Mun Mun, by Jesse Andrews

In this most striking science fiction novel of 2018 that you've never heard of, Mun Mun describes a world where your net worth defines your physical size.  Based on the amount of "mun mun" (money) you have, you can be anywhere from the "littlepoor" (about the size of a squirrel) to "bigrich" (where the sky's the limit on size and height).  Being as small as a rodent has some significant disadvantages, ranging from having trouble working at a normal job to simply not being eaten as a snack by a free-range kitty.

Littlepoors Warner and his sister Prayer have dreams of making some mun mun of their own and maybe becoming middlepoor some day, but their plans run astray and Warner ends up in jail.  But then a well-meaning family of middleriches rescues him, trying to prove that, with a little mun mun, anyone can pull themselves out of poverty and littleness.  But as the author grindingly makes clear, mun mun by itself can't change the legacy of who you are and where you came from.

With a wit that owes much more to Jonathan Swift's satire than any modern day dystopian novel, Andrews says a lot about class, privilege, and the inherent flaw in so many well-intended attempts to "fix" these social evils.  The result can be depressing at points, but just as Gulliver's Travels was able to say so much of contemporary relevance in its day through fantasy, Andrews knows that the message is so much clearer when you are not expecting it.  It's unwillingness to embrace either Left or Right will probably upset some folks, but there's little to argue with here.

The ending grows a bit weird as Warner becomes unhinged from his suffering and his character transforms to a dark anti-hero with whom it becomes hard to identify and sympathize, but the originality and biting observations of this allegory make this novel a stand-out work.  It's a largely neglected book that deserves a wider audience.  Highly recommended.

A Week of Mondays, by Jessica Brody

Ellie is having the worst Monday ever.  Her parents are fighting, she gets a ticket for running a red light on the way to school, and her hair is ruined in the rain and it’s school picture day.  In rapid succession, she then flubs a quiz, botches her campaign speech for class vice president due to a food allergy, and fails her tryouts for varsity softball.  To top it all off, at the end of the day her boyfriend dumps her.  What she wouldn’t give for a do-over!

And then she gets the chance: her whole horrible Monday repeats all over again.  With the advantage of foresight, some things she can fix but others are worse for the meddling.  But our chances are far from over and the day repeats again. She gets to tinker with and tweak this fateful day, never quite fixing it, because she’s really missing the big picture.

This would be the second Groundhog Day rip-off I’ve read this summer (see Opposite of Always on July 6th for the other one).  It’s a cute device, of course, and overflowing with comic potential.  In this case, it also has a weightier moral about being oneself instead of trying to be perfect for others.

The book does have a decent heroine and a fun story going for it.  The guys are largely throwaway but Ellie is sympathetic with the right mix of skills and mistakes to make her believable.  It makes for pleasant reading even if not treading much new ground.

Spark, by Alice Broadway

It is now the day after Leora Flint's grand reveal, the event that formed the finale of Ink (reviewed here on June 21, 2019).  Leora faces exile, but Mayor Longsight's given an alternative: go into the forest and find the Blanks (the heretics who don’t ink their skin), uncover their plans and preparedness for war, and report back.  Leora knows she's being manipulated (and probably betrayed), but as in Ink she really doesn't have an alternative:  the Mayor and his henchman Minnow hold her family and friends hostage.

For Leora, it is also a chance to learn about her roots and maybe uncover the truth about her real mother.  Eager to determine how the Blanks have gone so far astray and understand their hostility to inking and to her people, good can come of this mission.  What she finds is very disturbing to her.  The Blanks, far from being evil, turn out to follow a very similar belief system as hers.  Their canon of myths and fables are strikingly similar to the ones that Leora was raised on, but just slightly different.  The differences, however, are crucial and form the crux of the schism that exists between the inked people and the Blanks.  It's a difference that brings the threat of war -- a conflict which is being fed and encouraged by forces that Leora is yet to understand.

As the second book in a (presumed) trilogy, readers will understand that there is no resolution or ending quite yet.  Similarly, it really helps to read these books in quick succession to keep up with the complicated relationships between the characters. So, what have we learned in this installment? The themes of family loyalty and adherence to faith continue, but Leora’s challenge now is finding her faith in a sea of doubt. Scepticism is the main theme of part two. Presented with the small but nonetheless striking differences between the beliefs of the Blanks and her home, Leora feels pressured to choose between them (the faith of her upbringing vs the faith of her ancestors).  She's resistant and ultimately led to question whether either tradition is right for her.

I'm enjoying the way that Broadway has not only created a very original setting for her story, but also done so much more with it.  The action is compelling and the various crosses and double-crosses dizzying, but underneath it all is a novel that explores faith.  Leora's questioning of her childhood convictions will resonate with anyone who has ever grown up (or is facing the process now).

[Disclaimer: I received an Advance Reviewer’s Copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an unbiased review.  The book was originally slated for release on July 30^th, but has already been released]

Truly Madly Royally, by Debbie Rigaud

As ambitious Zora arrives for her summer study program at the prestigious Halstead University, she knows she’s out of her element.  She’s the only attender who’s taken public transit to get there.  Her peers all come from money and it shows.  She's pretty much the only student who’s black.  Her plan is to basically lay low.  Hiding out in the library one day, she meets a nice young man named Owen, who sweeps her off her feet.  It turns out that he’s the Prince of Landerel and suddenly Zora’s potentially in over her head in publicity and attention, as everyone wants to know the Prince's new romantic partner.  But Zora has a cool head and she keeps her focus on her goals, her causes, and her people.

It’s a perfectly fine story – light and entertaining summer reading.  The royal element reminds one of a black girl’s Meg Cabot.  The empowerment pep talk that carries through the story gets a little tiring and doesn't always fit organically in the story.   Zora’s flawlessness can make her seem awfully precious and doesn't give the reader much to identify with.  Still, Rigaud does great characters.  Zora’s family and neighbors are particular stand-out.  It's a fun read.

[Disclaimer:  I received an Advanced Reviewer's Copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.  The book is scheduled for release on July 31^st.]

Boys of Summer, by Jessica Brody

Grayson, Mike, and Ian have been best friends since they were children.  As residents on a vacation island, the summers have always been an adventure of dealing with the tourists.  But this last summer together promises to be very different.

In the past year, Ian's father was killed in Afghanistan and, while relations between he and his mother are strained, he seems alright to the others.  Mike and Hunter have been a pretty permanent couple for years, but this time it looks like their little break-up could be permanent, especially because Grayson and Hunter have started to secretly hook up.  Grayson, meanwhile, has to find the strength to admit to his father (and himself) that the little injury he sustained has ruined his ability to play football and jeopardized any possibility of taking the football scholarship that was supposed to get him through college.  There will be girls (of course), family conflict, and lots of bonding and secrets in a final summer together.

In other words, it's a girl's book about guys.  If there's anything funnier than how misportrayed female characters are by male authors, it's just how awfully bad female authors can get young men.  It's not really Brody's fault in this instance, but more like an impossible project:  create a story of friendship between young men that would be relatable to young woman readers.  They're a sensitive trio, all of them terribly worried about how the others feel and trying to avoid hurting each other's feeling.  In a mild nod to testosterone, there's a bit of fighting, but it's usually about protecting others (usually women) than about ego and pecking order.  Most silly of all is the alleged "Guy Code" that you can't date each other's ex's.  I have no idea if girls have such a thing for real (although you hear it invoked in plenty of books) but I can say with some certainty that guys don't believe in such things.  Grayson, Mike, and Ian could just as easily been Taylor, Micaela, and Iona and very little of the story would have need to be altered.  But then, it would just be a sweet beach romance of three BFFs enjoying their last summer before college, which come to think about it, it basically is.

The Mighty Heart of Sunny St. James, by Ashley Herring Blake

After twelve year-old Sunny makes it successfully through a heart transplant, she’s determined to change her life.  In the days leading up to her surgery, she was always so sick. Worst of all, her BFF Margot betrayed her.  She’s determined to do new things, key among them is to find a boy and kiss him.

But life is so much more complicated.  Her mother (who abandoned her eight years ago) has returned and wants to be part of her life.  At first, Sunny is resistant and suspicious and has to be urged on by her guardian Kate.  But when mother and daughter bond, the new relationship put a stress on Sunny and Kate's own one, particularly as Kate finds herself protecting Sunny from some of her Mom's darker secrets.

More important is Sunny's new friend Quinn, who is helping her in the Boy Quest.  The girls are not terribly successful, at least in part because Sunny finds herself thinking that she’d rather be kissing Quinn instead.  Does that mean she's a lesbian? 

With so many traumas going on, the novel runs the risk of being cluttered, but Blake does a good job of keeping things moving along.  It helps that the many different stories eventually interweave making the complexity organic and less distracting.  Delightfully, Sunny’s forays into exploring her gender identity are sensitively handled.  The overall result is a beautiful story full of honest emotion, and respectful to both adults and children.  Highly recommended.

Angel Thieves, by Kathi Appelt

The Buffalo Bayou is a landmark of Houston and in this rather dreamy novel, Appelt uses it as a means of telling four different stories that cross time periods but still overlap.  There's Cade who, along with his father, steal angel statues off of forgotten graves.  Soleil is the sweet girl who falls for him and wants to believe in him.  A hundred and sixty years earlier, a former slave is trying to smuggle her two little girls to safety in Mexico.  And back in the present, an ocelot in a cage fights for its survival as the Bayou's waters rise up.

If those seem pretty disconnected, they largely are. Not that it really matters as Appelt is mostly in love with the concept of the Bayou as a swiftly flowing body of water that shifts and surges, swallowing up (and occasionally disgorging) objects and people.  She's so in love with the idea that she repeats it again and again. Repetition is key in this story and established themes are repeated again and again like a piece of music.  The issue, for me, is that what works nicely in a score comes across as boring in a story.  Most of all, as pretty as this book is, it is not a YA book and it is poorly marketed.

Hurricane Season, by Nicole Melleby

Fig is not a fan of storms.  Their coastal New Jersey town gets a good share of them.  It’s not the wind, dark clouds, or rain, but rather the impact that the storms have on her father.  

Her father was once a great composer but after Fig was born and her mother skipped town, Dad stopped composing.  For days at a time, he checks out altogether.  When a storm comes, he wanders outside and puts himself in danger.  The last time he did so, Fig had to call the police to help, but that just made things worse as now the authorities are watching and threatening to put Fig in foster care.

When a new neighbor moves in and tries to help, Fig is wary.  Every adult is a risk.  But it’s a lot to ask of a sixth grader who just wants to fit in and have some friends.   Fig has to learn that it is OK to accept outside help for her and her Dad.  Along the way, Fig is learning about the life of Vincent Van Gogh and his relationship with brother Theo provides inspiration and helps her understand her father. (It also inspires the gorgeous cover of the book)

A touching story about family and friendship.  The characters are complex and the relationship between father and neighbor is a nicely nuanced romance.  A subplot about Fig’s ability to judge her own friendships is a pleasing analogue.

Heroine, by Mindy McGinnis

When star catcher Mickey and her best friend Caroline (their team's pitcher) are seriously injured in a car accident, the girls are terrified that they won't heal in time to play for their senior year.  It is going to take a lot of work and a lot of pain to rehabilitate.  But Mickey discovers that the Oxycodone she's been prescribed really helps.  It works even better when she ups her dose.

But when she uses up her entire prescription, she finds that she can't get any more from her doctor.  Without it, she won't be able to push herself as much as she feels she needs to in order to be able to play. So she resorts to drastic measures, finding an old lady who's selling drugs dispensed for other people.  With this new source, Mickey starts increasing her doses gradually as the lighter doses are no longer enough.  Mickey has to turn to stealing and deception to maintain her supply, but all along she is convinced that she'll be able to stop just as soon as the season is over.  But then she finds that she can't quit.

A brutal and frank description of addiction and the process of falling into it.  As a story, it's pretty bleak stuff.  McGinnis does a great job of depicting Mickey's demise, the ease at which she ignores warning signs and the way she convinces herself that she'll be okay.  It's a bit matter-of-fact to be art, but works fine as an educational primer and a warning to any young people who are feeling invulnerable.

Opposite of Always, by Justin A. Reynolds

Jack meets Kate at a party during a weekend visit to Whittier, the school he plans to attend.  And Kate is the best thing that's ever happened to him.  Unlike his best friends Franny and Jillian who have each other, Jack has always just missed a happily-ever-after story.  The next four months though are amazing!  Sure, Jillian and Franny both have their rough patches, but things are mostly great for Jack and Kate...until she unexpectedly dies.

Suddenly Jack finds himself back at the party, the same party where he first met Kate four months ago.  He's been given a do-over. Like Bill Murray's character in Groundhog Day, Jack is condemned to relive those four months all over again.  And, again as in that movie, Jack tries to tweak the outcome to make things turn out better.  But this isn't a comedy and Jack finds his choices each have consequences -- some of them dire.

While the gist of the story has been done before, the angle here is different.  For Jack, there is a lot to learn about love, friendship, family, and loyalty.  Being a boy book, the relationship stuff is mostly about keeping appearances and pride (rather than tears and jealousy) but the complicated family relationship of Franny and his jailbird father is just one piece that gives this novel a serious tone.  There really isn't much doubt of how the story should end (and it delivers) but there is a very satisfying dramatic arc of personal growth for Jack.

Sparrow, by Sarah Moon

When they find Sparrow standing on the edge of the roof of her school, everyone presumes that she was planning to jump.  She knows she wasn't.  She was planning to fly away like a bird.  But if she tells anyone that, then they will know she is crazy!

The thing is that Sparrow has always found talking about things to be hard.  And ever since her traumatic first day of school, she's generally avoided talking to others. Instead, with the support of a friendly librarian, she's found a way to avoid social situations and conversations in general. This has gotten her a reputation for being a snob and made her a target for bullies and hasn't exactly kept people away from her.

The rooftop incident sends Sparrow into counseling and her persistent counselor finds that the key to break through Sparrow's insecurity is through music (the angrier the better!).  The doctor goes on to suggest that Sparrow attend rock band camp this summer.  The idea astounds both Sparrow and her mother, who both know that Sparrow will never survive away from home, living with strangers, for four weeks.  But the counselor is convinced that this is just what Sparrow needs.

A sweet and inspiring story of a girl who finds the strength to face the world and embrace it.  There are no surprises here, but the story is well told, with good characters and a bit of fun.  Perhaps more could have been done with Sparrow's love of birds, but Moon's answer is that freedom lies in music, not ornithology.  I might beg to differ, but the point is well taken.

Days of the Dead, by Kersten Hamilton

Since her mother died, Glorieta has mourned the fact that her aunts won't speak about their sister.  Suicide is a sin and Tia Diosonita won't allow her offense to besmirch the family's honor.  Papi even had to cremate the body or else have Mama buried in unconsecrated ground.  With the Day of the Dead approaching, Glorieta hopes to somehow get her Tia to accept their sister back and let her be buried with the rest of the family.

Meanwhile, in their small town of Epoch NM, things are changing.  Glorieta's step siblings Lilith and Angus have come to stay, dumped off by their abusive father.  Angus gets along fine, but Lilith does everything she can to fight her step sister.  In a particularly harrowing passage, Lilith goes so far as to betray Glorieta to ICE agents causing Glorieta to be rounded up erroneously as an illegal.

This mixture of family, tradition, and current events creates a memorable story.  The ICE passage may be too intense for younger readers but is very topical given recent weeks' news.  This is not really a story about that though, but of the ties of family and of the power of forgiveness.  I felt that Glorieta did a bit more forgiving than she really ought to have done, but perhaps I am not as big or brave of a person as this little girl.  Her story, though, is inspiring.  Between that and the strong characters and vivid setting make this a remarkable book.

The Weight of the Stars, by K. Ancrum

Ryann is so busy taking care of her family and her set of misfit friends, that she barely has time to worry about the things she can’t have.  She dreams of traveling to space, but aside from a quirky opportunity a few years ago when a group of young women were sent out on a one way trip to the stars, opportunities don’t come often.  Stuck in her trailer park and barely getting by, she’s hardly the Right Stuff.

But then a chance encounter with a new girl named Alexandria changes everything.  Alexandria is the daughter of one of the women who went into space.  She was world-famous at the time of her mother's departure because she wasn't supposed to exist. If people had known that one of the women leaving on a no-return trip was the mother of a newborn, they never would have stood for it.  So the situation was kept secret until it was too late: her mother left and abandoned Alexandria on Earth.

Years later, Alexandria stays up at night monitoring the skies, hoping to hear a message from her mother transmitted over the growing distance between them.  For Ryann, Alexandria becomes another project, but she also is a key to future that Ryann had almost given up on.

A gentle meditative novel that is full of lots of clever writing, but not very coherent storytelling.  Lots of originality here and the mixture of angst and science fiction is interesting, but the afterward where Ancrum explains the symbolism of each of her characters underscores the problem:  if those messages were there, I should have been able to find them without the lecture.  In retrospect, I began to understand parts of the book that made no sense when I first read them, but that is too much work for the entertainment I was seeking (and given the large number of loose ends, the overall payoff for looking back is relatively meager).  It really isn’t enough to be a good and clever writer, you also need to be able to tell a story.

Sorry Not Sorry, by Jaime Reed

When Alyssa collapses in the midst of a hurricane recovery fundraiser, only Janelle knows that it’s her diabetes and that her condition is getting worse.  The problem is that Janelle and Alyssa aren’t friends anymore.  Years of being best friends have long been forgotten and the girls have turned to bitter enmity.  So, how should Janelle respond when officially they have nothing to do with each other?

This dramatic reveal of Alyssa’s secret condition brings out the worst in her friends.  Her new besties rally around her, but mostly to try to grab the limelight.  Only Janelle really seems to care about her.  Those feelings are part driven by nostalgia, but also underscored by Janelle's history of altruism.  Driven by her feelings, Janelle makes a fateful decision: she will donate one of her kidneys to save her ex-BFF.

It’s a plot that stretches credulity and Reed puts a lot of effort into convincing us that it’s plausible.  Janelle’s family background, some miraculous genetic matches, and some happy coincidences all contribute to the set-up.  In the end, though, Reed doesn’t have much to actually say about donation or about friendship.  The clever idea is about all the story has.  That's a wasted opportunity for a novel that could have really dug into the power of nostalgia, the altruism of organ donation, and the issues of chronic disease.  The topics are certainly brought up, but the book doesn't seem to know how to take the next step and really address them.

Ink, by Alice Broadway

In Leora’s world, people tattoo their bodies with the story of their lives:  their family trees, their failures and accomplishments, and their shames.  At death, their bodies are flayed and the skin is turned into a book, from which anyone can read their story.  When the book is ready, it is judged and a virtuous person’s book is brought home by their descendants and honored.  But if their lives are judged unworthy, then the book is tossed on a great fire and burned and the person’s life is forgotten.  There is no greater misfortune for the person or their family.

Leora has always considered her father a kind and good man.  When he dies, she is certain that his honor is assured.  So when she finds out that his body contains a black mark that identifies him as unworthy of being remembered, she is sure that it is mistake.  Desperate to save his book from the fire, she searches for a way to protect his legacy, along the way making shocking discoveries about her community.

A stunningly unique dystopia which imagines a universe where things are black/white and as permanent as a tattoo.  Your life is public knowledge, visible on your skin for others to see.  Designs and symbols have special meanings and nuances.  It’s both a wonderfully complex metaphor and a vehicle for a great adventure.

The story itself twists and turns with plots and counter-plots.  At times, it’s hard to keep up, but even when I lost the track, it was compelling enough to keep reading.  And for those who can’t get enough, there’s a sequel coming out next month (that I will review closer to its release).  At this point, most of the effort is spent on introducing the complexities of Leora's world.  The characters have not yet grown particularly interesting (although the ending is pleasingly shocking).  I imagine she and her compatriots will grow on me.

[Disclaimer:  I received a free copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for my unbiased review.]

A Danger to Herself and Others, by Alyssa Sheinmel

After her roommate is seriously injured in a fall, Hannah is accused of causing the accident. It is all just a result of a love triangle involving Hannah, her roommate, and Jonas (Hannah's boyfriend that her roommate wanted for herself).  But no one is interested in the story.  Instead, she's been involuntarily committed for psychiatric evaluation.  She's dangerous, or so they say, to herself and others.

To prove them wrong, Hannah just needs to win over the staff at the hospital so they will listen to her story and help her out.  It's what she's always done, proving to adults like her parents how responsible and mature she is, even when she is inwardly afraid.
But at a critical point, Hannah's worldview falls apart. Things stop making sense.  Not only the explanations but the people involved in them turn out to be very different from how Hannah understood things.  Faced with a drastic correction of her reality, Hannah has to reevaluate what actually happened.

A story of mental illness that stands out for its ability to throw you off and also for its reluctance to resolve Hannah's issues easily.  Stories about returns to sanity are pretty common.  At the risk of a spoiler, it's interesting that in this one the journey is really only beginning at the end of this book!  That said, the ending is repetitive and drags on too long.  Sheinmel's only real point is that fighting mental illness is an ongoing affair and that the dangers lie mostly to the sufferer.  Struggling with making that point definitively, the novel ends with a whimper.

A Good Kind of Trouble, by Lisa Moore Ramée

Shayla is a good girl, follows the rules, and keeps out of trouble.  But starting junior high this year, the rules seem to have changed.  She and her two best friends and her are facing competing loyalties as their classmates value racial identity over friendship and pressure the girls to hang out with their own kind (Shayla is black, while the other two are Asian and Latina).  Just complicating matters, boys and girls have started "talking" and the three girls don't really want to have anything to do with that.

Outside of school, the rules seem to have changed in even crazier ways.  The community is riled up over a police shooting.  Shayla is growing more aware of the inherent racism around her as her family takes part in various protests.  And when an incident presents itself to Shayla in her own school, she has to decide if she will be brave enough to speak out, even if it means breaking the rules.

Empowering and educational.  The story is a bit too topical and won't age well, but this is a good book about being an African American tween -- a lovely mixture of the familiar tropes of white-girl middle readers (i.e., most of the books out there) with some distinctly black themes.  It isn't very subtle, but it doesn't need to be as these kids, while articulate, are not particularly sophisticated yet.  YA protagonists of color are rare and, when they appear, are either totemic or white washed.  Shayla is neither -- a normal twelve year old who is black.  She's proud of that identity, is race conscious and racially proud, but she's lots of other things as well.

The Art of Losing, by Lizzy Mason

When her drunken boyfriend causes an accident that nearly kills her younger sister, it's the last straw for Harley.  The fact that she caught them fooling around shortly beforehand doesn't help and leaves Harley with conflicted feelings.  With her sister seriously injured and lying in the hospital in a coma, Harley has no opportunity to work through her anger with her sister.  Instead, Harley finds herself wracked with guilt as she keeps vigil over her, recalling the good and the bad in their relationship.

For her boyfriend, she's more decisive.  It's not as if he's been a saint up to now either.  Through flashbacks, we see how his addiction to alcohol has slowly corroded the trust that existed between them and also destroyed the other friendships around him.

It is thus with some irony that while processing all of this, Harley rekindles old feelings for the boy next door, Raf.  While Harley and Raf were close as children, his own demons led him to addiction as well, and eventually to rehab.  Now in AA, Raf helps Harley understand her ex-boyfriend's struggle.  But are these strong feelings they are developing with each other a good thing or just another dangerous trap for Harley?

A complex story about addiction and its destructive impact on families and other relationships.  And also a parallel story about sisterhood and the bonds between siblings.  That Mason balances these two separate threads is a testament to her talent at formulating a good story.  It's far from perfect though.  The addiction material is her crusade, of course, and she packs in a bit more material than truly fits (giving the story a preachy character it did not need), but the material is well researched and generally interesting.  The relationship between  Harley and her sister gets relatively neglected but resolves satisfactorily.  While this is a good book about teen alcoholism, it has fewer insights on the love/hate relationship between sisters.

A Monster Like Me, by Wendy S. Swore

Disfigured by a blood tumor, Sophie has learned to cope with unwanted attention by hiding.  And she's created a complicated narrative for herself that she’s been cursed by a witch.

Armed with an encyclopedia of monsters, she not only has identified her monstrous self, but has no problem spotting the goblins and demons at school (disguised as her classmates and teachers) that torment her.  Her new friend is obviously a fairy and the girl’s sweet grandmother a (good) witch.  Her Mom’s new boyfriend is a demon trying to steal her away and Sophie has ways to ward that and the other evils off.  But her deepest fears is her mother discovering that Sophie is really a monster inside.  Will she keep her or throw her out?

Initially sweet and funny (and even a bit educational as the book-within-the-book provides nice summaries about the history of bestiaries and eventually some good life advice), I found Sophie’s character a bit too self-absorbed and tedious.  Her stubborn refusal to listen to what she is told is basically the only thing that drives the drama in this story. And it is hardly an endearing quality.  Yes, eventually Sophie will show a heart of gold, but it’s that refusal to pay any attention to the adults that really defeats her along the way. Even her redemption in the end is based on her refusal to listen to what has been said and instead claim that it is her magic that saves her friend's little brother Will.  She never quite manages to break out of her denial of reality and that is ultimately disturbing (and not inspirational).

The Line Tender, by Kate Allen

When a fisherman hauls home a great white shark that got snared in his nets, Lucy and her friend Fred are entranced by the creature.  The kids have been working on a field guide to local birds and animals and both of them love nature.  

It doesn’t hurt at all that Lucy’s mother was a marine biologist who specialized in great white whales.  For Lucy, studying them now is a way of getting close to her late Mom.  And when tragedy strikes and Fred is killed, Lucy escapes into that interest in sharks, drawing sketches of them and writing postcards to her deceased friend.  She also meets former colleagues of her mother’s who carry on her mother’s work.

Richly illustrated with sketches of sharks, the book is more of a paean to sharks than a story about a girl who is struggling with grief, although both threads are important.  I found it meandering and unfocused, but it has some charming passages, including the explanation of the title (a reference to the watch on a dive who takes care of guiding and retrieving the diver).  It’s nicely written, but hard to track.  I was disappointed.