Soulswift, by Megan Bannen

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

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

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

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

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

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

Between the Water and the Woods, by Simone Snaith

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

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

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

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

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

The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl, by Stacy McAnulty

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

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

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

Not Here to Be Liked, by Michelle Quach

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

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

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

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

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

Instant Karma, by Marissa Meyer

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

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

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

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

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

The Skylark's War, by Hilary McKay

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

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

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

Lily's Promise, by Kathryn Erskine

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

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

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

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

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

A Night Twice as Long, by Andrew Simonet

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

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

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

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

The Cold Is in Her Bones, by Peternelle van Arsdale

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

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

The cover is pretty though!

Destination Anywhere, by Sara Barnard

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

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

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

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

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

Six Crimson Cranes, by Elizabeth Lim

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

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

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

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

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

From You To Me, by K. A. Holt

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

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

Small Favors, by Erin A. Craig

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Forever Horse, by Stacy Gregg

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

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

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

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

Our Year of Maybe, by Rachel Lynn Solomon

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Princess Dolls, by Ellen Schwartz

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

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

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

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

Give and Take, by Elly Swartz

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

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

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

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

If This Were a Story, by Beth Turley

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

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

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

Like Other Girls, by Britta Lundin

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

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

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