Pregnant Pause, by Han Nolan

When 16-year-old Elly gets pregnant, she's convinced that she and her boyfriend can raise the baby. At least better than his parents (who want the baby for themselves) or her own older sister (who is determined to get it as well). But when she marries the father and spends the summer at a fat camp run by her in-laws, she gets an opportunity to explore her feelings about children, other men, and the choices that have ended her up where she is. And while just about everyone seems to be dead set against her, she fights every step of the way.

On its face, this mash of camp story, pregnancy morality tale, and teen romance ought to not work, but it actually does. Yes, there are plenty of random story twists that pop up and get smashed down like a whack-a-mole, but the story stays together (up until the end at least -- I'm not much of a fan of the final chapter!). I'll admit that I personally wasn't always so drawn into the story, but I think it was a good one. The special sauce in this mix is Elly herself. She's whiny and self-centered, but strong-willed and surprisingly centered for someone who screws up a lot. It's hard not to respect her, even if you can't quite imagine liking her. For me, that's enough to take the story to a higher level.

I did find the fighting with the adults to be awfully repetitive. Everyone pretty much says the same thing again and again. And hearing the grown-ups drone on and on about how Elly can't take care of herself (let alone a baby) started driving me as nuts as it was driving her. That sort of conflict is never resolved and it grew tiresome waiting for a breakthrough. And the ending (as I mentioned) is a bit of a cheap attempt to resolve it all at the end.

Alchemy and Meggy Swann, by Karen Cushman

In 16th century England, Meggy's defective gait is considered by many to be the mark of the devil. But for her, it has provided the motivation to try harder at everything. After the death of her grandmother, she is shipped off to London to her father, an alchemist. When he rejects her, she needs a lot of good fortune to survive. While she struggles to feed herself, she manages to acquire both friends and skills. While doing so, however, she uncovers a murder plot and must figure out a solution with her meagre resources.

Because medieval history is one of my passions, I was naturally interested in this book. Cushman's other books have been both educational and entertaining (and Catherine, Called Birdy remains one of my all-time favorites). Unfortunately, this story didn't work as well. It's partly due to the lack of a sympthetic character (both father and Meggy were hard to get attached to). The lack of a strong central plot doesn't help matters. But, in the end, it's ye olde awkward foresoothly grammar that sinks this into an unreadable morass. It's a difficult book to read and there simply isn't much pay off in return for the effort.

Paradise, by Jill S. Alexander

Paisley is the drummer in a band. She's good, but she would never be able to tell her parents about her passion. They wouldn't understand or allow her to do it. She only has to look at the way they have controlled her older sister Lacey to see what happens when you try to confront their parents.

But Paisley isn't her sister and with the encouragement of a new boy in town, who has the ability to instill confidence in just about anyone, she hopes to change things. It won't be easy to stand up for her dreams, but she'll find a way.

Alexander's novel maintains all of the smart writing of her first novel (The Sweetheart of Prosper County) but simply isn't as strong of a story. It suffers a bit from the tropes of the teen romance genre (new mysterious boy, brave and fearless, but gentle beyond his years). And it's uneven (the first few pages are amazingly well crafted, but latter pages fall into meaningless cliche). Finally, there's the ending (!) that takes a completely unnecessary melodramatic turn that serves little purpose. One wonders what on earth happened there! Still, I enjoyed it in spite of its flaws.

How To Save A Life, by Sara Zarr

After her father died, Jill isolated herself from her friends. She grew distant from her boyfriend Dylan and cut herself off from her friends. It was too hard to deal with their pity.

Her mother became a complete stranger to her. All the more so now, when Mom's got it in her head to adopt a baby -- one of the craziest ideas that Jill has ever heard of. But Mom is persistent and not only moves ahead with the adoption, but invites the birth mother to their home for the final weeks of her pregnancy.

Mandy (the birth mother) is on the run, escaping a hellish home life of being an unwanted child with an unwanted child of her own. She hopes that somehow she can make a new life for herself and also find the decent home for her child that she never had. All she needs to do is behave and live up to the expectations of Jill and her mother. As she has learned in the past, love is always conditional and it is only a matter of time before any good thing will run out.

In alternating chapters, Jill and Mandy describe how two people from very different backgrounds can come to understand each other. They discover along the way that they are not really all that dissimilar, once you strip away their different socioeconomic backgrounds and personal histories.

It's a complicated story (combining parental death, grief, teenage pregnancy, abuse, a romantic triangle, child-parent communication, and class conflict), but generally it works. Given so many themes, there's plenty of unfinished business here. The ending itself is entirely too convenient and pap, but the ride is smooth and generally worked. At times, the two narrators sound entirely too wise for their years, but they are interesting and sympathetic (although I found myself drawn much more strongly to Mandy as she is decidedly less whiny than Jill). I call it a mixed bag -- a decent story, but nothing outstanding.

Pearl, by Jo Knowles

There are a lot of mysteries in Pearl's life: why is she called Beanie? Why does her grandfather doesn't get along with her mother? Whatever happened to her father? Why does Mom's best friend Claire move in with them? These mysteries (secrets, really) weigh heavy over Pearl's life and her relationships with her mother and grandfather. The only place she finds comfort is with her best friend Henry and her mother Sally.

This is a slow-moving family melodrama, that is smart enough to know that it has elements of a soap opera, but happy to wallow in that muck. For me, it was dry and boring. The characters are authentic and memorable, but not terribly interesting. As a result, I found it hard to get involved. The basic theme (discovering that the world is more complex than you imagined it was as a child) isn't enough to keep me going and the book simply didn't engage me.

The Future of Us, by Jay Asher and Carolyn Mackler

It's 1996 and Emma has just gotten a new computer. Josh (the boy next door) has come over to install an AOL CD-ROM (remember those things? we used them as coasters in my house!). That's a bit awkward because Josh and Emma haven't hung out in six months, not since Josh misread Emma's signals and tried to kiss her. But the really weird part is what happens after Emma installs the program. Her Favorites box has come with a link...to Facebook!

Somehow, she's connecting to her Facebook account fifteen years in the future, seeing what and who she'll become. And, for so many reasons, neither she nor Josh are ready to see that future.

I approached this book with some trepidation. I really like the premise. How would children of the 90s feel about the bare-all instant communications of the 2010s? And, in this area, I wasn't let down. Emma and Josh are astounded by how cluttered the Facebook interface is. And they are mystified at why their grown-up selves are so willing to spill out so much personal information in public. That is good stuff to explore (how quickly our notions of the internet have changed in only fifteen years!), but the authors could have done so much more with it.

The part I was less thrilled with was the team-writing approach. I've recently trashed this trend, so you'll know that I'm not a fan, but in this case, I was actually pleasantly surprised. I really like Mackler's writing (although her recent stuff has dragged). Asher is a good writer too, although I didn't like the story behind his overly-hyped Thirteen Reasons Why. Given such a cool story though, both writers shined. But moreover, they worked together in a way I haven't seen in other "team" projects. Their styles are compatible, they didn't try to bash each other with nasty plot turns, and they focused on a consistent storyline. The end result was a readable and interesting story. All of which proves that when two writers team up and focus on producing a good story, instead of showing off, it can work out.

Ashes, by Ilsa J. Bick

Alex has given up on life. After struggling with an inoperable brain tumor and enduring experimental medications, she's given up and run away from home, making it to the woods in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It is there, that her life takes a serious turn for the worse.

A sudden intense electrical storm crosses through the sky, instantly killing some people, turning others into flesh-eating zombies, burning out any solid-state electronics, and giving Alex a super-strong sense of smell. Now, in the company of a frightened eight-year old orphan and a resourceful but enigmatic ex-soldier, she fights her way through the woods, pursued by the zombies and by scavengers. Together, they struggle to find a safe haven.

Grim, action-packed, and full of plenty of twists and turns, this thick novel (460 pages!) keeps your attention span. Given that intensity, the romantic subplots suffer a bit in comparison and it is a bit hard to take them very seriously, but the rest of the novel is well-paced. I was a bit disappointed to find that this is an un-marked first book in a trilogy (I've grown tired of those -- anyone else share my fatigue with having stories dragged out into literary marathons?) as I really wanted the story to wrap up. But if brainless zombies and kick-ass heroines who know how to handle a firearm are your thing, this is good reading!

You Against Me, by Jenny Downham

After Mikey's sister gets raped, he's angry and wants to do something about it. He and his friend Jacko decide to find the guy who did it and mess him up. Along the way, Mikey meets Ellie (the alleged rapist's sister). At first, it seems like the perfect opportunity -- get into Ellie's good graces to figure out a good time to get her brother -- but things get complicated when Mikey finds himself becoming attracted to Ellie for real. The relationship that develops is (naturally) pretty complicated and takes turns that surprise both of them. Eventually, it leads to some bold decisions that will change them and both of their families.

While predictable and at times suffering a lack of credibility, the story snags you quickly. Mikey and Ellie are well-developed and engaging, their feelings complex, and the dilemma they face is compelling. The story eschews an easy solution (and, in fact, any conclusion at all) in favor of laying out the problem for the reader to digest. It is clear that with so much at stake (and everyone from the parents to the younger siblings bearing agendas of their own) that no one will really come out of this happy.

I was lukewarm to Downham's first novel, Before I Die, but this is a good story with a lot of heart in it. Downham is a formidable writer.

Wisdom's Kiss, by Catherine Gilbert Murdock

Told through various memoirs, references, and even a play, Wisdom's Kiss is the story of how Princess Wisdom, her grandmother Ben, a servant named Trudy, Trudy's long-lost love Tips, and a cat managed to thwart an attempt to usurp the power of a kingdom. A small amount of magic (shh!) plays a part as well. It all ends happily ever after.

If that all sounds a bit sparse, that is because it is. Most of the events of note get retold multiple times from different perspectives and sources. This can be a useful way of revealing the story slowly, but it is far from efficient (not that this is a mark of a good story, but it explains the thinness of the plot). In the end, this story like others of this type, is more about how events are interpreted than what actually happens.

While her previous foray into YA fantasy, Princess Ben was largely a by-the-numbers genre novel, Murdock has much grander ambitions in this new work. The story bounces around, jumping forward and back as the multiple narrators and media reveal events. The result, while unique and original, is difficult to follow and takes some time to get used to. Exposition and detail suffer as we skip around chapter to chapter. I admired the attempt, but the results are disappointing.

Rival, by Sara Bennett Wealer

Brooke and Kathryn used to be friends. They have had every reason to be so: both of them are talented, beautiful, and ambitious singers. Their shared obsession with succeeding as professional musicians, largely not understood by others, was something they could confide to each other. However, in their junior year, they split up and became mortal enemies. Now, a year later, they are competing for a prestigious vocal scholarship that each one of them desperately needs to realize their dreams.

Whatever made these two young women hate each other so much? Through flashbacks and current events, the two girls tell their side of the story in alternating chapters. As they do so, it becomes apparent that their conflict can be blamed as much on themselves as on the other person. As with any tragedy, they are so wrapped up in themselves that they have deprived themselves of a wonderful friendship. Can they find a way to break through their egos and recognize what they have lost?

While it is a bit painful to read through the misunderstandings and petty jealousies, it felt very authentic. And, as much as I found myself disgusted by their selfishness, I remained enthralled by the power of their animosity. It also helps that the ending is sufficiently satisfying to make it worth while. I was a bit disappointed that several subplots were left open and untouched in the end and I found the plotting a bit uneven, but overall this was a good read. And it is also an instructive morality tale that illustrates that old piece of wisdom "Life is pain and most of it is self-inflicted."

Boyfriends With Girlfriends, by Alex Sanchez

Sergio knows he is bisexual but his best friend Kimiko is a convinced lesbian. Lance doesn't get bisexuals. In his experience they're just copping out from coming out of the closet. He doesn't see how anyone could be half and half. However, his best friend Allie isn't so sure. She's dating a guy, but she finds Kimiko interesting and wonders what it would be like to swing both ways. Together, they are four teens unsure of their sexuality, but tentatively reaching out to each other to try to figure things out together. Much boy meets boy, girl meets girl, and the expected falling out and coming back together ensues.

I have no illusions of being a great writer myself, but this is just plain sloppy work. The characters are realistic and the dialog sounds authentic. I get the sheer literary importance of writing novels that speak to the LGBT community, but I can't really accept that as an excuse for saying much in praise of this book. The writing is dreadful. In the end, I decided that Sanchez (who wins awards!) wrote it in a simple and clunky style to simulate how a teenager might have written the story themselves. But there's no getting around the sloppy construction, the sudden jumps of narrative perspective (quickly switching between the four characters), and the awkward tenses. Read Julie Anne Peters instead!

Taking Off, by Jenny Moss

In 1985, senior Annie is stuck. She's been in the same dead end relationship with Mark for the past two years. Everyone at school expects them to get married when they graduate. Her Mom wants her to go to college. But Annie can't figure out what she wants to do. Then, a chance encounter with astronaut and teacher Christa McAuliffe (on the eve of her ill-fated voyage to space) inspires Annie to reach for her own dreams. However, is she ready to deal with the ramifications of her own plans?

It's a strange story to tell in the end. While Christa McAuliffe is certainly an effective catalyst, it is a bit of an emotional sledgehammer and ultimately unnecessary to the story (maybe Sally Ride would have been sufficient?). Nothing is helped by how Moss struggles with expressing Christa's importance and far too much of the book is wasted telling us rather than showing it. Still, Moss does a considerably better job at depicting Annie as an interesting and multifaceted heroine trying to sort out her future. That said, the story moves very slowly and would have benefitted from some trimming down. Losing the astronauts would have been a good start!

Toys Come Home, by Emily Jenkins

Chronologically a prequel to the ever-delightful Toys Go Out, this installment ("being the early experiences of an intelligent stingray, a brave buffalo, and a brand-new someone called Plastic") gives us the back story to how Stingray, Lumphy, and Plastic came to live with the Girl, as well as how Sheep lost its ear, what caused Stingray to be afraid of the basement, and why we are all here. As before, a light comedic touch helps deliver wonderful stories about things which children worry about: fitting in, making new friends, and even a touching age-appropriate story of death and dealing with loss.

Emily Jenkins is one of the contemporary gems of children's literature. Whether writing for the 6-10 year old crowd here or the hilarious YA she writes for teens (under her special pseudonym) , she produces great books because she understands that children are not dumb and don't need to be talked down to. By taking the idea of talking toys and stripping out the commercialism and cynicism of Disney and Mattel, she captures the joy of play and sheer fun of being a child. For the target demographic, the result is a great story. For adults, there is the opportunity to experience the beauty of a finely crafted tale.

The original Toys Go Out is a classic in my mind, the type of book that I try to get into the hands of every six-year-old I know. Its sequel (Toy Dance Party) seemed very dark and less accessible, and I was less enthusiastic about supporting it. In this new book, Jenkins is back in high form and I heartily recommend it to the same crowd as before.

Ultraviolet, by R. J. Anderson

When Alison wakes up in a mental hospital, she doesn't understand at first why she is there. But as her memory comes back to her, it becomes clear that something has gone very wrong. She had a fight with popular girl Tori and somehow Tori seemed to disintegrate in front of her. It would be easy to assume it was an hallucination, but no one can find a trace of Tori and without a body, Alison's story is the only explanation that works. Not that Alison hasn't had issues with seeing things before: she sees sounds, tastes colors, and feels things she shouldn't be able to feel. But despite the recent trauma and her overall fragile state, she's convinced that she's really sane. However, it's not until a visiting researcher tells her about synesthesia that she starts to understand herself. That's when things go seriously weird.

I like the topic of synesthesia and particularly enjoyed Wendy Mass's A Mango-Shaped Space and her treatment of the condition. I also liked the first half of this book -- sort of a I Never Promised You a Rose Garden-One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest mash-up -- for its depiction of a young woman confronting a series of unsympathetic family and professionals. At times Alison seemed overly whiny, but she could kick it when she needs to and that made her interesting and a believable combination of strength and weakness. However, the ending is simply bizarre (quite literally deus ex machina). Until I was well past the 200th page, the book read like realistic fiction, but then a new story mugs and tackles the old one, taking us off into the stars in an extraordinarily flat and tedious ending. Worse than simply hijacking the plot, these last 80 pages completely change the characters, rewriting everything we've come to understand about Alison (and Tori) in the first part. In my mind, a decent book was basically ruined.

Wither, by Lauren DeStefano

In the near future, a generation has conquered cancer and most other terminal illnesses, providing themselves with incredible longevity as a result. But it comes at a terrible cost. In subsequent generations, all girls die at twenty and all boys at twenty-five. While the long-lived "first generation" searches for a cure, the world outside has unraveled. Global warming has wrecked havoc with the climate. Rich men kidnap girls and build polygamous communes to try to propagate as many times as they can before they die off. Endless orphans are cared for by younger and younger minders. Innovation has been stifled. Humanity risks its own extinction.

We are plunged into this world through the eyes of Rhine Ellery, a sixteen year-old who has been kidnapped and forced to marry one of these rich "governors," along with two other girls. Unwilling to accept her fate, Rhine resists and plots her escape. But the chances of getting away are slim and the temptations of living in her gilded cage are immense.

It's one of the more drearier dystopian novels yet. So, while this new Chemical Garden Trilogy is well fleshed out in a technical sense, it's a fairly claustrophobic story. The focus is on the three girls and takes place mostly on a single floor of the residence where they are imprisoned. There is plenty of action in the plot, but the story is mostly internalized. The themes (polygamy, teenage pregnancy, desecration of the dead, disease, and abuse) are all downer material. The plot never lets up. So, this is the literary equivalent of a bad trip. If you enjoy that sort of thing, the book is well written, paced appropriately, and has sufficient payoff. However, I'll pass on the sequels in search of a (relatively) happier story.

Breadcrumbs, by Anne Ursu

Hazel and Jack have been friends for ages. While Hazel's mother tries to convince her that it would be a really good thing for her to make some new friends and maybe even give other girls a try, Hazel remains committed to Jack. Together, Jack and Hazel use their lively imaginations to turn the surrounding woods into an enchanted forest and to convert an abandoned shack into a mansion. They fight aliens and wizards, and save the day as a team. Hazel knows that only Jack really understands her.

But as they start fifth grade, things change. Jack no longer is as interested in Hazel and their games. He wants to spend his time with the boys. Mom tells her that this is normal, but Hazel knows the truth: it's a curse caused by an evil mirror that distorts your vision and only she can save Jack from the evil Snow Queen!

A strikingly original piece that transcends its genre. The story can of course be read as an homage to the tales of Hans Christian Anderson (The Snow Queen and The Little Match Girl in particular). Alternately, it can be seen as an expansive meditation on change and growth (and the difficulties of adapting to both). Or, perhaps it is a combination of both? In much the same way that fairy tales sometimes serve as fables to guide us through the real world, perhaps the real world is returning the favor in this story.

The good part of this story is that no answer is every really given and interpretation is left up to the reader. That is the strength of the book but also the root of its problem. Being such a thematically complicated book, it is hard to imagine the proper audience for it. The ages of the protagonists and the book's subject suggests a Middle School reader, but that is not a group that will find this tale easy to digest. Instead, I fear that they would find it pretty boring. So, kudos for a sophisticated and beautiful book, but it is one that will have difficulty finding readers.

Notes From the Blender, by Trish Cook and Brendan Halpin

Neilly is having the worst day of her life. In one day, she gets dumped by her boyfriend, finds out that her best friend has betrayed her, catches her Mom in a state of undress with some guy in their kitchen, and learns that Mom is about to marry said guy because she's gotten pregnant. So, it's probably no big deal that the son of the guy who knocked up her mother is a scary heavy metalist with the hots for her.

Not that all is honky-dory with Declan (the aforementioned boy into Norwegian death metal). He's still in denial about the death of his mother and finding out his Dad is going to get remarried is totally not what he had in mind. But he has to admit that the chance to pick up a sexy step-sister would be pretty cool! (ew!)

And so, in alternating chapters (presumably alternatingly written by the two authors), we get the story of how two kids from very different social circles found that they had a lot more in common than they ever imagined. And just about everyone discovers that the world is full of amazing coincidences and that they all have a lot to learn from blended families.

Team-written books are the bastard step-children of YA literature. One imagines that they start in some sort of writer's workshop and just take off from there. Far too often they seem like an exercise in who-can-top-the-other? One writer tries to put the other into a corner and they must make larger and larger leaps of logic to move the story forward. Thankfully, this one manages to wrap things up, but there is a jarring difference of styles between the two writers. Declan's character is noticeably more interesting and authentic than the emotionally precocious and unrealistically mature Neilly. Neilly (and her chapters in particular) were less interesting, more hurried attempts to tie up the chaos stirred up in Declan's chapters. I found the unevenness distracting.

Additional note: when deciding to publish an endorsement of your book from a famous YA writer, make sure that they've read your book carefully first (Reinhardt's mention of Finnish Death Metal on the back cover is unintentionally hillarious)!

The Name of the Star, by Maureen Johnson

Spending a year in London studying at the Wexford School is a dream-come-true for Rory. Given her Cajun background from the swamps of Louisiana, it seems terribly exotic. But what could have been just a story of an unforgettable year abroad gets a twist of the supernatural when her stay is interrupted by a series of mysterious murders. Someone is replicating the notorious crimes of Jack the Ripper in modern-day London. And Rory appears to be one of the few people who knows who he is. That's when things start to get really weird!

Maureen Johnson doesn't write books with deep literary pretensions, but all of her books are original and interesting. Her heroines tend to be independent adventurers, unafraid of flying from the nest. They will have a romantic interest, but the boy never gets in the way of the story and is usually not terribly instrumental in its resolution. But beyond those broad requirements, each of her stories are unique. This one combines psychological thriller and ghost story, but sets the whole thing in the comfortable YA world of modern-day English boarding school. And unlike other recent YA books that deal with supernatural matters (like Fade, which I despised!), this one is lots of fun. The wisecrack about vampires and werewolves on page 214 is priceless.

Johnson crafts a good story. Excellent pacing, memorable characters, a heroine we root for, all in that familiar school setting. One might argue that the story would have worked just as well without the murders and the ghosts, but it wouldn't have been as much fun. In sum, nothing deep, but a great way to pass a few hours.

You Don't Know About Me, by Brian Meehl

Billy Albright has lived a sheltered life in a Christian cocoon. For sixteen years, his mother and he have traveled around, stirring up religious fervor and launching semi-terrorist attacks on the godless. While Billy suspects that his career as a "Jesus Throated Whac-A-Mole" is a bit out of touch with reality, it takes an unexpected package from his long lost father to pry him loose. But once pried, Billy embarks on an action-packed scavenger hunt across the country, following clues that his father has left him in partial copies of Mark Twain's controversial classic The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Joined by a professional ballplayer (with a closetful of secrets) named Ruah, Billy seeks the truth about the world and the meaning of faith.

The book, inspired and based loosely on Huck Finn's story, is an attempt to modernize and update Mark Twain. It does this without the controversial language of the original but introduces new controversies about sexual politics and mass culture. It's an ambitious work and frequently interesting, but overall very clumsy. The parallels to Huckleberry Finn are obvious and forced and the political agenda is simplistic and unoriginal. All of which is a shame because the story itself is fun and one wishes that Meehl had just let the story be itself without piling on all the Deep Meaning. I enjoyed the adventures and the interactions of the characters, but every time it felt like the book was trying to teach me something, I turned off. Unfortunately, by the end, that feeling became overwhelming.

All These Things I've Done, by Gabrielle Zevin

Some seventy years in the future, chocolate and coffee have become illegal and Anya's family is deep in the business of the illicit trade in the substances. It's cost most of the members of Anya's family their lives and now Anya tries alone to look out for her little sister, older and mentally-challenged brother, and her dying grandmother. That's hard to do when your ex-boyfriend tries to rape you and then mysteriously ends up poisoned. And life isn't any less complicated when she falls for the cute son of the assistant district attorney. But Anya takes her loyalty to her family seriously and she'll figure out a way to keep things together, even if the list of her sins continues to grow.

Zevin writes interesting and original books. And while she places this one in a New York City mob family and many of the usual organized crime tropes are present, they are faintly subverted. There are the usual meetings, kissing of cheeks, and big guys with funny names in suits. But Anya herself still hangs out in high school, hides from the popular kids, and dodges trouble with her teachers and principal.

But what has really become Zevin's trademark is her ADD writing style, which is to say that she spends large amounts of efforts setting up a scene and then runs through it quickly. She's excellent at exposition, but not at concluding a story. So, she can send her heroine to prison, filling many pages to set up a prison drama and then just suddenly spring her before any of it plays out. The ending of this book is particularly maddening in this regard as Zevin simply loses interest in the story and wraps up everything in a breathless fifteen pages. I'm not sure if this is intentional or simply a result of Zevin's lack of focus, but it is a bit maddening to be patiently building up the suspense and just toss everything out quickly in the end. And when so many carefully crafted details become superfluous or ignored, it also seems a shameful waste of good writing.