Soulswift, by Megan Bannen

When she was a child, Gelya was taken from her village in the north by the Goodson and brought to the Convent of Saint Vinnica to serve as a Vessel of the Father and sing His sacred songs. There, she also helps translate the sacred songs into Kantari, the language of the infidels to the south -- a place that fascinates her because of the inhabitants' belief that the demoness that the Father imprisoned hundreds of years ago was actually a Goddess.

That conflict of belief has led to war and, at a hastily called summit hosted at the Convent, ambassadors meet to try to sort out the situation.  With her language skills, Gelya is brought in to translate for the interrogation of a young Kantari assassin.  The interview has only just begun when the proceedings are interrupted by a betrayal and massacre of the delegates.  Fleeing for their lives, Gelya and the Kantari (whose name is Tavik) find themselves unlikely partners.

That's when things start to get complicated. Tavik's mission is to free the Goddess (who he has found is imprisoned on the Convent's grounds), but doing so has unforeseen consequences and Gelya's body becomes possessed by the spirit.  Burdened now with carrying a presence that her faith has taught her is ultimate evil (but who Tavik venerates as a divine being), both of them must avoid capture.  They ostensibly share the same goal (free the being that Gelya is carrying within her) but with different motivations.  Along the way, their diametrically opposed worldviews coalesce through a shared struggle.  Mortal enemies become friends, lovers, and something a bit more transcendental.

A rich immersive fantasy with strong characters with interesting motivations and back story.  Both Gelya and Tavik are orphans of conflict and we spend some time getting to know how this affected them.  And while it is inevitable in a story like this that their initial distrust will break down through shared conflict to a romance, Bannen never lets that distrust too far out of their sight.  This is a fragile relationship and constantly under challenge as neither of the young people have much reason to believe the other.  As orphans, there's also a hypersensitivity to abandonment in their interactions that is particularly heartbreaking.

The world building is exquisite as the beautiful cover.  A wide variety of plausible cultures are presented and depicted.  The book makes good use of that diversity and also of different languages spoken by its people (although there is a fair amount of contemporary vernacular that can be jarring ("ass kicking," etc.).  The action gets a bit gory and the author is awfully fond of bad smells, but the story flows wonderfully and holds up the reader's interest through all 460 pages.

While themes of climate change and gender roles are present, it is religion and systems of faith that really predominate in this story.  I really liked the religious elements of the story, which are carefully thought out. Faith plays such a small part in most mainstream YA literature and the deep religious roots of the characters (particularly because they are so opposite of each other) allow some exploration of where beliefs come from and how we learn to coexist with people from different traditions.

Between the Water and the Woods, by Simone Snaith

As every child in the little village of Equane knows, you should never cross the moat that separates them from the dark woods.  When Emeline's little brother crosses the water on a dare from his friends, she is fast on her feet to fetch him back.  But not fast enough.  In the few moments that they are on the other side of the water, a dark creature appears that Emilene manages to drive off with water.  Safe back on their side, they notify their family and the town.

The town falls into an uproar.  It's an Ithin, a dark creature, and a long standing royal edict demands that any contact with dark creatures must be directly reported to the king by the witnesses.  So Emiline and her brother, accompanied by Emeline's father and a friend with a trusty wagon, venture to the capital city.  A grand adventure for children who have never left the village, but full of danger.  Along the way, they befriend Reese, a lash knight, who protects them and they arrive safely after further encounters with the Ithin.

Reaching the capital is only the beginning of their troubles.  The king is ailing and the royal court is split between two competing factions:  the Theurgists who honor magic and the Sapients who follow their belief in empirical science.  Each seeks to promote an agenda that will bring their group to power and the potential existence of the Ithin threatens the balance of power.  Both sides wish to exploit it for their own aims. More uncomfortable in this context is a growing realization that Emeline might wield her own magic.

A generally satisfying fantasy novel that unfortunately is marred at the end by a rushed conclusion and a plethora of sudden revelations that wrap up the adventure rather abruptly (but notably with enough loose ends that a sequel is plausible).  Most of the writing is fine, but Snaith gets caught up in tedium, worrying about where everyone sleeps, how they wash up, and where meals are coming from.  The attention to detail is admirable, but it drags on the pacing of the story and needed to be trimmed.

There are seven lovely full-page illustrations that seemed like they would have been better in color.

The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl, by Stacy McAnulty

When she was eight years old, Lucy was struck by lightning.  As a result of the experience, she suffered permanent brain damage that gave her unusual mathematical skills.  For the past four years, she's been homeschooled, mastering all of high school math and most of college-level as well.  At twelve, she feels ready to go away to study at a university.  However, her grandmother (and guardian) isn't so sure.  She feels that Lucy needs to spend more time with her peers and challenges Lucy to mainstream and return to middle school.  If Lucy can make it through a year, make at least one real friend (on-line math buddies do not count), participate in an activity, and read a book about a non-mathematical subject, grandma will consent to Lucy's promotion.

For Lucy, middle school is an unsolvable equation.  Between her long  absence from socializing to her issues with OCD (another side effect of the lightning strike), middle school is particularly challenging.  But with some bravery, Lucy figures out a way to navigate seventh grade, even if it involves making a fair share of mistakes along the way.

A winning story of friendship (with all of its messy foibles) and of a girl who tackles the unpredictable world of real life adolescence.  There are some tear jerking moments of animal peril, but the story is mostly about Lucy sorting out the unpredictable nature of the social humans.  It's a storyline without particular surprises, but that makes it no less enjoyable.  Lucy's bravery with stepping outside of her comfort zone is inspirational. 

Not Here to Be Liked, by Michelle Quach

Eliza Quan is certain that she will be the school newspaper's editor in chief next year.  She's been working up to the position throughout high school and there really is no competition.  Sure, she can be a bit tough on the writers, but she knows what she is doing and she gets the job done.  However, at the last minute, Len (a junior reporter and popular jock) throws his hat in the ring and wins.  Shocked and hurt by the rejection, Eliza writes a private diatribe accusing the staff of choosing Len because he is guy.  A few days later, she is surprised to find her writing has been published.

Embarrassed to have the essay in circulation, Eliza tries to withdraw it but it has a life of its own.  What she has written about the preference for putting boys in positions of power resonates with many of the students.  The incident propels the issue of sexism in high school politics into the forefront and the school breaks into factions.  One side demands that Len resign and that Eliza be instated as the editor.  Others mock this as out-of-control woke culture.  Complicating matters, Eliza and Len discover a mutual attraction, which they try to keep private to avoid confusing the issue.

Entertaining and at times superficial, the novel actually brings up a lot of powerful questions about sexual equality in our relatively more complicated contemporary political landscape.  For an older reader, it is fascinating how sophisticated the dialog has become.  And while it is tempting to write  off some of the complexity of the dialog as being out of character for young people, I suspect that that is just me being an old guy not giving the kids their due.  High schoolers are now savvy enough to have discussions and debates like this.  Popular culture has pretty much ensured it.  There are two issues at play here -- the relatively easy question of the double standards that girls and boys are subjected to in high school and the more fascinating intersection of romance and sexual equality (and whether "sleeping with the patriarchy" undermines being a feminist).  

While there are a certain number of side characters, I felt all of the major players were used effectively.  Eliza and her friends (Winona and Serena) bring different perspectives to their notions of feminism and what the role of women should be that prove quite provocative.  A brief cameo with Eliza's mother discussing her notions of the proper role of women in the family provides some lovely insight on generational differences (and undermines some stereotypes about Asian women).  

Quach's book is ripe for discussion. This is first and foremost a romance and not a political novel, but I think it is okay to be both entertainment and edification.  Quach does not uncover anything particularly new, but the novel manages to highlight a variety of interesting thoughts that are worthy of group exploration.  I don't know if young people actually discuss books they have read, but if they do, this would be fun to talk about (and I would enjoy being a fly on the wall of that chat).

Instant Karma, by Marissa Meyer

Prudence has always believed that hard work should earn a person success.  So, when her biology teacher gives her a poor grade for a project that she slaved away on, she's incensed.  But when she learns that her "partner" (a lazy slacker named Quint who couldn't even be bothered to show up to class on time, let alone help her) is getting a better grade than she did, she's determined that there's something wrong in the universe.  There must be some sort of karmic pay-off for all of her effort.  

Her teacher explains that she lost points for not collaborating with her partner and that, in order to raise the grade, she'll have to re-do the work but this time with Quint's involvement.  Reeling from the injustice of the situation, Prudence is nonetheless committed to doing whatever it takes.

Parallel with class project do-over, Prudence suffers a mishap during a local karaoke contest that suddenly gives her the power to cause karmic payouts.  When she witnesses an injustice, she can right it in a particularly appropriate and poetic manner, causing good things to happen to good people and bad things to bad ones.  It would seem that some force has granted her the ability to finally mete out the justice she wants.  However, strangely, it doesn't work on Quint.

Forced to work together, Prudence finds out that Quint is different than she thought.  He works at an animal rescue that is down on its luck.  Prudence, who has never met a problem she didn't want to fix, sees potential for helping the place back on its feet.  Before she realizes it, she's committed to working with Quint to save the center and she's falling head over heels for Quint.  In typical romance fashion, he turns out to have charms that might even tame Prudence's obsessions.

Two separate ideas, which interrelate throughout the story, make it hard to explain the purpose of the story.  The rescue center is a more typical YA romance setting -- struggling business gets bailed out by a clever girl and an admiring conveniently-single boy.  The supernatural ability to impose karmic payback is different and more about learning to be a better person and less judgmental of others.  It would have made a decent novel by itself, but together, the story heads in two different directions and never really arrives.

The Skylark's War, by Hilary McKay

Clarry Penrose is cherry and upbeat, finding the positive in everyone around her.  Even though her father sees no value in her education, she persists in her dream of becoming an independent woman.  Her brother comes through and encourages her to study.  Summers are spent in Cornwall with their cousin Rupert, who is older and wiser, and he also encourages her.  And so, despite the odds, Clarry is on her way.  But with the arrival of the Great War comes Rupert's surprise decision to enlist and Clarry worries that he may never return.  When in fact a telegram arrives stating that Rupert is lost in action, Clarry agonizes and drops everything to find him, jeopardizing the pursue of her dreams.

A surprisingly retro book, written in a style of children's literature that really hasn't been actively practiced much in recent decades.  Clarry doesn't really have any adventures of note and you'll search hard for any passages that are particularly humorous.  This is simply a straight chronological account of her education progress and various troubles that her brother, cousin, and related family members go through.  There's no real message or defined purpose.  It's just a glimpse at a life.

The story is well written, but I am a jaded modern reader and I want a novel to have a purpose or a concept to justify its existence.  This instead just seemed trite, wasting opportunities to explore all of the societal changes occurring in the era (that McKay talks about in the afterword but never really explores in the story).

Lily's Promise, by Kathryn Erskine

Lily's been homeschooled for the first five years of her education, but after her father passes away, there's no one to do the teaching and Mom insists that she start attending regular school for sixth grade.  While Lily expects changes, the one things she dreads the most is making friends and speaking in public.

Before her father died, he made her promise that she would "strive for five" and do five things that scared her and she figures to putting herself out there will be worst. She is surprised to find how easy the friend-making is as long as you approach people with an open mind.  She quickly makes friends with Hobart, a curling fan and the target of abuse from the class's bully Ryan.  Ryan has lots of targets, amongst them Dunya, a recently arrived Iraqi refugee.  Lily likes Dunya and is surprised by all the people (including Hobart's father) who dislike Dunya simply because of where she came from.

What Lily is coming to realize is that it is not enough to be kind, one must also be brave enough to confront hatred.  A chance comes for Lily to commit a truly powerful act:  run for class president.  She's terrified of speaking in public, but the alternative is Ryan.  He's set up a campaign based on lies, false promises, and smear campaigns (in a not-so-subtle allusion to recent national politics).  Lily puts herself in contrast by running a positive.  With the help of Hobart and Dunya, she sets her sights on fulfilling her promise to her father.

Cleverly albeit jarringly, the novel also contains a Greek Chorus in the form of the book itself.  Alternate chapters break from the action to allow "Libro" to discuss the preceding events and comment on the author's choices.  Some of the observations are quite amusing (like when Libro tries to rally the reader to prevent the author from allowing a dog to come to harm), but the constant interruptions disrupt the flow of the story and grow didactic when the author feels that a point hasn't been driven home hard enough.

While I appreciate the urgency that Erskine must have felt in creating this political work at the time, it hasn't aged well and the sentiments are saccharine.  It also comes at some cost to the original point of the story.  For while the arguments for kindness and positivity are pretty thoroughly presented, Lily's journey in developing self-confidence is forced to the background.  The expected pay-off doesn't even occur as the book ends abruptly.

A Night Twice as Long, by Andrew Simonet

A blackout that stretches out over several weeks provides an unusual setting for this unconventional road trip story.

Before the lights went out, things were already going pretty badly for Alex.  Her father has abandoned the family.  Her severely autistic brother, Georgie had been removed to foster care.  Her mother had surrendered to depression.  But a world with no electricity seems to Alex like an opportunity to reset and fix things. She kicks things off by shaving off her hair.

Meanwhile, her neighbor and best friend Anthony has heard a rumor that some guys at the VFW a few towns over have a shortwave radio and can use it to communicate with the outside world.  He wants to go and see if he can contact his mother who is currently stationed overseas.  Alex agrees to go with him and the two teens set out on foot.  The trip is supposed to take just a few hours, but becomes an overnight adventure, during which the kids find out that the loss of electricity has brought out the weird in people.  From nudists to schools without walls to Christian survivalists, Alex and Anthony (along with Georgie who they pick up along the way) find that, in a world without lights, so many hard things seem possible.

Misclassified as YA, this is really an adult book with teenage characters.  It has some powerful observations about race (Anthony is black), class (they are both poor), and developmental disability.  Simonet is particularly eloquent on the latter subject letting Alex rant profusely about the awkward way that people treat autism and families with autistic members.  While autistic characters like Georgie are no longer exceptional in YA, the subject of their families is rare in any genre so that makes this novel stand out.  But beyond this, Simonet does not offer much for the story.  The blackout is more background than focus (so no post-apocalyptic moments of note) and is more of an excuse to give the kids a reason for their two-day hike.  I liked the characters, finding them firm, resourceful, and yet flawed, but there isn't much for them to do here.  I think there was room here to take all of these nice observations about humanity and also fit in a real adventure.

The Cold Is in Her Bones, by Peternelle van Arsdale

Milla has never left her family farm.  Her parents won't allow it.  They also require her to line every entrance and window sill with salt to keep away the demons.  As long as Milla is dutiful and obedient, they tell her, she will be safe.  But from what?  When her brother's fiancée Iris comes to live with them, Milla hopes for answers.  But Iris brings only scary fairy tales and vague warnings about what happens to girls who become cursed.  And then when Iris herself becomes possessed by the demon and is sent away, Milla discovers the truth about what happens to girls who fall under the thrall of evil.

The Cold Is in Her Bones is a story of evil legacies, family secrets, and communities far too eager to sacrifice their young women rather than undo a wrong committed long ago.  It is an ambitious story, but hard to follow.  While the prose can be quite beautiful, it was frustrating to track the action or why exactly we were taking the turns we did.  In the end it is near impossible to explain what the story was really about or whether it was truly resolved.

The cover is pretty though!

Destination Anywhere, by Sara Barnard

Fleeing from a painful series of events, seventeen year-old Peyton manages to run away all the way from her home in Surrey, UK to Vancouver Canada.  She knows no one, has no plan, but is determined to get away.  By extreme good fortune, she befriends a group of young people who are independently traveling and hooks up with them in adventures across the continent.  Along the way, she recalls in flashback the years of bullying, risky and bad choices she made to cope with it, and her eventual arrival in Canada.  Her new friends help her develop a better understanding of how human relationships are supposed to work and to better understand herself, helping her on to the road to recovery.

Barnard has previously wowed me with her chilling toxic-relationship novel Fragile Like Us and again she delivers a cut-to-the-bone look at the dynamics of friendship.  Her characters are never perfect, but are perfectly depicted.  In this case, we come to understand (alongside Peyton herself) the dysfunctional behaviors she developed while being bullied and even the root causes (over-sensitivity, anxiety, unrealistic expectations) that put her in that position.  This includes dealing with the PTSD she experiences as seemingly normal events trigger bad memories, the slow rebuilding of her trust in others, and the confidence to stand up for her needs.\

She doesn't do any of this alone.  Along the way, there are plenty of good conversations with her fellow travelers who each have lessons to share (it's hard not to feel jealous for the kindness that Peyton receives from her friends in Canada -- it's a dream team of youth hostelers).  Peyton gets a lot out of these experiences.  She is reflective and always the agent of her own healing.  That is an empowering message for readers.

Another aspect of the book that I found empowering was the maturity of its discourse.  Payton's interactions with others show maturity, kindness, and empathy.  You know that you would be good friends with her if she were real.  Even Peyton's conflicts with her parents are handled maturely and respectfully.  Barnard doesn't create selfish parents for Peyton to rebel against.  Instead, the grownups have needs that are presented as just as valid as Peyton's.

The drama in the story is real and authentic.  Growing up is hard and Peyton shows us the way to get through.  I have to say that my affection for the book is at least somewhat tied to the gut punch it gave me and the extent to which I personally related to Peyton's issues.  If you have ever doubted your interpersonal skills or felt that your ability to make friends was being held back by your distrust of others, there are some chilling moments of self-recognition awaiting you in these pages.

Six Crimson Cranes, by Elizabeth Lim

Shiori, princess of Kiata, has been betrothed to a minor noble from the far cold north.  Even her six brothers agree that it seems like a demotion.  She'll do anything to duck out of it -- even taking a dangerous splash into the ocean to avoid the betrothal ceremony.  But when that runabout exposes Shiori's unusual magical acumen, it becomes a greater threat than an unwelcome union.  Magic is forbidden in Kiata and (until now) Shiori has been able to hide her abilities.

When she first arrived, Shiori loved her stepmother.  The brothers were cooler, but Shiori latched on to her, pining as she did for her deceased mother.  But as they all grew older, the positions flipped and a distrust developed between Shiori and her stepmother just as her brothers started to like her.  When the ocean incident brings Shiori's powers to her stepmother's attention, Shiori realizes too late that her stepmother is herself a sorceress and a threat.  Shiori tries to warn the family, but the woman curses her and her brothers.  Her brothers are transformed into six cranes and forced to flee while Shiori is banished to a faraway island, affixed with a wooden bowl over her head, and threatened to never speak.  For every word she speaks, she is told, one of her brothers will die.

Transported to a strange land with nothing except her clothes, Shiori must find a way to survive, reunite with her brothers, and figure out how to break her stepmother's curse.  Doing so will involve skills and fortitude that she never knew before that she possessed and enlisting the support of a wide variety of resources, including the help of her despised suitor.

This rich and vivid fantasy with a mildly Asian flavor features a complicated story with nearly constant and relentless action.  Full of betrayals and broken promises, the story has a fair share of twists and turns.  It contains a lot of what I'll call "false leads" (i.e., plot points which seem to suggest certain events that turn out to never materialize).  The old chestnut that if a gun appears in Act 1 that it will be used in Act 3 does not apply here.  Instead, Lim seems to delight in setting up a situation and then suddenly switching directions.  For example, given the way the story began, I presumed that we would have a big final show down with the stepmother about fifty pages before the end, Shiori would be victorious, and things would wrap.  I won't give any spoilers beyond simply saying that it doesn't happen (and not simply because there's a second book coming out).  The novel is chock full of these false leads:  lengthy preparations for conflicts that never materialize.  That doesn't mean that the book is particularly original, but simply that Lim doesn't want you to be able to guess what is going to happen next.

What is more predictable is the way that Shiori develops as a character.  She starts spoiled, self-absorbed, and impulsive.  Through her curse, she learns humility and circumspection.  With her struggles, she develops interpersonal skills and leadership.  Finally, with her betrothed, she learns to love.  None of this is dwelled upon but instead comes out organically as a result of all of the action, creating an appealing protagonist and a coming-of-age story that is a pleasure to read.

From You To Me, by K. A. Holt

At the start of eighth grade, Amelia accidentally receives a letter that Clara, her sister, put in a time capsule shortly before she died.  In the letter, Clara made a list of her own goals for eighth grade.  Amelia is still grieving the loss of Clara after all these years.  Feeling inspired by the list, Amelia tries to complete Clara's goals as a way of honoring her sister.  But the two girls are very different and Amelia struggles to do even one thing from the list.  In the end, she learns that she has to go her own way, including how she copes with her sister's death.

There's not really anything new here, but Holt does a nice job of showing Amelia's struggle and her eventual ability to resolve her issues.  Along the way, Amelia makes some bad choices and also learns a bit from the mistakes of her friends.  Overall, a short and functional story of grief and recovery.

Small Favors, by Erin A. Craig

At eighteen, Ellerie is on the verge, but her future is not yet clear.  Unlike her twin brother Sam who will inherit the farm and have a place in the leadership of their small isolated town of Amity Falls, Ellerie's future will be tied to whatever man she ends up marrying.  It seems terribly unfair when Ellerie is the one who is loyal to her family, dutiful on the farm, and doting on the family's bee hives.  But Amity Falls is a community built around rules, order, and custom -- notions that have brought peace and modest prosperity to the townspeople.

When the incidents start to occur (animal attacks in the woods, strange mutations, withered crops, fires, and random acts of vandalism), it seems really like a string of bad luck.  But everyone's a little suspicious.  Tongues, primed by suppressed jealousy and resentment, far too easily spout forth accusations.  And those accusations in turn spawn counter-claims, petty vengeance, and violence.  The rules that seemed to bring order to the town, have simply hidden the true feelings of its inhabitants.  Let loose, the rage and fury tears the town apart.

And on the sidelines, a malevolent dark force is watching and entertained.

A creepy and deeply immersive horror set in a small isolated community, roughly in the late nineteenth century.  If your thing is supernatural horror, this novel provides it in spades.  While it is pretty easy to figure out that something is going on, the reader is left guessing at just how widespread the problem is until nearly the end.  And so while we are not entirely surprised by the reveal, its scope is shocking.

What really powers the story is not the sporadic acts of horror, but the complex web of combustible relationships that Craig has built.  Almost everyone has some reason to distrust everyone else.  Manipulated by evil forces that the townspeople never quite fathom, those doubts and insecurities are easy picking.  The result is a sobering story about the corrosive effects of distrust (made all the more chilling by the townspeople's own creed of unity-at-all-costs).  While the story ends on a note of hope, the overall Hobbesian message is a downer.

Beautifully written, finely nuanced, and deep thinking, Small Favors is book that will haunt you.

A Complicated Love Story Set in Space, by Shaun David Hutchinson

This space satire opens with Noa finding himself outside of a spaceship with no memory of how he got there.  Inside the ship, a stranger named DJ is trying to keep the ship from exploding.  Together, the two boys manage to figure out the immediate issue.  Saving the ship and their lives doesn't bring them any closer to solving the mystery.  On the contrary, the story keeps getting more and more complicated.  Joined soon by girl named Jenny, the three young people battle stowaways, overheating reactors, space monsters, and eventually the most perverse high school in the universe.  And through it all, Noa and DJ develop a romance whose most surprising element is a sense of deja vu.

Much like Red Dwarf (if Lister and Cat were in fact gay -- in other words, just like Red Dwarf!), this is science fiction that doesn't take itself too seriously.  In fact, the story only starts to flag as Hutchinson seeks to find a way to end the story, explain the mystery, and say something deep and meaningful about mass culture.  The metanarrative of using sci-fi tropes to comment upon commercialization didn't work for me, but up to that moment, this is a pretty hilarious and entertaining read.  Noa and DJ make a great romantic couple and their relationship has a lively sparring that keeps things interesting (although I felt bad for how underutilized Jenny is as the third wheel).  Quirky and disruptive this is a story that works best as satire and shuns deep thinking.

The Forever Horse, by Stacy Gregg

Maisie is horse crazy and spends her days at school drawing sketches of them during lectures.  Her teachers consider it distracting but her father doesn't mind.  He sees her latent talent and instead submits a sample to a prestigious art school in Paris, who in turn invite her to enroll.

There, her talents are less appreciated and Maisie has to deal with a hostile teacher who questions her youth, her commitment to art, and her lack of depth.  While despairing over her struggle, she stumbles across an old diary, which turns out to have belonged to a young artist of the nineteenth century who also loved to draw horses (and was similarly disparaged).  Reading the diary, Maisie finds inspiration from their common struggle.  But it is a shocking turn of events on the streets of Paris and a brave and heroic horse which put Maisie in a place to finally let go of her inhibitions and become the artist she longs to be.  

A superior (albeit formulaic) girl-and-horse story that will appeal to lovers of the genre. Lots of great horse details combined with stirring adventure and a heroine who is strong, brave, and loyal to her steed are all you really need and Gregg is an established master.  As with most novels that tell parallel stories, I always find that one of the two is the better and in this case it is really the historical one told on the pages of the lost diary.  Maisie's struggle, while full of contemporary resonance, seems less gripping and less interesting.   

 [Disclaimer:  I was provided a free copy of this book by the publisher in exchange for an unbiased review.  I am donating the book to charity.]

Our Year of Maybe, by Rachel Lynn Solomon

Sophie and Peter have been friends from childhood, but there has always been an imbalance in their relationship.  Peter is sickly, suffering from kidney dysfunction, and Sophie has always felt the need to sacrifice her happiness for him and to give him whatever he wants.  When she turns 18, that means donating a kidney to him.  She's a match and she can't think of anything she wouldn't want more to do than see Peter be healthy.  Her family and friends advise it, but she is adamant.

After the transplant, however, things go awry.  Sophie is distressed to find Peter is drifting away from her.  She thought that the experience would cement their relationship together, but instead her healthy Peter is gaining his independence.  Sophie, who has always defined herself in relation to him, doesn't want to lose him and doesn't even know how to move on.

Well-written, but excruciating to read.  Simply put, the characters are not very likeable.  Both of them self-centered, but it is Sophie's sense of entitlement that comes across the worst.  Despite her protestations that being a donor merits her to nothing, it is obvious that she feels nonetheless that Peter is hers and that he owes her his life in exchange for her loyalty to him. Peter, in contrast, is mostly oblivious to this and ultimately clueless (although at some points in the book, it seems that he knowingly exploits Sophie's dependence for his own benefit).  These are not people, in other words, who respect each other as people or who can get beyond their sense of what the other one owes them.

The story has many distractions. Sophie's younger sister is an unwed mother, which might have been useful as a contrasting relationship, but it is largely unexploited.  But the bigger non-sequitur is Sophie's and Peter's separate awakening sense of Jewishness.  I wasn't really sure where we were going with this, but I was hoping it would either become a path that one or both of them could follow as a way of breaking their codependence (Peter briefly flirts with the idea of going on a Birthright trip to Israel to give him some distance from Sophie) or that they could use as a way to guide them through their issues.  But instead, we get a couple of conversations and a random visit to temple for what are otherwise a pair of self-described "High Holiday Jews."

Finally, there is the way it all ends up.  I won't talk much about that because I don't want to spoil the ending, but the fact that the end of relationship (and the book) is blamed on a specific "heartbreaking night" (as the blurb puts it) really cheapens the over-350 pages of dysfunction that we have witnessed along the way.  This is a relationship that was destined to combust without an impetuous mistake.

In sum, a great story of two people in a relationship that you would never want to be in.  Whether you want to read about it is up to you!

The Princess Dolls, by Ellen Schwartz

Esther and Michi love to pretend that they are the Royal Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret, having adventures in Buckingham Palace and riding their horses.  One day, they see a beautiful pair of dolls in the local toy store window: replicas of Elizabeth and Margaret.  More than anything, the two girls want the dolls, but they are very expensive.  T

The good news is that they share the same birthday and it is arriving soon.  Wouldn't it be wonderful if they each got one of the dolls on their shared birthday?  When the day arrives, Esther gets the Elizabeth doll, but Michi does not get Margaret.  In the commotion and attention that Esther receives from the other girls, she neglects her friend and Michi slips away, feeling hurt and betrayed.

It's 1942 and while the war rages far away from their home in Vancouver, it still impacts the children.  Esther has an aunt and uncle who are trying to flee from Germany and her parents are anxious that they cannot find out anything about them.  Michi's danger lies nearer, when the government announces that all persons of Japanese descent on the Pacific Coast are being relocated.  Her family is forced to pack up and leave.  Before Michi leaves, Esther tries to reconcile with her, but it never happens.  Afterwards, Esther tries to figure out a way to make all of these wrong things right.

A sweet chapter book with beautiful illustrations and stellar design.  I didn't know that the Canadian government also interned their Japanese citizens, so this was an interesting subject.  But moreover, this is a nice story of friendships that get tried and tested.  The world events around them may be more significant, but for these two girls, losing each other's trust is far more important.

Give and Take, by Elly Swartz

One of the saddest days of Maggie's twelve year-old life was the day that her grandmother forgot who she was.  And then after that when Nana died.  Lately, it seems like there's a lot of leaving going on.  Her family has started fostering infants and, as much as Maggie understands that the baby is only with them for a few days, she grows attached and it hurt when the baby is settled with its new parents.

Maggie copes with her fears and anxiety by collecting things that remind her of people and storing them in boxes around her room.  Her attachment is obsessive and she became angry and upset when she feels that someone has gotten into her boxes.  By the time her habit is discovered, it has become a serious issue.  Her supportive family enlists the help of a child psychologist who helps Maggie work through her fears.  In the end, Maggie learns to let go and accept that not everyone stays, but memories are forever.

As a side not, Maggie has a very interesting hobby -- trap shooting -- which you don't find often in children's books.  It's terribly well integrated into the rest of the story, but it was obviously too good to leave out!

I enjoyed this sweet and affirming look at the issue of hoarding.  Maggie is resourceful and thoughtful, explaining reasonably articulately what her thought process is and why it is so hard for her to let go of her treasures.  The author does a good job of showing the gradual healing process of Maggie working through her issues.  The family is a bit too perfect for my tastes, but that reduces distractions and allows the book to focus on Maggie.  The loss of a favorite pet towards the end helps push Maggie to a full understanding of acceptance, but an ethical dilemma at a shooting tournament in the conclusion seemed a bit less vital to the story.

If This Were a Story, by Beth Turley

For Hannah, sometimes it is simply easier to picture her life as a story.  If this were a story, Hannah would be a normal fifth grader who just happens to be an excellent speller.  And the hurtful messages that Hannah is receiving in school would be coming from mean girl Kimmy, who is jealous that Hannah keeps winning the spelling bee.  Hannah and her best friend Courtney would figure out a way to get the best of Kimmy, win the spelling bee, and even fix the discord between Hannah's parents along the way.

But the real world is much more complex.  No one can figure out who is bullying Hannah.  Kimmy isn't very nice, but Hannah's friend Courtney isn't very nice either.  The school counselor is trying to help Hannah get to the bottom of her issues, but there are things that Hannah can't say out loud about how she feels when her parents fight.  To articulate those feelings, Hannah  retreats into her storybook world, giving herself a voice through the characters or through inanimate objects around her.

A sweet novel, intended to be a middle reader, that is ultimately too complex for its target audience.  I loved the way that Hannah explains her feelings.  As a word whiz, she has an expansive vocabulary, but her emotional age makes it difficult for her to articulate her feelings -- that unique combination felt particularly authentic for Hannah.  But the sophistication of the book is largely wasted in a book targeted to middle readers, even if its topics of bullying, emotional abuse, and self-loathing will resonate.

Like Other Girls, by Britta Lundin

After getting kicked off the basketball team for fighting, Mara is given an ultimatum:  if she ever wants to play on the team again, she has to prove she can be a good team player in some other sport first.  In the Fall, that pretty much just leaves her with volleyball.  But Mara can't stand the volleyball.  It's not much of a sport and the girls actually wear makeup when they play!  While tossing a football after school, her best friend Quinn and her brother Noah jokingly suggest going out for football.  Despite the laughter, the idea doesn't sound half bad to Mara.

While no girl has ever played on the team, Mara knows what she is doing and, despite stubborn resistance from the coach and some of the other players, Mara shows that she's a fairly competent player.  With a lot of effort she earns a place and becomes grudgingly accepted as one of the guys.  But then four other girls announce they want to join the team.  Citing Mara as their inspiration, they don't have her skills but they are highly motivated to prove the point that girls can play.  While the boys accepted Mara, the publicity that having five female teammates brings stirs up resentments.  Mara herself is angry that her attempt to prove herself as a decent football player and a team player has been sidetracked by the other girls' political agenda.  She doesn't have anything to prove about being a girl player, she just loves football and wants to play.

However, as the girls struggle to be accepted, Mara comes to the realization that she was never "one of the boys" and that their fight is her fight as well.  Part of her growth is in accepting that she can be tough and a girl at the same time, that strength does not have to be a masculine.  The product of all this growth is a story that revels in good sports action, while taking a sophisticated look at gender roles and the maddeningly complex relationship that they have with society.  It's at times funny, almost always entertaining, and ultimately profound, defying YA stereotypes right and left about how "girly" girls and non-girly girls behave.

How We Fall Apart, by Katie Zhao

When the star of Sinclair Prep ends up dead, her competition are prime suspects.  Especially so when an anonymous person starts posting accusations against them -- accusations that turn out to be true.  Because the thing that all four suspects have in common is that they each have a dangerous secret.  One by one, their secrets are exposed, destroying each of their reputations (alongside their academic futures).  In the high stress academic rat race these students are in, any weakness is failure and so they must fight with the lives to protect themselves against the anonymous informant.  But will the final reveal prove the deadliest?

This murder mystery/gossip-girl elite high school mash up is all over the place in styles and story, but does a really interesting job dissecting the psychological costs of Asian over-achievement.  The way that each of these young people have sold their souls to achieve their parents' dreams in a futile attempt to earn familial love is a sad commentary.  As a serious subject, it would have made a pretty stunning YA drama.  Instead, Zhao has been seduced into creating a gossipy tale of (mostly) rich NYC prep kids.  The result is fluffy and hard to take seriously.  The implausibility of the plot and the various motives doesn't help.  The strength of the story should have been the characters but they are underdeveloped and we never get invested in them in the way we totally should.

Stay Gold, by Tobly McSmith

When his family moves to Addison at the start of his last year of high school, Pony makes the decision that he's going to keep his trans identity a secret.  Things weren't exactly hostile at his last school, but it was uncomfortable having so much attention.  If he never tells anyone, he hopes he can just have a quiet final year.  But then he falls for Georgia, the prettiest girl on the cheerleading squad, and he realizes that things can only go so far before he needs to tell her what he is hiding.

Georgia is dealing with her own secrets.  Cheerleading is no longer the fun that she once thought it was.  She is developing other interests like writing and has grown uncomfortable with the attitudes of her fellow squad mates.  She's ready for a change but not sure if she's brave enough to come out.  Cheerleading has made her popular and she is afraid of what people will say about her if she were to quit.  Enter this exciting new boy who seems so self-aware, kind, and different.  And while he's not a football player like the guys that the other cheerleaders are dating, he seems so much more real.  He inspires her to take chances and pursue her dreams.

A well-written YA romance between a trans boy and a straight girl that moves briskly.  It touches on a variety of issues related to trans young people.  With the parallel between Pony's secrets and Georgia's suppressed dreams, there is an attempt to place the two young people in positions that build sympathy between them.  This helps to explain a lot of Georgia's growth along the way.  But the book also groans under the weight of some really distasteful characters, poor behavior, Pony's lack of growth, and the author's overall agenda.  I really hated the characters.  Pony is facing a lot of problems with a difficult family situation and the awkward school situation, but he is incredibly self-absorbed and selfish.  He takes nearly 150 pages to getting around to telling Georgia that he's trans and then is hurt when she is shocked (but not repulsed) by the revelation.

Georgia's reaction (which is mostly due to betrayal of trust) makes sense and initially that seems to be all that it is.  But when she also admits that she isn't sure that she wants a trans boyfriend or that she's ready to face social ostracism for dating him, the story turns on her pretty quickly. When confronted with a horrible act of violence, Georgia realizes the error of her ways and embraces Pony fully.  That didactic resolution left me with a bad taste in my mouth.  To me, Georgia's reservations were fair and worthy of consideration, but not in this story.  Instead, we're told that her reservations were as bad at the bigotry to which Pony is subjected.  Max, a friend of Pony's, makes this statement several times, serving as the author's Greek Chorus.  To me, not respecting the idea that physical sex is important to the CIS gendered as well as the transgendered is an ideological dead end.

Many Points of Me, by Caroline Gertler

Being the daughter of a famous deceased artist can make for a lot of awkward conversations, but Georgia is used to the weird way people treat her when they find out who her father is.  What she has never grown comfortable with is how they speak of him in the present tense, as if he were still alive.  They are of course speaking of his art and its continued relevance and vitality, but that doesn't stop her from feeling strange about it.  And the way that everyone seems to want to own a piece of him makes her jealous and possessive.

There's a retrospective of her father's work being planned for the Met.  Her mother is knee deep in curating the exhibit and their apartment is filled with Dad's old sketches and drawings.  Helping her mother, Georgia comes across a sketch he made of her when she was ten years old and realizes that it might be a draft of his most famous work -- the one he never painted but planned to.  Stunned by the fact that her fathers "lost" masterpiece was going to be of her, she hides the sketch away, which sets off a chain of events that get Georgia into a world of trouble.

An art mystery that does a wonderful job of showing readers how to better appreciate art (the author's background as a docent at the Met certainly shows through!).  I'm not a big fan of Georgia's poor decisions and the more cringeworthy consequences of them, but the story itself is a lovely examination of Georgia's acceptance of her father's passing and her more reluctant embrace of his legacy.  By the end, Georgia achieves some level of peace with the idea that her relationship with him was unique and is untouched by the fact that he was a public figure.  I would not have thought that such a rarified existence as the daughter of a famous artist would create a character who was so relatable, but Georgia is an easy heroine with whom to empathize.

The Girl from Shadow Springs, by Ellie Cypher

Living on the edge of the Flats, Ellie knows that there are only two types of people who venture out on that frozen wasteland:  the desperate and the foolish.  She should know:  she supplements what she and her sister Bren have by scavenging off the frozen corpses she finds out there.

It is the remains of a particularly fine looking gentleman that brings her trouble.  No sooner has she discovered the body than another man shows up and demands that she turn over what she found.  When he doesn't find what he's looking for, he kidnaps Bren to ransom for what he is looking for.  With little in the way of resources (and no idea what the man wanted in the first place), Ellie sets out on to the Flats to recover her sister.  Along the way picking up the nephew of the dead man, the two of them face brutal weather, wild animals, thin ice, hostile human gangs, and a supernatural being who is at the root of the inhospitable conditions in which they live.

Rich in detail, the novel lovingly creates its Western-meets-Ice Age world, but gets bogged down by its stylization.

To feed the ambiance (and give the author a chance to have Ellie spout lots of tough posturing) Ellie's narration is full of lots of ungrammatical phrasing.  This provides some flavor but becomes distracting as the usage is inconsistent.  And it doesn't help that the text itself is marred by typos.

More annoying to me were the numerous scenes that were elongated by having the characters interrupt each other.  The device serves mostly to drag out the action and makes little sense in a life-or-death scene as they argue with each other instead of the fighting/running/shutting up they need to be doing.

Finally, numerous actions scenes seem to be inserted into the story simply to pad the novel, adding nothing to the story itself except to give Ellie another chance to tell us that the situation is impossible but that  she'll bravely forge ahead.  The fact that she manages through each and every one of these situations leaves one skeptical of her ability to accurately evaluate plausibility.  Such set-ups don't build suspense, they simply annoy the reader.

Beautiful writing, but repetitive and drawn out.

Alone, by Megan E. Freeman

Twelve year-old Maddie had only intended to have a secret sleepover with her best friends, but it has turned into a disaster.  They didn't even show up so she is stuck at grandparents' empty house by herself.  In the morning, she wakes to a shocking surprise:  everyone in her town is gone!  An emergency evacuation in the night transported everyone away and left her behind.

She doesn't know where they have gone but quickly realizes that her chances of survival will be greatly enhanced by staying put.  And as days turn to weeks and to months, that is what she does, managing to scavenge for food and supplies, avoiding looters, and surviving a series of natural disasters.  In these tasks, she proves remarkably resourceful following her intuition and practical problem solving skills.  But she finds that the hardest obstacle is loneliness and the emotional distress that being alone brings.

A gripping and fairly dark survival story, this novel-in-verse is a far cry from Home Alone.   I found it nearly impossible to put down as Maddie faces continual existential threats that I felt compelled to read to conclusion.  I would not have thought that verse novel would carry enough impact to grab me but in fact the structure is a strength: the spare nature of the verse was really effective at conveying how Maddie comes to live more and more within her head.  

The story did start to drag towards the end and the ending itself is disappointingly anti-climactic, but I really enjoyed the trip getting there.  Maddie is a compelling heroine, smart and tough. She has a playful side too, but when it matters she makes the good choices and saves herself (as there is no one else to do it).  An excellent read.

Nothing Ever Happens Here, by Sarah Hagger-Holt

Nothing ever happens in Izzy's quiet little town.  But all of that is about to change when her father announces to the family that he's actually a woman and has decided to come out as Danielle.  Izzy's little brother is too young to understand and wonders if it is a secret superhero thing.  Izzy's older sister is outraged about what this will do to her standing at school.  But Izzy herself worries that this means that her Dad is no longer going to be her father.  Through many supportive conversations with friends and each other, Izzy's family learns how to adapt to the change, rethinking their own family unit and dealing with the reaction of their neighbors and friends.

Geared towards a younger YA audience, the story does a good job of covering a wide variety of topics ranging from practical questions like how the kids will address their father to how they deal with a broad range of emotions (confusion, anger, grief, joy, etc.) that each of the family members experience. What truly makes the book shine is that it never gets preachy or teachy, but manages nonetheless to bring up a plethora of important issues while doing so in an entertaining way.

Like many British YA novels, the book assumes a level of innocence that you wouldn't find in an American treatment of this topic, but that actually serves the story well in this case as the adults are actively supportive and responsible.  As difficult as the changes may be for all, no one expects the children to deal with matters on their own.

The Quantum Weirdness of the Almost-Kiss, by Amy Noelle Parks

Caleb and Evie have been friends since they were little, but they have never kissed.  Not that Caleb hasn't tried!  In fourteen attempts, Evie has always turned him down.  He's been OK with that since she has turned down everyone else as well, but when she starts dating Leo in their senior year, Caleb isn't happy about the situation.  It's not like he hasn't dated other girls in the meantime, but with the shoe on the other foot, Caleb feels hurt.

With just about everyone in the story (except Evie) knowing that she should be with Caleb, no one else is happy about it either.  What makes this well-trodden romantic path actually work in this case is how razor smart these kids are.  Everyone knows and everyone says so, so there's no mystery that Evie and Caleb are going to be together in the end.  Evie just needs to get over her fear of getting into a relationship with her best friend.

The best part of the story is actually Evie's growth as a person, which comes out in her quest (with Caleb's help) to win a prestigious national math award.  She's bright, intelligent, and articulate, but she suffers from anxiety attacks (to some extent fed by her mother's overprotectiveness).  To get over her fears, she has relied in the past on a support network made up of Caleb and her BFF Bex.  A good part of the novel then is her working through that and learning to do things on her own.  It's a very satisfying story of growth in itself, but this thread of the plot also reveals many disturbing issues that never really get addressed properly:  the sexism present in the mathematics community, Evie's difficult with dealing with her fear of being judged by others, and Caleb's unhealthy possessiveness of Evie.

Caleb and Evie have a fairly disturbing dynamic.  Evie needs Caleb to control her anxiety and Caleb needs Evie to "protect." This unhealthy codependency presages some pretty dysfunctional behaviors in their "happily ever after" romance and casts a shadow over the romance itself.  Add to this Caleb's nasty violent streak.  On several instances, he either commits acts of violence or threatens to do so in the course of "defending" Evie.  In a climactic moment, Evie preempts Caleb's anger and settles her own scores, but at no point does she (or anyone else) address Caleb's behavior.

All of that aside (and the book downplays this darker side so it is possible to do so), it's nice to find a book about science-savvy teens who are well-rounded and not geeks.  Caleb plays baseball, Evie's boyfriend and her friend Bex play soccer, and even Evie herself enjoys Yoga.  They make wisecracks about the humanities, but they are literate and articulate and do well in English class.  Evie's anxiety issues aside, they all have active social lives.  Smart kids in a smart story makes for some smart reading.  This is a good read that treats its young adults as intelligent people with nuanced lives.

Muse, by Brittany Cavallaro

It's the end of the Nineteenth Century and the great inventor Tesla is about to demonstrate at the World's Fair the awesome force of electricity.  But that is about all that will seem familiar in this alt-history in which America became a monarchy divided into great territories, each administered by a governor.  

In the grand city of Monticello-on-the-Lake (which we would think of as Chicago), the Fair is meant to be an opportunity for St Cloud (whose borders run from Canada down to the City of Orleans on the Gulf) to demonstrate their power of ingenuity and progress.  But sabre rattling and nativist rhetoric from their western neighbor Livingstone Monroe threatens the peace.

In the midst of this, Claire Emerson, the daughter of an unbalanced inventor, is plotting her escape from her father's dominion.  She dreams of a chance to strike out on her own and be her own woman, but the reality is the best for which she can hope is escaping her father by subjecting herself to a husband.  At first, the plan is for her to flee across the border in the midst of the Fair, but when St. Cloud is invaded, Claire finds her fate entwined with that of the young governor Remy Duchamp.  And while the conflict is ostensibly against Livingstone Monroe, the Daughters of the American Crown have insinuating themselves into the mix in an attempt to bring a woman into power.  Claire's instincts are to assist this feminist enterprise, but the DAC's anti-immigrant stance alienates her.  With no clear support, Claire makes do as best as she can, forming alliances that are both grandly political and personal at the same time, siding with Remy while simultaneously trying to claim power for herself.

As with any complex story, keeping track of all of the characters is challenging.  Some are definitely more memorable than others.  Her BFF Beatrix is a highlight -- providing useful gadgets and escape routes, as well comic relief.  Others, like Margarete (Claire's adopted sister and chambermaid) are underutilized in this book but may become more useful in the second half.  The boy Remy is fairly forgettable and while important to the story is fairly easy to ignore.  As for who is on whose side, forget about it!  Allegiances are fluid and the frequency of betrayals and double-crosses make tracking teams pretty futile.

The novel is sprawling and complex, with numerous competing plots and subplots. This first installment (of a duology) is naturally more expository, but you'll probably have to re-read it to refresh your memory whenever the second half comes out.  I hope she can manage to pull it all together!  Confusing and dense, but lively, original, and highly entertaining.

Hunted by the Sky, by Tanaz Bhathena

Gul's birthmark (a star) on her arm marks her as a threat.  A prophecy has foretold that a women with just such a birthmark will wield tremendous magic and be responsible for the death of the Raja and a revolution.  As a result, whenever a girl is found with such a birthmark, they are seized and never heard from again.  But Gul avoids capture when her parents sacrifice their lives to hide her.  Fleeing, she is taken in by a sisterhood of magician warriors who train her to defend herself.  But for Gul, defending her life really doesn't matter:  she has one goal and that is to kill the ruler to avenge the deaths of her parents.

Cavas is a poor boy living in the slums around the royal city.  He has no magic and no special powers, but he is determined to do whatever it takes to find enough money to buy the medicine that is keeping his sick father alive.  In the market, he randomly crosses paths with Gul.  But it is no coincidence and soon he finds himself helping her infiltrate the palace, where all is not quite as either of them expected.  The Raja's days are numbered, but Gul is little more than a puppet in the events that are unfolding.

Set in a fantasy world based on the Mughal empire, Bhathena has created a very dense and immersive setting for her story of magic and prophecy.  It's a complicated story and a very slow read.  That makes it hard to get into and at some point exhausting to track.  Some of the blame for this lies in the pacing, which ranges from glacial exposition to sudden plot twists and large chronological jumps.  Bhathena loves to tell us details about this universe and is constantly revealing new details. Maddeningly, large amounts of these details turn out to be inconsequential to the story.  While the sudden twists and jumps keeps us on our toes, it is tiring and frustrating.  Rather than good writing, it feels more like an author who cannot carry through on an idea.  A beautiful book, but average storytelling.

Flight of the Puffin, by Ann Braden

Four children (Libby, Vincent, "T", and Jack) struggle with being bullied and the feelings of powerlessness that come with being victimized.  Libby wants to be an artist, but her family does understanding anything except belittling others.  Vincent is a sensitive soul who loves puffins and triangles, and desperately doesn't want to get stuffed into another locker at school.  T lives on the street, trying to survive, and is afraid of calling home for help because of who he is.  Jack is a fighter who helps all of the kids at his small rural school.  So, when the school faces closure, he comes out swinging to save the place and only belatedly realizes that his actions are hurting people as well.  A pay-it-forward concept of giving strangers postcards with encouraging messages brings the four of them together and proves transformative for all.

The postcard idea (that everyone needs encouragement) is powerful and clever.  I'm sure some teacher will assign a project like it to students after they read the book.  I'm less comfortable with the idea that we should not judge others.  While most bullies have become the way they are because of how they themselves were treated, it's simplistic to imagine that you can break the cycle with kindness and understanding.  With much of the bullying in this book (Vincent being the notable exception) coming from adults against children, this is particularly disturbing.   It's an ambitious idea for a story, but I'm not altogether comfortable with the idea or its delivery.

Under Shifting Stars, by Alexandra Latos

Clare and Audrey are twins.  In their family, their older brother Adam was the glue that kept them together.  But when he dies in a car accident, the loss throws off the familial balance.

The girls are not identical.  While Clare is popular at school, Audrey struggles with autism which has led to her being enrolled at a special school.  She hates it and wants to be back at the regular school with Clare, but her parents are not sure that she is ready.  In truth, she doesn't know if she's ready either, but being apart from Clare is so hard, especially now when they are drifting apart.  When she makes friends with a boy in the park, she is surprised to find that she can develop friendships outside of her family.

With Audrey having so many special needs, Clare feels neglected.  The loss of Adam hit her particularly hard and set off a new feeling that she finds hard to articulate.  She feel best when she is wearing Adam's old clothes.  Her "normal" life at school feels false.  She's become as freaky to her old friends as her sister is.  It takes a new arrival at the school to open her up to who she really wants to become and to give her the strength to be the needy sister.

Through alternating chapters, the sisters piece together a life which has been riven by shared loss but held together by their lifetime bond.  Each of them are going through passages that are both personal and shared.  They struggle because they have trouble communicating and in understanding each other.  In the end there is the predictable reconciliation between them, but the journey through these misconceptions is what gives this novel its story.  It's well done, with beautifully drawn characters, but the story is not a particularly dramatic read.  To try to liven it up, the author flirts with a late attempt to add a crisis, but this is unnecessary and contributes to a sluggish conclusion.

Too Bright to See, by Kyle Lukoff

After the death of Bug's uncle, Bug starts to think about his uncle's life.  Bug's late uncle was a drag queen and loved fancy dresses and wearing make-up.  Bug's best friend Moira is big into make-up and boys.  She keeps trying to convince Bug that, with them both starting middle school in the Fall, they need to start learning how to be pretty, wear dresses, and wear make-up.  But Bug doesn't like to wear make up and dresses feel weird (even though they are pretty!).  Does that make Bug less of a girl?  Or is the truth that women and men don't all have to be a certain way (like how Uncle Roderick was more girlish than Bug).

Bug's house has always seemed haunted and during the summer it seems that the ghost of Uncle Roderick is haunting them, trying to get a message to Bug.  Be yourself, the ghost seems to be saying.  But what does that mean?  What is Bug supposed to be?

Too Bright to See is an unusual story that mashes up two middle reader favorites -- a haunted house adventure and a friendship story.  While trying to uncover why things are going bump in the night, Bug and Moira struggle with the way they are changing and drifting apart.  While it sounds discordant (and I wouldn't call this a particularly good ghost story), it all comes together surprisingly seamlessly in the end into a story about identity.  I found the ending saccharine and the characters unrealistically cooperative, but it's an uplifting story that addresses issues of gender identity in an age-appropriate and positive way.

The Mythic Koda Rose, by Jennifer Nissley

The illegitimate daughter of a famous dead rock star, there are plenty of people who know more about Koda Rose's father than she does.  She's not even a fan of his music.  She wishes it was different, but her Mom didn't really know him and has never really encouraged her to find out anything on her own.  Instead, she has tried to shelter Koda from the public eye.

As a result, Koda has developed a sense that somehow if she knew her father better, it would give her strength to work through her issues.  She certainly has plenty of her own issues, ranging from her social awkwardness to dealing with her infatuation with her best friend.  So, when she crosses paths with her late father's last girlfriend Sadie, it's an opportunity she cannot resist.  She befriends the woman and finds herself idolizing her, blind to the obvious reality that Sadie is a junkie.  For Koda Rose, all that matters is that Sadie is a connection with her Dad and she starts engaging in riskier and riskier behavior (throwing aside her mother, friends, and life) to follow Sadie.

I had occasional trouble keeping up with Koda Rose's erratic behavior, but I found the story complex and engaging.  The relationship triangle between Koda, her mother, and Sadie is nuanced.  It would be easy to imagine the two older women still harboring jealousies and anger from their youth over the lover that they shared, but neither one does.  For Koda, who imagines this non-existent conflict most strongly, this is deeply unsettling.  She needs her mother and Sadie to be at each other's necks and when they aren't she is forced to accept that her issues are really her own. While Sadie has serious issues, it is ultimately Koda who has to sort out the most.  The novel's lack of any effective resolution, while very frustrating, is ultimately the more realistic option, leaving open Koda's next steps for the reader to imagine.

Wider Than the Sky, by Katherine Rothschild

Without any explanation, Sabine and her twin sister Blythe are moved to a run-down old mansion outside of San Francisco just a few weeks after the death of their father. Charlie, a man whom the girls have never met, is living with them for some reason.  Mysteriously, he seems to know a great deal about them.  Their mother seems fine with all of this and is evasive, refusing to provide a satisfactory explanation.  Naturally, the girls start sleuthing.  The answer is complicated and causes Sabine in particular to reevaluate her feelings about her father.

Meanwhile, the house itself is under renovation, in a plan apparently being run by Charlie. Sabine learns quickly that the plans violate local zoning ordinances, which in turn are rigorously enforced by a crotchety old woman who is threatening to seize the property unless the project is stopped.  The resolution to the problem will rely upon small-town insularity, some minor coincidences, and Sabine's tireless efforts.  Along the way, Sabine makes a series of poor and hurtful decisions that ultimately complicate everything.

Sabine and her selfish and downright mean decisions (which range from trying to ruin the house renovations to betraying her best friend) make for an unlikable protagonist.  She has a lovely quirk of "poeting" (where she starts word associating in the style of Emily Dickinson) but is otherwise largely irredeemable.  Perhaps, the author could have saved this clever piece of schtick for a more likable character -- it plays no role in the plot.

To provide a level of suspense, the story relies on an implausible level of secrecy, which begins with the crazy idea that a mother would uproot her daughters just days after their father's funeral without any attempt to explain why she was doing so.  The eventual solution to the housing problem is similarly strange and, while it draws on a number of ideas that have been developed throughout, felt strikingly out of the blue.  All of this speaks to a plot that was straining at the seams.

Final note:  Apparently, neither the author, the editor, nor any of the reviewers know the difference between legislation and litigation -- lawyers do not legislate, they litigate.  So, I guess it is a good thing -- as her dedication reveals -- that her Dad talked the author into being a writer rather than a lawyer.

We Are Inevitable, by Gayle Forman

When an asteroid hit the earth and wiped out the dinosaurs, the effect wasn't instantaneous.  It took thousands of years for the dinosaurs to die out.  Did they realize it was happening, wonders Aaron.  Do we ever realize that the asteroid is barreling towards us and our remaining time is limited?  Aaron is sure that he doesn't want to be a dinosaur, but stuck working at his family's dying book store it's hard not to feel the inevitability of his demise.  Aaron's brother's addiction wiped out their money, the collapse of the local economy and poor business acumen is running the book store to the ground.  Aaron decides to avoid the inevitable by selling the store.

No sooner has he completed the arrangement, but a group of townspeople get it in their heads to save the store, volunteering their time and their own savings to rebuild the space and turn it into a better place.  It may be too late for Aaron to take back his decision to sell but that may not matter because he honestly doesn't want it anymore.  But with some help from friends that Aaron doesn't want, a girlfriend he wants for all of the wrong reasons, and the funniest gathering of old lumberjacks to grace a novel, Aaron is about to redefine what inevitability actually looks like.

A lively, well-crafted novel that is the perfect delivery vessel for an unworthy story.  The lumberjacks steal the show with their bickering over construction techniques and literature.  Aaron's unwanted sidekick, Chad the paraplegic, provides additional comic levity.  Romantic interest Hannah gets the best snarky lines.  The rest I can take or leave.  Aaron himself is whiney and tedious. He's also the annoying stereotypical YA boy -- profane, obscene, and immature -- and ultimately boring.  The story drags and isn't worthy of the strong supporting characters.  The message (that we frequently blame others to cover up the things we won't face ourselves) just isn't all that profound.