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

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

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

The Dark Divine, by Bree Despain

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

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

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

Mostly Good Girls, by Leila Sales

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

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

Please Ignore Vera Dietz, by A. S. King

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

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

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

The Year Money Grew On Trees, by Aaron Hawkins

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

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

The Unidentified, by Rae Mariz

Strangely apropos of recent local politics....

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

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

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

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

Grace, by Elizabeth Scott

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

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

The Ruby Notebook, by Laura Resau

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

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

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

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

7 Souls, by Barnabas Miller and Jordan Orlando

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

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

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

Girl, Stolen, by April Henry

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

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

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

Revolution, by Jennifer Donnelly

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

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

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

The Wager, by Donna Jo Napoli

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

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

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

Under the Green Hill, by Laura L. Sullivan

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

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

Stork, by Wendy Delsol

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

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

Her and Me and You, by Lauren Strasnick

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

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

Rose Sees Red, by Cecil Castellucci

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

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

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

Plain Kate, by Erin Bow

In a world of charms and superstitions, Kate is a magnet for people's suspicions. Orphaned after the death of her father, a master woodcarver, Kate tries to eke out a living as a carver herself. But her occupation, her physical appearance, and the meddling of a strange white gentleman mark her as a witch. When a deadly fog begins to kill everyone in its path, suspicion falls on Kate and she must flee for her life. While she isn't a witch, she bears no small part in what has happened. Ironically, she may be one of the few people who understands what is going on.

On the road, she is initially befriended by roamers and accompanied by a talking cat. As the danger from the fog spreads, Kate has to figure out a way to break the curse, and this means (more often than not) that she is on her own.

While the story is very much placed in a fantasy world, it is hard not to get distracted by the Russian-sounding names and the very liberal borrowings from Russian folk traditions. It is obvious that Bow does not intend this to be Russia, but rather that the world is inspired by Russian culture (in much the same way that Frank Herbert's Dune is based on Arab desert culture).

The story itself is fast paced and the story is a genuine page-turner. The cat provides decent comic relief and is also an integral part of the adventure (I particularly enjoyed that the cat wasn't much of a swashbuckler, but more obsessed with food and naps - like a real cat). Kate is not a terribly strong heroine, but she's resourceful and relies upon a combination of hard work and a strong moral compass that is basically de rigeur in modern YA fantasy.

One warning: The story's ending will rip your heart out, however, so be careful about reading this in public places!

Real Live Boyfriends, by E. Lockhart

Now entering her senior year, Ruby has gotten some semblance of control over her panic attacks, but her life is still crazy. Mom has switched from a raw diet to all-barbecue (challenging Ruby's vegetarianism). Dad is mourning his dead mother and gone distant. Ruby is making up with some friends (Nora) and breaking for good with others. But most importantly, Ruby is obsessing about whether Noel is her Real Live Boyfriend or not (when Noel comes back from New York, it sure doesn't seem that way!). All of which makes it that much easier for Ruby to end up with Gideon, when he starts showing his interest. But Ruby discovers that that just makes things more complicated!

E. Lockhart continues to amaze me with her breezy and hilarious writing and her deep sympathy for the struggles of adolescence.
I love the Ruby Oliver series. Ruby is funny and endearing, yet feels very realistic (I have to defer to any teens out there to validate that I'm correct about this -- all I know is that I want her combination of spunk and doubt to be realistic!). This particular installment is deeper and a bit darker than its predecessors, but Ruby is growing up and her issues are growing up with her. There's still plenty of laughs (Ruby's parents remain the primary source of amusement for all their neuroses), but there is depth and emotional payoff as well. A gem!

The Things A Brother Knows, by Dana Reinhardt

When Levi's brother Boaz comes home from the War, everyone is terribly excited. He's an honest American hero. A Marine. (Admittedly, his family is most happy that he's alive) But something about him is not right. He stays in his room. He studies maps. When he finally emerges, he claims that he is going to hike the Appalachian Trail to unwind and relax. But Levi figures out the truth: Boaz is heading out on a hike alright, but it's in an entirely different direction. So, Levi tracks him and forces Boaz to let him tag along on his quest. What results is a road story on foot, where Levi gets a chance to learn what his brother has been through in the past years.

War novels don't usually hold much appeal for me -- they either wallow in patriotism or have some other sort of political axe to grind. This novel, however, transcends the genre. Yes, I was occasionally reminded of Born on the Fourth of July or The Deer Hunter, but this is really a story about two brothers - both on the cusp of manhood - learning to relate to each other as adults. As a younger brother myself, I found the story very easy to relate to (even if neither I nor my bro have any real military experience). The ending is bit too feel-good for my tastes, but there is such strong material that I almost needed that lightening of the mood at the end to make it through.

Reinhardt has turned out to be a versatile storyteller. From Harmless (with its shocking, but ultimately After School Special-preachiness) to the chicklit of A Brief Chapter in My Impossible Life to this current definitely masculine self-realization, she has a keen ear and eye to the universal search for self. Her topics are potentially provocative, but handled in a unique and fascinating manner.

This Gorgeous Game, by Donna Freitas

When Olivia discovers that she has won the first prize in Father Mark Brendan's literary challenge, she is ecstatic. There is the recognition and the cash prize, but most of all, there is the chance to study directly under Father Mark, a contemporary literary legend. At first, Father Mark's undivided attention is flattering, but soon Olivia begins to find it suffocating as the man doesn't seem to ever leave her alone. And while it makes no sense to her, she can't escape the feeling that his attention seems less-than-innocent.

A genuinely creepy story about inappropriate sexual attentions. Freitas faces a difficult challenge: presenting Olivia's inability to cope with Father Mark as believable yet not also portray her at the same time as pitiful or weak. To pull this off, first we have to believe that Olivia is a true believer in her faith. Freitas does a good job of showing how Olivia can be worldly yet faithful and obedient. The next step is that we need to believe that someone in her shoes could ever see Father Mark as not being a smarmy perv. This doesn't work out as well, as we don't get to see much of him before he starts getting all creepy. The result is a story that is only partly pulled off.

I'm a big fan of books that can tell a story about religion with a straight face and respect. Given the subject matter here, it would have been very easy to just blackball the entire Catholic Church. It also would have been a cheap shot. And so, I really appreciated the way that Frietas validated Olivia's faith (and the faith of her family and friends) in the face of such a horrible case of abuse of power. That takes sensitivity and is worthy of praise.

The Fool's Girl, by Celia Rees

Young Violetta, accompanied by her former court jester Feste, is on the run from traitors who gave her kingdom of Illyria over to the Venetians. She's out for revenge, or at the least to right the wrongs which have been committed. After many struggles (told mostly in flashback), she has made it to London, where she encounters rising theatrical sensation William Shakespeare. But this is a rather different Will Shakespeare than most of us might think of -- he's resourceful and buried in political intrigue. In this story, which combines Italian political intrigue, Elizabethan mores, and Reformist politics, the play is hardly the thing!

This richly detailed riff on Shakespeare's Twelfth Night deserves major props for creativity, research, strong vivid characters, and fashioning a fantastic mix of adventure and magic. I am a bit reluctant to read stories that re-imagine famous historical figures, but this novel is an obvious labor of love (and far removed from any cheap exploitation). If there is a real criticism to lobby, it is for a muddled love story and way too many characters. But you can enjoy this book on so many levels: as historical fiction, loving homage to Elizabethan theater, or just plain rollicking fun adventure.

Scumble, by Ingrid Law

As anyone who has read Savvy knows, when you turn thirteen, you get to find out what your special power is going to be. Some people get good ones (like being able to turn invisible) while others get doozies. When Ledge has his birthday, he's really hoping that he'll gain the superhuman speed that will allow him to outrace everyone in a marathon, but that's not how everything turns out. Instead, his particular savvy appears to be the ability to make things fall apart!

Now, he must find a way to control his power (and learn to "scumble" it) or else risk having to spend his life living in isolation because his powers are too destructive and dangerous. And with dark days fallen on his family's ranch and the local community, Ledge really has chosen a fine time to be causing trouble!

"Savvies" are of course a wonderful metaphor for puberty and coming of age. Just as in the first book, Law does a fantastic job of exploring the anxieties of pre-adolescents as they look forward to the changes in their lives to come. It's not an entirely original plot device of course, but I think Law does it with great gentleness and insight which is certain to make this story a crowd-pleaser.

I was less thrilled by the story itself this time around. Much of it didn't make much sense. It is entirely possible that it doesn't need to make sense since this is fantasy, but I found the logical gaps in the story distracting (Why doesn't ledge want his family to know that Sarah Jane has smuggled herself into the wedding? Why doesn't he enlist his Mom's help is getting Sarah Jane to stop creating trouble? And so on). It seemed to me like it would have been easier to spin the story from simpler stuff and more plausible motivations.

Touch Blue, by Cynthia Lord

When Tess's best friend moves away, it leaves a gap in her life and threatens the ability of her small Maine island to keep its school. Short the requisite number of children to keep their island school open, the folks decide to foster a group of children to raise their numbers. The result is the arrival of Aaron, a slightly older boy who has been kicked around a bit and has the cynicism to show for it. Tess and her family really want to provide Aaron with the home he hasn't had, but they are in way over their depth. Still, Tess's optimism and superstitions seem to serve them well.

A fairly brisk and pleasant read. Unlike Rules, there is less of an agenda in this novel and more storytelling. Tess is very engaging and strong. She doesn't always make the best decisions, but she is appealing. Some of the storylines falter a bit (Tess's loneliness, conflicts with the local bully), but the overall message that home is what you make of it is pleasing and all of the local color makes for decent entertainment.

Girl Parts, by John M. Cusick

David Sun's parents are worried that he seems disassociated and anti-social, so they decide to get him a companion -- a girl robot named Rose who is programmed to be friendly and accommodating, and to teach him how to relate to others. David is actually something of a jerk and he's mostly interested in figuring out a way to break through Rose's "intimacy clock" (which predetermines how far he can get with her). What no one counts on is that Rose is a very special robot and, as she gains awareness of herself, she begins to see through the game she's been set up for.

Enter Charlie, a boy from the other side of the lake...and the tracks. He's everything that David isn't and offers Rose a chance at gaining agency and a sense of control. But there are forces that want to maintain things the way they are, and this story has tragedy written all over it.

Sort of a Short Circuit meets Better Off Dead (to use two 80s movies examples), Cusick (no relation to the actor) has taken science fiction and mixed it with guy stuff, mostly with an eye for what female readers will be interested in. The guys are sensitive and clueless, the girls desperate and frustrated, and the metaphors transparent. Cusick has a lot of fun things to say about interpersonal relationships, but he goes at it with a sledgehammer. Rose's struggles to get over the boy she was first programmed for, her longing to be like other (real) girls conflicted with her need to be herself, and her desire for agency will all ring true for readers, but it all seems terribly calculated. And that feeling of being set up left me feeling manipulated. Kudos for the creativity, but the polemics needed to be a bit less obvious.

Extraordinary, by Nancy Werlin

When Phoebe Rothschild befriends an odd girl named Mallory at school, she has no idea of what she is getting herself into. While Mallory appears quite vulnerable, she is in fact a changeling, a faerie who has come to trick Phoebe into undoing a curse set in motion generations ago. The danger heightens as Mallory is joined by her brother Ryland, with whom Phoebe becomes enamored.

Werlin is a very diverse talent. The novel, most similar to her previous Impossible, will seem light years removed from thriller Double Helix or the critically-acclaimed child-endangerment Rules of Survival. Her writing is superb, but she can be terribly verbose and I find her actual storytelling to be hit or miss. Impossible was a compelling novel that fleshed out one of the great verses of English literature. This current novel is based on much less compelling material. The resulting story is poorly paced and overwhelming, lacking characters with which I could connect. There are no major technical problems with this story, but I just wasn't grabbed by the book.

Radiance, by Alyson Noel

Riley is stuck in the Afterlife in a place known as Here and in a moment called Now. Only twelve years old, she feels that she's been robbed of her life, but she's in for a surprise: no one really cares and, here in the Afterlife, she's expected to work. To atone for the mistakes of her life, she is assigned the job of soul catcher -- a person who convinces reluctant souls to finish their journey. Her first job is to entice the "Radiant Boy" to cross over -- a challenge which has defeated many of her predecessors. To help her with this task, she is assigned a guide named Bodhi (who she immediately dislikes due to her nerdy appearance).

This short book, the first in a new series, left me unmoved and unengaged. The major problem is that the characters didn't feel right to me. Riley talks and acts much too mature for a tween and Bodhi never really moved much beyond being pompous and distant. The lack of realism in the characters is not helped by the story itself. The challenges that the characters face are very hyped, but resolved surprisingly quickly (as if Noel had no interest in really telling the story). Between the lack of suspense and the lack of chemistry in the characters, there isn't much to invest in here, and certainly not enough to make one want to pick up the next installment.

Real Mermaids Don't Wear Toe Rings, by Helene Boudreau

A year ago, Jade's mother drowned, leaving her all alone with Dad. All of which makes it ever so much more awkward when she gets her first period at the mall after she's run out of money. But having to endure buying feminine hygiene products with her Dad is only the beginning of her surprises. Soaking in the tub shortly after her initial ordeal, her legs turn into fins!

It turns out that her mother was actually a mermaid and Jade has inherited some of the same genes. It also appears that Mom did not drown a year ago, but was actually kidnapped by a group of mer-convicts. Jade and her Dad have to figure out a way to save her without letting anyone know the true situation with Jade and her Mom. This proves challenging as Jade has to keep coming up with excuses to avoid her best friend Cori and also stop her endless (and embarassing) run-ins with cute boy Luke.

It's pretty hard to do much that's new with the mermaid genre and this book doesn't even try, recycling several ideas from other books. Similarly, it breaks no new ground in the younger teen romance department. But it is nonetheless an enjoyable read. The adventure can get a bit intense and doesn't mesh so well with the romance side of the story, but the book has a decent pace and a satisfying conclusion that ties most everything up (while leaving room for a sequel). People who like other mermaid stories (e.g., The Tail of Emily Windsnap, etc.) will enjoy this book.

Finally, by Wendy Mass

From the first time that her parents told her that she had to wait until she was twelve, Rory has been working on a list of great and small things that she'll be able to do when she turns twelve. So, when that birthday finally rolls around, she can't wait to get started.

Things don't go quite as well as planned. For one thing, Rory seems to be awfully accident-prone. She gets her first cell phone, only to lose it within fifteen minutes. She tries coffee for the first time, without realizing how strong it is and spends the next couple of hours on a hyperactive caffeine buzz (she appears to be a bit ADD as is). Just about every thing with which she comes into contact (make-up, earrings, etc.) sets off an allergic reaction. Despite these mishaps, she has a kind heart and a great deal of intuition that have her helping out people right and left, so she's a very winning heroine who will endear herself to readers.

Wendy Mass has written a number of lovely, funny, and often touching books, which mix magic with middle grade sensibilities. This one, however, seemed much less fun, more preachy, and less cohesive than her other books. Young readers might enjoy Rory's mishaps, but I found their sheer randomness distracting. The point of the story seemed to be that you should be careful what you wish for, since almost every one of her wishes backfired, but there wasn't much of an alternative presented. The ending, which sought to tie it all together through a mixture of the supernatural and a string of amazing coincidences worthy of a Bollywood movie, came off as a cheap wrap-up. In comparison to the book I finished before this (You Wish), this one seemed like a very pale imitation of what you can do with a little magic and a lot of message.

You Wish, by Mandy Hubbard

For her 16th birthday, Kayla's mother insists on throwing a huge sweet sixteen bash, complete with a DJ and a huge pink cake. Kayla, however, isn't that kind of girl. She's embarrassed by the whole event and would rather hide within herself. When forced to make a wish in front of party guests whom she doesn't even know, she vows that she'd like to finally have her prior birthday wishes come true, since they never seem to do so.

The next morning, a life-sized bright pink My Little Pony shows up at her home, followed in the days that follow by endless gumballs, (Raggedy) Ann brought to life, and even a very plastic self-absorbed hunk named Ken in a convertible. Yes, her birthday wishes from all of the years past appear to actually be coming true! It's a bit awkward, but the worst is yet to come. Last year, Kayla wished that Ben would kiss her, but Ben is her BFF's boyfriend now!

From that synopsis, you get an impression that this is a fairly silly vapid book, and when I started to read it, I honestly didn't hold out a lot of hope for it. I figured it would be cute fluff. While you could read it that way, I found that as I did so that the story was actually much more nuanced. Somewhere amidst all of these childhood wishes coming true, Hubbard has some amazing things to say about growing up. These wishes, she argues, are not simply isolated and forgotten parts of our past to be ashamed of, but a piece of what we are today. They say a lot about who we become and as Kayla comes to appreciate and embrace her past, she is able to be at peace with her present. And so, while being reminded that we once wished for a real live pink pony of our own might seem embarrassingly infantile, it can't really be separated from the more serious grown up (or teen, for that matter) that we become.

It was this observation (and many other similar ones made alongside it) that showed me that this extremely funny book had a serious core to it. While tongue is firmly in cheek, Hubbard uses a wonderful choice of shared cultural icons (from Ken dolls to the joy of snow) that most any reader can relate to and through them understand her much deeper message. One of the more surprising books I've read this year and a wonderful way to wrap up the year.

The Daughters, by Joanna Philbin

In my mind, Meg Cabot always does it best, but don't fault a new author (particular the daughter of Regis Philbin) from trying to cash in on a hot formula: imagining the rich and fabulous as being girls just like you, with all the aches and boy troubles of the average teen, but without any of those pesky economic limitations that mere mortals such as you and I have to face. Yes, they too could be your best friend, and maybe even loan you their clothes (!) while you trade confidences.

Lizzie is the daughter of a supermodel; Carina the daughter of a multi-billionaire philanthropist; and Hudson the daughter of a pop diva. They bond together as co-sufferers of ambitious parents who never listen to them. This first book in a series focuses on Lizzie (future installments will highlight different girls) and her discovery that while she is very different from her mother, she has an inner beauty that makes her a natural for modeling nonetheless. A pesky on-again/off-again maybe-romance with childhood sweetheart Todd distracts us, but the main focus of this story is about how one can follow in the footsteps of one's mother while simultaneously applying your own twist.

Admittedly, it is all a bit catchy and seductive to read, but this is outright escapism with a high fluff factor and shamelessly marketed to the Teen Vogue set (who will eat it up).

No and Me, by Delphine de Vigan

Lou is a painfully shy, but intellectually precocious girl. Having skipped two grades, she's considerably younger than her classmates, but bright and articulate when she wants to be. She longs after the popular Lucas, but as she can't even bring herself to talk to the girls in her class, the idea of approaching him is unfathomable. Back home, things are bad. Her mother is completely withdrawn and her father is in denial over the death of Lou's younger sister. Lou may be very smart, but she struggles to get by.

But then, Lou meets No, a girl on the streets with even greater problems than Lou could ever imagine. Initially, Lou takes an interest in No for a school paper on homeless women, but after the project is completed, Lou can't break free of her attachment to No. Instead, her life gets more intertwined with No's. Strangely, this is initially a very good thing as it brings Lou closer to Lucas and helps Lou's family to repair itself. But, it is also inevitable that things will end up badly and Lou will learn some powerful lessons about the forces that drive a person out on to the streets.

It all starts off a bit slowly, but the story picks up some strength as both Lou and No develop into complex and interesting heroines. No easy answers here about homelessness, but plenty of thought-provoking ideas to explore. The story is a bit gritty and parents might cringe at the amount of child endangerment going on here, but it plays out quite realistically and I found it entirely believable. I'm less fond of Vigan's writing story (all very passive, with little important dialogue to speak of), but the story itself was fantastic.

How It Ends, by Laura Wiess

A book this complicated is tricky to summarize, but in an odd way, the book's cover (with its simple image of a dead leaf) somehow manages to symbolize this story's tale of death (with a promise of rebirth) quite well. There are at least three stories here.

First, there is the story of an elderly childless couple (Helen and Lon) and Helen's close relationship with Hanna - the daughter of the next door neighbors. There is the poignant sense of loss as Helen watches Hanna grow up and away from their friendship and wander off more often with her friends rather than spend time with "Gran." It's a beautiful tale and would have stood up on its own as a short story (sort of a geriatric Toy Story 3).

Then there is the story of Hanna's infatuation with Seth, a guy at school. It's the sort of bad news lust that is so strong that it causes her to ignore all the warning signs that Seth is not good for her. Meanwhile, in the background, there are plenty of friends (and even a good guy) lurking in the background waiting for her to come to her senses. Even Gran might have a word or two of advice. It's a bit of a tired story, but would have made a cute one if the elder woman had been there playing Dear Abby.

Those two stories would have made a nice, but fairly inconsequential YA novel -- pleasant, but largely forgettable. Wiess however has far greater intentions when she introduces a third story: a far nastier tragedy about an orphan girl and her immigrant Dutch lover. And this storyline, while it weaves very far off from the other two, probably has far more important things to say. For High Schoolers, there's plenty of eye-opening gender history here: about the abuse of gynecology and female patients, about animal and human cruelty, and about the bad old days when sexism was more overt. With a strong debt to Susan Griffin and Andrea Dworkin (although neither is directly credited, so maybe it is unintentional), Wiess brings up a litany of prior abuses that will shock the uninitiated. And if it causes a few teens to crack open some women's studies classics, so much the better.

This last thread is naturally the most potent part of the whole, but it seemed very poorly stitched to the rest. Yes, there's some attempt to explain that Helen feels guilty about her past and there's a bit more of an attempt to use this lesson in feminist history to inspire some gender consciousness raising in Hanna (don't let that bad guy treat you in the same shitty way that men have treated women for centuries!), but it doesn't really work for me. Seth is just a pimply adolescent asshole, not a misogynistic gynecologist or a sadistic Nazi. So, the story threads hang very loosely together and maybe not at all. This is frustrating as there are really two or three decent books here. The problem comes when Wiess tries to bring them altogether as one.

The Blind Faith Hotel, by Pamela Todd

When Zoe's mother and father separate, her Mom decides to pull up stakes and leave WA and relocate Zoe, her sister Nelia, and little brother Oliver to Minnesota. It isn't all about trying to get away from Dad. Mom has plans to try to resurrect her parents' house and turn it into a B & B.

Zoe resents having to leave Dad and also Mom's apparent lack of interest in her and her problems. Issues with fitting in in her new environment eventually end up with Zoe getting caught shoplifting. As restitution, Zoe has to work on a prairie restoration project, where she is able to develop a sense of self and gain some perspective.

Todd makes some nice insights about growing up, but the novel is something of a narrative mess. A wide variety of themes are picked up and dropped. Whether it's the B & B project, a boy interest, the passing fascination with a breeding pair of hawks, or even the Dad, I had a hard time figuring out what the point of any of this was. I have no problem with leaving a few loose ends with a story, but when hardly any part of the story reaches a conclusion, one really wonders what the purpose was of the writing. I probably missed the point of the whole exercise, but I don't feel compelled to give it another try.

The Saver, by Edeet Ravel

When 17 year-old Fern is left an orphan after her mother dies, Fern makes the decision to lie about her age and just take care of herself. Through amazing hard work, she manages to get by. But Fern has another thing going for her, she's a saver (amazingly frugal and resourceful). So, she manages to find jobs that take care of her needs (by providing free housing and food) and cheap alternatives for everything she can't pick up for free. All along, she maintains her sanity by writing letters to an imaginary alien friend.

I'm not a big fan of child abandonment stories, but this one turns out pretty well, mostly because Fern is so self-reliant. Still, by the end of the story, I wasn't really sure what the point was. You get the feeling that everything will turn out OK in the end, but what was really the point of the journey? There's some character growth, but no climax and no major epiphanies. She struggles, some things work out, and there's more to come. Her relationship with her imaginary friend is never explored and other important threads are left unresolved.

Dark Song, by Gail Giles

When Ames's father loses his job and the family loses their home, they pull up stakes and relocate from Colorado to Texas. It's a hard transition from living a well-off and privileged life to falling into poverty. Things are not helped by the tensions between her parents. Lost, angry, and confused, Ames finds solace in her new home from a boy named Marc who comes to help her Dad fix up their new house. Marc, however, is not a safe choice for a friend. He has a violent streak and an unhealthy obsession with firearms. Ames, though, needs his companionship and forces herself to overlook the danger signs. It is bound to end badly.

Taut and gripping, this story moves along at a furious pace, that is scary but still quite believable. Readers will like to imagine that they would never be so foolish as to fall into this trap, but Ames is no dummy. She realizes her dilemma quite early on yet still gets ensnared. That will disturb (and maybe even anger) some viewers, but I found it compelling. This is a familial train wreck in high gear here and you'll want to see how it turns out. Overall, a very creepy book, but one that is hard to put down.

Plastic, by Sarah N. Harvey

Jack has a fairly major obsession with breasts, but when he learns that his friend Leah is planning to get a boob job for her sixteenth birthday, he is shocked. When trying to talk her out of it doesn't work, he starts an anti-teen plastic surgery website and then his own protest movement. Not only does this not change Leah's mind, but it totally turns her against him. Jack persists, though, and his movement continues to grow until it starts to turn nasty.

More of a novella than a full-blown book, this thin large-type book covers a pretty unusual topic. For being such a short book, it does a remarkably decent job, but so many parts of it get short-changed. Jack is engaging but the other characters are mostly underdeveloped. Fairly or not, the brief nature of the story makes it look like a rush job. There is definitely potential to do more with this.

Star in the Forest, by Laura Resau

When Zitlally's father gets deported back to Mexico, she finds comfort in taking care of an abandoned dog in a junkyard. And while her friends don't understand why Zitlally has become so withdrawn and morose, she makes a new friend with Crystal, the unpopular girl next door. The two girls take care of the stray and name him Star, teaching him tricks in hopes of impressing Zitlally's father if he ever makes it back.

Written more for middle readers than Resau's previous books, this one takes on similar themes (indigenous Central American cultures, immigration, maintaining identity in North America) that Resau has explored in those other books. It's a gentle story and probably sufficiently enjoyable for its targeted age group. But I thought it really didn't break any new ground. Resau's a lovely writer with some wonderful observations about indigenous American culture, but she needs to move on to new stuff.

Willowood, by Cecilia Galante

Lily and Bailey were best friends before Lily and her Mom moved away. Lily is having trouble making new friends and misses the secret hiding place that she used to share with Bailey (a grove they called Willowood). Things get worse when Bailey starts drifting away and no longer seems to share the same interests. But when Lily's babysitter takes her to meet a local pet shop owner and his son Nate (who suffers from Downs Syndrome), Lily's visions of friendship expand and she learns to see beyond herself. Themes of parental abandonment and school bullying also play a part in this story of personal growth.

This is a busy little book with quickly paced action that sometimes runs a bit ahead of the reader. Galante has an annoying habit of discussing new characters or plot developments and then backing up to explain them, leaving me wondering if I had missed something (sometimes I had, and had to re-read a section to understand the action). So, in my mind this is a bit hard to read. But also, there is an awful lot going. To bring some sort of conclusion to all of these threads, many of the plot lines get tied up too neatly, but I'll forgive that in a middle reader. I do think that the story could have used more focus.

The Twin's Daughter, by Lauren Baratz-Logsted

Lucy never knew that her mother had a twin sister until she was thirteen, when Aunt Helen showed up at her door. Aunt Helen and Lucy's mother had been separated at birth, with Aunt Helen consigned to an orphanage and raised in dire conditions. Now reunited with her sister's family, Aunt Helen slowly begins to bloom. But what would be just a story of Victorian manners (Pygmalion meets Emma) takes a gory and murderous turn.

There is an interesting theme in this novel involving layer upon layer of deception. And, as in any story about people deceiving each other, the question of knowledge and how we really know each other is paramount. The striking answer in this novel is that we truly don't ever know each other, beyond our personal experience and observations of actions. Nothing inherent ties a parent to a child beyond declaration of intent and role. It's an bit coldhearted, but the idea is well played out.

Strictly speaking, despite the young heroine, this isn't a YA book. The writing style is in a faux-stilted fashion than is meant to emulate Jane Austen, but there are a fair number of anachronisms (including some distracting modernist feminist notions). The result is more a history lesson than a historical novel (as the manners and mores and more observed than lived). The plot gets a bit convoluted and, in the end, makes little sense, but it is a fun ride and I anxiously tried to pick the book back up whenever I had a free moment.

And Then I Found Out the Truth, by Jennifer Sturman

In this sequel to And Then Everything Unraveled, Delia has started the search for her mother. This quickly leads to complications: the clairvoyant Caroline is still giving cryptic advice, the artiste Dieter has decided that the best way to help Delia and her aunt keep a low profile is to paste up pictures of them everywhere, Quinn (who may or may not be her boyfriend) is grounded for being involved in an underage betting ring, and people (including Quinn's father) appear to be trying to kill Delia. Everything keeps leading to Buenos Aires, so that is where Delia eventually ends up.

One should not take a book like this too seriously. It's the sort of adventure where a breathless chase scene is interrupted with less-than-subtle references to brand-name shoes and a heated discussion about saving people's lives is on equal par with angsting over whether Quinn really likes Delia or not. In sum, a mystery of international intrigue and deceit that could lead the cataclysmic environmental change and the romantic mysteries of teen boys are of similar significance. So, it's all in good fun. Those looking for redeeming educational value can take some heart from the cultural tour of Argentina, but none of that is really the point.

Wolves, Boys, & Other Things That Might Kill Me, by Kristen Chandler

With a title like this, you'd probably be expecting a werewolf book, but this is actually non-fantasy lit. It's the story of KJ Carlson who struggles to win her Dad's trust and her own self-confidence, but gets far more than she bargained for when she agrees to write a column about the wolves in Yellowstone for her school paper. Living on the edge of the park, tempers run hot over the issue of the reintroduction of the wolves. When a series of violent acts threaten her father and her boyfriend Virgil, KJ has to take a lesson from the wolves about standing up for what she believes in.

A bit longish and awkwardly paced, Chandler still deserves major kudos for writing a book about an interesting subject (wolves, ranchers, and the conflict between them). It's an insightful book and fulfills a criteria of mine for truly great books: they teach me something. I really don't know much about wolves and this book manages to work in some fantastic details. Despite the pacing (which jumps strangely ahead at crucial points, causing major plot developments to be underplayed), the characters are varied and the heroine is sympathetic. There is more than enough human interest to keep things going (although the romance is bit lame). I especially liked the gentle way that wolf behavior and teen behavior is juxtaposed and found the analogy quite effective.

The Hard Kind of Promise, by Gina Willner-Pardo

When they were in Kindergarten, Sarah and Marjorie made a promise to each other to always be best friends. For many years, that's what they were. But as they enter seventh grade, the girls are drifting apart. Marjorie is just plain weird and sometimes her behavior embarrasses Sarah. Sarah wants to stay friends, but it's hard when Marjorie doesn't share her interests. As the two girls branch out and acquire new friends, they struggle with their feelings of guilt and loss, trying to figure out if there is a middle ground that can save their friendship.

This is fairly familiar ground for middle readers (the classic example is Lynne Rae Perkins's All Alone in the Universe), probably because changing loyalties are common enough for this age cohort. As such, the book doesn't exactly chart new territory, but it makes a nice supplement to its predecessors. The story is notable for avoiding any of the sort of bitchiness that permeates so many books about girl friendships. There are some not-so-nice kids in this story, but they are quickly sidelined. The characters that matter are all fairly decent to each other. Willner-Pardo's message that, despite one's good intentions, sometimes you just drift apart, is nicely delivered.

I do take some issue with the plot for drifting aimlessly. The primary narrative thread (about participating in a choral competition) is pretty tangential to the purpose of the book. But, the action in this story is inconsequential: basically, the girls could be doing just about anything. The purpose of the story becomes an excuse to show the gentle parting of ways.

The Body Finder, by Kimberly Derting

Violet has a supernatural ability to sense dead humans and animals, but only if they have been killed. And she also has the ability to sense the killers as well. Ever since the talent first revealed itself when she was eight, Violet has had to keep this talent a secret and only her parents, uncle, and her best friend Jay know about it. But when a series of kidnapping and murders start to take place in her town, Violet gets involved in finding the killer. The situation escalates when the killer starts to stalk her.

Derting has expert pacing with the suspense and mystery angle of this story. The "hunter" as he's called is sufficiently creepy. But the story overall drags because of Derting's insistence on throwing in a romance. In itself, this might be a good idea as Violet and Jay's shifting feelings add a bit of spice to the story and allow the pace to run a bit more slowly, but this is a romance without much spark. I get that they are friends but I just didn't see much fire between them. In fact, most of the relationships in this novel lack much feeling. As a result, I really found myself pushing by them so I could get to the juicy and creepy sections of the book.

Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins

As someone who never caught the Harry Potter bug, the Hunger Games series has been a significant literary event. The first book impressed me. The second transcended the usual sequel curse by being both true to (and better than) the first book, except for its ending. That put part three in an awkward place. Having pretty much hated the ending of book two, would I really enjoy book three? There really wasn't much of a choice as to whether I would read this last installment -- I was seriously invested and thus I had to read it.

Mockingjay picks up a few weeks after Catching Fire. The basic gist is that the districts are now rising up and the leaders of the uprising are looking to Katniss to play the role of the agitator. The truth, though, is that (just as in the Games) it is the image of Katniss that they want -- her real self is not actually all that interesting. Still, she wants to be helpful and reluctantly agrees to help out as she can. Along the way, she has plenty of ghosts to face and unresolved issues with her two loves (Peeta and Gale).

There are several interesting tracks to this much darker installment in the series. Having expanded out of the colliseum of gladiator games, Collins is building in a much larger theater both physically and narratively. There is, of course, the action story (the part most likely to be adapted into a movie, if rumors of a film optioning are true). There is also a very complicated political story about paranoia, corruption, the impact of the media, and the depths of greed. These themes have been present in the previous novels but Collins expands on them here. Finally, there is the personal story of Katniss herself and how she copes with survivor guilt, vulnerability, and her conflicting desire to act. Sadly, this last part is the most neglected part of the story. While she is constantly plagued -- to the point of reader distraction -- with guilt and doubt, her ability to work through those feelings remain underdeveloped.

A friend commented that she felt that Collins rushed the ending. I'm prone to agree. In the last half of the book, Collins jumps from one thing to another, seemingly uninterested any longer in her characters or even in the story. It seems as if she simply can't wait for the whole thing to end.

Will Grayson, Will Grayson, by John Green and David Levithan

Will Grayson's best friend Tiny Cooper is "the world's largest person who is really, really gay, and also the world's gayest person who is really, really large." The two of them have been best friends since little league when Will stood up for Tiny and Tiny towered over anyone who had a problem with it. Now that they are in high school, Tiny wants to return the favor by including Will in his fabulous musical about love. Will isn't so sure how he feels about the attention. He's managed most of the time to get through life with a low profile.

Enter a different Will Grayson, living a couple dozen miles away. This Will lives in constant battle with himself, taking pills to deal with his depression. Through a cruel prank from his former best friend Maura, Will ends up at a porn shop, where (through a string of coincidences) he meets the first Will Grayson. And through Will, he also meets (and falls in love with) Tiny.

The rest of the book traces Tiny and the second Will's romance in chapters that alternate between the two Wills. That Tiny never takes a chapter is irrelevant as he is the center of attention from beginning to end. And, like Tiny, the story is larger than life, culminating in a completely over-the-top ending that can only appropriately be described as gay.

I'm not a fan of David Levithan's writing and just as less a fan of his other collaborations (Nick and Norah being a classic example for me of a book where only half of it was any good in my opinion). This one didn't change my opinion much. I'd like to imagine that I could ascribe all of the parts of this book that I loved to John Green (who seriously rocks!) and all the parts I hate to Levithan, but I suspect that this book was so corroborative that that is not possible. I liked Tiny and the o.w.g Will, while the lower case spelling of manic-depressive Will annoyed me and his plot line seemed like a serious distraction. Tiny and the first Will's relationship though reminded me of some of the same buddy relationship in Looking for Alaska and An Abundance of Katherines.

Side note: One of the things that one notices in reading a book like this (when I spend so much time reading chick-lit) is that it takes a lot of digging (mostly through profanity) to get at the inner souls of boys. I'm not entirely sure if that is really true, but it is certainly the modern style. And I wonder what others think: do all the "bitchsqueeler" references make the relationship more realistic or does it seem overly pumped up?