Asking for It, by Louise O'Neill

Emma is beautiful and tough.  Her girlfriends have her back and with boys she’s fearless.  So, as the summer begins, Emma is on the prowl.  She knows the guy she wants and she’ll be certain to have him.

But after a night of which she has no memory, she is found bleeding and beaten on the porch of her home.  Shortly afterwards, the pictures start to appear on the Internet.  Her instinct is to put up a tough front and claim that it is all good.  But when Emma realizes that her nightmare isn’t going to go away, she is convinced to accuse her attackers.  In doing so she learns a hard truth:  things will only get worse.

It's an indictment of public attitudes towards rape (set in more conservative Ireland but not much different from the States).  And O’Neill sets up a difficult scenario, making Emma reckless, promiscuous, and unreliable, but sticking nonetheless to the narrative that no one “asks” to be raped.  I’d like to believe that even as flawed as person as Emma would be believed by the reader, but the story is ambiguous enough that I could see some readers doubting her version of what happened.

As a story (rather than as a polemic), it’s a drab, depressing read, with a very ambivalent (albeit authentic) ending.  That makes the story a difficult read.  But O’Neill has a good feeling for dialog and for characters.  The various players felt quite real and vivid, regardless of age or background.

Love Bomb, by Jenny McLachlan

OK, here's something silly from the UK in honor of V-Day coming up...

Betty has got it bad for Toby.  She can't do anything else but obsess about kissing him.  And she knows he likes her back because he's even asked her to sing in his band.  But why is that the more she learns about him the more what she learns bothers her?  Why can't his hot body be attached to someone nicer like her best friend Bill?  If only she could ask her Mum for advice, but she passed away when Betty was two.  And now all she has left are letters her mother wrote to her -- letters, in which she finds wisdom and solace.

Oh, it's so so filled of cliches.  From the bad boy who's no good for the girl and the nice boy she overlooks.  From the squealing gossip and the loud crazy unchaperoned party.  There's the clueless Dad with the new (threatening, but really quite nice) girlfriend.  The awkward first kiss and the perfect one that concludes the book.  And, of course, there's the dead mother.  Do tween readers really don't care that they've read this story a hundred times before (probably not!).  In any case, there's not much new under the sun here.  The kids are fun to spend some time with, but this is light young love.

Finally, there's the awkward question of targeted age.  The kids here are so innocent about sex and romance, that I'm prone to plug this as a middle reader, but the drugs, alcohol, and criminal content definitely puts it into the adolescent category.  Is there something between tween and teen?

Ask Me How I Got Here, by Christine Heppermann

Addie's story of terminating her unwanted pregnancy and the aftermath of her decision gains that certain pathos through verse that could only have been achieved in prose with lots of ellipses.  Verse is the perfect way to tell a story where the heroine doesn't really know what she feels and grows easily anxious over that reluctance.

The most original part of this story, is the way that Heppermann explores not just abortion, but the way that other people try to oversimplify the experience. She does an excellent job of exposing this through both the meddling boyfriend (and potential father) and the well-meaning (but clueless) student-activist.  Messing the waters a bit are the matters of Addie's changing tastes in pastimes and her evolving sexual orientation.  Catholicism, as usual, does not come off particularly well.

With verse novels, the temptation to grow overly precious is a major risk.  And rather than allow myself to be sucked in by the easy final poignant phrase, I focus on the quality of the verse itself (in particular, if any of the pieces can stand on its own) and on the originality of the thoughts.  While there are a few standout pieces, for the most part the verse is high-school notebook-level stuff -- pretty, but not terribly deep.  On the idea front, Heppermann does better.  I particularly enjoyed Addie's snarky comments about the Bible (guaranteed to offend religious people with thin skins, they are just the sort of doubt that I always find vital for faith).

It was a fast read.  Combined with a decent subject, some good ideas, and competent writing, this is enjoyable stuff.  Not a classic, but certainly not bad.

Unscripted Joss Byrd, by Lygia Day Penaflor

Joss Byrd is the hottest young actress in America, but she can't help but feel like that she's a fake.  She's got talent, but she struggles to even read her scripts.  And as much as she owes her success to her mother's drive, she also fears her Mom's penchant for sabotaging her successes.  During a shoot of a movie in Montauk, Joss faces some hard cold realities about the movie business, including the cost of fame and success.

Told with sensitivity and insight by a woman who actually works in the film business as a tutor for child actors, the novel exposes an entire world that few of us know much about (even if we think we know the people so well!).  But the characters themselves are hard to relate with.  From her experiences, Joss has to be wise beyond her years and Penaflor does a decent job of capturing that, but it's hard to connect with her.  The relationships around her are also naturally superficial.

Lacking much in characters, what we really have is the story and that tends to drift from idea to idea.  The story is full of unresolved issues (the director's infidelities, the relationship with the director's sister, her mother's exploitation of Joss and the jealousy she feels for Joss's success, and Joss's feelings for her co-star) that largely just fade away.  The wrap of the film (and the story) comes so suddenly that I didn't even realize it was over until we were told that it was.

On the separate subject of marketing this story, there are different challenges.  The thematic material is probably a bit mature for a middle reader, but since Joss is per-pubescent, it's unlike that young adult readers will be interested in her.  The ideal reader would be a ten year-old with a good foundation!  And finally, what's with the cover? Couldn't they have picked a younger model?  The one depicted is obviously too old to be Joss!

Nice Girls Endure, by Chris Struyk-Bonn

Chelsea is very self-conscious about her weight.  She's always been a big girl (and developing a bust in third grade didn't help matters).  The story pretty much traces her daily humiliations.  These take a small turn to the better as she befriends the energetic and upbeat Melody and a turn for the worse when she is assaulted and humiliated by a class bully.  Thanks to some pep talk from her friends and some chemical intervention, she pulls through her challenges.

The story has lots of lovely details (vignettes and observations that make or break a YA novel) but I was frustrated by the limp plotting.  I wanted a climactic moment and imagined what it would contain (a film premier, winning a spot on the choir, dealing with the brats next door, confronting the bully, telling off her mother, etc.) and none of that happened.  It is so frustrating to be set up for a moment of redemption that never really comes!  In fairness, Chelsea has some minor inner growth, but it wasn't enough for me. I needed to see it resolve some of her issues.

Mosquitoland, by David Arnold

Mim misses her mother and when she finds out that her father and stepmother are apparently keeping them apart on purpose, Mim decides to bolt.  Stealing a stash of money from her stepmother, she hops on a Greyhound bus in Mississippi and heads 950 miles to Cleveland.  Along the way, she befriends a motley crew of companions and has adventures.

As tired as that plot is, what rescues this novel is its unusual heroine.  She’s schizophrenic, blind in one eye, and prone to uncontrolled and sudden nausea.  And the people she befriends are similarly quirky.  It's the crazy personalities that make this story work.

 

Arnold’s debut novel is a fascinating and original work, written with all the color and grit of a hipster creating the Great American Novel.  The dialog is fast and witty, but there’s not much emotional introspection (since Mim tends to barf whenever the going gets emotional).  Instead, there's a lot of philosophical navel-gazing.  It’s a little too self-aware of its pretensions and falls more into the adult-literature-about-teens category than actual YA, but kids will find it enjoyable nonetheless.

Wild Swans, by Jessica Spotswood

Milbourn women have always been both extraordinary and tragic.  Ivy's ancestors are singers, poets, and painters, and each of them suffered tragedy.  Ivy Milbourn has certainly suffered tragedy (her mother abandoned her when she was two), but she's never found anything she was extraordinary at (much to her grandfather's regret). And this summer she wants to just take it easy and enjoy herself, rather than yet again try to do something that will impress her grandfather.

But Ivy's plans for a quiet summer are waylaid by the sudden reappearance of her mother, with two previously-unknown daughters (Ivy's half-sisters) in tow.  The reunion is rocky and unearths painful truths about the family that have been hidden and kept out of the light.  And into the mix, Ivy finds herself negotiating her first real boyfriend and the tensions it brings between her and her best friend.

A decent novel about an unhappy family that is unhappy in its own special way.  In many ways, the novel seemed overly busy to me (and apparently in earlier drafts, it was even busier!).  The romance (and its accompanying jealous thread) has tremendous promise but is ultimately inconsequential to a story that is largely about ambition and parents living through (and destroying) their children.  And the family itself has so many interesting aspects that never get properly developed (who brings in a grandmother's journals without discussing their content in greater depth? Or discusses a family's history of depression without developing it into the story?).  The characters are well-depicted and the story flows easily, but there are so many good ideas that were developed here and never quite finished.

Girl Mans Up, by M-E Girard

Pen is just one of the guys.  She's seriously into badass videogaming and doesn't take crap from anyone.  But it doesn't mean that the world gives her any respect.  Her neighbor Colby accepts her as a friend but never fully as part of his gang.  Instead, he demands that she "man" up by following his wishes. This puts her in line as she attempts a failing battle to prove she isn't acting "like a girl."

Meanwhile, her parents (first-generation immigrants) use their own variant of the approach.  They see her rejection of femininity as a threat to Pen's future (which they have narrowly defined as getting married and going to nursing school).  The gaming, hanging out with boys, dressing androgynously, and behaving like a "punk druggy" seems destined for disaster.

Only her older brother (who has lots of problems of his own) and Blake (a girl who seems to be just as much in love with gaming as she is) seem to get her.  Pen wants desperately to make some moves on Blake, but the possibility of a relationship between them is threatening to both Colby and her parents, leading to conflict and ultimately the need for Pen to assert herself and her right to be treated with respect.

It's a provocative book title for a tough heroine who tries to challenge gender stereotypes, but who ultimately reinforces them.  But it's got a lot of originality.  Let's face it:  a lot of heroines in lesbian teen lit are femmes.  After all, it tends to fit more with the angsty profile of books marketed for girls.  Pen, as an uncompromisingly butch young woman, is thus a uniquely non-conforming lesbian character.

However, in her effort to resist being portrayed as weak, Pen makes some pretty horrid choices.  The culture she values (which she has identified as not just tough but also manly) is a dead-end, loser ideology.  The constant posturing and trash talk, as realistic as it may be, just grated on me.  As epitomized through Colby and his narcissism, this masculinity is hardly anything for a boy (let alone a girl) to aspire to.  And while she manages to moves on slightly from it in the end, it is still clear that she equates femininity with weakness. Pen's lack of success in solidly moving beyond both masculine and feminine stereotypes frustrated me.

Phantom Limbs, by Paula Garner

Three years ago, Otis's little brother died and his (first and only) girlfriend Meg moved away.  Into the void of his life came Dara, who herself had suffered plenty of losses -- first the death of her mother, and then the loss of a hand (amputated after a shark attack).  Otis and Dara have developed a codependency:  Dara's role has been to push Otis into competitive swimming and through him to achieve the dream of Olympic gold that she had to abandon after her accident.  Their fragile relationship comes under stress when Otis learns that Meg is returning to the area.

To this potential triangle, throw in some complicated emotional ties between Meg and Otis's mother, Dara's relationship with a girlfriend, and the competing loyalties that Otis feels for Dara, Meg, and another girl on his swim team, and you have one very very messy web of relationships.  The final result is full of pathos and quite touching, but it is still a dizzying array of plot lines to sort through.  I liked it and suspect that many readers will, but I do generally prefer simpler and more-focused stories.

Garner's strength in character-building is crucial here, but she also tells a good story.  I never grew bored here (probably that complex storyline helped the pace stay fast!) but moreover, the story was smart.  It felt genuine and authentic, and didn't waste my time with stupid stuff.  But it's definitely a story for older readers -- the sexual references are pretty explicit and frequent, and the themes are quite mature.

Girl in Pieces, by Kathleen Glasgow

Seventeen year-old Charlie has been through hell -- she's a runaway with alcohol problems, a history of physical and sexual abuse, and a tendency towards self-harm.  Her life is pretty bleak.  The story opens during her breather at a psychiatric facility, but soon she is out on the street again.  Rejected by her mother, she ends up in Arizona.  There, she finds a new home and friends (of a sort), but the situation is far from healthy and she struggles to avoid spiraling down again into madness.

The novel is bleak and yet quite compelling, even as it treads on the oft-told tale of self-harm.  But, unlike with most books about cutters, where we tend to focus on understanding the behavior, there's no mystery here about the trauma that has placed her in this madness.  Large parts of the book pretty clearly explain that!

In some ways, that lack of subtlety is a flaw of the novel.  There is no nuance or question about any of this.  As a result, our journey through Charlie's life is simply a visit of hell, without much chance of enlightenment.  It makes for a difficult read and getting through four hundred pages of this story is trying at times.  But there are some bright spots along the way from some unexpected places.

What made the read actually enjoyable (in spit of the dark subject matter) are Glasgow's rich and vivid characters.  Each one is an obvious act of love -- standing out with quirks and blemishes, and always defying stereotypes.  It took the author nine years to craft this first novel.  Hopefully, she's got more in there and can churn her next one out a bit quicker?  I'd like to see more.

Symptoms of Being Human, by Jeff Garvin

Riley suffers from anxiety and depression.  Uncomfortable with being forced to dress up and appear at Dad's political events, Riley makes the connection between that discomfort and the anxiety while reading about gender fluidity.  The revelation helps Riley understand how a day can start feeling girly, but then suddenly turn masculine.  While learning this is a source of great comfort, it doesn't get Riley any closer to coming to terms.  Openly discussing the condition seems insurmountably difficult, and the pressure of keeping the condition secret makes the anxiety worse.

As a coping mechanism, Riley's psychiatrist suggests creating a journal, which Riley decides to create online as an anonymous blog.  The blog takes off and goes viral.  But as it garners attention, the anonymous cover is blown and Riley is outed, placing the entire family in jeopardy.

I'm not actually aware of any other mainstream YA book at this time that contains a gender-fluid protagonist.  Garvin seems quite aware of the book's uniqueness and can grow preachy at times (falling into the trap of force feeding us facts and statistics about gender-fluidity).  That gets boring, but is understandable in a pioneering book.

But what I really liked about this novel (aside from generally being well-written) is the literary exercise of escaping from ever indicating a gender for Riley.  It's remarkably difficult and (unlike my feeble attempt above to avoid using a pronoun in summarizing the story) Garvin pulls it off without growing awkward.  This turns out to be quite subversive: I found myself trying to figure out "which one" Riley is and growing frustrated that I could not.  That in turn threw the whole issue back in my face:  why was I so obsessed with classifying Riley?

Firsts, by Laurie Elizabeth Flynn

Mercedes has decided to pay it forward in an unusual way:  She’s sleeping with guys to give them experience before they have sex with their girlfriends for the first time.  She tells herself that she is doing this in order to make sure that they make their girlfriends’ first time romantic and memorable (since hers was not).  And she sets a limit of how many times she will do it.

But why can’t she stop?  As she starts breaking her own boundaries, she becomes aware that there is much more to this than any sort of justification she can dig up.  And, in any case, the truth has a way of getting out, so – and you can see this plot development from a mile away! – it is only a matter of time before it all blows up.

For what sounds like an exploitative premise, this turned out to be a surprisingly complicated (and even insightful) novel.  It is explicit and frank enough to to make a lot of adults uncomfortable to be sure, but the treatment of sex is honest and authentic.  And it speaks directly to the sexual double standards that girls face (without any attempt to breezily right those wrongs).

The characters are a mixed bag.  I loved Mercedes, who combines vulnerability, honesty, and (eventually) inner strength.  Her friends don’t get the same loving treatment, but they are an important source of support.  The adults are disappointing throwaways, but I understand Flynn’s reluctance in doing anything useful with them.  Still, there is such an opportunity for some elder wisdom to be offered (but instead they remain passive or used as bad examples, leaving the kids pretty much on their own to stumble through).

Free Verse, by Sarah Dooley

A hardscrabble life and a string of bad luck bring near daily challenges to Sasha.  But as she reaches the limits of endurance, she discovers poetry and the ability to articulate the words in verse that she can't say aloud.

Living in a dismal coal mining town in West Virginia, Sasha has been abandoned by her mother and lost both her father and older brother to fatal accidents.  The trauma has left her unable to speak and prone to fierce bouts of blind anger.  But in the structured world of poetry (not all of her writing in free verse), she is able to speak her heart and release her anguish.  The result is a depressing, but ultimately uplifting, tale of using art to overcome adversity.

My one complaint about the novel is that it is repetitive. The story certainly could have used some pruning.  But I enjoyed Sasha's strong character and the spare and reserved qualities of all of the portrayals in the story.  Dooley crafts the text carefully, leaving many things unsaid (and in fact, never explaining key plot events).  This is quite effective and, far from frustrating the reading, it opens much of the story up for interpretation.  And while the story's setting is dismal, Dooley does not pity these people, and reveals great dignity in their difficult lives.  Finally, the use of verse amidst the prose is surprisingly effective in a way that verse novels on their own rarely are.

Paint the Wind, by Pam Munoz Ryan

After her parents died, Maya lived in near total isolation in her grandmother's house.  But when her grandmother dies, Maya is sent to live with her mother's people in Wyoming, of whom she knows nothing.

The two environments couldn't be any more different.  At her grandmother's, she was forbidden from any sort of rough play, taught to fear nature, and raised to despise her mother and idolize her father.  But at her new home on the range, she is thrust into adventure monitoring wild horses and sleeping in dusty tents miles from civilization.

At her new home, she learns to ride horses (a lifelong dream) and discovers a love for watching wild horses.  One of those wild horses (Artemisia) was once tamed by Maya's mother.  Now roaming free, Artemisia is in danger and Maya is anxious to rescue her (an through doing so establish a link with her Mom).  But finding the horse will put Maya in mortal danger.

Classic horse story material.  A few predictable tropes (dead parents, friendly wild horse, etc.) but overall the story is thrilling and loaded with horse facts and trivia.  Having not read a lot in the genre before, I was surprised at how explicit it is, but that's almost certainly part of the appeal (and probably why boys don't tend to go for these stories!).  Some of the action at the end was rushed and compressed, in sharp contrast to the gentle pace at the beginning of the story.  Ryan seems to enjoy exposition more than conclusions, and pushes through the endings as fast as possible.

The Hired Girl, by Laura Amy Schlitz

Worked to the bone and neglected by her father and brothers, fourteen year-old Joan decides to run away from home and finds herself in Baltimore, where she is taken in by a wealthy Jewish family and hired on as a servant (under the assumed name of "Janet").  Raised in a poor farm community, Joan has no knowledge of Judaism, but learns a lot about it during her employ.  At the same time, she explores her own Catholic convictions.  The experience of her new work also introduces her to themes of loyalty, respect, and love in this lively, well-researched, and ultimately uplifting story of the search for human dignity.

The result is an utterly captivating story that presents an unusual heroine who is both tempestuous and intelligent, but also sensitive and fragile.  In depicting her as such, Schlitz captures the volatile world of a fourteen year-old who is curious and motivated, yet still prone to romantic fancies and fantasies.  Joan/Janet is strong willed and driven, but utterly prone to bad choices and impetuous behavior in a way that is hard not to love.

But most of all, I loved the story of Janet's search for self.  This is taken on all levels as she searches for love, respect, dignity, and faith.  In particular, her moment of transcendence as she experiences the Divine (on pp 352-353) is worthy of the greatest religious thinkers and is a stunning appearance in the context of a novel written for teens.

This is an ambitious work that stretches the traditional boundaries of Young Adult literature.  That the novel is also a respectful treatment of American Judaism and a well-researched piece of historical fiction is an added plus.

Hundred Percent by Karen Romano Young

It’s sixth grade and Tink and her friends find themselves caught in the middle of everything.  It’s the last year of elementary school and they are more than ready for middle school, but at the same time it scares them.

I’ll leave the synopsis at that as the book is less an adventure than a snapshot of a moment in time – the tweenest moment of tweendom.  The girls are dealing with the double whammy of puberty and mixed signals from their parents, teachers, and peers.  The boys are being similarly awkward.  It is, in sum, a pitch perfect capture of what sixth grade is like (and seemingly unchanged from my own so many decades ago).  Young does an amazing job of capturing authentically and beautifully the weird mix of knowledge and naivete. 

My complaint would be that this isn’t exactly new material and, lacking much of a plot, I’m not sure why the exercise is for.  Numerous Judy Blume books,  Alice in Between (from Phyllis Naylor’s Alice series), and Lauren Myracle’s Winnie series all come to mind.  I’m impressed with her ear and her empathy, but now I want it taken to a story as well.  That twelve year olds don’t get much opportunity for adventure, I’ll concede, but that doesn’t mean that I want to read about kids who don’t have any.  Yes, a stray reader might get a thrill out of a book where they can say “she’s just like me!” but that only goes so far.

Into White, by Randi Pink

Latoya hates everything about being black, from her name to her hair to her family.  Every chance she gets, she prays to Jesus that He will make her "anything but black." One day, He answers her prayer.  As one would expect, being white isn't a picnic for her either and, with some help from a guy she grows to like, she learns a lesson about valuing her blackness and herself.  So far, so as expected.

But Into White is much more than a fable about learning to love yourself.  It tackles all sorts of social issues:  from the obvious (interracial relations, profiling) to some less so (rape, peer pressure, spouse abuse).  Latoya's parents have a destructive relationship which Latoya dissects.  Her brother hides his genius brain in order to not attract bullying at school.  Latoya's boyfriend struggles with toeing the line between being "too black" and being an Oreo.  And Jesus keeps showing up in the strangest of places, from driving a stolen car to singing off-tune.

It's an eclectic book and reminded me of some of Kate DiCamillo's less lucid novels (Flora & Ullyses or The Tale of Despereux) or Libba Bray's books.  The difference is that Pink is tackling some serious material about race in her story.  The result is a tricky balance between silly and serious (the sudden and regular appearance of the Son of God is a useful device to get her out of tight corners).  The observations about race are not particularly novel (Spike Lee has made movies out of most of them), but in this format, they will reach a much younger demographic. Tackling both controversial topics and doing so in controversial ways is bound to offend lots of people.  Whether that was necessary and important is food for thought in itself.