The Ordinary Princess, by M. M. Kaye

Delightful story of the seventh daughter of King Huldebrand and Queen Rodehesia, who is given the "gift" of ordinariness by a grumpy fairy godmother. But the Princess Amy benefits from this gift and goes out to seek her fortune, discovering a joy and happiness that a thin, milky white, long blonde haired sister could never have found.

Magical and enchanting, with strong similiarities to another favorite of mine (Ella Enchanted) but shorter and less compliacted and probably targetted to a younger demographic. The drawings are particularly nice and I understand that the currently-available reprint mangles them badly, so you'll want to read this in its original edition. Fun and recommended.

The Geography of Girlhood, by Kirsten Smith

In a series of verses, we cover two years of Penny's life growing up, covering the usual topics of 14, 15, and 16, with a bit of drama thrown in for good measure. So, we get stories of sibling rivalry, dating, feminine hygiene, sleepovers, and loud drunken parties, along with death, running away, and a mental breakdowns. The verses don't really tell a story, but rather provide a series of snapshots of the Penny's life.

With positive blurbs on the jacket from Sarah Dessen, Sonya Sones, Ann Martin, Deb Caletti, E. Lockhart, and a bunch of others, Smith's publicist is working overtime to give this book the highest possible profile. Does it match the hype?

Verse novels is a dicey genre. Some of them transcend to become truly great works, but many more fall into predictable melancholy. As a rule, they are terribly uneven. This is a prime example of that uneveness. Several individual poems in this collection really stand out ("The Thing About Boats", "Going Together") but so many more as just wistful phrases. My favorite game is to read just the final line of each poem and move on. If it sounds like a Hallmark card, then you basically are dealing with tripe. Too often, Smith falls into that trap.

One of the reviewers wrote that "these are the poems that every teenage girl ... would love to write." I'd believe that, and I won't question the honesty of the writing. But what I have to wonder is whether you'd really want to read it? Too much of what I wrote in adolescence really wouldn't have interested anyone but myself.

Accidental Love, by Gary Soto

Marisa is quick to anger and not the type to waste her time on wimpy boys, so it comes as a surprise to her that she falls for the geeky Rene. But sometimes love is like that, Marisa is discovering. And meanwhile, she is losing weight and improving her grade, discovering self-confidence in the barrio. The writing is heavy with Spanglish for atmosphere and features a glossary at the end to guide the reader.

Middle readers are far too often written in an awkward 3rd person narrative style that drives me nuts. This is a prime example of the style. The author (either intentionally or not) copies the disconnected style that one would expect from a 6th grader where dramatic events just pop up and fade away with little or no significance to the story. There is some character development, but it is sort of accidental. As a result, you could basically pick up this book at any point and start reading and be basically set. That doesn't speak very highly of Soto's ability to create a dramatic arch. A weak novel.

The Rules of Survival, by Nancy Werlin

Matthew is the eldest in a family in deep trouble. Their mother Nikki abuses and tortures her children, while Matthew tries to outwit her to protect himself and his sister. But as the abuse gets worse and worse, Matthew must seek outside help. In the resulting chain of events, Matthew struggles with conflicting feelings of love, hatred, loyalty, and malice towards his Mom.

Well-written but ultimately gut wrenching and terribly depressing novel about child abuse. On the one hand, you have to aplaud an accomplishment like this. The characters are very well developed, the story is engaging, and the fact that it will turn your stomach is testament to the power of Welin's writing. But one doesn't read a book like this for enjoyment. You might see this as educational and perhaps entertaining, but it is a miserable book to read.

Fairest, by Gail Carson Levine

In a story that takes place in the same world as Ella Enchanted, Aza is a kind-hearted but homely innkeeper's daughter. But through a series of events, she is transported to the royal castle and befriends the newly-wed queen, a woman with more than a few secrets to hide. Aza not without her own talents and skills, but will they be enough to save her and her kingdom when the shadow of evil appears?

Yes, it's a fairy tale. So, it will have a decent happy ending and things will be resolved, but being a modern fairy tale things don't end so predictably. And that is part of the charm of Levine's writing. The story doesn't have all of the magic of Ella, but it is still a decent tale and a fun one for readers. The characters are interesting and unusual and the story has numerous twists and turns to keep you flipping the pages.

Gender Blender, by Blake Nelson

When they were younger, Tom and Emma were best friends but as they got older, that wasn't cool anymore. Now, in 6th grade, they are forced to do an assignment together in health class where they have to report on the differences between the genders. But nothing can prepare them for the surprise of being swapped and finding themselves in each other's bodies!

A clever idea handled a bit awkwardly. Admittedly, this book is targetted to a younger reading audience, but it is still awfully clunky. A blurb on the back compares Blake to Judy Blume and that seems like a fair comparison, but not in a way that I would consider complimentary. Like Blume, Nelson doesn't really trust his audience to figure things out. Instead, he force feeds the story to the reader. It might have read a lot better in first person (third-person narrative is a deadly tool to use in what should be such a highly personal experience).

Invisible Threads, by Annie Dalton and Maria Dalton

In alternating chapters, Carrie-Anne tells the story of going to the coast with friends from school to search for her biological mother and Naomi tells about growing up in an abusive house and the steps that led her to become an unwed mother. Both narrators outline a series of events that help to explain what they did and what they are searching for.

While the two storylines are supposed to interrelate, they never quite do so, and they are written with jarringly different styles. Naomi's story is by far the most interesting but it's a depressingly familiar tale of distant parents (what's with this British obsession with abusive and neglectful parents -- are they just crap at parenting in the UK?) so nothing outstanding. The book started out with great intentions but never quite rose to them.

Rules, by Cynthia Lord

Catherine struggles to have a normal life and befriend the new girl who has moved in next door, but her life is complicated by her little brother David, who is autistic. When David isn't acting up in some way that embarasses her, she is trying to train him with a set of "rules" to help him get through life. These rules, however, reveal more about Catherine's own issues than David's, as becomes clear when she befriends Jason who has his own struggles to deal with.

Ironically, the CCBC list is discussing books about the depiction of handicapped children in children's literature this week, so I'm a bit hypersensitive to the depictions here. While they are generally respectful, there is a bit of the "child as a burden" theme going here that Catherine's acceptance of her brother at the end cannot really overcome. And while there are many other issues being portrayed here (parental neglect, etc), it is clear that autism is the major dramatic obstacle to overcome. A small step forward for the depiction of disabilities, but not quite there yet.

That said, the story itself is functional. It is engaging enough and has some subtlety in it, but there's not a lot of new ground here, although Catherine is able to stand up for herself a bit, which is a pleasure to see. A mixed book.

Sing a Song of Tuna Fish, by Esme Raji Codell

Subtitled as "Hard-to-swallow stories from fifth grade," this memoir of growing up in Chicago describes Esme's experiences of crime, religion, love, parents, and death in a way that rings true and avoids all the self-censorship that imbues many modern stories from younger children. Adults will get a chuckle over familiar moments while children will enjoy the universality of the experiences.

In an act of high praise, I'll compare this to Dylan Thomas's A Child's Christmas in Wales for its similar whimsy and deadpan telling (I'm sure that the audio book must be a hoot!). If I was to fault it, it might be for the length or for the lack of a central core theme to tie the stories together, but overall each chapter is a gem in itself.

Sweet 16, by Kate Brian

Teagan Phillips is determined to have the ultimate Sweet 16 party and thanks to Daddy's unlimited financial support, she can have exactly what she wants. In fact, anything that money can buy, Teagan can have. Unfortunately, there are a few things that don't come with a price tag and a mysterious visitor at the party helps to open Teagan's eyes to what those things are.

A little too sickly sweet for me, this modern remake of Dickens casts a selfish 16 year old in the Scrooge role with terribly predictable results. The book won't bore you and it does have its moments of humor, but anyone who can't see where this story is heading after page 100 hasn't been paying attention. You will get tired of all the branding going on, but that's the rage these days.

Enthusiasm, by Polly Shulman

In this clever tribute to Jane Austen, Julie and Ashleigh play the typical role of the young women set on finding eligible suitors but who get thrown off course by a series of misunderstandings and misconceptions. In the end, it all turns out fine. The twist is that the setting is contemporary and takes place in New York. And the characters are both Austen-fanatics (Ashleigh, the more enthusiastic of the two) who make a conscious decision to asct like Austen-heroines without realizing how much their lives are emulating art.

It's clever storytelling and will delight anyone who likes Jane Austen (I'm not a fan, myself, but I'll happily note that the same thinks that annoy me about Pride and Prejudice also annoy me about this book -- so it must be good!). The characters are all a little quirky but there is not a lot of new YA ground being covered here. Instead, the links to Austen are really what makes this novel shine.

Sahara Special, by Esme Raji Codell

When Sahara was little, they caught her at school writing letters to her absent father. Taking the letters away and putting them in her file, they labeled her a "special needs" child. From the experience, Sahara learned to never write a word in school again. Now a new teacher comes to school with an ability to reach Sahara, trouble-maker Darrell, and kids like them. Can this teacher succeed in helping Sahara display her specialness?

Autobiographical in nature and largely based on the pedagogical techniques that Codell outlined in her first book Educating Esme, this is a nice story about an unusual teacher and a student struggling to learn how to trust others and herself.

Wait for Me, by An Na

Mina has been living a lie: fooling her mother into thinking that she is a perfect student and bound for Harvard. In fact, her friend Jonathan has been forging her grades in return for favors that she no longer willingly provides. But then a new worker (Ysrael) comes to help at her family’s store and makes Mina confront how she has been living her life.

This is one of those “arty” novels where poetry flows by, but things are rarely stated clearly. Na alternates chapters between Mina and her sister Suna. However, Suna really doesn’t have much to add to the story, so these alternate chapters really don’t serve any purpose (although if they were deleted this “novel” would barely reach novella length!). That may sound overly harsh, but readers of this Blog will recognize that I have very little patience with authors who consider obliqueness to be art, and for post-modern cleverness to replace storytelling.

Avalon High, by Meg Cabot

Every seven years, Ellie has had to endure being dragged off with her Medieval Historian parents on their sabbaticals. This time, they’re off to Annapolis where she enrolls at Avalon High – a place not only named after King Arthur’s final resting place, but where a group of kids bear a striking resemblance to the primary characters of that epic. Myth and the modern world interact as the kids find that the story repeats.

Engrossing and entertaining as all of Cabot’s books are, Avalon High combines the regal fantasies of Princess Diaries with a touch of Harry Potter for a fun ride. As always, the awkward heroine easily wins over the boy and the day is saved in fantastic ways (all of which sometimes seems a bit too easy), but you’ll enjoy this story nonetheless and cheer when it all ends happily ever after.

The Boy Book, by E. Lockhart

I just got this yesterday and had to finish it up quick so that Kriss could read it too...

In this sequel to The Boyfriend List, life picks up the next year as Ruby continues to battle with her panic attacks and her concerns about boys. She's still trying to figure out the whole thing, her writing is still heavily footnoted, and she still has that wonderful dry humor. There's a lot of coming to terms with the events of the first book, but this is generally in the same territory we were before.

It sounds like it should be pretty boring and dull, but it actually works. Unlike Rachel Cohn's sequel to Gingerbread (Shrimp), Lockhart has managed to keep things fresh even while trawling through familiar waters. This is partly because Ruby is a so much more flawed individual (and thus more approachable and likeable), but also because the novel launches off from familiar territory without repeating it. As Ruby reveals, Lockhart knows her movies and she knows how to make a sequal shine.

As always, Lockhart scores again and, as Ruby would put it, I can't crank about this book enough...

Blind Faith, by Ellen Wittlinger

After Liz's grandmother dies, her mother falls into a depression, which is only broken by her visits to a strange "church" where the attenders claim to talk with the dead. While this helps Mom feel better, Liz feels more and more cut off, especially when her Father announces that he can't take it anymore and he's leaving. And add to all of this the two kids who move in next door and their dying mother.

All of which makes this sound a lot more melodramatic than it actually is. In fact, all of these elements work pretty well together, allowing Wittlinger to spin some magic about family and loss, and the ways that people cope with change. The characters are vivid and engaging. The only problem might be the ending where everything gets a bit too neatly tied up. A good read.

Where I Want To Be, by Adele Griffin

In alternating chapters, two sisters (Jane and Lily), tell their stories. The twist is that Jane is schizophrenic and Lily isn't. And Jane is dead.

In a bit of a cross between What Dreams May Come and The Sixth Sense, we get a meandering story of the two girls recounting what life was like with each other. It sounds poetic and the jacket blurb speaks breathlessly of a "spellbinding book" but in the end this is a novel without a story (hence my lack of a plot synopsis above). People talk, events happen, but none of them add up to much.

Breathing Underwater, by Alex Flinn

When Nick's ex-girlfriend Caitlin gets a restraining order against him and the judge orders him into a family violence counseling group, Nick has to take a hard look at how he got there and what he can do about it. Initially quick to blame his ex-, Nick gradually accepts his own role in the process.

Slightly better than last year's overrated Inexcusable, this book still goes for the sledgehammer approach to explaining the cycle of abuse. Flinn worked for years in the courts, so she is pulling from her experience, but a bit more subtlety would have improved the story. From the very first page, we know what makes Nick a bad person and what he needs to acknowledge about himself, so reading this novel becomes an exercise in seeing how long it will take Nick to come around. That's a pretty weak dramatic device and a bit of a disservice to the reader. With that caveat, Flinn goes much further into showing a bit about why Caitlin would put up with the abuse and in showing how the community around them responds to it. In doing so, she creates a fuller picture than similiar problem books have done.

I will, however, reiterate my concern (expressed in my Inexcusable review) about all these simplistic depictions of relationship-based violence. It's far to easy to present these evil guys who do evil things. I remain convinced that the story that really needs to be written is about the "nice" boy who does evil things. Given what a monster Nick was, you'd have to be a complete idiot to want to date him. What young people (girls especially) need to understand is that these monsters are not always so easy to spot. The world is full of greys and that is what makes domestic violence such a terrible problem. In the real world, the Caitlins of the world don't always have as clear of an idea that they are in danger.

How I Live Now, by Meg Rosoff

In what starts off within the familiar confines of a typical YA story, Daisy is sent to England to live with her Aunt and cousins when her father and stepmother don't want her around anymore. But in the background, there is a war starting to form, and when it blows up this novel take s a very unusual and dark turn as the children must now struggle to stay alive in a hostile environment against a vaguely understood enemy.

There is a very Annoying Style in this novel to Capitalize Words and create the most amazingly long Run-on Sentences that just leave you Gasping For Breath and wondering when the End will come and as if that wasn't enough, there is the Whole Issue of the War Itself which remains a mystery throughout the whole story. But what starts as tedious and annoying slowly grows on you and the vagueness of the story actually leaves things a bit more open to interpretation than the typical novel, inviting the reader to insert their own version of what happened. I found the characters a bit flat, but the idea of the story is original and quite chilling.

A Brief Chapter in My Impossible Life, by Dana Reinhardt

Simone has always known that she was adopted, but even so, she is surprised when her parents start pressuring her to contact her birth mother. The surprises continue as Simone gets to know this woman and begins to learn about herself in the process. Romance and friends provide subplots.

A book that veers close to brilliance. The last twenty pages go for tear jerking pathos and are beautifully written. The first fifty pages read like bright witty YA humor. In between, the novel isn't really sure what it wants to be. The romantic subplots never quite seem to be part of the same story and one gets a feeling that Reinhardt was cutting and pasting different ideas together. Good read, but flawed. Be on the lookout for better works from her in the future.