Gone Too Far, by Natalie D. Richards

Running late for school one day, Piper comes across a mysterious notebook full of defaced photographs and coded accusations against people in school.  Initially creeped out, Piper eventually becomes obsessed by the book and the various petty crimes it documents.  Then a mystery person starts to send her text messages and asking her to finger people.  That's when things start to turn freaky as the people she fingers end up getting their just desserts.  While that is initially satisfying, Piper begins to get cold feet and the damage turns out to be much more serious than she had imagined.  What started as some leveling of the scales of justice has turned into blackmail, deceit, and far worse.

Borrowing a page quite liberally from Heathers, but without the black comedy, we have a classic story of revenge blown out of control.  Piper is a believable young woman whose passion for justice slips into vengeance, without regard for the consequences.  The fact that her adolescent mind then grossly overestimates her own importance is plausible and tragic.  Thankfully, the adults provide a similarly plausible reality check.  These are not terribly nice people, but they know their faults and the story has a very satisfying conclusion with a good last minute punch to the gut.

Frosted Kisses, by Heather Hepler

Since successfully acclimating to life in a small town in The Cupcake Queen, Penny's life has grown more complicated.  There's dealing with her father (now that her parents are divorced) who can't make time to see her.  Or the nasty bully Charity and the even nastier exchange student Esmeralda, who are both set on making Penny's life at school into hell.  Or Penny's attempt to matchmake between her grandmother and an old flame.  Or even Penny's struggles at getting her own romance off the ground.  Throw in a winter festival, a fundraiser for the local animal shelter, some zany adventures at work, and a best friend's family problems, and life is pretty crazy!

What it isn't, however, is organized into any sort of theme.  There's plenty of activity and stuff to read about here, but nothing which gives this novel a purpose.  And no matter how likable Penny is or readable the writing, that gaping hole is a big deal.  Simply tying some of the various ideas together (for example, the importance of family or loyalty to friends) would have done a lot to improve the book.  But aside from the fact that parents (and fathers in particular) come across as pretty horrible in this story, there isn't much here.


[Disclaimer:  I received a free copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review.  After finishing with it, I will be donating the book to my local public library.  The book is scheduled for release on October 27th.]

Upside-Down Magic, by Sarah Mlynowski, Lauren Myracle, and Emily Jenkins

When Nory fails her entrance exam to the prestigious Sage Academy, she is sent to her Aunt Margo's to attend Upside Down Magic (UDM) class at Dunwiddle.  UDM is for kids whose magic is "wonky" (a not-so-PC word for the magic-challenged).  Nory is a "fluxer" (shape-shifter) with an unfortunate tendency to have her shapes shift in unexpected ways.  Her kittens grow beaver teeth and her skunks grow elephant trunks.  But in UDM class, she's joined by "flare" (fire-maker) who freezes things, a flyer (clairvoyants) who can't help but float away, and other kids with unusual and uncontrolled talents.  However, while Nory is finally among kids like herself, she longs to be normal and wants to find a way to cure herself.

The first of a series that merges a Harry Potter magic school theme with that very American sensibility for celebrating diversity, and aims it at a younger audience.  It's probably a winning formula and the trio of heavy hitters behind it is impressive.  Much more impressive for me was that for a team-written book it was surprisingly difficult to identify each writer's contribution. Jenkins in particular has a very notable dry humor which permeates the story, yet Mlynowski and Myracle are formidable presence as well.  I'm not a fan of middle grade series books, but I imagine this will be around for a while!


[Disclaimer:  I received a copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for an unbiased review.  Once I finish with it, I'll be donating it to my local public library.  The book is scheduled for release on September 29th.]

The Sound of Letting Go, by Stasia Ward Kehoe

Life in Daisy's house can be challenging.  Her little brother Steven is autistic and he's not so little anymore.  The family is proving less and less able of handling his violent outbursts.  Daisy guiltily wishes that they had a "normal" family so that she could focus on her music and go out more often with her friends, instead of being forced to take care of his brother.  But when her parents decide to institutionalize Steven, she feels even worse.  What kind of horrible people are they to reject their own kin?  She channels her anger into self-destructive behaviors (skipping school, etc.) and an aimless sexual relationship.

I get the conflicted state of Daisy's mind over whether she wants Steven there or gone, but there really is no attempt to come to peace with the decision.  Instead, she waffles back and forth and mopes.  Nor does she ever really confront the other issues in her life (her relationship with boyfriend Dave, her applications to music schools, etc.).  That lack of closure left me feeling like the story just sort of stopped and never properly finished, and while I got a clear sense of how difficult it is to have an autistic member in the family, I got no sense of growth or revelation.

All the Bright Places, by Jennifer Niven

Finch is fascinated with the many ways that people commit suicide.  Violet is living with guilt after the death of her older sister in a crash which Violet herself survived.  They meet on a ledge high above the ground when Finch saves Violet's life after she reconsiders her own attempt to end her life.  They bond.  He's the school freak, bullied by other kids and generally misunderstood.  She's the formerly popular girl who can't seem to get her life together.  But together, Finch is able to get Violet to come out of her shell and she loves him for it.  Unfortunately, her love is not enough to save him as his obsession with suicide becomes more engrossing and destructive.

A rambling and somewhat disjointed look at teen mental illness.  It starts off as a quirky romance that is filled with marvelous facts about the State of Indiana -- the kind of cute novel where oddball kids make appealing partners.  But somewhere towards the end, Niven decides to take the story into darker territory and have Finch completely unravel.  She claims in the Afterword that that was her intent from the beginning, but the story could have gone in many directions and it felt like a detour to me.  And because of that shift, I felt like we lost a lot of Violet's story.  I get that Finch's illness makes for a more dramatic ending, but it is the less interesting story in the end.

Monkey Wars, by Richard Kurti

When Papina and her troop of rhesus macaques is driven out of their home in the old cemetery by marauding gray langurs, no one can really know that this is the start of huge insurgency.  But the success stirs the ambitions of a paranoid tyrant named Tyrell, who rallies his langurs into crushing their neighbors and sundering families and friends along the way.  As they run out of external enemies, they they turn on their own, and even start to plot against the humans.  It then falls on Mico, a langur initially enthralled under Tyrell's spell, to challenge the tyrant.

This nuanced allegory about the rise of totalitarianism set amid the feral primates of Kolkata is one of the more imaginative books of the year.  Superficially, it will call to mind the Planet of the Apes, but Kurti's writing is more informed by history.  He makes numerous sharp observations about the psychology of terror and propaganda, and the way that totalitarianism both rises and falls.  It's an extremely gory novel, but one with extraordinarily important observations to make about human behavior.

This is a "boy" book, in the sense that it focuses on action, at the expense of depicting most emotional growth (with the important exception of Mico's emergence as a liberal thinker).  Most of the characters die by the end, so it's best to not get invested (Kurti cruelly spends significant time developing characters who are doomed to be brutally murdered within a chapter or two).  And the story is stubbornly androcentric.  Females play bit (although sometimes crucial) parts in the story which is overwhelmingly about males posturing and jostling for authority and power.  One could blame that on the species depicted, but it is a shame in a story which otherwise uses the primate cover as a thin veil for the human souls expressed.

The Lightning Queen, by Laura Resau

For modern day Marylander Mateo, visiting his grandfather Teo in rural Oaxaco, Mexico is an entirely different world, but one to which he looks forward every year.  On his most recent stay, Grandfather Teo tells him a story from long ago about how he met a young gypsy girl names Esma ("the lightning queen").  Their friendship, challenged by distrust between two different cultures, managed to survive.

Resau has a bit of niche writing rich stories about the indigenous people of Mexico that combine a Hispanic magical realism tradition with a modern kid-friendly sensibility.  The results are wonderful novels where the story itself is less important than the characters.  And thus a story synopsis cannot do justice to the immersive fun of the book which sends us to another world full of colorful characters and meaningful human relationships.  This book does it all one better, bringing two very unique cultures together:  the Mexteco people (of whom Resau has written before) and the less-known world of the Mexican Romani.  Truth be told, I hadn't even realized that the Romani had reached the Americas and loved the idea of bringing them to light.  While I might well have enjoyed even more about the gypsy caravan and its people, what is present is fascinating and interesting.


[Disclaimer:  I received a copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review.  After finishing with the book, I will be donating it to my local public library.  The book is scheduled for release on October 27th.]

Royally Lost, by Angie Stanton

Crown Prince Nikolai of Mondovia is itching to be free of the confines of his existence as the heir to powerless throne of a stagnant European monarchy.  Angry that he is being forced to enlist in the military instead of following his desire to improve the world, he runs away from home, seeking freedom in central Europe.  Becca from Madison, Wisconsin is enduring a forced family river cruise through the ancient cities of Europe, sure that she will perish from boredom and moping about the boy who dumped her back home.  Obviously, they meet and sparks fly.

There are all sorts of reasons to hate this book.  You can despise the whiny Becca who gives a black mark to teen cheeseheads by constantly complaining about her horrible privileged existence.  Or you can despise the paper tiger of Nikolai's parents who effortlessly are convinced of the virtue of Nikolai's plans to reform their country simply by listening to him speak.  Or you can hate the overly simple fourth-grade vocabulary that the book is written in.  Or, while your at it, you can hate the superficial tour-guide narrative of Europe (courtesy, undoubtedly of notes from the author's own trip).

But the one thing you can give the author credit for is getting the details of Dane County Airport (MSN) down correctly.  I'd have never forgiven her for screwing that up!  And you can give the book credit for at least being an interesting story (albeit written for little children or teens in remedial English classes).  I get that it's a fluffy beach read, that intends to exploit young women's fantasies about meeting a real-life prince.  I didn't expect great literature, but at least give your readers credit for being literate!

Dangerous, by Shannon Hale

Maisie wins a sweepstakes opportunity to attend a space camp.  This is a dream come true for a one-armed girl with desire to reach for the stars.  And when her team at the camp wins another contest that allows them to go out into the stratosphere, she really has reached her greatest ambition.  That's the point when alien technology takes over her team's bodies and things start getting very serious.  Soon, there's violence and mayhem, zombifying viruses, and a secret war between a space pioneer and a scheming megalomaniac.  Meanwhile, Maisie is struggling with what to do about her boyfriend who keeps alternating between trying to kiss her and trying to slaughter her family.

I love Shannon Hale's fantasy books -- the Bayern series and the Princess Academy books are great -- but she really doesn't know what to do with science fiction.  She's not a science geek and whenever this book tries to get into the hard science it falls into absurdity.  And meanwhile, while trying to provide a plausible scientific background for the story, Hale lets the plot slip away.  Most of the story makes little or no sense.

No where is the story less incomprehensible than in the "love story" between Maisie and Wilder -- a coupling that is at best like the more obnoxious elements of Rory and Logan's relationship in Gilmour Girls (sorry, if you were a fan!).  How can we possibly believe that she is lusting after the guy who tried to kill her family twenty pages ago?  And, if that's really how she feels, how can we feign interest in someone so shallow?  Yes, it's silly (and Hale is trying to go for silly), but it's also an ungodly mess!

Zac & Mia, by A. J. Betts

Zac and Mia meet in the cancer ward, where Zac is a worldly veteran of bone marrow transfusions and a calm and reflective expert on the ups and downs of leukemia.  Mia, in comparison, is the lucky one with a relatively simple tumor that should respond nicely to chemo.  But she is angry and resists both friendship and treatment.  In the end, Zac comes out okay and leaves and Mia, while still in the ward, has a good prognosis despite here gloomy and angry outlook.

But things don't end up quite the way the two of them expect.  And in the ensuing months, these two young people go on a trip across the country and across their hearts that has them exploring what it means to be alive and asking what second chances are really worth.

The story bears a superficial resemblance to John Green's The Fault In Our Stars, but eschews much of the humor and irony of that more famous work.  Obviously, both books dwell a lot on death, but Betts isn't trying to answer the Big Questions that Green went after.  And the tone of this book is much lower key.  For that reason, Zac & Mia is a much harder book to digest.  I found it a bit jumpy, with awkward transitions between major plot developments and an annoying obsession with the turning of tables and plot twists.  But it is also harder reading because Betts's book lacks the Hollywood ending that made TFIOS so filmable.

I liked Zac & Mia's humble scrappiness and the story line's interests roam in interesting ways.  Betts, for example, develops the characters of Zac's and Mia's families and friends (in a way that John Green never would have done) and much is made of history and roots.  The relationship of the two young people is central but it exists within a social network that sees healthy development in this novel.  And even the relationship between Zac and Mia has nuances and complex layers of doubt and hope that felt more realistic.

Untwine, by Edwidge Danticat

After her twin sister is killed in a car accident, Giselle goes through an extended period of healing from her own accident-related injuries and recovering from the loss of her sister.  Memories of their lives together and pointed observations about her family make up Giselle's account of how the accident has changed them.

Danticat writes beautifully and the novel is full of gorgeous flowing prose, which speaks elegantly of Giselle's Haitian roots.  However,  the subject matter is well-trod and this book adds little new to the subject of grief.  There are extensive observations about the process of healing, more than a few attempts to bring up the duality and psychic connection between twins, and a rather bizarre subplot about the investigation of the cause of the accident.  But none of this really gels and we're left with a beautiful story and no place to go with it.


[Disclaimer:  I received a copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for an unbiased review.  After I finish with it, I'll be donating the book to my local public library.  The book is scheduled for release on September 29th.]

First Kiss (Then Tell), edited by Cylin Busby

Twenty five major YA writers responded to the question "Tell us about your first kiss" and the results, of course, are fantastic!  There's almost certainly a bit of artistic license in the stories and a fair share of creativity (Scott Westerfield's haiku is by far the briefest submission!).  But overall, these are wonderful stories about the vulnerable, yet life changing, experience of locking lips with someone really special (or far too often not so special).

It's a lightning fast read, as each of the stories are very short (you'll spend almost as much time reading the bios as you do reading the stories), but each is lovely in their own way.  There is, however, a sense that we've heard the story a bit too often by the time we reach the end.  Twenty-five kisses and most of them pretty much tell the same story of fear, awkwardness, and self-realization.  You'll come to understand that most first kisses are disappointments, but also reference points for the later ones that really matter.  That's a great lesson to tell young readers, but the kids may get tired of hearing it the tenth or twentieth time they read it.  And finally, one could fault Busby for having so few recollections from boys (who apparently don't remember their kisses) or for not attempting to explore a world outside of upper middle class suburbia (are there no kisses of color?).  Still, I couldn't imagine a better focus for a collection of YA short stories.

Fan Art, by Sarah Tregay

Jamie knows that falling in love with your best friend is never a good idea, but especially when he doesn't know that you're gay (and you don't know if he is).  But when one of Jamie's other friends makes him publish her gay-themed fan art in the school literary magazine (with two characters that look suspiciously like Jamie and his friend), the cat is about to be let out of the bag.  Time is running out for Jamie to come clean and come out to his friend.  Now, Jamie just needs to find the inner strength to do so.

This is a strange novel and I'm not quite sure how to read it.  Tregay avoids the usual stereotypes of gay YA.  Jamie's parents are accepting.  There's a small amount of static from his peers, but for the most part, Jamie's reluctance to fully come out is just a fear of losing his friend's affection.  But the whole thing seems blown out of proportion.  Why does the publication of the fan art have to be such a big deal?  How is Jamie even vaguely forced to publish it?  Why do so if it threatens his ability to keep his orientation under wraps?  And, why, if he is so afraid to come out, does he make so little attempt to hide it?  And, as for the boys, given the constant mixed signals they keep sending each other, we're all pretty certain how this is all going to end up by the 100th page.  So, what exactly was the point of it?

Still, as an example of a more liberal contemporary view of being a gay teen (in a world where prejudice does not in fact play a defining role), this could be read as a rom-com.  In that mindset, the set ups would seem funny and we could just enjoy the fun of two people finding each other.  But then, Tregay throws in a hint of menace that suggests that it isn't that simple and that she wants to make a statement about how hard it is to be a gay teen.  And so I get confused again about what we're doing here.

Sanctuary, by Jennifer McKissack

When her uncle stops paying for school, seventeen year-old Cecilia is forced to return to her family's ancestral manor Sanctuary on a remote island off the coast of Maine.  Haunted by ghosts of an angry ship captain and the many Acadians he helped to forcibly deport to Virginia, the place is racked by misfortune and madness.  But with the help of a young doctor and some other people from her family's past, Cecilia aims to undo the curse and bring peace to the place.

A classic ghost story set in the 1940s with a barely adolescent protagonist, the story has a languorous pace and a classy tone.  However, it is not YA and it is not even a children's book.  There's a fairly low key and mature romance but none of the elements of YA (coming of age, finding one's place, evolving relationships with family or friends, etc.) that one would expect in the genre are present.  It's a fine enough read, but not really the type of book that interests me, nor in fact the usual fare carried by Scholastic Press!


[Disclosure:  I received a free copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for an unbiased review.  Once I finish with it, I'll be donating the book  to my local public library.  The book is scheduled for release on September 29, 2015.]

Belzhar, by Meg Wolitzer

After experiencing a mental breakdown triggered by the traumatic loss of her first love, Jam is sent to a special boarding school for "fragile" youth in Vermont.  There, she finds herself enrolled in a class innocuously entitled "Special Topics in English" taught by a enigmatic but effective elderly woman.  The class is apparently exclusive and only five students are allowed to enroll, but none of the five students in the class applied for the honor.  Instead, they were chosen.  And, while ostensibly a seminar devoted to reading the works of Sylvia Plath, something much more profound is going on.  Each time the students sit down to fulfill their mandatory journaling  assignments, they find themselves temporarily transported to a world where everything in their world has been set aright...or has it?

For lack of a better way to describe this novel, I'll call it a cross between Dead Poets Society and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  It's an entrancing riff on the boarding school/psych ward genre with an incredibly melancholy whiff of the supernatural thrown in.  The story is well managed -- the narrative stays focused and the characters are kept to a minimum, each experiencing nice development and character growth.  My only disappointment was with how Jam's own story gets resolved, but that may be more my frustration with the character than the author and you can't win them all!  It's not a strikingly original work, but it is a good story, beautifully told.

Panic, by Lauren Oliver

Up in Carp NY, where the adults are zombiefied by meth and the kids see no future, the key pastime of the seniors after graduating is playing a deadly game of chicken called Panic.  Competing for a jackpot worth $50K, these young adults take part in dangerous challenges that test their bravery and skirt death.  As the field narrows down, the game becomes more brutal and the players begin to question their motivations and the sanity of their competitors.  But the game must go on.

I like to think of this as a dystopian novel set in the real world.  If you've ever been to Columbia county in upstate New York, you know the bitter nature of the poverty there, and it's easy to visualize how that landscape that could create a real-world hunger games.  The novelty of that idea captured my interest and kept me plowing through this novel.  But it became a drudge, mostly because the story is so slow moving and the characters so uninteresting.  This isn't a story about heroes or rising above your circumstances, but rather about the soul crushing nature of rural poverty.  And without redemption, we're stuck with characters who yell, swear, and cry, but never really grow up.  And with the action spread out over 400 pages, that's a lot of yelling, swearing, and crying to get through.

George, by Alex Gino

Fourth-grader George has a secret stash of magazines at home.  Her older brother assumes that it's a porn collection, but in reality they are fashion and girls' magazines.  George may be only ten years old, but she considers herself a girl, even if every one else thinks she's biologically a boy.  No one except George knows the secret.  But when George's attempt to try out for the part of Charlotte in the school production of Charlotte's Web is thwarted by her teacher, George's best friend hatches a plan to get George the part anyway and allow George to show her classmates, teachers, and mother that she is really a girl.

If the story sounds familiar, there's an unfortunate reason for that.  According to the author, they spent twelve years gestating this story.  Gino probably should have worked faster as it is hard to not compare this book with Gracefully Grayson and unfortunately, in comparison, George comes up short.  The two books tell basically the same story about a pre-adolescent girl in a boy's body trying out for a female role in the school play.  But Gracefully Grayson explores not just the physical elements of being transgender (surreptitious dress up, etc.) but also goes into great depth about the protagonist's feelings about gender and being respected.  George is a colder, more rational, fourth grader -- noting web articles he's read about psychological studies and hormonal treatments.  The discussions between George and her best friend are largely fact-driven.  The overall approach is clinical and less engaging, and the characters are flat as a result.  If George was the only book on the market, it would be an important pioneering book, but arriving late on the scene it just feels timid.


[Disclaimer:  I received a solicited copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review.  After finishing my review, I will be donating the book to my local public library.  George will be released on August 25.]

The Gospel of Winter, by Brendan Kiely

After Aidan's father left him and his mother, Aidan searched for peace and comfort through the abuse of drugs and the consolation of Father Greg.  But when Father Greg abandons him as well, it opens Aidan's eyes to the way he's allowed the priest to abuse his trust and been dragged into a destructive relationship.  Worse, Aidan discovers that there are no limits to how far Father Greg and the adults around him will go to cover up what has happened.  Like the bully at school who threatens Aidan if he complains to the administration about petty harassment, Aidan is similarly threatened by other priests and even his caregiver.  In the end, Aidan finds solace (and gains the confidence to stand up for himself) from his friends, including an older boy who also may have suffered from Father Greg.

A very cerebral look at the emotional ravages of child sexual abuse, placed loosely in the real sex scandals of the Roman Catholic Church in 2002.  Kiely's debut is powerful and really gets deep into the psychology of denial that feeds child sexual abuse.  And it's very very creepy to hear the grownups justify their actions.

That said, I would protest that this isn't YA, even through Simon and Schuster have tossed it there and promoted it as such.  It's a lazy assumption that any book about teens is a children's book.  Rather than being about the experience of being a young person per se, this is a story about lost innocence and the weakness of adults to protect children -- it's a book for adults to wallow in guilt.

Friends for Life, by Andrew Norriss

Francis's interest in fashion and his skill at sewing hasn't made him very popular at school, and left him feeling alone.  But when a mysterious girl named Jessica befriends him, he finds a willing partner for her creative impulses.  His social circle expands further as Jessica introduces him to other outcasts (an angry girl named Andi and a coach potato named Roland).  Together, these kids bond and find happiness in no longer being isolated.

The mystery, though, is Jessica.  She's a ghost, a lost soul wandering the Earth until she can fulfill a particular mission that is unknown to her.  The fact that Francis, Andi, and Roland are the only three people who can see her lead them to think that her mission somehow involves them.  They want to help her figure this out, but are also reluctant to do so because they realize that solving Jessica's mystery will mean that she will leave them.

A cute story about friendship and using it to fight feelings of isolation.  Jessica's supernatural presence is an interesting twist -- giving the book a Ghost flavor -- but the story doesn't dwell on it very much.  Being a British middle grade book, though, there's not even a kiss in the story and no one's parents seem to mind that the kids spend a lot of unchaperoned time together.  This gives the book an innocent feel, even as it addresses the grim topics of bullying and teen suicides.


[Disclaimer:  I received a free copy of the book for the purpose of making an unbiased review.  After I am finished, I will donate this copy to my local public library. The book is scheduled for release on August 25.]

Isla and the Happily Ever After, by Stephanie Perkins

Introverted Isla has had a crush on enigmatic graphic artist Josh for years, so when he shows an interest in her during their senior year it is a dream come true.  Now add to the mix that they both come from wealthy families and they are attending high school in Paris, and things start getting exotic.  And to that, add that they have relatively little adult supervision and you get great material for a hot boarding school romance.

In general, this story follows the basic romance formula (there will be moments of discovery, misunderstandings and fights, and well-meaning but clueless adult intervention), but what makes it enjoyable are the flaws of our heroine.  Isla is smart and insightful with a good mix of impulsive thrown in, and she makes some really big mistakes.  However, with her intelligence and decent head on her shoulders, she owns her errors pretty well. The rather unrealistic nature of their situation (unsupervised and unrestricted access to Europe not least of all) and a disappointing (but not unpredictable) overly happy ending aside, this is an enjoyable couple to follow.  Their anxieties and concerns felt real and legitimate, and you'll love to read about them.

Blind, by Rachel DeWoskin

After a freak accident causes Emma to lose sight in both of her eyes, she has to go through the rehabilitation process of learning to function as a blind person.  Told partially through flashbacks, Emma describes her second year as a blind person as she returns to her old high school to be mainstreamed after spending a year convalescing and attending a school for the blind.  The year of her return is complicated by the suicide of one of her classmates.  Trying to make sense of that tragedy becomes part of Emma coming to terms with her own misfortune.

A long and ultimately fascinating look at the process of a formerly-sighted person learning to survive without vision.  DeWoskin obviously did an amazing amount of research and she confidently describes the various challenges of recovery and the process of developing strategies to compensate.  She also works in a fair amount of sympathy for how normal adolescent anxieties interact with those processes.  I felt like I really understood how a recently-blinded teen would act and Emma had a very authentic feeling to her.

What I liked less was the clutter of this story.  My attempt above to explain the role of the suicide storyline in the novel is far more coherent than it is ever made in the book.  Instead, this secondary story never really gelled with the rest and was full of many largely unanswered questions and plot points.  I'm sure it initially seemed like a fantastic idea, but in the end the death of a peer simply hangs limply alongside the far more fascinating rebirth of Emma.  Some brutal excising of that part of the story would have trimmed out a hundred or so pages but given this novel a better focus.

One Death Nine Stories, ed by Marc Aronson and Charles R Smith Jr

Nine short stories loosely tied together around the funeral of a nineteen year-old named Kevin Nicholas.  Hearing the premise, I figured the stories would tend to the morbid and dark, which did not turn out to be the case.  The key is that for many of the stories, the death is peripheral at best.  Instead, as the editors explain in the afterward, the unifying theme is "initiation." This is interpreted in a variety of ways ranging from the obvious (Ellen Hopkins's and A. S. King's stories of sexual initiation or Torrey Maldonado's testosterone-poisoned tale of hazing) to the more subtle (Will Weaver's redemptive account of learning to shoot a gun).

I have my favorites of course -- A. S. King's piece is by far the most indelible of the set -- while some of them didn't speak as well to me.  However, what helps is that the writers and their styles are generally compatible, which makes the collection readable as a whole, rather than as disconnected stories.  The final result is surprisingly effective and demonstrates a lot of cooperation among the writers and editors and melding their stories together.

All We Have Is Now, by Lisa Schroeder

A giant asteroid is hurtling towards Earth and expected to impact somewhere in Idaho in slightly more than twenty-four hours.  While no one know for certain how big the damage will be, the smart money is on the idea that North America will suffer the worst.  Anyone with the means has evacuated weeks ago to far away places.  The only people left are the poor, the homeless, or those who simply don't have the energy or will to run.

Emerson and Vince are two street kids in Portland, trying to figure out how to pass their last hours.  A chance encounter with a man who has given up entirely nets them a fat wallet, a BMW, and a final mission: to try to make as many people's dreams come true as possible before it all ends.  The story basically follows them as they attempt to find meaning (for themselves and for others) in the now, in a world that is rapidly coming to a close.

An interesting premise, but handled with a lethargic pacing and interrupted with interminable digressions.  Truth be told, I've started all and finished few of Schroeder's books (I have a general policy -- believe it or not -- to not actually finish and review books I hate).  Her style is very ethereal, with a strong focus on dialogue which largely is unrelated to the plot and on plots which are largely irrelevant to the book.  The fact that I've finished this one means it will earn at least a star...barely.  The story really isn't about the end of the world at all (which is fine!), but rather about trying to get at the deep meaningfulness of living in the moment (which, by definition, is not a very deep idea).  The dialog ranges from dull reminders that we only have so much time to whining about how it sucks that the world is ending.  It's the sort of book where the temptation to flip forward to the end of the book is strong simply because you want there to be a point in all this.  Don't do it!  Let's just say that the end of the world isn't really all it's cracked up to be!


[Disclosure:  I received an advanced release of this book from the publisher in exchange for an unbiased review.  After completing my review I will be donating the book to my local public library. The book is scheduled for release on July 28th.]

Princess of Thorns, by Stacey Jay

Two noble children at the center of curses:  Aurora (who lies at the center of a prophecy that the spilling of her blood will plunge the world into an age of darkness) and Niklaas (the younger of twelve brothers, all cursed to be turned into swans on their eighteenth birthdays).  Allied together by their own goals but not quite trusting each other enough to confess their agendas to each other, the duo make compelling partners.  In fairly standard genre form, they must face off against an array of ogres, wolves, witches, and other monsters, but alongside their heroic quest is a subtler probing of the heart.

The story is very much standard by-the-numbers fantasy, with the usual land mass broken up into several kingdoms with lawless borders and a variety of treacherous terrain (and yes, there's a map at the front!).  There's plenty of politics and treachery to spread around, and lots of great battle and action scenes.  The characters are compelling, with an especially fiesty heroine and some excellent girl power scenes, while still allowing her some pretty dresses along the way.  The myths and prophecies are a bit hard to plow through (especially since they are front loaded in the preface with little or no context), but they serve the purpose of setting the desperate mood of the rest of the story.  And, despite all the familiar stuff, the ending is not nearly as predictable as one might imagine.

But what really makes this book stand out is the fantastic romance between Aurora and Niklaas.  You could strip out all the monsters, action scenes, and the dozens of peripheral characters in this book and you would still have a compelling story of two young people struggling with their feelings for each other.  You'll have to wait all the way to page 299 for the first kiss, but it's so worthwhile that the description runs two full pages and becomes a major plot point.  Their story is hot, sweet, and incredibly sexy, and I'm giving this book a strong recommendation on that alone.

Top Ten Clues You're Clueless, by Liz Czukas

In a story that can best be described as a cross between Cashback and The Breakfast Club, six young adults get detained on Christmas Eve in the break room of the grocery store at which they work.  The money from a charity drive has gone missing and the manager suspects it was one of them who took it.  Waylaid for several hours, the kids share stories and get to know each other, having a variety of adventures including a race through the store and even a little romance.  Our narrator, who has an obsession with making up lists and poor control over her diabetes, makes things more interesting.

It's a cute idea.  Occurring in a fairly tight space and being dialogue-heavy, the story has the feeling of a play.  As such, it relies hard on the strength of the characters who are a predictable mix of types (good girl, dyke, home-schooled geek, etc.).  Thankfully, they are deeper than that and the fun in the book is getting to see them break through the stereotypes.

It is a brisk fast read, yet still ran a bit long for my taste, simply because it doesn't have much to say.  And I never quite figured out the connection between the title and the story.  It did, however, put me in the mood to watch those two aforementioned films again (http://www.cashbackfilm.com/   and I assume you know how to find the other one!).

Ticker, by Lisa Mantchev

Penny Farthing is the girl with the clockwork heart. "Augmented" through an artificial organ, she is the first girl child in her family to survive a genetic defect.  But the surgeon responsible has fallen out of favor as public opinion has turned against augmentation.  Worse still, evidence has piled up that he kidnapped and used involuntary subjects for the development.  Now facing the gallows, all hell breaks loose when he escapes and plunges the Empire into chaos in his quest to augment mankind.  It takes Penny and a collection of friends, including the dashing young general Marcus Kingsley, to come to the rescue and stop the madman.

A delirious and breath-taking steampunk adventure set in the usual mash-up of Victoriana and technology that defines the genre.  It's a genre which has always mystified me.  I personally love Victorian and Edwardian style and I will salivate over the look of polished brass and oak as well as anyone, but once you get beyond the beauty of the whole thing, what is left?  Nothing, really, except for endless silly titles and faux manners.  And this is where the story falls down for me.  It's all very stylish and pretty, but once we've established these facts, there is no where to go with this information except to race off to the next opportunity to dress up and show off another wacky techno-gadget.  This makes for a fast paced and breathtaking story but keeping up with it is exhausting and ultimately not rewarding.  And so, after a while, I simply let it take me wherever it wanted to go.  There's plenty of witty repartee, but not a lot of emotional investment here and certainly no soul in this mechanical heart.  But if what you crave is a fashionable and shiny adventure, this will do the trick.

Best Friend Next Door, by Carolyn Mackler

Hannah hates the fact that her best friend next door has moved away and that a new girl named Emme has moved in to the very same house.  She is initially determined to hate the new girl, but it is hard when they share an amazing list of things in common (same birth date, taste in clothes and food, favorite sports, and even a shared love of palindromes!).  Ultimately, it is Hannah's cat that brings them together.  Once they get over that initial hurdle, there are yet more challenges to come as so much is changing around them.

Mackler has written a number of great MG and YA books over the years and she always does a great job of exploring the friendships and anxieties of tweens and teens.  This book captures life as a ten year-old pretty convincingly, but beyond that, the story meanders and doesn't really have a purpose.  There are plenty of challenges -- a lost cat, bullying at school, a new sibling, changing tastes, evolving relationships with family and friends, a birthday trip, and so on -- but not really any overriding story.  For the young reader who simply wants to enjoy following two sympathetic fifth-graders as they navigate their pre-adolescent world, this will be an enjoyable read, but it lacked the substance to create a really great work.


[Disclaimer:  I solicited and received a free copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for an unbiased review.  I am donating the book to my local public library when I am finished.]

No Place to Fall, by Jaye Robin Brown

In the mountains of western North Carolina, there isn't a lot to do besides partying with hikers and abusing prescription meds, and the young people have neither a lot of ambition nor a lot of hope.  But Amber has a talent for singing and, with some encouragement from friends and teachers, a dream of getting an art scholarship.  But as in a classic tragedy, there is a complicated web of desires and jealousies amid her friends and families which will cost her her dreams.  And, in the end, force her to choose how much she is willing to sacrifice to make things right.

A complicated and dark depiction of rural North Carolina and a sharp contrast to the book I just reviewed before this (Heart of a Shepherd).  This too rings of authenticity, but with a more pessimistic worldview.  There's a biting honesty to how Brown  depicts the human condition, as no one is immune from the petty longings and wrath that ultimately destroy their dreams. It may be dispiriting to never experience a truly virtuous character, but it feels more authentic and ultimately uplifting to have done so.  Brown gets a particular loud shout out for creating characters that initially appear to be caricatures but ultimately are fleshed out into complex people.

Heart of a Shepherd, by Rosanne Parry

Brother is the youngest in the family, but with his brothers away at school and his father deployed in Iraq, he alone has to share responsibility for the family ranch with his aging grandparents.  Brother has no idea of how he'll manage, but with help from a hired farmhand, the pastor, and friends, they get through a fair share of adventures.  Along the way, Brother comes to understand the importance of those social links and determines his own calling in life.

Filled with heart and grit, and a whole cadre of decent folks, Parry tackles the emotion-laden world of hard-working military families and ranchers in this tear-jerking juggernaut.  It's an accepted fact that you will bawl by the end of the story as Parry pulls all the usual heartstrings.  However, there are unexpected touches, like Brother's devout Quaker grandfather that will surprise you.  The result is a classic coming-of-age story that stands out for its respectful portrayal of a rural life that is so often maligned or simplified by suburban writers.

A Fine Dessert, by Emily Jenkins and Sophie Blackall

I love a great picture book, and while I don't normally review them here, I wanted to call this one out.  A Fine Dessert is the story of one dessert (blackberry fool) and its preparation over four centuries, highlighting changes in technology and social mores over the period.  From an English manor in Lyme 1710, to a southern plantation in Charleston 1810, to an urban home in Boston 1910, to the modern family in San Diego 2010, we see the exact some events played out in a dramatically different fashion.

As she so effortlessly does, Emily Jenkins subtly introduces critical ideas about the role of slavery and sexism in the face of a delightful story about the eternal joy of family and food.  The book is not preachy, but rather opens the door for whatever level of discussion a parent and child wish to have about these subjects.  And the wonderful circularity of the story and its illustrations will appeal to young readers.

I Am Princess X, by Cherie Priest

When May and Libby were younger, they devised a fairy tale about a sword-wielding Princess X, which Libby would illustrate.  But then, Libby and her mother died in a car accident.  All of the artwork disappeared when Libby's grieving father emptied the house and moved away.

Three years later, May is shocked to find a sticker on a lamppost with Princess X on it.  Either someone has rediscovered the lost artwork or Libby is still somehow alive.  May starts to research the mystery but the further she goes, the more incredible the story becomes.  Princess X is apparently a wildly popular web comic now and tells the story of a girl who everyone thought had been killed in a car accident, but is now fleeing for her life.  And, as May gets closer to solving the mystery, she finds her own life in danger as well.

An interesting stylistic cross between traditional YA action story and graphic novel.  Particularly in the beginning, there is a wonderful interplay between the comic and the real world story.  Unfortunately, the comic parts wind down and are sorely missed by the end. This is mostly because the text itself is written in style of a graphic novel -- jumpy narrative that is intended merely to illustrate the panel of a page.  That gives the entire book a cohesive style, but it's awkward without illustrations.

Priest makes two fairly risky artistic moves in this book:  the first is the decision to write it in the third person (an extension of the comic book style she's shooting for), which allows her to get inside of the heads of each of her colorful characters, but at the same time distances us from the action.  Given the strength of her characters, that's probably a good decision and the trade-off is ultimately worth it.  The second decision is to moor the story solidly in Seattle (I assumed that she was a native, in fact, but she actually lives in Tennessee).  She pulls that part off surprisingly well, getting her streets, public transit, and even her knowledge of local businesses pretty much spot on.  She raised my hackles a bit when she spouted some nonsense about how Seattle Children's Hospital archives their patient records (but hey, how many YA readers happen to work professionally with Seattle-based hospitals' computer systems?), but here her risk pays off as well.

In sum, this is an artistically interesting book:  a graphic novel without all of the illustrations, a tribute to the genre, and a challenging design with an engaging story.


[Disclosure:  I received a copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for an unbiased review.  I will be donating the copy to my local public library.]

Love Spell, by Mia Kerick

Chance Cesar is totes fab, whether he's flipping off the resident Neanderthals or werking the runway and his tiara at the Harvest Moon festival.  He's got confidence and he's got style, but what he wants in luuvvvvvv!  Chance may have not yet figured out if he is a girl or a gay boy, but he knows what he wants.  And what he wants is shy Jazz.  But how to snag him?  With help from his BFF Emmy, he's going down the list of "Ten Scientifically Proven Ways to Make A Man Fall in Love With You" and pulling out all the stops to land his man.  But even with the advice and all his talents, Chance has a lot to learn about the battle for love!

A lovely off-the-mainstream-radar novel about a gender fluid protagonist with one of the most distinctive personalities in YA lit.  Chance is a bit too narcissistic for my tastes and his constant abuse of the English language can get wearisome, but he's a bright and engaging character and it's hard not to get hooked.  Plus, since he is so stuck on himself, he's fairly non-threatening.  And Kerick does a great job of making this a funny book, even while tackling serious subjects like gender identity and homophobia.


[Disclosure: I received a free copy of this book for the purpose of producing an unbiased review.  I will be donating my copy to my local library]

Everything Leads to You, by Nina LaCour

Emi and her friend Charlotte have been entrusted with her brother's apartment for their first summer after graduation.  In exchange, she has promised him to do something "epic" with it.  But what?  Emi is just a struggling intern in a film art department, a mere beginner in the field and hopelessly in the shadow of her boss (on whom she has a crush).  But two things change her life:  her would-be love gets her a job as the art designer on an exciting independent film, and Emi and Charlotte stumble across a letter written by golden movie idol Clyde Jones.  The letter is addressed to an unknown lover and Emi and Charlotte become obsessed with tracking her down.  In doing so, they unloose a series of unforeseen events which truly turn the summer into something incredible.

It's a busy story with at minimum three major storylines (Emi's film, a romance between her and another girl (as well as her unrequited crush), and the whole search to understand Clyde).  None of these plot lines gel very well (with the possible exception of the romance which gets a very late resolution).  Jumping around with so many stories and characters leaves the story itself unsettled.  I liked most of it, but I found it distracting to have so much going on.

Two Girls Staring at the Ceiling, by Lucy Frank

In verse, we get to meet two girls with Crohn’s Disease who share the same semi-private room at the hospital.  For Chess, this stay is her initial diagnosis, with all the trauma of being introduced to the reality of having a chronic disease.  For Shannon, who’s been dealing with Crohn’s for years and is suffering a serious set-back, there is the rage that comes from high doses of prednisone, the frustration of losing the battle with the disease, and the weariness from multiple hospital stays.

The novel has a cute gimmick:  the sides of the page are used to indicate on which side of the room the action is taking place.  And when the two girls are lying down, their words are printed on the appropriate side in parallel.  A line (or the lack thereof) down the middle serves to indicate if the curtain between their beds is closed or open.  It sounds confusing, but it works pretty well.  

As for the story itself, it didn’t really go very far.  The girls have stories which they share with each other, but not much development takes place.  This is partially the classic problem of verse (it is thin) but also that Frank doesn’t have very ambitious goals for this story.  In sum, not much of a point to this book (beyond the clever page layouts, of course!).

Love Letters to the Dead, by Ava Dellaira

At the start of the year, Laurel's English teacher gives her class an assignment to write a letter to a dead person.  Laurel chooses to write to Kurt Cobain, because his life (and death) remind her of her own older sister May, who killed herself a few months ago.  Rather than turn her assignment in, however, Laurel decides to write letters to Janis Joplin, Heath Ledger, Amelia Earhart, and so on, describing what is going on in her life and in her mind.  Her mother has abandoned her, her dad mopes, Laurel herself is struggling to make friends and start her life again in a new school.  And all around her, it seems like people are suffering.  Two of her new girlfriends are struggling with coming out of the closet.  A quiet boy who is interested in Laurel is also troubled by a history that crosses too closely with her own.

With allusions everywhere to famous lives lost to depression, misadventure, and bad luck, the tone of this novel is dark and downbeat.  It's also literate and sophisticated, as well as beautifully written and poignant.  It's precisely the type of book I tend to love.  However, it felt too deliberate to me.  The poignancy seemed manipulative (like the literary equivalent of heavy strings).  Basically, the author wanted me to feel sad, and the rebellious reader in me wanted to resist.  That doesn't make it a bad book, but I think it could have been better (maybe tighter and less obvious in its direction?).  That said, from the fully-rounded characters to the realistic portrayal of their flaws to the story itself, this is a good read.

The Secret Side of Empty, by Maria E. Andreu

M. T. is a bright student and ought to have a great future ahead of her.  But instead, she has a huge black cloud hanging over her:  her legal status.  While she's lived most of her life in America, she was brought here illegally and she is undocumented.  So, instead of planning for college, she lives in fear that she and her family will be discovered and deported.  Worse, she fears that someone would report her, so she keeps her fears secret.  But as her senior year wraps up, the realization that her friends are leaving and moving on leads her into depression and despair, and becomes unbearable.

Andreu captures rather nicely the sharp contrast between M. T.'s school life (full of friends, romance, and parties) and the grim reality that she and her family face (poverty, fear, and violence), and the corrosive effect of living that split existence.  I'm not sure that we needed the domestic violence and the self-abuse themes (especially since so much of those threads remains underdeveloped), but the real triumph of the book is capturing the pain of living a double life.  And while one could latch onto M. T.'s story as a tribute to DREAMers, the strength of this novel is it lets the reader draw their own conclusions.

None of the Above, by I. W. Gregorio

After a traumatic sexual experience with her boyfriend, eighteen year-old Kristin visits an OB-GYN to find out what is wrong with her.  She learns that she has a genetic abnormality called androgen insensitivity syndrome (AIS) which has left her with an ambiguous sexual identity.  Outwardly, she appears to be a female but internally she has no uterus.  She has two hernia which are actually underdeveloped gonads.  Kristin is, as her doctor explains, "intersex."

The idea that Kristin is not a "true" girl is hard for her to accept.  She's a track star on the girl's team.  She has a boyfriend.  She's even the homecoming queen!  And she's been a girl all of her life.  Kristin needs time to process it.  But when she mistakenly entrusts her secret and confides her situation to her best friends, she is betrayed and the matter is made public.  At school, many of her peers are shocked and turn against her in disgust.  Her boyfriend outright rejects her.  And, as Kristin realizes that this is only the beginning, she despairs that she will never find a place in a binary world where she doesn't fit.

I knew very little about AIS (although I imagine we covered it briefly in a genetics course).  Prior to reading this book, I would have even described Kristin as a "hermaphrodite" without realizing that the term was considered offensive.  I knew nothing about the complications of the condition or the treatments that are pursued.  Thus, the novel taught me a lot.  At the same time, the book sometimes seemed to forget that it was a work of fiction.  Teens would break character and start rolling out detailed explanations of the condition, doctors would conveniently start supplying copious medical facts, other characters would spout wisdom from web pages.  I get that Gregorio has a mission here (and I even respect that mission!) but there's a fine line between telling a story and lecturing the reader.  Getting that balance is very tricky.  Here, it works sometimes and sometimes it doesn't.

At a time when transexuality has gotten so much attention, it's fascinating to explore the concept of intersexuality.  Previously, I would have considered them to be one and the same, but this book has taught me that they are different.  On that basis alone, I would recommend it.  The fact that the novel is quite readable and the characters are sympathetic (and mostly authentic) makes it a strong recommendation.