses her sense of being a changeling. Neither is really the point of the story. The tale is in fact rather sad and the ending almost tragic (although a lengthy prologue forces an eventual happy ending on to the story). The overall effect is cloying and difficult to follow. I spent the first half of the story trying to figure out where we were going with this girl. It is only after the proposal occurs that we figure out the point and by then it is pretty obvious where we will end up. Even with what should be a fairly interesting material, McCahan doesn't spin a very interesting tale. My sense is that the book is at least partly biographical, which may make it a cautionary tale, but the writing is very factual and lacks the lyricism that Bronwen's struggles call out for.

Every Little Thing in the World, by Nina de Gramont

After screwing up one time too many, Sydney's mother gives up on trying to control the girl and ships her off to her father. Dad has his own idea of what Sydney needs and decides to send her to Northern Ontario for a month-long Outward Bound canoe trip.

Sydney, however, has deeper problems: she's pregnant and doesn't know what to do about it. There are practical issues (where to find the money to pay for an abortion, whether to tell her parents, etc.) but she also simply doesn't know what she wants. In those weeks on the water, Sydney gains perspective about her life so far and about her relationships with others.

The story follows mostly familiar plotting and presents few surprises, but it is pleasing to read and well-written. Sydney's voice is far too mature for her age and sounds more as if she were writing the story in her adulthood with the wisdom of hindsight. This makes her thoughts insightful but unrealistically sober and clear-headed. Also, for allegedly being such a screw-up before the story begins, she makes almost no bad choices in the course of the novel, so that her bad-girl reputation seems unearned. This also makes the story a bit unbelievable.

Putting these concerns aside, the book makes fine summer reading. The characters are complex and interesting. I particularly like the youth-at-risk Mick, who proves both sympathetic and repulsive at the same time. Romantic relationships form and break with a stunningly realistic ease that rings true and also serves to underscore the plot of self-discovery.

The Extraordinary Secrets of April, May, & June, by Robin Benway

In this mixture of YA angst and supernatural powers, April, May, and June are three sisters (named after the months in which they were born - exactly 13 months apart) who are struggling with a new school after their forced move after their parents divorce. What makes them unusual are the powers that they have acquired (April can see the future, May can make herself invisible, and June can read other peoples' thoughts). At first these powers are simply useful tools for coping with school, but when April forsees a tragedy coming, the girls must band together to prevent it. Can they bond as sisters or will their jealousies and distrust doom them?

Of the two components, this book is much bigger on the YA angst (boy trouble, sister trouble, BF trouble, etc.) than it is about the supernatural. There are hints that the powers may be hereditary and there is some discussion about trying to tame the powers, but for the most part this book is really about boys and about sibling bonding. It would even be a bit fair to say that the entire supernatural powers thing probably could have been removed altogether and the story would still hang together. That doesn't mean that it's bad, but that it was unnecessary to add the magic. Perhaps, Benway left it undeveloped so there would be room for a sequel?

In any case, I'm always far more interested in human interaction than magic and I think that the relationship that these girls have is more interesting that the rest of their talents.

The Heart Is Not a Size, by Beth Kephart

One day Georgia finds a flyer posted on the wall calling for teen volunteers to go down to Anapra (a squatter's village outside of Juarez) to help build a bathhouse. For a reason that she cannot explain, Georgia feels strongly drawn to the opportunity and she talks her friend Riley into joining her. Living fairly privileged Main Line lives, neither girl knows truly what to expect. But while there is plenty of culture shock and the work is far more difficult than either one of them imagined, it is what the trip does to their friendship that is the most surprising.

Kephart writes beautiful dream-like prose. Her novels work best when there is a strong story to provide the framework for it. But in this book, she struggles with finding that story.

As she explains in her acknowledgments at the end of the book, she wrote this book as a response to her own actual trip to Anapra. It is thus no surprise that the parts of the story that describe the location and the people are particularly moving. Similarly, the emotions that Georgia feels are heartfelt and come across clearly. But the story upon which these sections are framed is sketchy and underdeveloped.

The Kind of Friends We Used To Be, by Frances O'Roark Dowell

This sequel to The Secret Language of Girls picks up pretty much where the former left off. Kate and Marilyn are entering seventh grade. They've learned from the past year to not take their friendship for granted, but they still struggle with maintaining it. AS the girls slip further and further away from each other, they find their friendship based more upon nostalgia. Simultaneously, they find themselves drawn into new friendships with both girls and boys as they struggle to make the transition into adolescence.

Along with trying to keep the flame of their friendship burning, they also are carving out they sense of identity. Marilyn is sure that cheerleading and becoming popular are what she wants from life while Kate is drawn to a riot-grrl persona. But they find themselves constantly questioning their choices.

As before, the story is told in first-person alternating points of view, which allows us to get inside the girls' heads clearly. This brings the necessary immediacy, but it also exposes a flaw: the author's voice frequently imposes a level of self-realization that seems out of keeping with any person (let alone a typical tween). This is necessary to provide the poignant angst that the author is shooting for, but it also makes the story a bit less realistic.

The prior book was groundbreaking for its insights into the troubles of tweenhood, for the dexterous way of navigating the choppy seas of tween friendships, and for so respectfully tackling the painful transitions. For the target audience, it probably provided some consoling empathy. For older readers, it gave a painful reminder of a past best forgotten. The sequel doesn't really try to do more. With the exception of introducing the volatile territory of girl-boy friendships/jealousies into the mix, the sequel is basically more of the same. To many readers that is probably more than sufficient.

The draw of both books is the clear-eyed way that the author shows how very decent children, with capable moral compasses, can still hurt each other. That they are such good kids makes us sympathetic to them, and makes the hurting all that more difficult to observe.

Numbers, by Rachel Ward

In this unusual mixture of supernatural and hard gritty urban reality, Jem is the daughter of a heroine addict whose been kicked around her share of foster homes. Her biggest problem is not her difficult homelife but the fact that whenever she looks a person in the eye, she sees a date -- the date when that person will die. This terrible piece of knowledge has prevented her from making friends until she meets Spider - a trouble youth with his own baggage (not least of which is the date which Jemma sees when she looks at him -- only a few weeks away!). But everything skews dramatically off course when Jemma and Spider find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time (a fact that Jemma knows because every person she sees has the same date hanging over them -- today's date!).

This book is many things: a taut suspenseful story, supernaturalism with some nice religious commentary, and a story of two troubled youths who battle with themselves, with each other, and with a system that has given up on them. It's not an easy book to read. Given the high stakes that are riding on them, you'd rather they were more valiant, more mature, and more together, but that would not be realistic. Instead, Jemma and Spider are every bit the screw-ups that society has ordained them to be. The irony that society has already determined their future when it is Jemma who can actually predict the future is just one of the nice subtleties of this story. Refreshingly original!

For Keeps, by Natasha Friend

Sixteen years ago, Paul (the boy who got Josie's mother pregnant) moved away without a second thought. It was hard on her mother to raise Josie on her own, but it also brought mother and daughter very close together. All of that is thrown into jeapardy when they spot Paul's parents (Josie's grandparents) in a local grocery store and Josie learns that they have moved back into the area. This discovery sets off a chain of events that irrevocably changes their world and challenges everything Josie thought she understood about her mother, her father, and the nature of love itself.

On its face, this is fairly predictable YA fare and will not offer any major surprises, but Friend has a particularly strong talent with depicting complex familial interaction (as seen in her previous novels like Perfect). It's easy to find parallels to Gilmore Girls here but Josie and her mother Kate's relationship is far more realistic and nuanced. In a similar vein, Josie's relationship with her BFF Liv (and with Liv's Dads) is also refreshingly honest.

I randomly picked this up off the shelf at my local library, but I think it deserves a good buzz, so I'd recommend it to others.

Nuts, by Kacy Cook

One day, Nell and her brothers find a baby squirrel lying in their back yard. Its mother has abandoned it and the kids decide to rescue it and adopt the squirrel as a pet. Pretty soon thereafter, they find a second baby and the work of raising two baby squirrels goes into full swing. Nell does some research on the internet and finds out that she is supposed to hand them over to a professional wildlife rehabilitator. But instead, she lies to her parents and claims that she knows how to take care of the animals. Against the odds (and basic common sense) she succeeds in raising the animals but then suffers from the difficulties of breaking her bond and letting the animals go free.

This is an educational middle reader in several senses of the word. For one thing, you can learn a lot about squirrels by reading it, but there is also plenty here about wildlife conservation and various moral lessons about the costs of deceit. It is a very easy book to use in pointing out to young readers what they should not do when they find a baby wild animal.

The moral compass though is a bit skewed. In the end, everyone regrets the bad choices they have made (and the author reiterates that message in her acknowledgments), but since the consequences of these decisions are so minor, it doesn't really seem like the typical reader would take home that message. Instead, it seems more likely that reading a book like this would make you want to raise a baby wild animal of your own.

The Life of Glass, by Jillian Cantor

Glass may be very fragile (forming cracks at an incredibly high speed if dropped), but it is also very durable (taking a million years to break down). Glass is a metaphor for the changes in Melissa's freshman year (whee friendships shatter easily but the basic roots are nearly impossible to dissolve). Her father has recently died from cancer, but the focus of this story is on Melissa's friendships and romances (and those of her friends and her sister). There isn't much of a plot to this story, but rather a series of dramatic events that exist to illustrate and highlight her growth.

Cantor's earlier book September Sisters bothered me for its lack of plot and its general formlessness. This novel is written in much the same style, but is more successful. Melissa is an interesting character and her relationships have a complexity to them (based as much upon acceptance and forgiveness, as they do about attraction). The friendships have the transience and insecurity of adolescence. Cantor understands the psychology of human interaction and depicts it well. One suspects that she would just prefer to write about those relationships than be burdened with a plot and a story. In this case, it works out.

Saving Maddie, by Varian Johnson

Years ago, when they were kids, Josh and Maddie were close friends. When Maddie moved away, she promised that she would stay in touch. The promise was easily broken, but Josh never forgot her. When she returns five years later, showing up at church in a scandalous dress, it is clear that she has changed. Josh's parents, fearing for his reputation, forbid him from seeing her, but Josh can see beyond her appearance. He is convinced that he can rescue her and bring her back to the church. But are his motives pure or does his own stirred-up feelings play a role in his desire to help?

The story is a bit hard to describe as it is about as much about what is not said as it is about what is. Overall, the pacing is a bit slow, but Johnson's focus is more on characters than storytelling. And he has created a pair of vivid characters, struggling to find their place. Maddie wants to regain her self-respect (and escape the label of being a slut) while Josh is trying to grasp at who he really is (and move beyond his reputation for being the goody goody minister's son). Neither of them knows where their search will lead and that exploration is really the point of the story.

In sum, this is a very basic example of a coming-of-age story (in the grand tradition of many classics) and deals with those issue of finding oneself and defining one's role in the community in the most basic sense. The story has a timelessness to it that promises the book long legs.

Love, Aubrey, by Suzanne LaFleur

It is rare for a book to shine new light on a tired topic. And what could be more tired in kidlit than death and grieving?

Aubrey loses her father and little sister in a car accident. A few weeks after that, her mother abandons her. After coping at home alone for a week, Aubrey's grandmother rescues her and takes her to live in Vermont at her home. In that new home, Aubrey befriends the girl next door and established a quirky friendship with an emotionally-troubled boy at school. All along, she copes with her losses and slowly recovers.

It's such a cliche plotline with my least favorite subplot (child abandonment) as an opener, that I didn't have a lot of hope for the book when I started. I expected to be able to predict every plot turn as it came and I was prepared to groan my way through it all to the tearful confrontation and life-affirming ending. I was only half right. Yes, the plot followed the predictable direction and LaFleur made no attempt to throw up any surprises in the action of the story. However, she managed to catch me off-guard with her totally original handling of how Aubrey (and her friends) actually handled the challenges.

There's a surprising clarity to Aubrey's behavior. One might even accuse it of not being age appropriate, but I think that would do a disservice to kids. And it isn't so much that Aubrey doesn't act her age as it is that she refuses to let herself be dragged down into melodrama. She certainly has her down moments and she doesn't always act calmly, but she is able to reason through things. She doesn't fight, but she stands up for herself. Through her difficulties, she is able to reach insights that are inspiring. I found that refreshing.

Far too often, authors create obvious flaws in their characters for the sole purpose of "solving" their problems by the end of the book. Aubrey is an eloquent and capable problem solver from the beginning, but she has plenty of problems to work through. In creating a more complex and vibrant heroine, the story is raised far above any sort of manipulative tear-jerking formula into something much more interesting.

If You Live Like Me, by Lori Weber

After three years of traipsing around economically-depressed sections of Canada, Cheryl is fed up. She misses her home and friends in Montreal, but instead of heading home this year, her father is dragging them to Newfoundland! She can't imagine a more forlorn place on earth. It doesn't help that their purpose in going (so her father can write yet another chapter for his book on dying cultures) is downright embarrassing. Cheryl is determined to find a way back home, even if it means stowing away on a ship. But then she meets Jim (the literal boy next door) and leaving becomes more complicated.

Too much effort is expended in this book on two things: providing a breathless tour of the Rock and making sure we know how frustrated Cheryl is to be dragged out there. Of course, we all understand that she'll be seduced by its charms (with some help by the right boy) and Cheryl's protestations to the contrary are weak and fairly pointless. So, the first 150 or so pages drag on. Weber obviously loves Newfoundland but her praise of its scenery and beauty gets tiresome. The romance, while inevitable, is not all that interesting and the similarly predictable parental confrontation doesn't thrill either. In sum, the drama never builds and neither did my investment in the characters.

Leftovers, by Heather Waldorf

After a lifetime of sexual abuse from her father, Sarah hates having her picture taken. When Sarah's mother's boyfriend tries to take her picture, not realizing what it will trigger, Sarah freaks out. She smashes the camera and flees in his car. She can't really drive (she doesn't even have a license) and her ride is quickly cut short when she crashes the car. In the aftermath, she is sentenced to do community service at a summer rehab camp for dogs. It is there that she befriends a young cancer survivor and a big sloppy dog. With them (and all of their combined emotional baggage) she is able to face her fear of photographs and of the sexual abuse that caused it.

The idea of the story is pretty compelling and the narrative sucks you in pretty quickly. The writing is functional and flows well enough. However, I found myself feeling detached from the characters and simply wishing that the story would end as soon as possible (perhaps because having exposed the sexual abuse Sarah experienced right up front, I wanted it resolved as an issue as soon as possible). In a story like this, you start flipping the pages simply to get on with it. And, while there is a twist or two, the story essentially delivers what you expect in the end. That's not a fatal flaw but leaving so little else in the story makes the journey seem less worthwhile.

Split, by Swati Avasthi

After years of watching his father beat up his mother, Jace finally stands up and hits him back. As a result, his Dad throws him out of the house and Jaces goes off to find his older brother Christian who fled many years before. Reunited, Jace and Christian face their horrifying past together. It's a rocky road as the brothers find that the years of witnessing the abuse have left them far more damaged that either of them realized. Initially, they have the help of a few friends, but it becomes very clear that the two young men have to battle their demons for themselves.

This is a truly outstanding book, albeit with a harrowing narrative. You'll need a strong stomach to get through the abuse scenes as well as to witness the realistic portrayal of what being witnesses to such acts has done to the boys. The book is an extremely strong character study. Nothing about Jace or Christian is simple. Their personalities and problems unravel slowly through the story, revealing only a little at a time (not so much for suspense as simply to help the reader digest the complexity of the issues. I like that complexity a great deal and in my mind Avasthi accurately displayed the impact of abuse within families.

In sum, this is not an enjoyable book to read, but it is a necessary one. To better understand the horrors of abuse and its long-term impact on children, this is a superb place to start. I wouldn't necessarily recommend this book for light summer reading, but I feel it is a great book nonetheless.

And Then Everything Unraveled, by Jennifer Sturman

When Delia's mother disappears in Antarctica and is presumed dead, Delia is sent to live with her eccentric aunt Charley in New York City. But rather than grieve about her loss, Delia attempts to figure out what happened to her mother. It quickly becomes apparent that things don't add up and Delia grows convinced that her mother is still alive and being kept against her will. In the midst of her sleuthing, there's a bit of romance as well with a boy from school who is also the son of a man apparently tied to Delia's mother's disappearance.

It's a nice fast-paced read with a bevy of memorable characters. Not very realistic, but the humor keeps things moving along. I'm also not a big fan of the ending (or the lack thereof) but it will lead well to the inevitable sequel (which hit store shelves on July 1st). I'll also note my usual protest against gratuitous references to 80s teen movies.

The Carbon Diaries 2017, by Saci Lloyd

In this sequel, two years have passed since the flooding of London from global warming. Laura's parents have moved to the country but Laura has stayed in London, occasionally attending art school classes and trying to get her band Dirty Angels off the ground. The times are definitely unusual: climate change has destroyed most people's livelihoods, the government has turned authoritarian, drought in Africa has triggered a mass exodus northwards and set up massive anti-immigrant sensibilities. When Laura isn't jamming, she and her friends are protesting the government and just trying to stay alive.

The first book was an uneasy balance between science-fiction and YA, but the second installment is even more untenable. When one considers the true horror of the political situation described in the book, it's really hard to figure out why Laura puts so much effort into her band. She may simply be obsessed, but for the reader it is hard to know where to throw one's focus: massacres of dozens of people or canceled gig? The writing is wooden and the characters are largely forgettable. Since I didn't find the people worth paying attention to, I turned to the unfolding events, but everything is told so flippantly (albeit a bit like a teen would process things so I'll give it points for realism) it is really hard to figure things out and the violence just seems arbitrary.

Alice in Charge, by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

In this twenty-fifth installment of the Alice series (Wow! It's hard to believe the sheer stamina of this project!), Alice is finally entering her senior year. She's struggling with her intense workload and applying to colleges. She's missing Patrick (who's now at Chicago in his freshman year). There's a new student from the Sudan for her to help acclimate, a developmentally-challenged girl named Amy for her to support, and a club of neo-Nazis to shake things up.

One of the interesting things about Alice and her development is observing how her priorities have changed. While friends were very important in the earlier books, so much of her life now is spent doing things. Relationships have become a much lower priority for Alice (or at least for Naylor). The chief casualty is the relationship with Patrick (which is a poorly maintained plot thread now) but there is also surprisingly little in this book on her relationship with her best friends like Pamela.

Beyond that, there is a certain tiredness with the story these days, as if we are just going through the motions of a contractual obligation. Naylor has promised us that she'll continue to follow Alice's life until at least she graduates and that puts us one or two books away from the end. That achievement is certainly worthy of notice as no other YA writer has documented so minutely every developmental moment in the life of their heroine. However, Naylor's abandonment of tracing the nature of Alice's friendships in these later books (in favor of highlighting as many actions as possible) is a sign that things are truly wrapping up.