When the Whistle Blows, by Fran Cannon Slayton

Seven Halloweens over seven consecutive years told in seven chapters. Each one reveals a different aspect of Jimmy Cannon's life and that of his friends and town. But most of all, each one tells a part of Jimmy's relationship with his father -- a railroad worker in their town in West Virginia in the 1940s. The stories are boys' stories (spying on a secret meeting, vandalizing a car, winning a championship football game, etc.) and told with a nice folksy warmth that evokes the spirit of Mark Twain.

Given the timelessness of the stories, the individual independent strength of each chapter, and the literary flavor of the entire endeavor, this book has "instant classic" written all over it. I'm sure it will be quickly picked up on by school teachers and other book-report assigners. So act fast if you want to enjoy the book on its own innocent merits. As for me, I can recognize the greatness, but it wasn't the type of book I really like. Historicals don't tend to appeal to me and nothing makes me glaze over faster than male bonding (and football). Still, I'm sure others will like this.

Shift, by Charlotte Agell

In a dystopian future, state religion has replaced the world we know with a fear-driven society. The only alternative to the HomeState world are the nuclear wastelands of the Deadlands and the wilds of the north (current day Maine) beyond them where the crazies live.

When 15 year-old Adrian's best friend is seized by the police because he is Jewish, Adrian sets off on a trip into the North. The disappearance of his mother (right after she has been found babbling about a coming "shift" that will change the world) is just one more motivator. Terrorists, crazy computers, and a penguin figure in as well.

The overall result is a seemingly random story. It all starts off well enough as a road trip tale, but as soon as the characters cross over into Maine, that storyline gets abandoned. And what it gets replaced with simply doesn't make sense. After a while, I simply gave up trying to follow the story. I'd like to suspect that the earlier drafts did make sense but somehow it all got mangled in revisions and editing. What I did get out of it was that the author was trying to merge some of the wonder of life in Maine (and witnessing the Aurora Borealis in particular) with a diatribe against religious fanaticism, but what a frustrating mess!

Nobody's Princess, by Esther Friesner

Helen of Sparta is your typical modern fantasy heroine -- terrible at needlework, bored by feminine duties. She'd rather take up the sword, learn how to ride a horse, and set out on a grand adventure. Along with her older brothers, she gets her wish as they travel through the Hellenic Empire.

The adventure itself is surprisingly mundane and mostly serves to illustrate Grecian beliefs and culture -- the most noteworthy part of which for Friesner is the rampant misogyny of the period and the struggles that a woman who wanted to question them had to face. But as is usual in this genre, nothing is really beyond a young woman if she is wily enough to attempt it.

In other words, there is no new ground being broken here. The warrior princess archetype has now become as well worn as the helpless princess type of yore. And Helen is not the most interesting manifestation of the character. Her assertiveness, unbalanced by any humility, comes across as selfishness more than virtue (although I thought the beginning of the novel started out promisingly enough when she started challenging the gods) and overall just seemed like stubbornness. There are some interesting possibilities raised by the grown woman warrior Atalanta, who serves well as a mentor and inspiration to Helen, but she is sent away before the storyline can develop fully (perhaps to return in a sequel?). This is functional historical fantasy, but it doesn't go any where new.

It seems to me that what the genre really needs is a heroine who straddles the gender barriers more convincingly. A young woman who masters needlepoint, poise, and ALSO kicks serious butt with a sword would be interesting. Or one that struggles between not wanting to be perceived as weak and feminine yet also doesn't want to prove otherwise by killing things? So many possibilities to make deeper characters. And I think readers are hungry for female characters who get to be both interesting and introspective at the same time. After all, (to choose an off-topic example) Bella doesn't become the most interesting denizen of the undead world by being either kick-ass or wimpy all of the time (she is interesting precisely because she can do both).

Nothing But Ghosts, by Beth Kephart

In the days since her mother has died, Katie and her father have found their own patterns of living in a house that feels too big. He works away at restoring art and she takes a job gardening at the estate of a reclusive old woman. By chance, she also gets the opportunity to sort through several boxes of ephemera donated to public library. All three plot lines come together in the form of a mystery from long ago and Katie uncovers the truth about the reclusive woman.

I liked Kephart's previous book Undercover because it was an ambitiously-written YA novel, but this one may push things a bit too far. Her intent is to invoke a mood and once it is there, the story/dialogue/characters really don't matter as much (I call this the Curse of the Modern Novel). It might work for high brow adult fiction, but it makes for deadly uninteresting YA. It is a beautiful book, but without the blurb and the author's notes at the end, I really couldn't tell where this was going or why. Disappointing!

Princess Ben, by Catherine Gilbert Murdock

Told in the form of a memoir, by the aging Queen Ben(evolence), this is the story of her youth, beginning with the murder of her parents and her tutelage under Queen Sophia. Ben at this age is hardly an aspiring royal. She despises her dancing, embroidery, and poise lessons, stuffs herself with sweets, and generally causes havoc where she goes. By accident one day, she discovers a secret portal in the castle that leads her to a book of spells. Events then fall into place for her to become a much better person and to truly bloom into a princess.

The story is all good fun, full of the requisite fairy tale elements (magic, dragons, battles, fancy dresses, etc.) but with a good dose of modern sensibility thrown in (Ben's rebelliousness, the narrator's advice to young readers, etc.). It never really takes off though. As with any adventure story, you turn the pages waiting for the next surprise and this one delivers, but the characters are remarkably flat and uninspiring. The romance, such as it is, never really takes off. Ben's coming of age (so crucial for this narrative) is never believable. Worst of all, the passive narration throughout (and some unnecessarily "forsooth" language) serves mostly to distance the reader from the story and the characters. It isn't a boring book, but there are so many better recent examples of this genre to try out.

Raggedy Chan, by Camille Picott

This is a pretty hard-to-find book, so you'll have to put some effort into locating it. Is it worth the effort? That depends on what you are looking for. Let's start with the story...

When her mother returns to work, half-Chinese and half-Irish Emma gets babysat by her Aunt Gracie. The aunt, who comes from the Chinese side of the family, is a fount of Chinese culture and obviously disapproves of how Americanized (and Westernized) her niece is becoming. To rectify this situation, she devotes the day to exposing Emma to her Chinese roots. This begins with Aunt Gracie giving Emma a rag doll with black hair and almond eyes to replace the rather more traditional rag doll given her by the Irish side of the family. During the day introduces Emma to the joys of chopsticks (useful for eating the marshmallows in Lucky Charms!), making wontons, and playing mahjong. This part of the story follows fairly traditional ground of introducing an initially reluctant child to new things and simultaneously exposing the reader to some cultural diversity.

However, the story has much broader ambitions. Auntie Gracie also shares a story with Emma about Raggedy Chan (her new doll), who is actually a Chinese princess named Yao-chi. When the benevolent and rain-making Winged Dragon is stolen from her lands by the demon Drought Fury, the princess must cross the ocean to the land of the Jung-wu (America) where she befriends Paul Bunyun and Babe, who help her with the rescue.

At this point, the story probably sounds a bit like a merger of Princess Bride with The Joy-Luck Club, but Picott's ambitions go further still as the fairy tale (and even Aunt Gracie's culture lessons) become an overall story about the Chinese-immigrant experience, racism, and the pain of leaving home.

The result is an unusual book that is hard to categorize into a convenient niche. The story is complex and multi-layered. At times, it is a bit hard to follow and young readers might get distracted. The mixtures of culture and themes struck me as a particularly Californian viewpoint of the world and readers in other regions might have trouble understanding how it all fits together.

I found myself admiring the ambition of the work more than the actual result. There really are at least two (if not three) separate stories in this book and I wanted more focus, especially in a book which is probably intended for younger readers. As an unrealted issue, more sensitive younger readers might find some of the scenes (eyes being gouged out, skin being flayed) a bit too intense, or at the very least confusing.

I haven't yet mentioned the illustrations by Joey Manfre, but they deserve special note. The styles are a bit diverse (sometimes Disneyesque, sometimes quite abstract) but the artwork is consistently vibrant and interesting. Given the story's iconoclast nature, the drawings are quite appropriate and added greatly to the experience of reading the book.

After, by Amy Efaw

OK, so I'm prejudiced on this one, as it is placed in Tacoma WA and the author has definitely done her homework (the geographic details are superb). When you spend your day working at Tacoma General and then you find that your nightly read is situated there as well, it's pretty cool. And hey, the last time Tacoma featured in any part of YA culture it was as a stand-in for Seattle in Ten Things I Hate About You, but I digress....

As our story opens, Devon finds herself lying on the couch under a blanket and feeling sick to her stomach. But within a dozen pages, we learn that she's just given birth and abandoned her baby to die in a trash can out back. The problem is that Devon has no idea that it has happened. She can't even remember being pregnant in the first place.

It takes the rest of the story to help us understand how that could happen and what Devon has gone through. It's not a terribly pleasant trip (neither the subject matter nor the heroine are easy to deal with), but ultimately Efaw has a lot to teach us about teenage pregnancy, juvenile justice, mental states, and the lengths to which people will go to deny reality.

Devon is a difficult character to like, and my more regular readers know that I'm not a big fan of the unlikeable character. However, I found Devon fascinating and thus irresistible. She does some amazingly stupid things throughout most of the book (some would say all of the way through the book!), but I could understand her motives and even sometimes sympathize with them. And, far more importantly, she didn't do anything out of meanness or viciousness. Teen stupidity I can tolerate. Most significantly, Devon's cluelessness had a purpose and was part of the story. In sum, it worked.

The story suffers a bit more. Efaw is so interested in downloading information to us (about the juvenile justice system, dumpster babies, etc.) that the book has to resort to lecture mode (usually done through the mouths of an expert -- the lawyer, the psychiatrist, etc.). It gets old and it gets boring. I call this the Judy Blume curse -- the writer wants so badly to teach us something that she doesn't care what it does to the pacing of the story. The only solution to this literarry misfortune is the editorial axe: if the information cannot be revealed as part of the story, then it doesn't belong in the story.

The Miles Between, by Mary E. Pearson

There are amazing coincidences in the world, days when everything goes completely right or, as Destiny Faraday puts it, "one fair day" to counter all of the terrible ones in life. And Destiny has plenty of things to deal with: being abandoned by her parents at the age of seven and shuttled from one private school to another, never visited, and afraid to grow attached to anyone because she will inevitably be sent away when things go bad. But on this magical day, a mysterious stranger accosts her in the school's garden while she is playing hooky and challenges her to make a wish for a perfect day. This is quickly followed by her stumbling across an abandoned car which she takes with the help of three of her fellow students. Before they know it, one piece of good luck will lead to another and another and another....

A bit more like her Adoration of Jenna Fox (in the sense of being a fantasy about children with rich parents) and less like the creepy and desolate Room on Lorelei Street (of which I was in a minority of critics), this is a very lighthearted and harmless story about a day when things go right. As a story about endless good luck, there is not a lot of suspense in this story (one or two big surprises though). Instead, the story is anchored in the premise that four kids getting to know each other on a very strange road trip is enough of a story to keep us hooked. For the most part, it really does work, although the twists of luck vary widely in believability and I was less credulous about some of the more bizarre turns that the story takes. It is decent escapism, but not as thought-provoking as her earlier works. There simply isn't that much profound to say about good things, except the way that they help us to understand the bad.

The Princess and the Hound, by Mette Ivie Harrison

Prince George may be heir to the throne, but he bears a terrible secret: he possesses "animal magic" which allows him to communicate with the animals. This is such an evil thing that anyone found to have such powers is usually burned alive. And so it must remain a secret. Princess Beatrice is shy and private, preferring the company of her loyal hound Marit over the company of any human. And she too bears secrets that may be even more horrible than George's magic. When their fathers ordain that the two should be married, their match seems unfathomable. But George and Beatrice are both dutiful and will obey the will of the kings.

A strikingly beautifully written fairy tale, told in an unusually fairy-tale like voice (avoiding the typical first-person action novel approach used in most fantasy). Harrison's PhD in Germanic Lit is put to good use as this story, while bearing no resemblance to any one legend, bears the style of the best of them -- part Brothers Grimm, part Parsifal. You can read the story literally and enjoy it heartily, but there are numerous additional layers to entertain you: from the "magic" that dare not speak its name to the struggle that Beatrice and Marit have to define their identity to the troubled relationship that both of the children have with their parents. There is an awful lot here to be explored.

Some of the most memorable scenes in the story creep up on you unexpected (the confrontation between Marit and the pack of wild dogs, the duel in the Game of Kings, Lord Peter daring George to plunge into the moat). Others are much longer to develop and grow with the dramatic arc (the bear, the demise of the kings, George's coming of age). What is so marvelous is that they all flow so well together.

The funny thing is that the "animal magic" stuff, so central to the story, is the part that worked least well for me. Perhaps because it is always being suppressed and concealed, it seems underdeveloped, even non-essential for the story. Its purpose (for me anyway) seemed more to illustrate a nice symmetry between human and animal world that makes this story stand out.

And yes, I will turn to the sequel in a few weeks. Stay tuned!

Rapunzel's Revenge, by Shannon and Dean Hale

I'm not a big fan of graphic novels (see below), but Shannon Hale is one of my favorite authors, so I couldn't pass this one up.

It's the story of Rapunzel, but with a bit of a twist. Exiled to a tower in the woods by her evil witch stepmother, Rapunzel (named after the lettuce) manages to break free in the nick of time (before she starves to death or gets "rescued" by a pig-headed prince) through some fancy lassoing with her abundant hair. Those braids make a mighty fine weapon as she teams up with a boy named Jack and the two of them hunt down the witch. This isn't like any fairy tale you or I know -- Rapunzel kicks some serious cowboy butt in this rowdy Westernized variant of more than a couple familiar stories.

The story is cute, but undeveloped, as I often find graphic novels to be. The irony is, of course, that I was a huge fan of the genre as a kid (Tin Tin, Raymond Briggs' Father Christmas, and a good number of adult graphic novels when I became a teen). This stuff reminds me of them. But they are still glorified comic books. The stories tend to be heavy on action and light on character development. The plotting is all-important, the narrative secondary. So, they are fun to read, but not very filling. And most of them are not what I would consider literature.

Take this example. Hale writes some pretty good and original fantasy fiction (Princess Academy is a wonderful book, as are the Books of Bayern), but this current story is terribly thin. It's original and contains a healthy amount of modernization (Rapunzel is pretty good at taking acre of herself). There's some humor and plenty of frenetic action, but no moments that I want to go back and read. Rapunzel is an amusing heroine, but not anyone I really care about. And if one were to translate this story into straight fiction, it would have a hard time running beyond short story length.

Red Glass, by Laura Resau

Growing up with her Mom and Stepfather in Tucson, Sophie has been exposed fairly often to migrant workers and while friendly to them she has stayed largely detached. When a young boy comes to live with them (after his parents are killed while crossing the border), Sophie abandons her usual fears and opens up to him, dubbing him her Principito (little prince) after the title character of her favorite book. And when the family discovers the little boys living relatives in southern Mexico, Sophie agrees to accompany the boy on the trip back. Going with her are her eccentric aunt Dika (a Bosnian refugee), Dika's boyfriend Mr. Lorenzo, and Lorenzo's son Angel. For Sophie, who's been afraid of nearly everything around her, it is the trip of a lifetime, exposing her to strange and scary new worlds.

A beautifully written journey through Central America. The multicultural flavor of the book (Bosnians, indigenous Mexican, and Guatemala) will appeal to the folks who worry about such stuff, but like the very best books that straddle multiple cultures, none of it really matters in the end. Instead, Resau has written a book about human beings, showing how we are all creatures of circumstance. Sophie's transformation from "weakling" to fuerto is as wonderful as it is expected, but she don't neglect the others. Almost every character in the story undergoes some sort of transformation, which draws us to them (even to the bad guys).

There's a fair amount of adventure and action in here to keep restless readers occupied, but more than anything else there is good dramatic payoff in the end that makes you feel like you have been more than entertained.

Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins

OK, it's only the most hyped YA book of the year and it's been out for two months already and I haven't read it (nor did I score an ARC like the real reviewers), but I would be very remiss if I didn't get around to reading the sequel to The Hunger Games and posting my thoughts.

At the end of Book I, Katniss and Peeta have both won the Games through some nice manipulation of the rules, but things will hardly get quiet. Their little trick has unwittingly made them symbols of a rebellion -- a notion which doesn't even occur to Katniss until she is visited personally by the President. To stave off the movement and save their families from the leader's wrath, they must convince the world of their loyalty to the Capitol and to each other. But even that won't be enough when the next year's Games are announced -- a special round called the Quell -- and the results of the reaping are known.

It's not really worth talking about liking or disliking this book (there have been 100s of reviews -- most of them favorable) and the general consensus seems to be: if you liked The Hunger Games and want to read more of the same, this is a good read. If you're expecting much that is new, then you're probably in for a bit of a let down. But either way, this is quick, got-you-at-the-jugular reading. It is suspenseful, powerful, and good reading.

So, instead, let me talk about the tone of this book and its predecessor. These are gory books, to say the least, with more than a fair share of suffering and bloodshed (one might even argue that they are inappropriately violent for younger readers, but that isn't a topic that interests me). Rather, it is the message of this set up. What inspires the creation of a world that is this bloody? Does Collins believe that there are places like this? Or that we need to envision such worlds? What purpose does it serve? Most dystopian novels create their worlds as instruction to the reader (warnings, if you will, of what to avoid). It's hard to tell what this world's purpose serves except as a horror. And I find that a bit unnerving.

Yes, we have the eventual triumph of good over evil to look forward to, but at such a terrible cost that it's hard to really enjoy it. And what would feeling good about such a triumph say about us the readers? I'm really not sure what to say about all this yet, but it's the feeling I'm coming away from right now.

(Oh yeah, I may like the book, but I absoluteley hate the fact that Book II doesn't stand on its own -- having neither a beginning nor an end, but rather being an installment to get us to Book III -- like Back to the Future II)

Jumping Off Swings, by Jo Knowles

Teen pregnancy is one of those subjects that's been done quite a bit in YA and so it really wouldn't seem that there would be much new that could be done with it. The story itself is predictable and always follows the same basic pattern (girl has sex, girl misses period, girl can't believe this is happening, tears, crying, etc.). However, never get so jaded in the reading business that you underestimate the ability of a writer to totally surprise you.

Told in the alternating voices of Ellie (the pregnant girl), Josh (the guy), Corinne (Ellie's best friend) and Caleb (Josh's friend, previous admirer of Ellie, and blossoming lover of Corinne), we have a typical writer's challenge: how do you fit enough character-building narrative into 230 pages to effectively develop not just one teen, but four? Much to my astonishment, it actually works. Ellie gets to play the typical regretful and fretful expectant mother, but she's far from sympathetic. Instead, she make a series of errors along the way that have you wringing your hands, but you can't help but understand why it is happening (her distant mother, on the other hand, you will completely want to throttle, but even that minor side character is understandable). Corinne and Caleb have the interesting role to play as the shining example of what love should be all about. But of the four main characters, Josh was the one that caught my interest the most.

I've read some BLOGs claim that Josh's struggles with his feelings seems unrealistic, but I'd rack their inability to accept that boys have deep feelings as well up to the reviewers' age (young) and sex (female). (Hey! for all the years of abuse I've taken for being an old guy and not understanding teen girls, I think I'm entitled to my dig here!) If you ever have been in Josh's shoes (and yes, I have actually been in his position) then you totally know how hard it is to be the guy in this situation. Josh's balance of anger, frustration, and grief was utterly on the mark. And Knowles gives it just the right amount of balance -- neither playing him up as a saint nor claiming any greater rights than he gets (he's never portrayed as the victim). I'd have been pleased enough that Knowles wanted him to be something more than a sperm donor, but she goes much farther towards trying to explain him.

Ellie is the one who pays the greatest price, of course, but her story is less interesting because it is so well known. The strength of this novel is that Knowles wants to show how the pregnancy affects all four of the characters. It's a more nuanced read of the events. It doesn't change one thing about the facts portrayed or the shock you will feel, but it fills out the story.

Wings, by Aprilynne Pike

After ten years of homeschooling, Laurel starts school at Del Norte High in Crescent City. She quickly befriends a boy named David in her bio class and things proceed relatively normally, but Laurel is anything but normal. She's a strict vegan, hates swimming in the sea, and one morning comes to find a flower growing out of her back. She and David are mystified by the latter development but quickly they discover lots of other odd things (she has no pulse, no blood, and she doesn't breathe oxygen). That would probably keep the story interesting enough, but when her father gets sick, things start getting a bit more frantic.

While the pacing in interminably slow, I actually rather liked the direction the story was taking in the beginning. Pike has a lot of fun re-imagining puberty from the perspective of a plant. That itself would have made a pretty good book. However, the point is really to bring this around to be a story about faeries and trolls and (a little) magic. That works too, but it's not nearly as interesting. The latter half of the book becomes a fairly standard fantasy adventure with death-defying and guns and battles, which seems a bit of a let-down (or as if Pike felt that the story needed to go somewhere else). I wanted something more ambitious and less formulaic. This isn't bad, but it's nothing new.

Trouble, by Gary D. Schmidt

Trouble is the one thing that Henry has always figured would pass him by in his safe blue-blood family and the idyllic sea-side ancestral abode where they live. But when Henry's brother is struck by a truck and lands in the hospital, Henry's world seems full of trouble.

Things get complicated. The young Cambodian boy Chay who is accused of driving the truck that caused the accident becomes the focal point of racial tensions in the community. Vandalism, revenge, and counter-revenge explode across the quiet Massachusetts community. Finally, Henry decides that the only way to escape trouble is to fulfill his brother's wish to hike Mt Katahdin and he sets off to Maine to do so. Accompanied by a rescued stray (who he calls Black Dog), his best friend Sanborn, and an unlikely compatriot (and fellow sufferer), Henry embarks on a trip that will change his life and the way he looks at trouble.

A remarkable and beautifully-written novel. From the very first page, I was blown away by the richness of Schmidt's prose. And while I sometimes wanted the story to move along at a quicker pace, there was little in retrospect that I would have gone without. Schmidt impressed me some time ago with his Wednesday Wars but here he absolutely outdoes himself. It's very rare for me to admire a story without even the slightest girlie element (and you really can't get more manly than the roadtrip-boy-and-his-dog genre), but this is truly a stunning book.

What's to like? I've already mentioned the writing, but there are other things that make this book shine. Characters. Every character in this book (even the supporting cast) are outstanding. Henry's struggles between grief, anger, guilt, and vengeance play surprising well (given the complex evolution he undergoes in this story). Chay is amazingly complex and his own grieving process is quite moving in the end. Sanborn provides some levity. But the best part is Black Dog, who utterly steals the show as the most lovable literary canine since Winn-Dixie (and I am not a dog lover, so you should be very impressed by this endorsement).

And then there is the story. It would have been so easy to just write a stages-of-grief book (Henry passes from denial, anger, grief, etc. and ends up with acceptance), but Schmidt has much higher expectations for this book and he surprises us even on the last few pages. Nothing is predictable, yet it is all plausible and when everything is revealed and in the open, the sheer tragedy of it all is devastating. No detail is superfluous. In sum, this is a master storyteller.

So, what are you waiting for?? I'd rate this the best book I've read in 2009 (unfortunately, it was actually published in 2008 so it can't qualify as a best book for this year).

Fade, by Lisa McMann

Back in August 2008, I reviewed Wake (the first book in this series). Now, we have the sequel...

Janie has now taken on part-time work for the police, working undercover with her Cabel. Their mission is to track down a teacher who is sexually preying upon students at the high school. What this all has to do with Janie's ability to experience other people's dreams is a bit unclear, but it does plunge her into some apparent danger. There are also some visits from the Beyond by the late Miss Stubin to keep things interesting.

I really liked the concept of Wake but complained that it suffered a bit from clunky writing and a weird ending. Unfortunately, this book picks up in the midst of the weird stuff and stays there. And the writing doesn't improve. McMann attempts to write the entire book in present tense, which is very challenging to keep up and to make readable. She does succeed.

She also continues to try to simulate dreams with short micro sentences.

And paragraphs.

That aren't.

It's enough to drive you completely nuts or make you want to scream or just close the book.

In two words: it stinks. And it isn't writing.

In addition to being poorly written, this book suffers from a nonsensical plot, a lack of suspense, a romance without even a flicker of heat, and some of the most inane dialog ever put in a published YA book. I think it is safe to say that I despised it.

So Much To Tell You, by John Marsden

Told through the diary entries of 14 year-old Marina, this story traces Marina's recovery from an assault. The details come out only slowly and the reader is left mostly in the dark about the circumstances, focusing instead on Marina's struggles to communicate with her peers and caretakers. For that reason, it isn't really possible to say much more about the story without giving out spoilers.

This spare story is short and actually quite straightforward, complete with a feel good ending towards which it is inexorably hurtles. It's a classic (book of the year in Australia) and it has its charms. Marina's voice is very clear and her recovery is quite believable. The problem is that this story of a young woman who loses her ability to communicate has been done so much better since (Speak being an obvious example that jumps to mind). The book feels more like an Afterschool Special than a YA classic. The device of the diary entries allows Marsden to skip over events as he pleases which helps move the story along, but it also distances us from the other characters in the book. Only Marina herself gets developed and we are left to wonder what really is going on with the other girls (who we are told go through all manners of heartache and suffering -- based on the crying and histrionics -- but of which we never learn much in the way of details). It's a pleasing tear-jerker but an opaque and largely unfulfilling work in the end.

Fire, by Kristin Cashore

Identified as a "Companion to Graceling," this story is actually chronologically a prequel, although it shares only one character in common with Cashore's acclaimed novel. Set in the same world as the earlier book but in a largely inaccessible portion of territory, Fire is the story of a young "monster" human named Fire who, like all of the monsters who inhabit this area, has the ability to bend people's minds to do her bidding. It is an unwelcome talent to the girl Fire, whose father used the power to pervert the mind of King Nax and sent the kingdom into debauchery and self-destruction. After's Fire's father's death, she tries to maintain a lower profile.

Two events thwart her plans: the appearance of mysterious archer with a foggy brain and the command that Fire come to the King's city (a place she has avoided all of her life because it was where her father did his evil deeds) to help the surviving royal family unearth their enemies. Once in the city, Fire becomes embroiled in untangling the politics of the court, unraveling the plots to overthrow the royals, and averting all-out war. It is a calling she resists but ultimately proves adept at, although she must approach it on her own terms. And always in the background, there is the threat of an unknown force that put that mysterious foggy-headed archer out there.

I've done something of a disservice in my simple summary of the story's plot, but it is a long novel (460pp) and a very complex narrative. You'll do well to simply believe that it all works very nicely. As for the story, I have a number of things on my mind upon finishing this book.

First of all, there is the theme of generations and inheritance. Almost every character in this book bears the scars and the legacy of their parents (or grandparents). Fire fights off the guilt of being related to a literal monster. Archer struggles with the legacy of his parentage as well. The royals are who they are because of the mistakes of their King Nax. Everyone struggles with not wanting to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors and with wanting to atone for those mistakes. It's a beautifully universal theme and adolescents (and older!) readers will appreciate a familiar theme in their own lives.

The second theme I want to mention is a bit more controversial: sexuality (and sexual violence in particular). Cashore's first novel was noted often by reviewers for containing a number of mature themes. That pattern is replicated and expanded here. It is not that Cashore is ever explicit, but sexuality is quite persistent in the world of this novel (with regular mentions of menstruation [which is admittedly an important plot device in this case], birth control, pregnancy, childlessness, etc.). None of this bothers me. I'm all for a healthy dose of mature and responsible sexuality in YA as it sets a healthy standard. What is trickier is the high presence of rape and sexual violence in this story. Within the first 100 pages, there are mentions of at least three rapes and many more of assaults and sexually-motivated attacks. It is integral part of the plot that Fire's powers include the liability that men feel uncontrollable desire for her and that that passion frequently leads them to attack her. This sets up dramatic tension of course, but it also creates a truly terrifying world.

I myself am torn over the issue. I appreciate the author witnessing for the overwealming presence of sexual violence in modern society. If young women are not aware of such things, then they need to be and if reading about a strong heroine who confronts it and actively protects herself can empower the reader, then this is a good thing. But at the same time, I worry that becoming aware of the prevalence of sexual violence can also make a person see it everywhere and retreat into a world of fear. I suppose others will say "it's just a book!" but it won't stop my conflicted sense of loyalties about this message. Is it a good message or a bad message to be sending out to readers? I honestly do not know.

In general, this is a very good book. It will please fantasy fans and it has something to offer folks who never shy away from fantasy (like myself) because they want more human interest than the ol' hack-and-slay normally offers. It is a worthy successor to Graceling and I look forward to the next installment.

Remembrance, by Theresa Breslin

And now for something completely different...

Remembrance is the story of five young people who participate in the Great War. Francis and Charlotte come from a wealthy landowning family, while John Malcolm, Maggie, and Alex are the children of the local shopkeeper. However, their friendship and their involvement in the War effort brings them together. Wound up by patriotism and idealism, these teenagers of another time grow up quickly in a War that surprises everyone with its brutality and harshness. Breslin has crafted a story that is YA only in the sense that its protagonists are in their teens. You will find no familiar tropes here. No proms, boy crushes, or any of that fluffiness. This is a fairly mature story of a time in history which is probably only seen by most teens now in two-dimensions in some World Civ class. Kudos to the author for attempting to make it more alive!

Telling a story from at least five points of view is a difficult undertaking, but Breslin does it well. Each character has their own voice and their own purpose for being in the story. As a result, the narrative rarely felt confused or cluttered. Excellent detail helps the period feel and anachronisms are kept to a minimum (Maggie's proto-feminism is nicely explored without imposing modern ideas upon it). In sum, this is a lively way to view a world of nearly a century ago.

I am not convinced that the book is truly YA. The characters mature and come of age, but we see very little of that development. Breslin is more interested in external details and in lofty statements about the horrors of the War than in writing of the micro-level growth of the characters. Love, for example, is accepted as fact rather than shown. There isn't much room for emotional growth in war time, at least not in Breslin's stiff-upper-lip depiction of it. As a result, this story works best as an adventure story.

Waiting for You, by Susane Colasanti

Marisa has the hots for Derek, who is involved with Sienna. Meanwhile, Nash who has known Marisa for ages is annoyingly interested in her at the same time. Marisa's best friend Sterling is hopelessly infatuated with guys she meets on-line. Marisa's parents are separating. And a stranger on-line named Dirk seems to know something about everyone. Who ever knew that Sophomore year could get so complicated?

In her third and latest outing, Colosanti gets high marks for getting the tone of contemporary teens down so well. As in her other books, dialogue is her strength (it's also her obvious love as most of her writing is conversations). Unfortunately, as with When It Happens, the rest of the writing just doesn't keep up. From the looks of it, she really isn't very interested in telling the story and most of the plot sort of falls in here and there in random order. At first, I figured it was an attempt at authenticity (having the narrator tell her story in the sort of random way that a teen might), but even that really does not hold together. It's a terrible handicap that turned this novel into painful reading. Such a difficult balance (excellent dialogue with badly disjointed narrative) and the result is a story that hangs together best when the characters are speaking and quickly falls apart when they are not.

In sum, a sweet story that feels authentic and has a great voice, but is not terribly original and is poorly told.